#i forgot what it felt like to see this way

[nightingale-prompts]

Talking to Batboy

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"Do you want to talk?" Dick asked sitting at the end of the bed.

Danny had been spared from the memories of that night but it had done nothing for his mental health. He was handling the loss of his wings well at least. Although losing a limb was still not a good feeling.

But that isn't the problem. None of this is the problem.

The problem was…

"Why me?" Danny asked tucking his legs to his chest.

"What?" Dick asked confused.

"What made me so special? Was it just my wings?" Danny narrowed his eyes.

"I...don't know. I just wanted-"

"That's not an answer! It was the wings, wasn't y You don't care about me! Of course, it was the wings!" Danny jumped off the bed and moved towards the door.

"Danny, is it so hard to believe that I wanted you because I cared?" Dick grabbed Danny's hand pulling him back.

"Yes! This city is full of poor unfortunate orphans. The only reason I was special was because of how I looked. But that's not real! That's not what I am." Danny shifted, and his real appearance began shifting across his body. "BUT YOU DON'T WANT TO SEE THE REAL ME!

Danny started to hyperventilate as he pulled back until he hit the wall. He slumped to the floor.

"I don't belong here. I should never have come here." Danny said to himself.

Dick keeled down and spoke gently.

"Your right you did stand out. I thought you were a lot like me. Optimistic and energetic despite the pain you were in. I didn't know what you were and I still don't understand. I wish you'd just tell me so I can understand. I want to help you."

Danny scoffed.

"You want to help me?" He laughed taking off his shirt and letting his glamour fall showing the scars he had.

The lightning scar that ripped through his arm and chest all the way to his eye. The burn marks and blast marks littered his body. The unmistakable dissection scar.

In that moment Dick knew that he hadn't seen himself in Danny. He had seen Jason. Sweet little Jason who has a light in the night. His little brother who he hadn't treasured enough until he was gone.

"Danny…you.." He was lost for words.

"You don't want me. Even my parents didn't want me. Honestly, you are all the same. You don't see me as what I am. Just a monster. Not human." Danny grumbled.

"That's not true Danny! Stop trying to put words in my mouth! I love you, is that so hard to believe?" Dick held Danny's shoulders as the teen pushed him back.

"Yes! Now get away!" Danny phased through Dick and flew away to escape. He couldn't handle this right now.

Wings or no wings he could still fly. That was comfort enough.

He flew as quickly as he could only to end up in Crime Alley again. As eerie as it was it gave him a place to collect his thoughts.

Unfortunately, he forgot it was home to the relevant Red Hood or Jason. His unwitting family member. That was no longer a secret especially when Jason recognized him as Phantom. At least he didn't tell everyone.

He didn't want them to know the truth. He did want to be an undead monster to them. He could go through that again. He refused. He'd rather return to the realms before suffering that again.

When Jason came (probably sensing his presence) Danny felt overcome with emotions. He hugged Jason feeling a little less alone.

"Hey, Spooks. What are you doing out here?" Jason asked letting the boy hug him.

"I…picked a fight with Dick," Danny said embarrassed with how he acted…again.

"First time?" Jason laughed "Trust me as his kid you probably will do that plenty more times. I know I still do with my ol'man. But Dick isn't like Bats. He loves differently. Although they both care too much, Dick is good at communication. Just talk to him."

Jason seemed more jovial now. Less pained. Apparently, now that the Joker was dead and gone a weight was taken off him. That and the tainted ectoplasm being eaten by Danny.

"I don't think I can," Danny said, what he wanted to do was run away. He may have gotten too deep into this. Maybe returning was the best thing.

"Then you sure chose the worst possible guardian. He's gonna keep looking. He did not going to stop either. So sucking it up and facing him is the best possible route." Jason laughed as Danny sighed. "You can't keep running."

"I can try." Danny thought bitterly. He could just rip open a portal and disappear. No one would know.

"Red Hood. Danny." A third voice entered the conversation.

"Batman." Jason scowled.

"I was sent to look for Danny." He said simply. "He should be focused on healing."

"How'd you find me this fast?" Danny gripped rolling his eyes.

"I had a feeling. Come along, Danny. " Batman reached out to Danny.

Reluctantly Danny waved goodbye to Red Hood and took Bruce's hand.

Bruce didn't take Danny home immediately. Instead, they climbed one of the tallest buildings in Gotham. Danny stared up at the sky. The stars were blocked out by the light and smoke. He always hated that part of Gotham.

"Danny look down," Batman said urging Danny to sit with him.

Looking down the city shined. Each light is like a blazing star.

"Each light you see is a person. Despite how difficult life is here they still choose to live their lives." Batman said. "They don't know if they will be safe but they still strive for more."

"Do they really think that or do you just hope they do?" Danny barked clinically.

"Both. It wasn't always like this. The city used to be dead silent before I became Batman. Now they have the strength to fight back even in the night. That's why I do this. So Danny, why do you fight?"

Danny was never really asked this. He had a reason right? A good one.

"I wanted to protect my hometown." Yet he no longer needed to do that. He controlled the ghosts now. They lived a peaceful life now.

"Then we have something in common. I want to protect Gotham. But I'm not perfect. The world we live in is unpredictable with forces we don't understand. I thought if I understood something then I'd have no reason to fear. That suspension was leveled at you because I thought it would protect you and the world. However, I only made you afraid."Batman apologized. He wasn't very good at that but he was genuine.

"What if I'm a threat? What if I'm dangerous and hurt people? People you care about." Danny wanted to aim that barb at Bruce but it actually hit him. He was scared that one day he would become that other version of himself.

"Then I want to help you because I know you don't want to hurt people. Trust me there isn't a metahuman on earth that doesn't share your fear." Batman put a hand on Danny's shoulder.

It felt surprisingly warm against his cold skin.

"I want to talk to Nightwing. I think. I think I'm ready to talk." Danny was finally ready to tell him the truth. Even if it scared him to death.

[mymiraclealigner]

Don’t be kind | RemusLupin x fem!reader

summary: Remus has come back to apologize.

tw: smut without much plot (+18), curse words

word count: 2,223

a/n: long time no see :) i have been thinking about remus so much lately... hope you like this and sorry if there are any grammar mistakes, english is not my first language.

The rain hit the window desperately. It banged the outside of the big house begging to come in. The weight of the mist creeped into the walls with ease, like a snake crawling through a dense field, almost invisible. The Black House was dark and moist, the majority of its habitants in deep, twitchy slumber.

A girl held herself up on her elbows, semi-asleep still. Some hair stuck to her temple, product of the sweat. The heat under her duvet contrasted uncomfortably with the cold atmosphere. She managed to sit on her bed to recognize the figure standing past her door. A small breeze sneaked through the gap between the creaky floors; a shiver walked across her.

“Remus?” A set of manicured fingers raised to rub her sleepy eyes.

The man remained still. Remus was counting in his head: one, two three, four… Hoping to go unnoticed around twenty. It wasn’t the first night he had entered her room to watch her sleep or something more. But it was the first time he felt embarrassed that he got caught. Twenty came around and she remained focused on the subject in her room.

The silhouette’s shoulders were moving up and down patiently and a few drops fell from his fingers to the floor: he was soaking wet, the rain caught him on the way back to the house. She knew it was Remus and not an illusion. In her dreams, he would have come to her already and he would have been dry, smelling like books and whisky, like he normally did. In her dreams, he loved her unafraid, he was certain of his feelings for her.

“So this is what you do, treat me horribly and come back to watch me sleep and wet my floors?”

“Sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to raise my voice at you,” he replied with a hoarse voice. “It’s the moon.”

The girl looked down, a silver, thick stripe on the floor marked the distance between the bodies. It was always the moon the one coming between them. Nature’s round princess was an animated object, playing with Remus’ head and emotions. The witch constantly asked herself how something so beautiful could do him so much harm –and to her, consequently.

She removed the comforter from her body, sitting at the edge of the bed. The moon’s pale light bathed her naked legs. She wiggled her toes against the cold wood, getting ready to stand up. Remus’ breathing quickened, her actions meant I forgive you, clearly. He tried to ignore the inevitable worry of when he would no longer be forgiven.

She moved like an angel towards him: messy curls framing her face, tired eyes shaping the world around her. Remus could have kneeled to her feet and kissed them as an act of gratitude. She was merciful like a virgin.

She first pushed the heavy leather jacket off his shoulders. The garment hit the floor with a hard thud, splashing cold water on her feet. His hands were immediately on her hips, his achy knuckles relaxed at the touch of her cotton shirt. She surrounded his neck and came so close to his face she could feel his warm breath on her forehead. He smelled like pines and smog.

“I’m truly sorry, you’re so important to me,” he whispered against her hairline. His hands trespassed the fabric and caressed her lower back, occasionally playing with the edge of her underwear.

Her hands massaged his nape, helping it get rid of the tension the incoming full moon had induced. She looked up into his tired eyes, the stripe of light reflected in his pupils. He truly couldn’t escape the moon.

“It’s okay, just take what you need,” she responded while pulling his lips closer to hers.

He wanted to correct her, he wasn’t there to take anything –even if it seemed like it–, but it was too late. She immediately kissed him and he forgot about anything that had ever happened in the world before that moment.

The rain suddenly stopped, the clouds took deep a breath.

Like a siren she pushed him slowly into her waters, discarding his clothes on the way. The first buttons of his shirt were undone slowly by her slippery hands; the lethargy of her movements heated Remus’ head. He interrupted the unhurried pace yanking the shirt open, fours buttons flew across the room. Her nails scratched the hair on his torso, fondling the scars with dedication; it made Remus moan.

At the halfway point, Y/n lost her shirt. A soft breeze hardened her nipples, right before the werewolf’s hand grazed them. Her lips, already red and bitten, opened to emit a small groan of satisfaction. She was desperate for him, but so mad at his ways. She brought her bare chest closer to his in a unbridled outburst; fuck you, she thought.

Y/n kept her backward walk until she was stopped by the feel of the mattress hitting her thighs. The girl palmed him over his wet jeans: he was rock hard under the rough material. She guessed he had been hard for a while now by the way his hips stuttered. Remus separated from her kiss to observe her moving hand; in a swift move he removed it holding her by the wrist and trapping her arm behind her back.

“My turn,” he announced lowly against her cheek. He let his words linger in the air; he wanted time to slow her breaths.

With the back of his scarred hand he caressed the curve of her face relaxing the frown that had settled between her brows. His stroke kept going down her neck, the pulse of her veins made his fingers slightly jump. Like on a mountain, his hand raised following the outline of her breast; he pinched the nipple maliciously, stealing a whimper from the girl. His hand slipped down until it sneaked below the only piece of fabric that covered her. Past the mound of hair he wet his digits on her pussy, going up and down, ignoring the crying bead on purpose.

“Pl- please,” she breathed out.

“Uh?”

“I- I said please,” their eyes met. His were determined and playful, hers were pleading.

With a devious smile Remus decided to put her out of her misery and roll measured circles on her clit. Remus knew Y/n was close when the hand held hostage behind her back started to twitch; she also tried to keep her thighs relaxed, but he knew that subtle trembling too well.

The werewolf kissed her neck while diverted his fingers inside of her. First one, then another. He pumped his long fingers into her enough times to open her up, ease his way between her legs. First shallow, then deep. She swore she could feel the protruding scars caress her inner walls.

Once again, in the verge of the orgasm, he let her go. Putting his wet hand on her hip and freeing her arm from his hold. Her hands flew to his belt to unbuckle it. He held her thin hands between his and grabbed his erect member, guiding her through the up-and-down movements. She looked down, embarrassed to be so enraptured in the action.

“Look at me.”

She held her head up, looking shy beyond his shoulder, disobeying his request deliberately. He knew, then: she still resented him. Before he could say anything to defend his case, Y/n turned around and pulled down her underwear. As the small fabric fell to the floor, she straightened up and grabbed the nearest bedpost with her ass perked up.

Remus put a firm hand on her shoulder and pushed her head to side with his, trying to make space to kiss. She could feel his wet tip hitting against her butt cheeks. His hips were rutting against her while his mouth was devouring her soft neck.

“Are you sure?” He whispered in her ear. Goosebumps traveled through her sides; she nodded.

“No, use your words. Come on”

The smallest “yes” came out of her lips. Remus knew he wouldn’t get anything clearer nor louder than that. Anchoring on her hips, he pushed her close to him and grabbed his cock to position it on her entrance.

Neither could keep a sigh of pleasure in at the first stretch. Remus thanked the Gods for her existence and her acknowledgment of his; never in his craziest dreams he thought he could be with someone like her. A long list was the one to enumerate all the ways she was perfect, far more noble and good than Remus; her pussy was in the top five.

He bottomed out and stayed still for a minute, letting her accommodate to his size. He inhaled the scent of her loose curls: fig and honey, his favorite. With a tortuous kiss on her cheek he started rocking inside of her. He held her between his hands like the fourth leaf of a clover, raising a hand to fondle her tits.

The witch could feel his love being poured in the swing of his hips. He was truly sorry (–or very drunk–), she knew, because this is what she had always asked of him and rarely received: to be a little vulnerable, to show her something more than a need to release. The way his breathing fell on her jaw, his arms surrounded her torso, his inhibited grunts matched the thumps… it was perfect, just not what she wanted now.

He treated her horribly hours before, denying her help with the upcoming full moon and talking to her like she was an ignorant idiot. He was so confusing: then, he wanted her far from his life, now, he was holding onto her with all the love and need. He was so mindful and delicate, his cock hit her spot over and over again and it felt so nice that she got mad. She wanted him to unload his frustrations on her, not protect her from already inflicted pain.

“Remus,” she used a hand to halt his movements behind her, “don’t be kind.”

Remus, who was drunk in pleasure, let go of wariness and the fear of hurting her and took a firm hold of the woman in front of him. His hips pounded in and out of Y/n taking the air out of her; he looked down and delighted himself with the view of her arched back and plump ass. Quickly, the slapping sound between the flesh was accompanied by a squelching one; Remus rolled his eyes and kissed the back of her head as she got wetter. The girl moaned his name like a prayer and stammered out scoldings and praises in an hushed erotic whisper.

He paused for a second to turn and lay down his witch on the edge of the mattress. He folded over her, keeping a steady, hard pace. His eyes looked for her, he was missing the connection, a glance to say there’s so many things that I feel that I can’t put words to, but she closed her eyes in feigned focus.

“Look at me,” he framed her face with his big hand. She turned a deaf ear and kept panting, concentrating on the pleasurable new angle.

“Come on,” nothing still. “You know, I–,” she squeezed him hard interrupting his sentence; the corners of her lips raised lightly. “I won’t let you come if you don’t look at me.”

Remus decreased his tempo, rolling his hips heavily against hers. Her eyebrows met and he knew he put her in trouble. A senseless murmur spilled from her throat in the sweetest tone, the werewolf almost melted. He rolled his pelvis closer knowing it would graze her clit and she immediately dug her red nails into his biceps; he smiled triumphant. Her moans increased and he watched her struggle to keep the composure, she needed permission to come.

Just like minutes before, her eyes opened painfully slow. This time, she was greeted by Remus’ glowing face, looking at her with serious devotion and the ghost of a grin. Behind him, an almost round, luminous circle peaked behind the window: the moon.

“Hey there–”

“Harder, please, I- I wanna come,” she begged breathless, dazed by his ministrations and the beautiful light behind his strong frame.

“Shh, don’t worry. I’ll let you come, sweetheart”

Remus increased the rhythm without taking his gaze off off her. She held his face between her hands and drew him closer to conceal her moans between his lips. Surrounding her legs against his torso Y/n asked if she could come and Remus replied with a simple “Yes, love, I’ve got you”. Immediately after, he came inside her with a groan, hiding his face in the gap between her shoulder and neck, her sweetest spot.

The clouds started weeping again, never covering the silver balloon, the protagonist of the night.

The moon looked at the girl laying sweaty on the bed. On top of her, Remus relished in the sole advantage of his condition: heightened feelings. He caressed her sides, looking to say I’m sorry, once again. She looked back at the moon and brought the werewolf to her lips for another round; tomorrow the man would be the moon’s, but tonight he was all hers.

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XIII)

Chapter 13: ‘So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish.’

Hi! Here is new chapter! Andrew’s reaction to the kiss…

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 2465

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Be drunk

You have to be always drunk. That's all there is to it—it's the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk.

But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk.

And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again, drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything that is groaning, everything that is rolling, everything that is singing, everything that is speaking. . .ask what time it is and wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you: "It is time to be drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish."

Charles Baudelaire, translation by Louis Simpson from Modern Poets of France: A Bilingual Anthology, originally published in Les petits poèmes en prose as “Enivrez-vous”, 1864

Andrew fell asleep out of exhaustion at one point, after tossing and turning for too long. But then, he woke up at dawn, around the time the sun was slowly turning the sky from inky to golden, and he couldn’t go back to sleep.

You had kissed him.

He let out a long exhale as he thought of the scene, pictured himself back on your sofa, with too much alcohol in his veins. Instead of your white ceiling, he could see your features all over again; from your messy hair to the burning fire in your gaze and your inviting lips. And then you were kissing him, he remembered closing his eyes without thinking. He remembered how his brain short-circuited then, how he forgot about everything in the world except for your lips on his and the warmth of your body against his own. And then your skin under his fingers, the softness of your hair, the brush of your breathing. He could have kissed you for hours, and perhaps he did, he couldn’t remember how long it lasted. Too long to be meaningless, that was for sure. Too long for him to pretend even to himself that it was unwanted.

And then he went to the bathroom in an attempt to gather his wits, but when he finally felt calmer again, once he had slowed down his heartrate, and he was walking back into the room, you were nowhere to be found. The door to your bedroom was closed, he guessed you had found refuge there.

His feet took him in front of the forbidden room, he stared at the imperfections carved in the wood of the door, the drops in the white paint. He raised his hand, fist closed, held it there for a moment, up in the air. But when he moved it closer to the door, his palm opened, seemingly on its own accord, and he didn’t knock. He merely rested his hand against the wood, thought about how soft your skin was, and remained standing there for a moment.

Should he try to come in? And for what? Talk about it? Huh… talk about what? There was nothing to talk about. You were drunk. You were drunk, and had acted without thinking and it didn’t mean a thing. You wanted Frank, and he wanted Samantha. You were colleagues, it would make everything complicated, too much so to be worth it. And anyway… anyway, there wasn’t even a reason to think about work. You didn’t want him. And he didn’t want you. You wanted to get your exes back, and you would, you had made an alliance for that. There was nothing to discuss about the kiss, about how much he liked it, about how he imagined knocking on your door now, and you opening it, and him kissing you again...

This was madness… he ought to control himself, to focus on his real goal, to fall back to reason. It was a mistake. You had made a mistake, and he ought to forget all about it.

He went to bed in silence, walking away from your door without knocking, unknowing of your struggle on the other side, of how much you hesitated to go knock on his door to kiss him again.

Instead, he went to the other bedroom, closed the door, and he fell asleep at long last, exhaustion and alcohol finally catching up with him.

And now, there he was, lying in a bed in your home. He couldn’t hear any sound coming from the rest of your flat, and he wasn’t surprised. It was too early, and it was the weekend, and you had gotten drunk last night. You would probably wake up only in a few hours, and he decided that it would be best if he weren’t in your home when you got up. So, he sat up, a migraine piercing his skull after the excess of drinking from the previous night. He groaned as he got up, dizzy, head spinning as he rearranged the messy sheets, but he then moved to the door anyway.

He walked as quietly as he could in your home, allowed himself to drink a glass of water before gathering his things and leaving. He left a note on your kitchen table for you to find in the morning.

Thanks for letting me stay the night. I had a great time with you, thanks for the wonderful whiskey!

I’ll see you on Monday at the office.

Andy.

PS: there’s no need to mention again what happened last night. We were both drunk, we weren’t thinking straight. I’m not angry, nor upset. Let’s just forget about it, and never drink so much whiskey ever again.

Once he had gathered his things, was ready to depart, he threw one last glance towards the closed door of your bedroom. He ignored the tugging at his heart that came with him looking away, and leaving you behind.

You had kissed him.

No matter how hard Andrew tried not to think about it, he couldn’t forget it. Couldn’t move passed it. Couldn’t erase the feeling of your lips on his, your fingers in his hair, the weight of your body leaning against his, the warmth of your breath fanning over his chin, the taste of your tongue as it slid over his…

He heaved a sigh, closed his eyes. Lying on his sofa, with his feet hanging over the edge, the furniture too small for his long frame, Andrew kept on replaying the scene in his head. He had spent the rest of his day trying not to think about you. He had taken a long walk with Elwood despite the rain, called his parents, called his brother, played some guitar, prepared a few things for his upcoming classes next week. He had kept himself busy, but it wasn’t working. You were always there, at the back of his mind. Now that the afternoon was slowly fading into evening, that the sun was almost gone and leaving behind its rays the light specks of starlight, Andrew was running out of excuses to avoid thinking about you. Now that he lied on his sofa, staring at his ceiling, all he could think of was that kiss. Or well, those kisses, rather. He would have been lying, had he pretended that what had happened had only lasted for one kiss. You had spent several minutes like this. Yeah, a long time. Christ...

He needed to forget this moment because it meant nothing. You were drunk. He was drunk. You were both drunk, not thinking straight, and after an awful night and torturing weeks of loneliness you both needed to feel less alone for a second. And that was it. Two friends who were attempting to cope with heartbreak, two friends who felt lonely, two friends who did something silly out of intoxication.

Nothing more.

And anyway, Andrew didn’t want you, he wanted Sam. He wanted Sam. Beautiful, funny, smart, impetuous Sam. The Sam who had been with him for eight years, who had been there through the most important changes of his life, Sam who made him wait but it was alright he could wait for her. Sam who didn’t share his interests, but that was okay, they had other things in common and he liked listening to her talk about what she loved.

He didn’t want you. Even if you were so fucking smart, it made his brain tingle in the best way to talk with you about literally anything. Even if you shared most of his interests and were curious about the things he loved that you knew nothing about. Even if you were hilarious, one of the few people able to make him genuinely laugh these days. Even if you were so damn strong, even now, even with your heart broken and your life in pieces. Even if you were beautiful, sometimes he couldn’t get passed that fact. Even if you were kind, the type of kindness that made him believe in humankind…

No, no, no, no! He wanted Sam. He wanted Sam, this was simply a mistake. He would not bring it up again, he would tell you nothing about it, he would ignore that it had happened altogether. You had shared a moment, you had shared a kiss, but it was a mere instant, a flicker, gone too fast, programmed to die out. A shooting star. One moment of solace that faded as quickly as it had appeared.

He tried to picture Sam instead, painted her face against his eyelids. But as soon as he didn’t consciously force himself to think of her, your lips were burning his again, and your hands cradled his cheeks, your skin so warm against his…

He opened his eyes, sat up in a jolt.

This was ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. He was in love with Sam, he wanted her back, that was what this whole arrangement with you was about. And you wanted someone else too, you wanted Frank, you didn’t want Andrew…

Without thinking, his gaze drifted towards his coffee table and the smartphone that sat there. He touched the screen, making his lockscreen light up, a picture of Sam grinning appearing. He checked his notifications without unlocking his phone, but there was nothing. You hadn’t called, hadn’t texted. Which was normal, there was nothing to discuss. You were probably busy anyway, you had mentioned that you had some chores to do today, and after the excesses of the previous night, you would need some rest. Besides, he had already told you not to mention the kiss again, so.

Well, kisses…

He tried very hard to deny that he was disappointed as he locked his phone. He couldn’t do it. He missed you. Which was crazy, because he had seen you last night, and he would see you tomorrow at work. He was just being silly. He needed to get it together… it was just a kiss. Nothing would come out of it.

None of you wanted a new relationship, you both wanted your exes, you both wanted what you had lost. You didn’t want to find anything, you wanted to claim back what was yours.

Although… Andrew didn’t understand you. He didn’t understand why you wanted Frank so bad. You could have better than him, you could have… someone who would care about your interests, someone who would listen, someone who would love you enough not to drag you along, someone who would be interested in what you had to say. How could Frank not be interested in what you had to say, anyway? Andrew thought back of a lunch break earlier that week, spent just the two of you in your office. Your conversation had wandered from politics about the economy and inflation, Mary Oliver’s poetry, Mavis Staples, your latest attempt at keeping a plant alive, Elwood’s latest mischief, abortion laws in Ireland, your favourite pasta dish, his mother’s art, and you had settled on attending a protest together next weekend that was organised to show support for the women who had been victims of the Magdalene laundries, before going back to work.

You had so much to say, about so many important and mundane things alike, and you were so brilliantly smart about all of it. And Frank was at best… faking interest? What was wrong with that man?

The image of Sam focused on her phone while he spoke flashed before his eyes, but he pushed it aside. It wasn’t the same, he… he wasn’t as interesting as you were, and besides… besides…

Was it not the same?

He rested his elbows on his knees, buried his face in his hands, heaved a long, aching sigh. Why was it all so difficult anyway? He didn’t feel like himself, hadn’t for a while, to be fair. Sometimes when he was teaching, he forgot about the pain that came with broken love, sometimes when he spent time with you and made you laugh, he was reminded that the world did not end with the heresy of losing someone he loved. The aching came back still, the emptiness he saw in his bed, on his couch, on the shelf of his bathroom, in the space between wanting and having. He should have known that the time spent with Sam, spent loving her, was only a loan. It was bound to end. Everything ended. Everything died in the end. The high that came with the euphoria of being in love, like a drug, was only a high, but reality had to come back, to slither in through the cracks of a dream that would be gone with the rising of dawn.

And anyway, the world was doomed, everything was going sour, there were wars and famine and people suffering, and in this crumbling sense of humanity, what was the point in loving at all? What was the point of holding the hope that something in this flitting world could last? A fool’s hope that would eventually collapse. It was pointless. Why would he want to love again? Why would he want Sam again, why… why would he want you?

Why would I want to love her when loving Sam wasn’t enough? Why would she want to love me when Sam gave up?

He could feel himself spiralling, knew it wasn’t healthy, tried to hold back the tears. And he thought of you, of your kisses, of your hands on him, of your mouth and your taste and the feeling of being human again that came with you wanting him, even if only for a moment.

Judging by how the past six months had gone by, Andrew thought he would not avoid it, the panic and the pain and the despair, that it would last a few hours at least. But then the thoughts came in verses, rhymes formed, the semblance of a rhythm, of a pattern, with words that carried meaning.

He looked up, blinked as he blankly stared at the dark screen of his tv. A void. Nothing. He couldn’t see it. He hurried to stand up, to head for his office, to grab the first piece of paper and the first pen he could find.

This was just the embryo of an idea, nothing structured, he would have to work on it, but it was something. The first thing he wanted to write in six months. The feeling of relief that came with tracing each letter was indescribable.

It started with two simple questions. He wrote them thinking of you. Thinking of you and him. Thinking of your lips on his, as a way to accept that he wanted to feel them again.

Why would you be loving?

Why would you be loved?

[pookietv]

apologies, apologies | arthurtv

hello! i am back (sorry it's been so long pookies) so pls accept my humble offering now i am back !!!

cw: smut, slightly toxic, overstim

small pieces of anger had boiled in your blood as you had woke up this morning, a slight whirlwind following you around as you ignored your phone, and meandered around your house.

you and arthur had plans last night. he was going to come round, you had bought all the stuff to make him dinner, the ingredients for his favourite left sat lonely in your fridge, the caramel-chocolate cookies you had baked now boxed up in tupperware, the sight of your kitchen a slightly depressing one.

was it the biggest deal in the world? no, of course not. he forgot.

but it pissed you off. no call, no text, no check up on you at all. you hadn't bothered to remind him, you had figured if the three times you confirmed the night with him weren't enough, then he didn't care that much anyways, right?

you had barely seen him recently - you knew he was busy, and with his line of work, his form of working often meant being around his friends a lot.

but it still bothered you that all of his time had become devoted to seeing his friends - last night was supposed to be the first time you had seen him in almost two weeks, between him having to travel for work and having busy schedules, you felt forgotten.

so your plan of last night, a sweet night in with your boyfriend, with a film and nice food and attention you had been desperately craving from him, had went down the drain, and the bitterness had set in.

you decided cleaning your house was the task to distract you, and your bedroom was the place to begin. the odd piece of clothes scattered across the floor, mugs on the bedside table and misplaced knick-knacks began to return to their rightful areas.

it wasn't until you heard padding, decisive footsteps across your hallway that your ears pricked, and you scrunched your face up curiously.

as you turned to your bedroom door, about to face whoever had intruded into your house, your bedroom door swung wider open, and you were met with a slightly harsh faced arthur.

"why aren't you answering my calls?" he said, his voice slightly stern, and steadied, "had to come all the way to your apartment just to make sure you were alive."

"oh, so now you can make time to come see that i'm alive?" you huffed slightly, and you saw his eyes narrow in confusion.

"what are you on about?" he murmured dismissively.

you felt your eyes roll slightly, "last night? you were supposed to come round?"

realisation sunk into his face slightly, and whilst you hoped some form of guilt may follow that, a slight huff came instead, "oh, don't be so clingy, it's not a big deal." he said, decisively.

"clingy? i've missed you, arthur, you were away for a whole week filming and then you come back, barely see me and just keep ignoring me?" you said, eyes slightly doe-ish and the feeling of annoyance still irritating you like a bug.

"oh, come on, i'm here now, aren't I?" he murmured, voice lowered slightly, honeyed as he stepped slightly closer to you, finger gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, the soft touch of his finger sweeping across your skin spreading a warmth through your cheeks.

you tried so desperately to hold onto your anger, and not let yourself disarm so quickly, but god it was so easy to forgive him when his dark brown wide eyes looked down at you like some sort of charming spell, lulling you in, fingers still gently twisting the lock of hair he had just tidied away behind your ear.

"arthur, s'not that simple, i'm still annoyed, you barely even-"

"shh, i know, i know, you're still angry. let me make it up, hm?" he murmured, so close his breath spread like a fan down your neck, gently leaning in and connecting his lips to your jawline, and any resolve you had melted away, and you figured you could always curse yourself for it later.

his finger lent use to tilt your jaw up slightly, as you felt his stubble brush against the skin of your neck, as his lips setted against the crook of it now, pressing gentle kisses in a trail against you, achingly close to your collarbones as you allowed your hands to creep up and find placement on the back of his neck, fingers gently playing with the shortened section at the back.

his other hand went to the hem of your shirt, teasingly running his thumb along where it settled against your lower stomach, each slight touch making you embarrassingly needy, a slight whine leaving your lips as you heard a softened chuckle from him.

your anger had been such a fragile thing, so easily displaced by even the slightest of intoxicating touch from him.

"arthur," you murmured, cheeks flush red and each breath hitched, still on the border between being filled with fury at him, and throwing that all away in a desperate attempt to fill the hole that had been so neglected by arthur being away for two weeks.

he smirked a little down at you, lifting his head from the crook of your neck, "i know, lovie. knew you wouldn't be angry for long, hm?" he said, voice dripping with a saccharine tone, his own eyes slightly darkened with lust.

it was all you could do not to pathetically whine as he gently pushed you to the bed, you still sat up against your headboard, leaning down to you and pressing a soft kiss to your hairline, thumbs gently pushing up your shirt as your widened, pleading eyes only stoked the fire in him.

"you look so pretty when you're deciding whether you're cross with me or need me," he teased, pulling the shirt off your head with ease, a slight cocky smirk gracing his face, before his lips went to the front of your chest, one hand resting against your hip as his groaned against your skin, his teeth lightly grazing against your perked nipple.

you had easily become putty to him, malleable to his charm as your hand gently grasped at his upper arm, squeezing slightly as i let out a soft sigh at the touch of his facial hair against you, not too rough to hurt but instead just a warm blossom of slight burn against your chest.

he pushed his thumbs into the waistband of the soft pajama shorts you were wearing, edging down both them and the lacy panties you wore underneath them, slow and teasingly, making a slight impatient huff of air leave you as you looked at arthur pleadingly.

his head dipped lower, his body held up between your legs as one hand rested against your lower stomach, his eyes glazed over as he took in the sight of you, bared in front of him, arousal practically drooling from you as he grinned to himself. he pressed a soft kiss to your hipbone, then the lightest kiss against your clit, only eliciting more whines to fall from you.

"so wet already, hm?" he said, voice thick with control as all you could muster out was a pleading, "please, arthur."

the pad of his thumb gently edged against your sensitive spot, drawing agonisingly slow circles against you, as he looked up at you with a smirk, "what, sweetheart, you want me?" he said, voice full of mock surprise.

"need you," you murmured back, feeling helpless to each move arthur made - all you could do was pray he would take pity on you and end the slow, torturous teasing.

"i'll give you whatever you need if you accept my apology," he grinned, his thumb drawing small circles drawing to a stop, his face agonisingly close to your soaked cunt, each breath he drew and released making you squirm a little more.

"see? look how sorry i am, hm?" he mumbled out, between placing gentle kisses on the sensitive inside skin of your thighs, trailing upwards, reaching dangerously close to where you needed him, as he looked up at you with his big brown eyes that seemed to melt anyone.

"arthur," you babbled out, reduced to begging from even the simplest of touches against him, "please, i forgive you, need you so bad," you whined, watching his eyebrow raise for just a moment before he dipped his head back down, arms pushing your legs upwards slightly, to rest over his shoulders as his lips attached to you, tongue gently trailing from your entrance to your clit, making an embarrassingly loud moan fall from your lips.

the slight stubble that had lightly grazed your chest before was at much better use now, the rough burn a welcome addition as you felt your poor sensitive inner thighs begin to be rubbed raw, however it was too mindspinningly good to even care about tomorrows pain now.

his mouth gave a slight bit of suction, leaving the breath to be sucked from your lungs as his tongue rolled over your sensitive bud, your hips bucking with each movement in a pathetic attempt for more, which was only greeted by a muffled and cocky chuckle from arthur, one of his hands squeezing your thigh a slight bit tighter.

he was lapping against you like a man starved, any time your thighs twinged slightly closer together he was the first to push them apart, pushing his head closer to you, as if he could be any closer.

any inhibition or thoughts you had previously been able to have were practically incinerated, one hand of yours resting in arthurs hair, not tugging but just another feeble attempt at being as connected as physically possible as desperate whimpers fell from your lips like a prayer, arthurs muffled grunts only spurring you on as you pleaded gently.

fast figures of eight were painted against you as it was all you could concentrate on to try and keep your hips still - at least relatively so, but with every slight movement you bucked against his mouth, almost pathetically.

one of his hands went to your hipbone, gently pushing down as he looked up at you, eyes glossed and lidded, as you could feel your own head push back, your brain completely fogged and all responses had become increasingly needy whines, reaching closer to being considered completely dumb.

he couldn't help his eyes being etched onto every movement you made, each twist and contortion serving a reminder that he got to be the one to do this to you, a sick sense of gratification spread around his own body.

each breath had become a battle for a gulp of thick air, a familiar tightness gracing your stomach, and it was all you could do to grasp at the sheet beside you and screw your eyes shut, the all too familiar peak bounding closer as he feverishly lapped against you, the increased pace and newfound harshness pushing you over the edge, frenzied whines torn from your throat as your lower body practically went limp, euphoria dizzying your head as the familiar knot snapped, moans tumbling from you as your muscles relaxed against the mattress.

arthur on the other hand, had become completely buried in the bliss, groans leaving him as he lapped against you, leaving you to squirm and whine in overstimulation his hands only gripped at your thighs tighter, leaving you unable to move, just babbling whimpers falling from your lips, as he paused for a moment only to reassure, "come on, sweetheart, you can take a little more... been two whole weeks without the taste of you, need you for a little longer," he murmured before burying his head back between your legs without a moment for you to respond.

all you wanted was to desperately please him, as black spots clouded your vision and tears pricked your eyes whilst you fell into a complete oblivion, the orgasm-ecstasy mixed with the ache of your poor throbbing core was a pain that you had somewhat grown to love, whilst fighting the overwhelming urge to jerk your hips with every slight movement, tightly wound.

he only became more sloppy, the mix of spit and arousal coating the bottom half of his face, your fingers curling into his hair as a plea for release, your core only becoming more overstimulated by the second as he failed to slow down, your hips jerking desperately as a tug on his hair made him come to, and he looked at you with an apologetic grin as he pulled away.

"atta girl, did such a good job," he murmured out, proud smirk plastered on his face, his arm raising to quickly wipe his face as he lifted himself up, hand quickly moving to card through your hair in a sincere manner, a soft kiss pressed to your forehead, "knew you could take a little more, you always like the ache," he said, matter of factly. and you hated that he was right, the frenzied end of arousal always a desperate act to see how long you could go, how much you could really take, a game arthur so desperately loved playing.

you giggled a slight bit, breath still panting and face flushed red as you were basically rendered immobile, your limbs closer to jelly, "uh huh, just went a little too long," you said gently, tucked next to arthur in a slightly needy post-orgasm haze.

"just got too focused, could do that all day if you'd let me," he grinned a little cheekily, and you rolled your eyes playfully, allowing your bodyweight to rest against arthurs chest in a sobering state, "although, i may mess up more if that's the way i get to make it better,"

you gave him a slight stern look, and he laughed a little, holding a hand up in mock apology, "kidding, i'm kidding." he confirmed, "i just know how easy it is for you to forgive me when i'm between your legs, and i mean fuck, i'm not complaining."

"for the love of god, don't leave me alone for another two weeks," you joked back in return, and he nodded his head, a smirk still stuck there.

"how on earth could i leave you for another two weeks when you just reminded me how much you need me?"

"don't joke, i missed you," you said, in a coy voice, and he chuckled slightly in response.

"i know, lovie. i missed you too." he murmured gently, pressing another kiss to your hairline as your eyes shut momentarily in bliss, "love you, you know. i'm sorry i was shitty, i really do love you."

[drenched-in-sunlight]

"Marika becomes the sum of all the Fromsoft girlies" is nice but you forgot Nashandra who actually has parallels with Marika! Recommending to check it out, she's cool!

let’s get this out of the way now… I love DS2, I think the vibe and gameplay is immaculate and I’ll defend it as a whimsical and enjoyable videogame experience till the end of time.

But my god, I hate how they handle female characters in that one 💀

In fact, I don’t like how they handle female characters in DS franchise in general. It got a bit better in Bloodborne and Sekiro and especially AC6, but overall ever since I started playing Fromsoft game in 2020, my main gripe with them is they only have 2 tropes to shoehorn their female character into: helpless victim of a system that would mangle and exploit them OR serious sword lady. And if I’m being real, it’s the main gripe I have with Elden Ring base game too?

I didn’t discuss it on tumblr because back then I were still trying to keep this blog art-focused, but when the game came out in 2022, I did express my concern on twitter that I found the female characters cast… strangely lacking. Because I went into the game expecting Ema-level of writing (literally Sekiro’s Ema is one of the best female characters Fromsoft has ever written to this day I could and have talked ppl’s ears off about her. And I’m glad she on her own is very different from Marika. That means they could at least write 2 more types of female characters now the bar is on the floor but I’ll take it and cherish what I have), but it felt like they got reset back to DS franchise with ER base game.

(This has an added layer of me being a girl born, raised and lived in a Sinosphere country that is entrenched in Confucius values just like Japan, so yes I do understand and experience firsthand the underlying culture values that shapes their writing. Hell, I live and study postgraduate in Japan for 2 years too).

But we are going off track, this is about DS2. Now, my problem with DS2 is, see, with 1 or 3, the female characters either have very little agency or no agency at all. And it just…. be like that. The male characters are somewhat the same, so it really doesn’t bother me that much. The cool, unique, not sexualized design is enough. But 2?

2 has a lot of female characters…. who either play no role in the world setting or sinister figures that charm men and bring ruins to kingdoms? What?

(Before anyone says “but Lucatiel—” Lucatiel is the beacon of light in that game, yes, but at the same time her purpose centering around her brother is… also a problem I have with the way they handle Malenia’s story. My Fromsoft experience has lore to it as well jfc)

Like, it’s just ??? to me half of those women have no agency or backstory whatsoever apart from being the Dark’s daughters that would bring doom everywhere they go??? You can say everything wrong in DS2 world is their fault and I actually wouldn’t have much to argue. Actually, it’s interesting you bring up Nashandra because I do think Nashandra has parallel in Elden Ring. But not to Marika.

Nanaya.

That’s who reminds me of Nashandra in Elden Ring. Literally the mysterious, lowkey nefarious lady and her old man husband with questionable dynamic DS2 trope 🧍‍♀️ you can actually see that in their name too.

If I have to pick a character in DS franchise specifically to make parallel to Marika, it’ll always be Gwynevere. Because I honestly think it’s amazing they took a character that has the least amount of agency they’ve ever created, and turned the core concept of her (warmth, healing spells, sunlight, mother, daughter, queen, faith) into another character with actual good writing.

That’s why I didn’t include Nashandra in my previous post. Not because I don’t know about her. It’s because I know.

[iamtired10]

hiii, could you write a one-shot or headcanons, whatever you fancy the most, of newjeans (or just danielle, i dont mind!) with a thoughtful, attentive gf? someone who does not actively demonstrate that she makes an effort to remember their habits and preferences but deep down knows everything about them... 😍

and not in a "stalker" way! (☠) more like in a "I care so much about you it just comes naturally" way

thank you!! have a nice day♡♡

masterpiece in your eyes

pairing - gf! danielle marsh x female reader

synopsis - you love knowing all the little things about danielle marsh—everything that makes her, well, her. but it’s not in an obsessed way; it’s just the kind of deep connection you both share.

genre - FLUFF (someone please request angst. and teach me how to write it too! im so over fluff)

warning - nothing just cringe and boring ig, dani have blonde hair here :(

word count - 831

a/n - fun fact... i always update before i go to sleep 😪

the museum air was still.

the kind that made you want to talk in hushed whispers, but that didn’t stop danielle from bouncing on her heels, her eyes wide with excitement.

she was in her element—curiosity and wonder radiated from her as she stood in front of an art piece that you, frankly, didn’t quite understand.

but that didn’t matter.

what mattered was the way danielle’s face lit up, her soft blonde curls bouncing with every little skip she made from one exhibit to the next.

she turned to you with that signature spark in her eyes. “babe, look! isn’t this one so cool?”

her aussie accent mixed with the sound of wonder in her voice made it impossible not to smile.

you tilted your head, pretending to examine the piece like you knew exactly what she was seeing. “yeah, totally. the… uh, colors are super deep.”

she giggled, knowing you had no clue, but appreciating the effort.

that was the thing about danielle—she never needed you to be into the same stuff she was, but you loved the way she came alive around the things she loved.

you’d always made mental notes of her little habits, what made her smile, what made her laugh.

even though you weren’t the type to be super showy about it, you made sure she felt seen.

like how you always brought her that lavender-scented hand cream she liked when she forgot hers or when you made sure to grab the spicy ramyeon whenever you both went grocery shopping because she secretly loved the heat.

she never outright said it, but you knew.

you knew she loved it when you held her hand in museums, quietly slipping your fingers through hers whenever she got too excited and started wandering off like a curious little puppy.

and so, as she moved to the next exhibit, you reached out, lacing your fingers with hers.

danielle smiled at the touch, her gaze softening as she glanced at you. “you always know what i need,” she murmured, squeezing your hand gently.

she pulled you closer until your arms were lightly brushing.

“of course, i do. i’ve been taking notes,” you teased, nudging her playfully with your shoulder.

she blushed, that adorable pink creeping up her cheeks that always made your heart flutter.

across the room, you heard the unmistakable laughter of hanni.

your friends, they were gathered around an interactive display, messing around with a touchscreen that let you create your own digital art.

haerin was tapping through the colors with focus, while hanni was trying her best to mess it all up.

danielle waved over to them with her free hand. “come on, let’s go see what they’re doing!”

the two of you wandered over, still hand-in-hand, joining the chaos. “unnie, you’re ruining haerin-ah’s masterpiece!” danielle laughed, nudging hanni playfully.

“i’m adding to it,” hanni said with a grin, barely holding back her laughter as haerin shot her a death glare.

hyein was watching from the sidelines, clearly amused. “it’s abstract art now.”

you leaned into danielle’s ear, whispering, “they’re all such nerds.”

danielle giggled, nodding in agreement. “and we love them for it.”

minji, the mom of the group, finally stepped in. “alright, alright. give hae a chance to finish it.”

then she turned to you and danielle, raising an eyebrow. “enjoying the tour?”

“yeah, it’s been amazing!” danielle beamed, her excitement spilling out. she turned to you with a wide smile. “i love that we’re all here together.”

minji smirked. “she loves you being here.”

you rolled your eyes, but inside, your heart was swelling. danielle was so effortlessly herself around you, and that’s what made everything feel so perfect.

after wandering around for a bit more, you both found yourselves in front of a painting that seemed to catch danielle’s eye.

she stood there, staring at it, her expression soft and thoughtful.

“what are you thinking?” you asked, watching her closely.

she didn’t say anything for a moment, just continued gazing at the painting. “it’s beautiful, isn’t it? it makes you feel something, like… warmth.”

you looked at her, not the painting, and said softly, “yeah, you're right, it’s beautiful.”

danielle turned to you with a shy smile, and your heart skipped a beat.

you didn’t have to say much for her to understand.

she rested her head on your shoulder, her hand still holding yours. “you’re such a dork,” she whispered, her voice light and teasing.

“but i’m your dork,” you teased back, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

in that museum, amidst all the art, the real masterpiece was the love you both shared—thoughtful, quiet but so deeply understood.

the kind of love that didn’t need to be shouted from the rooftops because it was already written in every soft glance, every gentle touch.

and in that moment, you both knew — this was the kind of love that felt like home.

a/n - SORRY TO THE ANON IK IT'S NOT GOOD :( MY HEAD IS TOTALLY BRAINDEAD SAURR I JUST WROTE WTV POPPED INTO MY MIND LMAO. IT'S A MESS, SORRYYY! ANYWAY IM GONNA HEAD OUT NOW. BYE-BYE GOODNIGHTYYYYY!

[buffyfan145]

Episode 2.7 of "Rings of Power" was great!!! 😀 This is the most it's ever felt like the movies to me with the battles and those scenes were so well done. So much happened in this episode too and at least 2 leaks actually did happen, one of which I wasn't mad about like I thought I would be. LOL Rest of my thoughts under the cut for spoilers but can't believe the season is almost over next week and then the 2 year wait for season 3 begins.

I feel so bad for Celebrimbor. We all know his death is coming and just seeing him realize what's really happening and that Annatar is Sauron was heartbreaking and knowing he won't survive this. His scene with Galadriel made me emotional too and next week is going to be tough to watch. But I did love that Celebrimbor also told Sauron that he's lying to himself about so many things too, as Sauron is justifying everything he's doing. And as a Haladriel shipper you can see too that Sauron's also lying to himself about his feelings for Galadriel, which will likely come into play next week when he reunites with her.

But I did laugh though at that moment Celebrimbor and Galadriel heard Sauron screaming in the tower as that foreshadowed him being in the tower in the LOTR movies. LOL

That brings me to the first leak confirmed and that it was that about half the cast is getting killed off. That came out before the season started and made sense in a way but still really sad to see it happen. We've lost Bronwyn, Walridge, Valandil, Mirdania, Rian, that other elf in Elrond's party, Damrod, a bunch of other elves and orcs, and we know at least Celebrimbor will next week with possibly Adar too (which the orcs turning against him seems to set this up too). I didn't include Arondir yet as I feel he might not actually be dead yet and might be saved since we saw Nenya and know that Galadriel gets it back. And I doubt Tom Bombadil will be back either, so that's a lot of the cast that we probably won't see in s3 besides the ones getting killed off.

Then to leak 2 was the Elrond and Galadriel kiss was real. However, it didn't bother me as much as I thought as seeing it on screen you see it was non-romantic and to just pass her that pin and trick Adar and the orcs. Like a lot of other fans have pointed out to those upset this pretending to kiss things happens a lot in the mystery/crime genres and one fan pointed out it happened in the Bond movies which I totally forgot about. LOL It's nothing to worry about and I get people saying it's weird since Elrond will marry Galadriel's daughter, and Galadriel is already in a love triangle with Sauron and Celeborn, but really it was just to help her. Morfydd even said in the bts vid that played after the episode that it was just to give her a way to escape and that's all it was. If anything I've actually seen more of the purists upset about it than the Haladriel shippers, which when the leak first came out it was the opposite, so seeing it on screen vs reading about it shows the difference.

But back to Elrond I loved his scenes in the battles and with Durin IV. He's getting closer to his books/movies version and Robert did great in those scenes. Also loved Gil Galad showed up to help, and hopefully the dwarves will too once they stop the balrog that Sauron helped unleash.

So overall I was really happy with this episode and it setting up the finale. The trailer for next week was great too and I can't wait to see what happen with Haladriel with their fight and afterwards, especially since Galadriel has the 9 rings and gets Nenya back and we know Sauron will somehow get the 9 and him choosing the 9 will be a s3 storyline. I still think something major happens between them, as we all saw their head director Charlotte saying we'll see that Sauron really loves her by the end, and I'm leaning towards he saves/heals her from a wound and she either lets him go with the rings or she goes with him. Then them including Isildur and Estrid kissing in the trailer too I didn't expect. LOL Also, The Stranger meeting The Dark Wizard and knowing we're finally going to get The Stranger's name and I'm still certain he's Gandalf. And there's more Numenor too, so lots more to come in the finale.

[yuurivoice]

with the new reveal in the the L+F episode, there have been some small timeline issues within the fandom’s understanding, which makes me curious

would you ever consider making some sort of online timeline (such as within carrd or another website making site) in order to avoid confusion?

I've been considering my options there. Having some sort of evergreen post SOMEWHERE at the minimum would be great.

My real goal is to have all of that sort of info on the channel proper, and have it logical and easy to find. I have some thoughts on how to accomplish that.

Situations like this one in particular are special cases because typically I circumvent the confusion by writing it into the script and adding clarity that way. But, cliffhanger. So even though within the next minute or two of the next episode you'd have all of that information..........we're looking at like...weeks or a month away from that actually happening for the audience.

I think where I fucked up this time was that I didn't really consider how we've had issues in Auron's content as well where it's been so long since the establishing of the context, they forget that like...certain events have happened in a specific timespan, and what events then happened after the fact. Currently, Lost & Found is the furthest ahead chronologically, in the Spring-ish of the new year that follows the events of BS3 + Auron's Escape series. It's not unreasonable for folks to have forgotten specifics like that because it has taken literally years for me to get here, so if I had really thought about it, I would have given a little more to work off of and re-establish some of that information.

But, fun fact......I decided to do this particular reveal on a whim. It felt right. I wasn't sure WHAT to do with the audio itself, I knew we'd see Casper's car for the first time, and I thought that Charlie couldn't actually be that dumb. Certainly not if he had enough time to start thinking too much about things. Then I was like......ya know? What if I just...did a little more than I thought I'd be doing with this audio.

There are quite a few bandaids that need to be pulled in terms of reveals and connections leading into Shattered. Felt like the right time for this one, and raise the stakes for everyone by marrying these two particular threads.

I've struggled particularly with how to convey that Auron hasn't been peachy between Christmas and Spring-ish times. I thought about diving right in but realized that people could be thrown off. I thought about adding some context on the front end of Shattered, but we're not quite there yet.

And while the hardcores have caught onto the brief, viney threads that connect Charlie to Auron at this time, being more deliberate about it right now at this time feels good.

I am very amused at the general reaction. So amused, that I wrote the bulk of the next episode last night right after the premiere, because this is too good not to capitalize on. lol

Edit: Forgot to add that I'm aiming to have my timeline solution in place for the Echoes of Evalas drop because we're going to run into the same exact issue with Evalas things. EoE takes place around Shattered in the timeline, but various Evalas spinoffs are years prior. So it's paramount that there is some sort of resource to point people towards. I've been thinking about creating a "Guide to YuuriVoice" playlist that would have a fresh channel trailer, series synopsis, broader timeline clarification, and whatever else might be needed that I can think of. I just need something to be finished for me to go ahead and get that rolling.

[ummahhhuhhh]

I wanna be crazy I wanna lose my shit I wanna be manic without the panic I wanna blow up I wanna become a star I wanna be God I'm already God

I want to rip my organs out see what I'm made of I want to bring myself back to life I want to fucking kill myself I want to bleed just everywhere

I want to bash my brains into the wall I want to feel rapture I want to go to heaven on earth I'm already close

I want to be high all the time with or without drugs I want to be absolute bliss; euphoria.

[bd-wlf]

something about Maurice(1987) and how it made me realize i do not want to spend my life alone and that i do in fact crave deeper more emotional bonds with those around me, the type of bond that blurs the lines of platonic and romantic like i want to know who I'm spending time with. some homoeroticism bullshit yknow?

and something about Sherlock Holmes(specifically Elementary) that made me realize I'm actually aro-ace and that I've been repressing those feelings. and more so that i really really want a QPR, someone to go crazy for in a platonic way yknow? someone who just gets me yeah?

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

TODOOOOOOOOOOOOOO 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[eddie-rifff]

in 23 days im gonna be in the same room as bill bruford. im going to be ill

[cent-scratchnsniff]

i was rereading the story dialog for the sephirah while ago (upper layer so far considering i have a doc to contain all of my ramblings and thoughts once looking it over and getting actual lines to be able to know exactly what was said to base my feelings off of rather than the pure unfiltered pain or i suppose somewhat shock at first and those garbled memories of what happened) and after reading tiphereth's and then going to netzach's again it's just.

imagine you have to see what is deemed your other half, the person keeping you sane, your only companion you actually love and like, your literal ‘twin’ have to get crushed but some bum that never does his job and can easily be seen as 'not meeting standards' does get the same treatment at all when your own brother had been destroyed for less like spiraling into some dangerous stains of thoughts (thought be fair he did end up not as respondent and at that point already had what i'll inadequately describe as 'memory leakage' . But from the general idea of the side of tiphereth). he'll be more better than that drug addict ever will be in her eyes, someone who can't even do a report on time and even then is half assed to where at that point they'd just do it themself in the first place. he'll be way better, someone who is quite literally her family. yet why is her brother the only one that needs to suffer through that constant degradation of the soul? the constant wiping of the self? the memories made and lost? why the hell is someone that should deserve it in her eyes, someone so unmotivated and lazy, someone who she deems as a person not able to do a single thing right, not having that happen to them? why is it the person she loves so dearly, so close to her that she wishes would've stayed instead of some now hollow husk and imitation of imprinted memories when that hasn't happened to Any One Else? why does she have to go through all of that, having to see someone that she used to know and adore turn into a hollow husk and imitation of what once was - having to feel as if shes already looking at a walking corpse with memories shoved inside - just for someone like Netzach to not end up crushed to pieces.

[wavernot4love]

no thoughts only mcr wwwy rehearsal ........

[dutybcrne]

Kaeya most definitely tried to rehearse the first thing he would say to Diluc when he'd heard the man was back in Monstadt. Only to have spat out the most silver-tongued, sickly saccharine yet bitingly snarky little remark bc he happened to panic upon seeing the man and immediately knew just how bad he fucked that up by the utter look on Diluc's face.

[sskk-manifesto]

Ep 9 ! :)