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mononijikayu · 10 months ago

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animals ― ryomen sukuna.

As they stood face to face, their breaths mingling in the stale air, Sukuna felt like they were consumed by a primal hunger that defied reason. The adrenaline rush from their latest crime pulsed through their veins like a potent elixir, fueling the flames of their dark desires. Without a word, Sukuna's hands moved with a feverish urgency, tracing the curves of his lover's body with a hunger that bordered on madness. His touch sent shivers down their spine, igniting a fire within them that burned with an intensity they could scarcely contain.

Genre: Serial Killer AU, No Curse AU;

Warning/s: R-18, Depiction of Murder, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Crime, Sadist Behaviour, Mentions of Graphic Violence, Depiction of Blood, Depiction of Sexual Intercourse, Explicit Depiction of Harm, Toxic Relationship;

masterlist

listen: animals by maroon 5

note: my friend read the first installment of this, devil by the window, and asked where was the smut. so here it is, ig??? bear with this writer, i haven't written smut in a while. but anyway, enjoy!!!

HE WAS ENJOYING THE NIGHT SO FAR. In the dimly lit room, the air hung heavy with the scent of decay and anticipation. Shadows flickered and swayed, casting sinister shapes upon the peeling wallpaper like ghostly apparitions. In the center of this macabre stage stood Sukuna, his tall, lean frame cloaked in ether of darkness. His eyes, pools of red obsidian, gleamed with a predatory allure as they scanned the room with a chilling intensity.

Every movement he made was deliberate, calculated – the mark of a seasoned predator. And he knew it. He basked in the glory of being that animal. One that was feared by all. One that caused the fabric of human fear to manifest. His steps were silent, his presence like a whisper in the night. Sukuna exuded an aura of danger, a magnetism that drew others to him like moths to a flame.

They never knew what he was going to do next, they never knew what he was going to be next – a raging blood thirsty beast or a monster who devours. No one knew. And he adored it.

His gaze lingered on the assortment of tools scattered across the room – knives, ropes, and other instruments of death. Each one was meticulously arranged, a testament to Sukuna's meticulous nature. He was a master of his craft, a connoisseur of pain and suffering.

For Sukuna was no ordinary killer – he was a force of nature, a creature of the night who reveled in the art of death, the art of manifesting fear. He was the master of all horrors. He had no limitations. It was not fun that way without it. And as he stood in the dimly lit room, surrounded by the remnants of his past conquests, he knew that tonight would be no different. Tonight, he would claim another victim, another soul to add to his ever-growing collection.

As he stood amidst the eerie ambiance, Sukuna's mind buzzed with excitement. Tonight, he would embark on another prey to hunt, another chance to indulge in his darkest desires. His heart quickened with anticipation, the thrill of the chase coursing through his veins like liquid fire. Somehow tonight, it was even more delightful, even more thrilling. Looking at his side, he could see the bubbling excitement in him. It felt like a drug each and every time this happened.

Each and every night was a time to feel alive. But even more now, as he looked at his partner in crime by his side. He was even more enthusiastic, now that he wasn’t alone doing this. They were oozing with excitement, fidgeting with their fingers. They were itching to hold life and see it gone in an instant. To feel the scarlet river echo at the flesh, to feel the warmth bathe them whole. He could see it so vividly. He could feel it within their grasp.

Beside him stood his unlikely companion, his lover. They were unlike anyone Sukuna had ever encountered – beautiful, enigmatic, and drawn to the darkness that consumed him. The moment he met them at that horribly dull party, walking into his life— somehow there finally came more in his life. With that dark look on their face, it makes one think that they were born for this life. They were his equal in every way, matching his thirst for thrill and danger. And it riled him up. It made everything about him electric. He could feel the blood boil down south in his member. He feels alive at this moment. But seeing them so vicious, so cruel, so vile. To be a creature of evil. He feels even more alive, knowing he could eat them whole. That he could take them himself, for his pleasure, for his desires, for his wants.

It was as if they were meant for each other, he thinks. They complete each other, make each other completely whole. Sukuna thinks he had been waiting for this his entire life. He has been waiting to feel like he had a pack, that he had a place to belong. He wouldn’t let them go, no. Not even if they wanted to. But he was sure he would not let go of him. They were as lonely as he was. So needy for thrill, for life to begin. He knew they could only find it with him. They would never be without any semblance of life without him. They would never leave him. They needed him. Otherwise, nothing would make sense.

Together, Sukuna and his lover had embarked on a nightmarish journey, leaving behind a wake of destruction and despair that echoed their twisted desires. In the past few months together, they were hopping town to town, city to city, to commit to drenching the pavements with blood. He and his lover had laughed about the panic they had caused in each and every place they had gotten into turmoil. Each night, the nationwide news reporting on what they had done was the highlight of their dates. They reveled in the chaos, feeding off each other's primal urges with a fervor that bordered on madness.

Tonight was no exception to their macabre routine. They were both aching for more action after moving to another small, obscure town in the middle of nowhere. Sukuna had given his lover the choice of place, of prey, of tactic. He liked seeing his lover happy, after all. And Sukuna too knew that his lover was as a mastermind to crime as he. Everything had been going as planned. That made him howl with vicious laughter, one that even drowned out the screams he so loved to hear.

As Sukuna wielded his blade with deadly precision, the thrill of violence surged through his veins like a drug. Each cut, each slice, each tear in flesh was a symphony of pain and pleasure, a twisted dance of death that left him intoxicated with power. But amidst the carnage, there was something else – something primal and forbidden that bound them together. It was a connection born of bloodlust and desperation, a bond that transcended the boundaries of morality and reason.

As Sukuna surveyed the aftermath of their rampage, he couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction. His lover stood beside him, their hands stained crimson with the blood of the prey long gone. Their eyes gleamed with a feral hunger, their lips curved into a cruel smile that sent shivers down Sukuna's spine. He enjoyed this feeling, he knew that for certain. He grinned at their lust, boring down at the blood that spilled from their hair little by little.

Each and every time, they reveled in the manifestation of their darkest desires, their lust for blood and violence consuming them like wildfire. It was a sight both beautiful and grotesque, a testament to the depths of their depravity. The whole of it was brutal, a true manifestation of relentless viciousness. Yet it only pleased them. It only made them feel more eager to enjoy more and more of this debauchery.

And as they stood amidst the carnage, Sukuna knew that he could live forever in this moment – a moment of pure, unadulterated madness that bound them together in a twisted embrace. For Sukuna and his dearest lover there was no turning back – they were monsters, born of darkness and consumed by the flames of their own creation. It was everything. He could feel his manhood harden more than before. He was certain that they were just as excited down south, eager for their foreplay to begin as soon as they finished.

His lover's fingers tangled in Sukuna's bloody hair, pulling him closer as their lips met in a fierce and desperate kiss. The taste of blood melting on their lips, the taste of the scarlet liquid burning their tongues with its salty, metallic ambiance. It was a collision of passion and violence, a melding of two souls bound together by the darkness that consumed them.

It was like a burning flame, each and every kiss. It was more painful, more dangerous in each and every turn of their touch. They bit his lip so harshly, the blood poured almost instantaneously. Sukuna did not mind. It excited him even more. They looked at him, as they parted. Taking in the breath, they did not let Sukuna take more air. They leaned forward once more, licking the blood and consuming his lips into their own, gripping his tattooed arms to hold them down.

Their bodies moved as one, a symphony of desire and destruction as they succumbed to the primal urges that drove them. Their bloody clothes started to slowly be discarded with reckless abandon, revealing skin marred by scars and bruises, testament to the violence of their existence. But at this moment, none of it mattered. There was only the heat of their bodies pressed together, the frantic rhythm of their hearts beating in unison as they surrendered to the madness that engulfed them.

Sukuna grabbed his lover by the hair and pulled them towards him, kissing them passionately while pushing their body against each other. His lover moaned into the kiss as Sukuna trailed his lips down their bloody neck, licking the flesh clean with his tongue. He grins as he starts leaving bites and marks along the way, eliciting moan after moan at how harshly he bit one after the other. There was no control for him. No mercy. They loved it that way. He knew that too well.

Sukuna then pushed his beloved onto the bed and climbed on top of them, grinding his hips against theirs. He reached behind himself to unfasten his pants hastily, freeing his long suffering erection to rub against his lover's thigh. It was a melodious thing to hear, all the whimpering and groans and whispers against his skin. The clawing nails at his flesh drawing skin to wounds and blood. It was electrifying to be in their arms, not caring in the world for what monstrosity they had just unleashed , still laying somewhere around the house. Sukuna could only care about the sounds of their heavy breathing filled the room as they continued to make out, their hands roaming over each other's bodies.

As they moved faster and faster, Sukuna felt a surge of pleasure shoot through him at the thought of what he was about to do. With one swift motion, he tore open his partner's shirt and began to lick and bite at their chest, marking it with his teeth like he always did. His partner groaned in pain and pleasure as Sukuna used his tongue to create patterns on their skin. It was all too good, all too cruel. One could never live without this. Sukuna knew he couldn’t.

Finally, Sukuna positioned himself above his beloved, his breath hitching with anticipation as he slowly slid inside them, feeling the warmth of their embrace enveloping him. Their nails dug into his arms, a mixture of pain and pleasure rippling through their body as he entered them with a primal force. Sukuna was certain that the air had been punched from both their lungs at the pace. But he did not care. He just cared for getting off the high, for getting more and more, taking and taking.

A guttural groan escaped Sukuna's lips, the culmination of hours spent holding back his primal urges, his hardened member now fully immersed in the depths of their being. He couldn't help but surrender to the sensation, lost in the intoxicating pleasure of being one with them. He was always a beast, an animal, a monster and they reveled to be in his arms, to take him and be hurt, to accept the darkness for what it was. It only made him feel so big inside of them, thinking of how they could only love only him.

Their eyes locked for a brief, intense moment, a silent exchange of raw desire and primal need passing between them before they both closed their eyes, succumbing to the overwhelming ecstasy of their union. As they moved together in a frenzied rhythm, their bodies entwined in a savage dance of passion and carnal desire, Sukuna couldn't shake the feeling that this was where he truly belonged – in the arms of someone who shared his darkest desires, someone who embraced the darkness within him without hesitation.

With each thrust, each gasp of pleasure, He and his lover were so easily becoming one, their souls intertwining in a twisted symphony of lust and madness. The room reverberated with the sound of their bodies colliding in a primal dance of desire, the intensity building with each passing moment. Blood from her scratches marking the drying blood against his tattoos.

Sukuna's movements became more primal, more aggressive, as he surrendered to the primal urges coursing through his veins. His thrusts grew harsher, more relentless, fueled by the intoxicating mixture of pleasure and pain that enveloped them both. His lover's cries filled the air, a symphony of ecstasy and agony as they surrendered to the savage pleasure of their union. They egged him on, urging him to go faster, to go harder, to make them his prey in this twisted game of lust and desire.

There was no room for remorse or guilt between them – only the intoxicating rush of ecstasy as they surrendered to their darkest impulses, lost in the savage embrace of their love. In this moment, they were untamed beasts, consumed by the fire of their passion, oblivious to the world outside their twisted sanctuary. Nothing was ever so sacred to the two of them than being animals together, in each other’s arms.

As they reached the peak of their ecstasy, their bodies entwined in a frenzy of desire, Sukuna couldn't help but feel a sense of fulfillment unlike anything he had ever experienced. They shook so violently in his arms, electric and high from the pleasure. When he came inside of them, he was so certain that he had blacked out for a moment. When he returned, he felt air punch out of his lips. He groaned and groaned, thrusting one after another, forcing more and more of himself each and every time—no matter how weary.

Sukuna pressed kisses against their glistening skin, whispering sweet nothings, horrible sins to be born inside of their horrifying mind. He knew how corrupt they were. But it egged him to desire to know that he bore new festering sickness in a head already defiled by cruelty. They quivered against each word, reciprocating in kind. He envelopes his weight upon their own, certain that he would crush them. They wrapped their arms around him, taking in the scent of sex, carnage, blood and death. And somehow, they would fall asleep, happily at the life of an animal with him. He smiled down at them, watching them rest in the semblance of his chest.

In the arms of his beloved, he had found his truest self.

He knew he was a creature of darkness and desire.

That he was a hungry predator bound to hunt his prey.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He was certain that neither would they.

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neyafromfrance95 · 3 months ago

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galadriel being obsessed with hunting sauron down to avenge her brother?

sauron being obsessed with pulling galadriel under his influence and making her into his partner in crime?

the soulmate enemies connoisseurs are eating so well with this ship.

#saurondriel #haladriel #galadriel #galadriel x sauron #galadriel x halbrand #halbrand #sauron #the rings of power #trop

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fandom-chic · 1 year ago

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Please Please Please: Chapter 2

Summary: Y/N is only a child when she and Tommy Shelby meet. The two quickly become best friends as they grow up in Small Heath. As the years go by, Y/N and Tommy realize there may be more to their friendship than they originally thought.

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Y/N

Previous chapter

Year: 1912

The wind blew in through her hair as her horse galloped along the English countryside. She could’ve sworn the wind was whispering in her ear as her smile beamed at the beautiful world before her.

“Oy!” She glanced back to see Tommy’s smiling face, “What’s the hurry, love?” She grabbed the reins to her stead, tightening them slightly to slow down to her friend’s speed.

“No hurry at all,” she said behind a grin, “I just thought you were a horse connoisseur.” Tommy raised an eyebrow at that.

“Are you saying I’m all talk?” he said, feigning exasperation.

“I’m saying your riding is shit.” she shot back playfully, letting her grin turn into a cheeky smile. Tommy’s other eyebrow raised to match the first.

“Well,” he said, adjusting himself slightly, “I guess we’ll have to see who the best horseman is.”

“You mean horsewoman?” She corrected, a lilt in her voice.

“I didn’t mean-” Before he could finish his thought, Y/N took off. Tommy mumbled a string of expletives before bolting after her. She leaned forward, forcing her horse to maintain the speed she needed. She could hear Tommy hot on her heels as the lake came into view.

“Come on.” she urged her horse as she began to see the outline of Tommy in her vision. Suddenly, the horse stops at the edge of the lake. Seconds later, Tommy is by her side.

“Well, that was shit sportsmanship.” She shot him a brazen smirk.

“But I still won.” Tommy clicked his tongue.

“I guess you did.�� He said, jumping off his stead. She followed his lead, landing beside her companion.

“Now you have to admit, I am the superior horseman.” She punctuated the sentiment by placing her hands on her hips. She could feel Tommy willing himself not to roll his eyes. She tried to hold back a snicker, failing to notice he began to remove his shoes.

“I will admit that,” He placed his shoes and socks side by side at the edge of the lake. “But I think you may have to face punishment for poor sportsmanship.”

“Poor sportsmanship-” She was cut off as two strong arms wrapped around her waist. A squeak escaped her lips as Tommy lifted her into his arms and a scream erupted as they both plunged into the water. Her arms instinctively wrapped tightly around his neck, and her legs around his waist as they resurfaced.

“That punishment did not fit the crime.” she said, using her palm to rub the lake water from her eyes.

Tommy snorted with laughter as he brushed a strand of wet hair away from her face. “Then I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree.” She rolled her eyes at the platitude before moving Tommy’s wet hair off his forehead. She couldn’t help but giggle as she pushed the hair straight back. “What’s so funny?” he said. His smile showcased his prominent cheekbones.

“Nothing,” she said, continuing to smooth his hair, “I just know what you’ll look like when you’re a bald old man.”

“You mean I’ll be dashingly handsome,” he struck a pose for her.

“Something like that she says,” she replied, unable to ignore the tranquility in his eyes as she combed her fingers through his hair. She knew those eyes well—beautiful eyes that could penetrate her soul and unearth every secret. From stealing money from her mother's purse to staying out late with the boy from her English class, those eyes knew everything about her. They had the power to hold her captive for as long as they desired. She almost forgot how entangled in her friend she was until he started to move them out of the water. She let her legs unwrap from around his waist and her arms detach from behind his neck. He pulled himself out of the water, helping her out with him.

Although the lake was not the most exciting place in the countryside of England, it was one of their favorites. They discovered this secret oasis nine years earlier. They had both decided to cut class that day to ride horses. The further they ventured from Small Heath, the fresher the air became, and the distant sounds of the city faded away. That was when they finally found their oasis, their lake. It has become their hideaway from reality. Tommy’s from the growing pressure of the Peaky Blinders and Y/N’s from the monotonousness that was Small Heath.

She would rest her head on his shoulder as they watched the sun set. She always liked the way the sun streaked across the lake’s surface.

“The sun’s telling us that we’re in our own personal heaven.” she would say, pointing at how the glittering rays of the sun hitting the lake seemed to be pointed perfectly at them. Tommy would smile and watch the joy in her eyes as she watched the sunset.

On the oppressively warm days of summer between sessions of secondary school, Tommy and Y/N would sneak off together to the lake. Polly would roll her eyes and smirk as she watched the teens gallop away.

“Fuck, I’m soaked.” Tommy said, noticing the way his clothes molded to his form. Y/N noticed it too, looking away when Tommy looked over at her. Tommy’s eyes remained on Y/N for another beat, noticing the way her white dress had now become transparent.

“I wonder whose fault is that.” Y/N said. Before Tommy could retort, Y/N pulled her dress over her head. Seeing Y/N in her knickers was a sight Tommy had seen many times, but he still couldn’t help the blush that rose to his cheeks. She kicked off her shoes too before reaching out to Tommy, “Give me your shirt and trousers.”

He snorted before beginning to unbutton his top, “Usually a lady needs to buy me a drink before we get to this part of the evening.” Y/N rolled her eyes, grabbing Tommy’s clothes and hanging them up in a tree branch to dry. As soon as the clothes were settled in the branch, Y/N took the picnic blanket from her bag and laid it out.

“After you,” She gestured towards the blanket. Tommy lay on his back, his eyes gazing at the sky. Y/N followed suit, observing whatever the sky decided to reveal to them. The clouds drifted by, and the wind whispered through the grass. Tommy's eyelids grew heavy, and he felt himself drifting off to sleep.

“Look!” His eyes shot open, “A bullfinch!” Y/N pointed up towards a red-breasted bird. Tommy rubbed his eyes letting out a snicker.

“You scared the crap out of me,” He said drowsily, “What’s so great about a goddamn bird?”

Y/N shrugs and continues to stare at the bird as it lands on a branch.

Y/N shrugged, her gaze fixed on the bird as it took flight. "I don't know, it's rather beautiful, don't you think?" Tommy couldn't help but smile.

“And that, my dear, is why you will be a wonderful teacher.” It was now Y/N’s turn to smile at Tommy. With the summer coming to an end, Y/N’s first year of teaching primary school quickly approached. She felt like a kid herself in the sense that the first day of school jitters were already starting to pulse through her fingers and toes.

“I hope so,” she said, allowing her arms to rest above her head as her fingers traced the dirt.

“I know so.” he replied, turning to look at her, “I also know that all the little buggers will adore you, especially the little boys.” Y/N playfully slapped Tommy’s arm.

“Very funny Tom,” she rolled her eyes at him, “If anything happens, I’ll make sure to tell James.”

James. Of course she would tell James. Tommy shifted his gaze, fixing his eyes on the sky once more.

James was Y/N’s most recent boyfriend. He was nice. Very nice. Too nice, Tommy thought as a beat passed between the two of them.

“How is he?” Tommy asked, letting his eyes stay away from Y/N.

“Good,” Y/N replied, “It’s only been a few weeks but, I don’t know, I have a good feeling about him.”

“I can tell, you two looked awfully chummy at The Garrison the other day.” Y/N’s face turns to Tommy.

“Are you keeping tabs on me?” Y/N teased, “Making sure James is treating me well?”

“It’s one of the perks of my job.” Now it was Y/N’s turn to look at the sky.

Tommy had recently begun to become more involved in the Peaky Blinders. Y/N knew this day would come, it was the family business. She just always expected Arthur to take more of a leadership role, but in the back of her mind, she knew this was Tommy’s dream: to protect his family and provide them the life he always wanted. She can’t help but recall the young boy in the oversized clothes finding odd ways to help his family survive the cold winters. With him in charge, they both know the family will never have to worry about that again.

“How’s that going?” she asked, letting her hands rest on her belly button.

Tommy shrugged, “Fine.” Y/N sat up, looking down at her friend.

“Come on Tom, I need more details than just ‘fine’.” He sighed, slowly sitting up to meet her eyes.

“It’s definitely going,” He ran a hand through his drying hair, “I’m thinking we should invest in the race track.” She raised an eyebrow.

“You mean you’re going to be a horse gambler now?”

“What do you want me to say?” he mumbled, “You know my father is gone. Finn is four, Ada just turned fifteen, John is getting fucking married and Arthur is hanging on by a fucking thread. This is the path we have to take.” She understood his predicament, that doesn’t mean she liked it.

“What about Polly? Could she take on more?” She felt as though she was pleading with Tommy. Begging him to sit back and let himself be a young man and do the normal things that young men do.

“It’s my family, Y/N,” he said firmly, “It’s my job, not Polly’s.”

“Well,” she looked away from him, “I hope you realize that this is a death sentence.” She knew her words cut him. She could feel all movement from him stop.

“Why can’t you be happy for me,” his words come out almost as a whisper, “My family is finally making a name for itself. I thought you could at least pretend to be happy.” He was trying his hardest not to yell, but his frustration was getting the better of him.

She looked back over at him, keeping the harshness in her eyes, “I can’t do that when my best friend is putting himself in danger.” That was when Tommy rose. He grabbed his clothes off the branch and began to dress himself.

“What are you doing?” Y/N asked, standing to face him.

“Going home,” he replied, beginning to mount his horse.

“Tommy-”

“Goodbye, Y/N.” he said, cutting her off, before riding off. Y/N sighed, taking a seat on the blanket. It wasn't their first fight—this was one of maybe one million. She knew how it would play out. They wouldn't speak for a day or two, and then either she or Tommy would knock on the other's door, ready to apologize. He needed space and she would let him have it.

She gets home that day, hoping maybe Tommy would be at her door. He wasn’t. She sighed, bringing her horse to the stable before going inside.

That day turned into two, then a week, and eventually a month. Six months passed before she heard from him again.

Next chapter

Taglist:

@mrharringtonsbae

@mysticwitchcraftco

@globetrotter28

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acurtist · 8 months ago

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Irritating Character Tropes:

1. Meddler: Had to share explosive commentary about everything and everyone.

2. Gossip-monger: Make up stories and spread them far and wide like a virus.

3. Riddler: Speaks in puzzles and keeps people on toes the hidden meanings in their tales.

4. Jester: Everything and everyone is a joke. Must crack a few ones to earn them wages.

5. Rat hole: Has to sneak in in nook and crannies like a rat to uncover secrets.

6. Interrogator: Wouldn't stop asking same questions with different angles.

7. Petty Thief: Kleptomaniac and pickpocket extraordinaire.

8. Quarreler: Need to pick a fight about everything and anything.

9. Idiot: Speaks out of turn, doesn't know what they are talking about.

10. Lame Poet: Make everyone suffer with their awful compositions.

11. Liar: Conjures up lies out of thin air without skipping a heartbeat.

12. Plotter: Manipulative, calculative, untrustworthy, and narcissistic.

13. Personality Divergent: Sucks living daylights and happiness from people around them.

14. Chaotic: Unorganized messy scatterbrain.

15. Peeping Tom: Needs jail time.

16. Impersonator: Either mentally disturbed or suffering from insecurities.

17. Man child: Regardless of gender acts like a child that needs supervision and extra attention.

18. Foul-mouthed: Starts and ends every sentence with one cursive word or the other.

19. Daydreamer: Always have head stuck in cloud and couldn't focus for more than 5 minutes.

20. Overzealous: Strict adherence to authority figures. Will not hesitate to commit crimes.

21. Righteous Prick: Nothing they do can be wrong or at fault.

22. Existentialist: Make others depressed with their annoying cynicism.

23. Overly-enthusiastic Schmuck: Out of touch with real world and impervious to any challenges. Thinks goodwill is enough resource and help.

24. Undoctor: Has a home remedy for every disease and ailment. Usually a chain-smoker with a protruding belly.

25. Know-it-all: Grammar Nazi, encyclopedia, general knowledge enthusiastic. Insufferable.

26. Geek: Lack of boundaries and respect for privacy.

27. Dare Devil: Needs to get hurt before setting anyone else on fire.

28. Psychoanalyst: Wouldn't shut up about what you actually think, need, and want.

29. Fortune-teller: Spew nonsense out their ass and present it as divine revelation.

30. Manufacturer: Breaks more things than repairs.

31. Conspiracy Theorist: Busy in organizing telepathic peace talks with president and alien civilization.

32. Over-committed Logician: Acts like a machine until an emotional explosions.

33. Otaku/Fic Connoisseur: Spoilers spoliers everywhere.

34. Drama Queen: Nonstop emotional blackmailer.

35. Fatphobic: Anorexic, suffering from health and psychological issues.

36. Glutton: Overweight, hates skinny people. Could use some exercise.

I mean the list doesn't ends. I can honestly think of just as many more of these.

Gotta add them all!

#writeblr #writing #writers on tumblr #writer problems #writing process #writerblr #writing prompt #writers community #fantasy #writing ideas #writing inspiration #writing inspo #character creation #plot development

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lookingglasswolf · 5 months ago

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In reference to one of my last posts concerning Keating the potato connoisseur, this is quite a scandal. Quite a crime at the Welton dinner table. Not 1...not 2...but FOUR heaping scoops of mashed potatoes.

The man is absolutely mad but at the same time, so relatable.

#dead poets society #mr keating #dps fandom #john keating #the dead poets society #neil perry #todd anderson #charlie dalton #knox overstreet #steven meeks #potatoes #dps #dps boys

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the-nosy-neighbor · 1 month ago

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Poe

So, still digesting this information.

Also, I just realized that the wiki has links to Clown’s past comments about each character, so I have been enjoying reading those. I did a deep dive a while back, but didn’t see some of the things added.

The main thing I see here, if people aren’t familiar with the works of Edward Allen Poe, is the fact that two of his stories are referenced in the book. I assume most people are going to know, as his stuff is pretty popular and references abound. Sally has determined that they are going to do her version of “The Tell-tale Heart.” I wish we got to hear more about what her version was like, but we do get a small idea. The second references is “The Cask of Amontillado.” I’m going to do a super basic description of each story—I have read these in the past, but I’m using general info from Wikipedia as a source.

In “The Telltale Heart” (which I saw a feminist play version of recently), the story follows an unnamed person who lives with an old man and becomes obsessed with the idea that his “milky” eye (probably cataracts) is watching him at all times. He decides that he is going to have to kill him to get rid of this evil eye. He goes in at night with a shuttered lantern to observe the old man while he sleeps. For seven days, he doesn’t see the eye. On the eighth, the old man wakes up (I think the main character makes a noise) and then when the shaft of light lands on his unusual eye, decides that this is the sign he needs to go ahead and kill him.

Check out this awesome art from Wikipedia, an illustration by Harry Clark in 1923

He hears the old man’s heartbeat at this point. The old man cries out once and then dies. So he kills him, dismembers him, and buries him under the floorboards of the old man’s room. But someone heard the scream, so the police come. He has taken care of everything suspicious, so he doesn’t think that they are going to find anything, but he keeps hearing the heartbeat. He brings chairs to the old man’s room, and they sit there. The heartbeat keeps getting louder and louder, but the cops don’t seem to hear it. Eventually, the sound of the heartbeat breaks him, and he confesses to the crime. He tells them where the body is hidden.

The story was published in January of 1843 in a magazine. Interesting tidbit, it was published with a poem claimed by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, called “A Psalm of Life” but when Poe’s story was republished, he had them drop the poem, because he thought it could be plagiarized. It was first published anonymously, and some felt that if it was Wadsworth’s, it could be a translation of Goethe. The poem is about seizing the day, doing great things.

Now, the second piece, “The Cask of Amontillado” is also a story about premeditated murder. In this case, it follows an Italian noble who has fallen on hard times, who hates a man he blames for his bad fortune. The hated man is called “Fortunato,” and the murderer is called “Montresor” which is a family name. So, it’s Carnival (Carnevale), which has parades, costumes, masks, games, pranks, theatre performances among other celebrations. Mardi Gras is descended from this festival. Montresor finds Fortunato wandering around drunk (and it is insinuated that while he is called a connoisseur he could be a garden variety alcoholic). Having planned for revenge against the guy, he asks him to come to his house and check out this rare wine he bought, known for being counterfeit most of the time. Given that Fortunato has a taste for wines, he is going to give his opinion. Monstresor thinks with carnival happening around them, and both of them in carnival garb and masks, no one will notice them going to his house.

He takes the guy down to his basement, giving him some wine on the way down to keep him drunk, and instead of wine, there is a chain on the wall with a lock on the other side. Montresor locks him in, and starts to build a wall around him. Fortunato tries to take it as a joke, but it becomes apparent that Montresor is going to leave him there. Fortunato begs for them to leave and drink the wine together, while his murderer agrees with everything he says, still building the wall. With one brick left, Montresor looks at him, and calls his name twice:

I heard no answer. “Fortunato!” I cried. “Fortunato.” I heard only a soft, low sound, a half-cry of fear. My heart grew sick; it must have been the cold. I hurried to force the last stone into its position. And I put the old bones again in a pile against the way. For half a century now no human hand has touched them. May he rest in peace!

Also notable in this story is the imagery of Montresor’s family crest, which shows a foot crushing a snake, while the snake has its fangs in the heel of the foot. I read a discussion on the somewhat circular nature of this image, because the viewer can’t tell who the aggressor is there. Did the snake bite first, or did the heel crush first? “Montresor” means “my treasure;” “Fortunato” means “lucky, fortunate, blessed, or happy.” Fortunato is also the name of many Christian saints.

What does this mean for Poppy? And Sally? In our story, Sally is distraught that she suggested that Poppy act in the play, having forgotten (somehow) that Poppy is scared of everything, until everyone reminds her that Poppy is scared of everything. Barnaby says “brick by brick,” which gives Barnaby the idea to brick Poppy into her barn. Truly bizarre. So all the neighbors (minus Home) set to work bricking up her window with school glue and bricks. Interestingly, all the neighbors appear to be there, but you don’t see the hands of Frank or Sally, just trowels.

You see a shot of the interior of the barn with just a small part remaining open, with Sally’s face in the hole. Then a line says “Never had a home look so safe and cozy!” (sic, not sure about that, typo?) Agree to disagree, that sounds terrifying.

Poppy being out of the play altogether means that Home is in the play. We see the other neighbors prepping, so I assume that the page where they are all in windows shows what each one is doing: Wally is painting (scenery?), Frank is brushing Julie’s hair, Howdy is putting chairs out (?), Barnaby is eating a hot dog, home is staring directly at us, and Eddie is studying lines. Sally, in the center is being bummed that Poppy isn’t participating. Given that Home is in the background of the play itself, I am going to assume that Julie is the main character, Eddie is Cop 1 and Home is Cop 2. The play ends with the confession scene, but Julie confesses burying her alarm clock in a garden, not a murder. Home has three black dots on the front, but I can’t tell if that is some kind of decoration for the play, or if it is more of the black stuff that is on everything.

After the play, we are treated to silhouettes of the audience and cast, but we don’t have the audio of the lines there, instead, we are hearing Poppy’s panic. But it does have the line, “Most important of all, not a single peep was heard out of Poppy.” Then there is a page of a feather on a brick page (that reminds me of the old missing art that isn’t canon.

The book ends with an image of the bricked over window. While the audio tells us she is fine, the images themselves are suspect. More to come later.

#welcome home #welcome home theories #welcome home arg #wally darling #welcome home project

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violetrainbow412-blog · 1 year ago

Text

Day 11: meet cute

Masterlist flufftober 🎀

A special one, I really enjoyed writing it. Reblog if you liked it!

Spencer walked through the gallery in silence, paying attention to all the paintings and trying to give them his own interpretation. For some strange reason, being in those places relaxed him greatly and right now it was what he needed most: a well-deserved respite after a long day of work.

“Good night,” he greeted a young woman, who was attentively looking at a painting.

The woman he saw couldn't have been more than thirty years old and her clothing was... how to put it? Something eccentric. All the clothes were vibrant tones and she wore a woven bag with uneven parts, who knows if it was on purpose or not.

“Good night,” you murmured just as kindly, keeping your hands in the pockets of your colorful jacket.

The painting in front of you was, in short, something grotesque. But it wasn't in a bad way, it had a certain special touch that made it… Spencer couldn't even describe it. It was very good, but to some extent uncomfortable to look at. Almost like a ritualistic crime scene that he was so used to: beautiful, but at the same time terrifying.

"Do you like it?"

“Huh?” the man asked, fearing he had misheard the girl next to him. She nodded toward the exhibit and her brain filled in the blanks. “The painting? Yes, I think it's very good. I'm afraid I'm not a great connoisseur of artistic currents, but from a very point of view this could be part of The Black Paintings, Francisco de Goya's collection”

“I know them,” you said happily. “My favorite is that one about Saturn devouring his son. You know, the one where they're eating a…” you started to say, making signs with your hands that he understood immediately.

“I think art is very subjective, like everything in the world. Some people may consider the Mona Lisa a masterpiece and others may appreciate more the style of Van Gogh or the cubism of Picasso and they are all right. Each person enjoys art things that reflect the content of their soul and I think that is the beautiful thing about paintings, don't you think?

“You know a lot for someone who is not knowledgeable about art” you smiled, feeling captivated by the way the stranger next to you expressed himself.

“Actually I say that I am not a connoisseur because I don’t want to offend those who are. I've only read a couple of books on the subject and... well, I love coming to museums, but that's all”

“Honestly, I think it's very ugly,” you said suddenly, turning your head slightly to observe the painting “It looks a little strange on the bottom, whoever did it should improve their technique a little.”

Spencer felt strange hearing such a cruel comment coming from a person who seemed to be sweet, but he figured you would have your reasons for holding that opinion. He considered leaving there but his attempt was interrupted by another presence, this time a man dressed in an elegant suit who approached you.

“Miss Y/L/N” he greeted you cordially, while you shook his hand “I see you came to appreciate our exhibition, do you like the light we put there? Does it help the colors of the work or do you want us to change it to a warmer one?”

“Oh, don't worry Frank. I like that one, it makes it look gloomy” you answered nonchalantly “You just should put it somewhere else, I'm not very proud of this one in particular”

"What are you talking about? Many people liked it. Isn't it good, gentleman?” he asked, turning to Spencer who was watching the two of them curiously.

“It's beautiful,” he confessed. He actually thought that, he wasn't saying it out of commitment or anything, and his response made you smile sheepishly.

"Stop. Everything is perfect here, thank you for giving it a home in your gallery”

“And there will be more spaces in the future, think about it,” the man murmured, squeezing your shoulder warmly and friendly. “Have a good night, excuse me.”

“Goodbye, Frank.”

The two of you watched the man walk down the hallway until he got lost in a turn and then the agent turned his attention to you.

“So you're an artist?”

“I try that” you laughed. He took a look at you and then at the picture in front of you, as if he had a hard time believing that you were the creator, of course due to the difference in styles that both elements had “But I like that people don't know, so I can hear honest opinions. And I appreciate yours, you are very kind.”

"I only say what I see"

“Would it be very bold of me if I asked you to be my model one day?” you asked cautiously, hoping not to scare him with your request.

"A model?"

“I really like your jaw,” you exclaimed, pointing a finger in the air at the line you were talking about. “And the way your hair falls. They are nice to paint”

“Well, I…I would be flattered,” Spencer said, not knowing how to react to what you had just said. Something like that had never been suggested to him and he felt strange, but excited at the same time.

“Do you want to write me your number?”

“I can give you my card,” he stammered, digging in his briefcase so he could give you the piece of paper. When he extended it to you, you analyzed it with curiosity.

“Dr. Spencer Reid. FBI” you read, quite impressed “So we both got a surprise today, huh?”

"Definitely"

“I'll call you,” you promised, pocketing the card warily and rewarding him with one of yours. They were simpler with hand-painted details and with fewer titles, but it would be useful for him to contact you “And who knows, maybe the next time you come it will be you who is in the gallery.”

Spencer blushed at the thought and smiled at you, wondering how possible that was. You responded to the smile with pleasure, because unintentionally you had just found the one who would permanently become your muse.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove @vivian-555 @r-3dlips @rhiannonhippiegirl @taygrls @simp4f1 @sdddoobydoobydoo @taintedstranger

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid x you #flufftober 2023 #prompt list #writing challenge #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid drabble

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