#i just realized its a marvel reference

[ratsunie]

inspired by this post by @phanb

[andhumanslovedstories]

I am not closely following the election results tonight, but I am occasionally seeing flashes of them out of the corner of my eye. The most obvious sign that things aren’t going well right now is the complete lack of celebrating on my dash. I know what tumblr looks like when it’s happy. Maybe I’ll go to bed tonight and see something different in the morning. I hope to god that is the case. But I’m thinking about the way I’m thinking right now, and I want to get some stuff down before the future kicks in.

In 2016 I was in a period of my life I affectionately refer to as as my fuckup era. I wasn’t even fucking up really. More just chilling out and falling short of the vague expectations I’d had about what I was supposed to be doing after I graduated college. While my friends from college rented apartments in the city and got jobs that didn’t supply you with a uniform shirt, I lived at home and worked as a barista at a fancy movie theater. That’s a real job you can do for almost five years. I didn’t have a clue what the back half of my twenties should look like. The only long term plan I had in my life was moving out west with my best friend, and my plan for finding a job once I was out there was basically to cross my fingers and hope.

Those days weren’t bad on the whole, but it felt like I was not actually living a life so much as I was goofing off in the waiting room. Sometimes that felt embarrassing, sometimes it felt fun, and sometimes it felt like I was completely pointless to the world.

On 2016’s Election Day, I went to bed early. After watching the votes come in, I needed the night to be over. I woke in a world that felt different than it had been the night before—not just in the actuality of who would be president but down to its foundations. I realized for the first time how much hope I’d had in human nature because now I didn’t feel it anymore. It’s almost silly when I think about it—so many horrible things had already happened that year, people had done horrible things as long as there have been people, and I didn’t think I was naive to that—but something clicked into place that morning.

It felt the same way my world had changed a year earlier, in 2015 during my last semester of college. My college victory lap felt like a prolonged downward spiral. Very early in the morning on a Monday, after pulling an all-nighter and overwhelmed by self-loathing that I could not just motivate myself to work on a paper that had been my only thought all weekend, I self-harmed for the first time in a way that was impossible to pretend it was anything else. Earlier that weekend, I’d tried staving off the urges drawing or writing on my arm, something that did (and does) usually work. I’d written this quote in silver sharpie on my forearm: “Good is not a thing you are. It's a thing you do.”

I picked that quote from the Ms. Marvel comics and liked the words so much, I thought that I wouldn’t be willing to purposefully mess it up by hurting myself there. Didn’t work. They just made me feel more ashamed of myself as I did it.

That was the worst I had ever felt. Then, on the Friday of that week, a friend of mine was senselessly, brutally murdered.

It doesn’t feel now like there was ever a time before her death. My memoir class is now where I wrote about her. My favorite professor is now the one who held me as I cried. My final thesis, the culmination of my history degree, never got finished and certainly never got polished. I turned it what I had and got an A minus. Sometimes I think of rereading that paper to see if that’s the grade it actually deserved. We hadn’t been the closest friends, but my name was still on the email admin sent to professors, listing students who might be emotionally affected by this tragic event. Grace’s murder hangs over every memory I have with her and everything she ever touched. It feels like its own type of obliteration to leave her reduced to her death.

Grace wanted to be a lawyer because she believed in justice and also liked arguing. She could be rude when she wasn’t interested in what you were saying. When you caught her attention, you felt like the most fascinating person in the room. She was so proud of being Jewish. I watched her become proud of being gay. She was so universally friendly that it took me a year to realize that she actually liked specifically me. She had a somewhat silly laugh and an astonishingly luminous smile.

I thought less of the world and the people in it because of how she died. Trump’s election in 2016 felt like that.

After he won, I left stasis. From November through December, I thought harder about my future than I ever had before. Who did I want to be? What did I most value? What did I think was worth protecting? What work wouldn’t kill me to do? At one point, in presumably a fit of madness, I thought, “what if I got into politics.” Epiphany eventually hit me. By the time of Trump’s inauguration, I was already enrolled at community college, getting my pre-reqs for nursing school.

Now it’s election night again, eight years later. I live on the west coast with my best friend, in a house that we bought together. I work as a nurse in a hospital in a city where there are homeless encampments off every highway and someone begging for change on every corner. Meanwhile, there’s Palestine. Meanwhile there’s Sudan. Meanwhile refugees drown in the sea and border patrol shoots jugs of water. Even hurricanes have human cruelty now.

I don’t think people are inherently good or the universe inherently kind. But I am very good at tricking myself into thinking it for a little while, and when I do, I can remember the a specific feeling from Friday of my senior year, from that morning in November— how fucking hard the disappointment hit me because I had expected people to be better than this. It makes me want to be better than that.

I believe, and hope that I always will, that we can make a better world. I don’t know what it looks like, but I think I will see it in my lifetime. Those of us who can believe such things owe a bit of that naïveté to the world—not to excuse atrocities or think them impossible but to believe that we can stop them at all. You have to have a couple people sprinkled around who are genuinely shocked when people do bad things. It’s not that the pessimists are wrong, but you need the occasional counterbalance. I want to be a reasonable cynic’s pleasant surprise.

Every shift, I interact with people at their lowest and worst. I see the direct pipeline from pain to anger to violence, and how fragile that pipeline can be. So many situations can be changed by things as small as a warm blanket or a kind word. Violence can be quite easy to avert. Crises can be quite simply to resolve. Even when I know that whatever I do that shift will not change the circumstances of a person’s life, I think that what I do that shift still matters.

I’m lying in bed, writing this post instead of looking at the news. I wonder how tonight will change me. Been thinking about what I’ll do if Trump wins. Been thinking about how whatever I think I need to do under Trump will still need to be done if Harris clutches out a victory. I guess this is a pessimist’s optimism: to a degree the election doesn’t matter. Good is not a thing you are. It is a thing you do. Our better world will always take a lot of work.

But please god please, why can’t it be just a little easier to do it?

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Infernal Shadows 03

Synopsis: Being one of the most powerful overlords in Hell, you like to keep up with colonies and overlord plans. Recently with the new extermination date out, you hold your annual gala sooner than usual. You hadn’t expected to get in the middle of the already heated feud between the Radio Demon and the head of Vox Tech.

Warnings: She/Her pronouns used for the reader, mentions of blood, voodoo?, Angel Dust being a horn-bag, Reader is referred too as Madame to the public. Vox and Alastor feud because I live for it. Carmilla and Velvet feud because I also live for that. I also really favor Zestial for some reason as a calm mediator.

Song for this chapter: Ludwig van Beethoven’s Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 61

A/N: Thank you all so much for your positive feedback & feedback in general on the last two posts!! I really didn’t think this would catch so much attention but I’m so glad people like it. For some reason Tumblr’s being weird and doesn’t want to let me tag certain people, I don’t know why but if anyone does please let me know because I really don’t like that ;/ But I hope you all enjoy this chapter!! Please note that some blogs cannot be tagged, so I recommend checking this post and to check your settings to make sure I can tag you! If anything I can always just message you when the next chapter comes out, and yes I am making this series longer :) it’ll also be posted on my Wattpad soon!

Word count: 3890

Taglist: @dollops-of-delusion @nebusokuxp @scrunchss @rosedasy @valluvz @chesstras @pishybowl @iaaeav @forgotten-blues @22carolina08 @roboticsuccubus83 @doflamingadonquixote @froggyferrets @frompeach @absurd-ash @sillysillyxinnabun @urdariingdoll @delectableworm @immahuman @justaproudslytherpuff @local-mr-frog @angeli-fucking-cat @coldsweetsenthusiast @jadekomaeda @iaaeav @coffeethoughtsandanxiety @lunalixya @pretty-puppy-stuffies @lemonrolls @asimplikeallyall @lunalixya

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!! // Serendipity Writes (event) // Part One. // Part two. // Part four.

Engaging with guests throughout the night had become an exhausting endeavor, and a part of you yearned for the solace of your absence. Nevertheless, you maintained the façade, acknowledging every sinner whose smile dripped with crimson mischief. Having greeted each guest, you discreetly slipped into a shadowed corner, your shadows enveloping your figure quickly, seamlessly disappearing from the expansive room in mere seconds and emerging into an intimate gazebo outside, meticulously arranged beneath the sweeping branches of a weeping willow, you marveled at its unique ambiance. Unlike the earthly counterparts that stood white, the willow in your realm bore a deep crimson hue, its leaves adorned with a subtle, luminous sheen. A gentle smile graced your lips as you leaned against the sturdy black iron railing, delicately cradling a piece of the weeping willow between your fingertips. In the distance, the grand mansion hosting the gala loomed, its opulence contrasting with the simplicity of your secluded retreat. Despite the awareness of etiquette dictating against leaving guests unattended, the need for a mental break led you to this haven, a safe space for you. Reflecting, you acknowledged a desire for better preparation and rehearsal with the shadows, realizing the repetitiveness of conversations with the familiar sinners had rendered the night somewhat lackluster. It almost felt like you had come out of hiding for nothing. Quite the disappointment.

You sigh, massaging your temples, the lace fabric on your fingertips only slightly soothing the growing headache. However, not too far behind, you hear the sound of soft grass. You straighten up and turn around, seeing none other than your long time friend Zestial, who just smiled, nodding at you.

“Why art thou out here all alone on this crimson night?” Zestial inquired, standing by your side with his back against the railing. You resumed your original position, taking a moment to appreciate his father. Mentally noting how much of your grandfather Zestial reminded you of, you kept the sentiment unspoken.

Tonight, Zestial adorned himself in an outfit resonant with his time period, preserving his distinctive color scheme. A dark, meticulously tailored coat with lime green accents draped over his slender frame, capturing the essence of his demonic class. The cloak, adorned with lime green spider webs, unveiled a mesmerizing display when unfurled—his lime green eyes radiating, the upper pair embellished with vivid red irises. Instead of the customary big top hat, Zestial selected a smaller, more appropriate hat with a touch of flair. Dark as the shadows you command, it featured a light grey patch at the front and was finished with a grey-colored skull and a lime green and red-striped feather on the right side, adding a distinctive touch that mirrored his nature.

“Why art thou out here all alone on this crimson night?” Zestial repeated, shifting toward you a bit. Yet you resumed your original position, savoring the quiet ambiance before finally answering him. “What shall we discourse upon during our repast this eventide?” Zestial asked. Though his wording occasionally posed a challenge for others, having grown up in a family of eloquent speakers, you easily deciphered his intent. Something he truly appreciated. Though he was learning to speak more ‘modern’, or as modern as he could be.

“Quite unsure of that. Everything is changing, and I fear I might be left behind,” you expressed bluntly. Zestial sighed in response, a mix of understanding and concern evident in his lime green eyes.

“Madame, thou art timeless,” Zestial said with a bow, his cup proofing into smoke. “I pray thee, vex not thyself o’er so trivial a matter,” he added, his words resonating with both reassurance and genuine care.

You nodded, handing him a card. His surprised expression upon finding two cards instead of one didn’t escape you. “What manner of thing is this?” Zestial inquired, prompting you to summon a shadow for yourself, knowing he would find his own means back to the Gala.

“Carmilla. I am no fool to the both of you,” you said, amusement coloring your words as Zestial shook his head.

“Thou dost astonish me on every occasion,” Zestial remarked, standing by your side as you walked into your portal. Two seats vanished, leaving four empty seats at your table and six occupied.

In your study, you floated scripts in front of you, checking off names on the table list for tonight. With a few overlords left to choose from, Alastor and Charlotte secured seats based on trust and connections. Vox, Zestial, and Carmilla, an unspoken but potent couple, promised intrigue. Reconsidering Velvet for her potential devolution, you weighed each decision with strategic acumen.

Valentino, the Von Eldritch twins, and other weaker options were dismissed, maintaining a careful balance of power and influence. As you weigh the option of inviting Rosie to the gathering, her unpredictable nature adds a layer of excitement and potential surprise to the upcoming discussions. However, this unpredictability could also introduce challenges, creating an air of uncertainty around her contributions. Hopefully with Alastor around, she’d feel more inclined to behave. You check her name off the list.

In considering Stolas, the Goetia prince, his personal issues and tarnished reputation pose significant hurdles. Divorcing from his wife, sleeping with an imp for fun, as well as losing control of his daughter on Earth, it all seemed too risky to get involved with. While his wisdom and influence could contribute positively, the shadows of his struggles may complicate the dynamics, stirring potential conflicts and requiring delicate handling. Someone might get out of line with a comment towards him. His power was incredibly useful, but not worth the risk.

Husk’s transformation from a former overlord to a bartender signals a decline in power and status. While his laid-back demeanor might bring a sense of unpredictability, his diminished influence raises questions about the relevance of his involvement in the current political landscape of hell. Though he was your friend, you needed to keep your reputation pristine.

As the you contemplate the overlords assets, a mix of excitement, caution, and uncertainty envelops the decision-making process. Each overlord’s potential positive contributions are balanced by the looming negatives.

“Madame?” One of your shadows materialized, prompting a nod for them to proceed. “There seems to be some trouble in the lobby between the guests. What would you like us to do?” it inquired. A grimace crossed your face, hoping the disturbance wouldn’t mar your night. “Let me handle it,” you declared, snapping your fingers, causing the script to vanish. The shadow nodded, blending back into a wall for you to step through.

Upon reappearing, you assumed the form of a taller shadow. The room surrounded by guests revealed Vox, Velvet, Alastor, and Carmilla standing in the middle. Zestial, seemingly composed, stood close behind Carmilla, observing the situation. Carmilla appeared visibly upset, with Velvet in proximity, a pointed finger dropping as soon as she noticed your arrival. Alastor maintained his usual wide smile, though it bordered on the eerie, revealing a glimpse of his gums. The scene unfolded, presenting a potential challenge to the serene atmosphere you aimed to maintain during the gala.

Everyone seemed to stop, slowly turning toward you to see your face. Except there was no expression, just the large shadow you had taken form of. In seconds the shadow disappeared, leaving you in the fog, the expression on your face anything but calm.

"Madame I-" Velvet began, but her words were halted by the sight of your lace glove, your hand rising to silence her. Approaching the overlords, you spoke with an air of cold authority.

"My quarters. Now," you commanded, and with a snap of your fingers, smoke enveloped your spot as you vanished. Shadows materialized around the overlords, guiding them to your quarters, leaving the stunned guests in the lobby.

"Well, that was interesting," Valentino remarked.

In your study, the overlords found you seated in your tall, black chair. Its ebony surface featured intricate carvings of black glass, elegant swirls, and patterns tailored to your essence, creating an atmosphere of undeniable authority and refinement.

"I hope you all had fun acting like children," you chided sternly. The overlords lined up, forming a unified front. Leaning against the right side of your chair, you crossed your legs, elbow on the armrest, pinching the bridge of your nose with a sigh. Annoyance laced your words as you questioned, "What did you feel the need to argue about now?" Before Velvet, Vox, and Carmilla could respond simultaneously, you halted them. "One at a time. I'd assume you all handle this like adults, if you even can." The tension in the room hung thick as the overlords awaited their turn to address your inquiry.

“She wants me at her table Vaggie! Me!” Charlotte said excitedly. Vagatha just smiled.

“That’s good! Now you can tell them about the hotel, and maybe someone will be interested.” Vagatha said, and Charlotte just nodded.

“Maybe they-“ Charlotte stopped, observing as people began to crowd around the center of the lobby. Charlotte and Vagatha stood from their spots at the bar to walk toward the center, where the overlords stood. Velvet and Vox were next to each other, while Carmilla, Alastor and Zestial were across. Carmilla and Velvet were face to face. “What’s going on?” Charlotte asked as Vagatha and her pushed their way through the crowds of people.

“Come on, Carmilla, always the mood-killer,” Velvet scoffed, a disrespectful tone tainting her words. Carmilla shot her a stern look, ready to assert her authority.

“Watch that tongue, Velvet. I will not let your insolence slide,” Carmilla retorted, attempting to rein in the escalating tension.

Vox, ever the smooth talker, chimed in, “Ladies, ladies, let’s not turn this into a drama fest. We’re all here for a reason.” Vox said, sternly giving a tight lipped smile to Velvet, silently telling her to keep her shit together.

Carmilla shot a glare at Velvet, who replied with a defiant smirk, “Drama or not, Vox, some of us aren’t here for the ballroom charm.”

Alastor, drawn to the brewing chaos, couldn’t resist adding his flair, “Well, well, a bit of spice never hurt a party, does it?”

Carmilla, unfazed by the chaos, spoke with a calm authority, “Velvet, your insolence is unnecessary. This is not a playground; it’s a gathering of overlords. Act accordingly.”

Velvet, seemingly undeterred, shot back with a dismissive laugh, “Poor Grandma, always trying to play the responsible one. Maybe loosen up a bit? Have a drink will you?”

Vox, ever the smooth talker, added with a slick comment, “Perhaps we can focus on the matters at hand. Save the theatrics for later ladies.”

Alastor, intrigued by the unfolding drama, simply grinned, “Oh the picture box has spoken! Quite intriguing.” The room continued to buzz with tension as each overlord, except Rosie, added their own flavor to the brewing turmoil. As the tension thickened, Vox, with a sly grin, couldn't resist adding his own slick comment to the mix.

"Ah, Alastor, the radio days were quaint, but it seems you're a bit outdated. Television is the future, perhaps you should tune in sometime," he quipped with a wink, the words delivered with a calculated smoothness. The room momentarily hung in a charged silence before the verbal sparring resumed, adding another layer to the complex interplay of personalities at the gala.

With Vox's comment about Alastor being outdated sinking in, the radio demon responded with a sly grin, sharp teeth on display, his eyes displays dials, as the rooms lights began to deepen, "Ah, Vox, your television endeavors are impressive, but remember, I'm not just audible; I'm unforgettable. A little screen time won't change that," he retorted, “This face was made for radio.” He said with a grin, tilting his head to the side, a sharp snap in his neck, his words carrying a mix of amusement and confidence. The verbal exchange between the two overlords added another layer to the already charged atmosphere, each comment becoming a piece in the intricate puzzle of conflicts and egos at the gala.

“See what you did grandma, now you’ve got the two of them fighting.” Velvet said, pointing a finger into Carmella’s chest. She scoffed, shoving her away.

“Don’t you dare get disrespectful on me you brat.” Carmilla said, beginning to heat up with anger.

That's when Madame stepped in, reappearing in the form of a taller shadow, casting a lengthened silhouette in the room brimming with guests. Vox, Velvet, Alastor, and Carmilla found themselves at the center of the unfolding tableau, and Zestial, seemingly composed, lingered just behind Carmilla, quietly observing the escalating drama. Carmilla's visage betrayed a hint of distress, her pointed finger lowering as she registered your reappearance. Alastor, with his trademark grin, bordered on eerie, revealing a glimpse of his gums. The unfolding scene disrupted the serene atmosphere you had meticulously aimed to maintain during the gala, presenting an unexpected challenge.

A hush fell over the room as everyone turned their gaze toward you, anticipating your reaction. However, your face remained expressionless, concealed within the depths of the large shadow you had taken form of. In mere seconds, the shadow dissipated, leaving you in a misty veil. Yet, beneath the calm exterior, a storm brewed, ready to challenge the delicate balance of the evening.

Now, here you all were, sitting in the study after Carmilla had explained the situation.

“Madame, with all due respect,” Carmilla spoke, looking down. “I truly do not believe Velvet is mature enough to be at our table tonight.” Carmilla said.

“Are you questioning my judgment?” You asked sharply, to which Carmilla stiffened quickly, shaking her head then.

”No Madame, I would never-“

“Then do not say foolish things.” You said. Sighing, you shut your eyes, feeling the weight of the situation. Tonight sensitive information would be revealed and Carmilla did have some point here. Velvet clearly could not hold her tongue.

”Vox, control your associate please, or you both will be cut from the dinner tonight.” You said finally, to which he nodded nervously.

“Of course Madame.” He said, nodding to you.

“I wasn’t finished.” You said, looking to Alastor.

“I want none of this technology talk either.” You spoke, staring at Alastor who just smiled with lidded eyes. You knew he was very much upset, but you had forbidden anyone to fight in your home, anyone but you of course. “You all will act like mature adults wether you like it or not. I am not your guardian, I should not be having this conversation with overlords who should know better.” You said, standing. ”Now, all of you, out.” You said, snapping your fingers. Quickly the shadows began to move, ushering everyone out of your study. Everyone except Carmilla. “Not you.” You said to her, Zestial nodding to you and her as he stepped out, giving you both privacy.

“Madame, I didn’t mean what I said-“ Carmilla said quickly. You waved her off, straightening yourself out.

“Nonsense Carmilla, I know you meant well.” You said with a stoic expression. You sit back down, crossing your legs and snapping your fingers to form a chair in front of your desk, ushering her to sit. “I wanted to speak to you about your weapons.” You stated. At this her eyes went wide, before dropping again.

“Oh, very well then. What would you like to know?” She asked. You grinned, before standing again.

“Well, how much would I need to give you for you to make me a personal bayonet?” You asked. She went silent for a moment, before answering.

“Nothing at all Madame.” She said, standing to look at you. “May I ask what for?” She questioned. You shook your head.

“No, just to have on display. I want a new one, the old one I have is quite out of style for me.” You replied. She just nodded, before you waved to her, sitting back down and summoning a script again. “You may go now, and please, do not argue with children.” You commented. She just smiled and nodded, leaving you to your own vices.

It was half-past eleven, five minutes till the midnight bells chime. Everyone in the lobby was beginning to get excited for the entertainment you had planned for the night. Oh, you knew you would not disappoint.

“Madame would like everyone to accompany her on a journey tonight. She has sent me to retrieve you all. She would like to formally welcome you to tonight’s entertainment.” The large shadow said, standing from the topic of the stairs. Behind it was a large portal. It stepped backwards, into the portal, and nodded for the guests to start coming through.

The custom-built coliseum stands as a testament to Madame's vision, a grand fusion of opulence and dark elegance. The circular structure boasts towering columns, but instead of conventional pillars, thick chains rise, intricately linked and serving as both ornamental decor and structural support. The arches, molded in black, curve gracefully around the circumference, evoking a Victorian Gothic aesthetic that permeates the entire venue.

Two larger-than-life statues of Madame herself flank the entrance, capturing her regal poise and adding a touch of imposing authority. The statues serve not only as decorative elements but as a representation of the gala's hostess, a constant presence overseeing the proceedings, she is always watching, all seeing, perfection.

The overall ambiance is one of grandeur and mystery, with the black molding on the arches casting shadows that play into the darker undertones. Every intricate detail, from the chains to the statues, contributes to the unique Victorian Gothic feel of the coliseum, matching Madame’s home perfectly, matching her perfectly. The venue, finally being unveiled to the guests, now welcomes them who are treated to an appetizer course, surrounded by the striking architecture and entertained within the darkly enchanting atmosphere Madame has meticulously crafted.

Numerous shadows, dark and formless, line the entrance walls, extending silent greetings to the arriving guests. Their presence adds an air of mystique and intrigue as they blend seamlessly with the Gothic architecture. As attendees make their way into the coliseum, these shadowy figures create an ethereal welcome, embodying the unique atmosphere of Madame's custom-built venue.

At a separate entrance reserved for the handpicked members of Madame's esteemed dinner table, a solitary shadow stands guard. This entrance, reserved for a select few, hints at the exclusivity and importance of those who will partake in the upcoming dinner. The shadowy sentinels serve not only as silent greeters but also as guardians of the event's secrets, casting an enigmatic allure over the gala.

A singular shadows escorts Charlotte, Alastor, and the rest of the overlords to the exclusive section, leading them to an elevator to bring them to the best seats in the coliseum. The elevator’s interior is a striking display of elegance, with white and black checkered flooring lending a timeless touch. The walls, enveloped in darkness, exude an air of mystery, while black, smokey glass engravings on the ceiling add intricate detailing that dances in the ambient light. Each number on the elevator, indicating the ascending levels, glows a vibrant red, creating a vivid contrast against the monochrome palette.

“Oh I’m so excited! What do you think we’re gonna see? Gladiators? Sinners fight? Oh actually I hope not, I don’t want people to die.” Charlotte said to Alastor. Carmilla just chuckled at her antics while Zestial eyed her with curiosity. Where did Alastor find such a girl and why the princess of all people?

The elevator stops at the top floor, revealing the opening in the middle, which was surprisingly covered with water.

“What is Madame playing at?” Carmilla questioned as the overlords sat in a row at the top. From there they could see everything and everyone.

“I am quite uncertain, yet my anticipation is stirred nonetheless.” Zestial said. The lights around began to dim, and shadows began to pour glasses of water in front of all the guests. Down in the middle of the coliseum was the tallest shadow, the one that seemed to be Madame’s favorite, since it always spoke for her.

“Greetings all. It is Madame’s pleasure to invite you all to the special entertainment tonight. Madame has put together some of hell’s finest performers for your entertainment tonight. I would like to present, preforming here tonight, The Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra preforming Ludwig van Beethoven’s Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 61.” The shadow said with a bow, before it vanished just as quick as it came. Then, other shadows appeared, but this time they were different. They were people, performers, with clear outlined silhouettes, faces and expressions, even clothes.

“Hey, Al?” Charlotte asked, leaning over in her seat to Alastor. He let out a ‘hm?’ In response.

“Does Madame own those souls down there?” Charlotte whispered, but before Alastor could answer, a shadow had already cut in.

“Yes. All the shadows here, even yours, Madame owns.” The shadow said quietly, filling Charlotte’s glass cup with water. Charlotte nervously, perked up, but said nothing as she shadow carried on with it’s catering.

The ethereal notes of the music filled the air as the performance unfolded. Around the musicians stood ballet dancers, their movements a delicate poetry in motion. Clad in all black, the performers created a stark contrast to the dancers, who emerged with an otherworldly grace akin to figures rising from the depths of water. The dancers moved with an angelic fluidity, their forms intertwining seamlessly with the haunting melody, creating a mesmerizing tableau that captivated the audience. The visual symphony of black-clad musicians and the whisky-hued ballet dancers painted a scene of enchantment and mystery within the grand coliseum. Even down to the dancers, this had Madame written all over it.

Velvet's keen eye captured the essence of the dancers' ethereal movements on paper. With each stroke of her sketch, she depicted the dancers as if emerging from a watery abyss, the fog enveloping their feet creating an illusion of water flowing upward. The intricate details on her sketch paper brought to life the dancers' graceful forms, their figures seemingly intertwined with the rising mist, evoking the enchantment of a waterspout captured in a moment of sublime artistry. Velvet's artistic interpretation added a layer of depth to the performance, transforming the ephemeral dance into a tangible and captivating visual narrative.

Water had begun to swirl, the dancers moving around it, the water getting taller and taller, similar to the way it had when you had first made your entrance at the beginning of the Gala. Now, it was water, and from Charlotte’s seat, she had struggled to make out what was going on. She turned to Alastor to see him holding a pair of opera glasses in his hand. Without you having to ask, he tapped the armrest of her seat. Charlotte turned to the side to see a pair tucked neatly against the front of the armrest. She grabbed them quickly, before looking through them and at the waterspout now forming in the middle. Her jaw flew open, as well as the loud screech of Alastor’s track playing. Vox had short circuited, and Carmilla gasped loudly. Velvet stood silent, but there was evident confusion on her face, while Zestial sunk into his seat, conflicting emotions flowing through him.

“Madame- she’s-“ Charlotte stuttered, and Alastor nodded, swallowing thickly.

“With an exorcist. I know.”

[argisthebulwark]

My Best Friend, My One & Only

summary: how they propose <3 gn reader, no gendered pronouns or y/n used. feat: Farkas, Teldryn, Miraak, Brynjolf, Balimund, Mercer, Vilkas warnings: non explicit mentions of battle/injury a/n: yes I know this isn't how proposals work in the elder scrolls, I know about the amulets, rings are just more romantic to me masterlist

Farkas does it in the middle of a difficult battle. When you're back to back, weapons bloodied and muscles beyond exhausted and the enemies are circling closer. "If we make it out of this," Farkas pants, back flexing as he readies his sword once more. "Will you marry me?" "What?" "C'mon, if we're both alive tomorrow we'll get married. Deal?" "Alright, deal." You gulp, rallying whatever shred of strength you have left. An arrow lodges itself near your feet and you're lost again, hacking and slashing through the seemingly endless waves of bandits. It isn't difficult to keep track of Farkas on the battlefield - his stature and the roar of his victorious laugh calm your worries about losing him. Once only the two of you remain standing, you turn to him. Through the mud and viscera Farkas is grinning as he approaches you, chest heaving with each deep breath. "We both lived." He brags, one messy hand scrounging in his pockets. Your heart flips when he produces a stunning ring in his outstretched palm and offers it to you. "I didn't think you were serious." You breathe, plucking it from his hand despite the screaming of your muscles. Holding it up you marvel at the silvery moonlight glimmering on its beautiful stones. "I wouldn't joke about this." The ring fits so easily onto your finger. Farkas presses shameless kisses on your hand and up your arm, clearly so excited to see his ring on your finger. You can hardly believe that this is real, this isn't a dream.

Teldryn has never really brought up marriage, so the hypothetical catches you off guard - would you ever want to get married? Coming from a relatively large family it had once been the expectation but after the years of dealing with dragons and wars it's become less of a priority. "Yeah, I suppose I would." "You suppose?" "Well, you never bring it up so I haven't given it too much thought." "I ever said to me, specifically." There's a glimmer of humor in his eyes but you can't bring yourself to play into it. Something about this conversation feels heavy, like it's more important than some silly banter. "I wouldn't consider it with anyone else." Teldryn sighs and flips a coin your way. You scramble to catch it, glaring over at him when he begins to wander away. Prepared to ask why in the hells he would throw a septim your way you stare down at your hand. Sitting there in the palm of your tattered glove is the most beautiful ring you've ever seen. Small pale stones glitter around one dark gem placed in the center, all held together with sturdy metal. That bastard has the audacity to propose to you so casually? To toss this gorgeous ring at you, risk it falling into the dirt, and stroll off as if he hadn't just offered you something so beautiful? "What d'ya think?" Teldryn smirks, glancing over his shoulder. You want to berate him for his nonchalant tone but you've lost all words, tears springing into your eyes at the realization. Teldryn's offering you a future together, a promise that he won't leave. Placing that ring on your finger, you know that it's all you want.

Miraak doesn't. He began referring to you as his spouse ages ago. You've been his partner for so long it's an easy rhythm to fall into. Everyone else simply accepts that you're married and you're comfortable with it - saves you the trouble of planning a wedding. You know that Miraak isn't going anywhere and neither are you. After lifetimes together, you feel that traditional wedding ceremonies can't capture the depth and love that have been crafted between you. Miraak is your future and your past, and when he whispers that you are his entire world you know that it is true. "So," some lordling pipes up, drawing everyone's attention. Thanes and Jarls mill about the room and Miraak rolls his eyes, still unsure why you insist on maintaining relationships with them. "Yes?" You respond, rubbing a soothing hand over Miraak's arm. You take a sip of your drink and ready yourself for whatever political nonsense they have to offer now. "We've heard so many stories about you two - how did Miraak propose to you?" Wine practically shoots out of your nose. You snort, grabbing onto Miraak's coat and fight the laughter bubbling up at his expression. Your beloved husband is looking especially pale when he wipes absently at your face. "Well," he stalls and oh, it is delightfully entertaining. Miraak, always so eloquent, at a loss for words? It's a rare sight, even you have hardly seen it. "I may have skipped a few steps." "There's still time." You snicker playfully, fixing the lapel of his coat. He sends you a cutting glare, though it hasn't scared you for ages.

Brynjolf wants to keep it lowkey. He never thought he'd make it this far, not bothering for decades to imagine anything for himself outside of the Guild. When you're seated atop a manor, packs full and enjoying your last night before the long carriage ride home, he slides the ring toward you. "Did you steal this?" You question, totally ignorant of the furious blush in his face. Examining the ring in the moonlight is difficult but you're impressed, a simple and stunning piece. One deep green gem is framed with gentle swirls of metal, so unlike the terribly gaudy pieces you're used to pocketing. "Usually these lords have awful taste but this is beautiful, Bryn." "Glad you like it." He sounds a bit off, almost nervous. You scour the streets below but can't make out any guards. "It looks expensive, I bet Tonilia can fetch a good price." "No." "No?" Your brows tighten, that strained tone of his voice sets your nerves on edge. "It's for you." The situation punches you in the gut. Brynjolf, usually so calm and collected, looks nearly ready to launch himself off the roof. The gorgeous ring sitting in your hand, the ring that's for you. "Are you asking me to marry you?" Your fingers quiver when Brynjolf finally meets your gaze. "That depends on how you're plannin' to answer." His nervous laugh is so endearing. How could he possibly think you would refuse him? "Well, we live and work together, we've discussed spending our lives together, and all the recruits think we're already married." You squeeze his chilly fingers, surprised at how scared he is. "Of course I want to marry you, Bryn." "Oh, thank god - please don't fence that, love. Cost me a fortune."

Balimund works with Madesi for ages to forge a ring just for you. He's known for years that he intends to spend his life with you, there's no need to rush this step. The pair craft a ring to Balimund's exact specifications, priding himself on knowing exactly what you like. He chooses one of the nights you treasure the most - a quiet night at home together. No couriers pounding down the door or Jarls demanding your presence, just a night at home. You notice Balimund planting extra kisses to your shoulder while you cook dinner together and gazing at you across the table until you're certain there's something stuck in your teeth. Curled up on the couch together, your heart feels so full it hurts. Balimund's heavy arm rests around your shoulders, calloused fingers trailing over your skin as gentle kisses press to the crown of your head. You notice the uptick in his heartbeat where you're pressed to his chest and snuggle closer. "You alright, dearest?" You yawn, glancing up at him. Balimund finds himself struck by the sight of you; eyes soft and tired after a lazy day together, that gentle smile on your face he loves so dearly. He swears he falls in love with you all over again in this one moment. "I want this for the rest of my life." He mumbles, grasping the little box in his pocket. He's been fussing with it all night, gathering all his courage over the course of the evening but suddenly it's all gone. When he feels your hand cup his face Balimund gulps and draws the box out. "Me too, love." "Yeah?" He thumbs open the box, nervously presenting you when the fruit of his labor. Perfectly polished metal bears three sparkling gems. They aren't large or especially impressive but he recalls the way your eyes lit up when you'd seen each of them in his chest of supplies. "Balimund, please tell me you're proposing." "'Course I am, dearest." "Oh thank the gods."

Mercer doesn't. He's already gotten far too close, he can't let you creep any further into his heart. Occasionally when you're tucked into bed at his side, legs tangled together and all worries banished, you smile up at him and he sees an entire future. And gods, he hates it. Boring days spent together in the Cistern and weeks on the road to some high profile job. His family's ring sparkling on your finger and your lips on his skin. Watching grey creep into your hair and retiring in some fancy manor not too far from Riften, somewhere you can watch the leaves turn that shade of orange that lifts your spirits. Marriage, family, a real life together... he hates the thought of it. He's in too deep and there's no going back. His stomach always turns when he catches glimpses of that potential life he could have with you because for one desperate moment he wants it. He wants to forget about all the bullshit he's spent his life building up, the Guild, the Eyes, everything to live that life with you. But he can't. Mercer wishes he didn't make your smile falter in these moments when he wants you so badly. He clutches you a little closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead in a silent apology for the heartbreak he'll surely dump on you someday. He knows he'll only break your heart, the longer he puts it off the worse it gets, but he can't bring himself to give you up. "Love you." Guilt spikes at his heart each time you yawn those damning words into his chest. Your skin is so lovely and warm when an arm wraps around his waist. I love you. He chokes on those words he can't say, choosing instead to kiss your head once more instead of damning himself further.

Vilkas knows that you'll say yes but fuck, he's still terrified. You're relaxing in the fancy inn, muscles loose from an afternoon of lazing in the hot springs. He's never been away from Jorrvaskr for so long without being on an assignment but tonight his nerves are entirely your fault. He's had it planned out for weeks. The many days spent relaxing far from the worries of your everyday life have lead up to this evening; a fancy dinner he's picked out every little component of, chilled drinks on the patio, and the ring. It sounds so easy in his mind but standing here in your rented cabin, he can't keep his hands from shaking. Thank the gods you help him with that last button. He'd only bought the jacket after you pointed out it would look nice on him, and when you smile up at him he can hardly breathe. "Are we running away?" You sigh, thumb tracing over his cheek. "Not if we plan on going back." He fumbles with the box in his pocket, stunned when you smile up at him. "There's no one else in the world I'd rather run away with. Even if it's just for a couple days." He isn't sure what he's thinking - the entire plan is forgotten when you're beaming up at him. Vilkas produces the ring, heart swelling at your words and the blatant love in your eyes when you gaze up at him. Suddenly his meticulously planned dinner seems far less romantic than what you'd said. "Vilkas," you pause, carefully reaching toward the little box. "What is this?" "Please marry me." He chokes out, all his fear and anxiety spiking when you thumb it open to glance at the ring. It's bewildering how just a few minutes can feel like hours but he endures it, choking back every nervous word until you respond. "Of course I'll marry you, Vilkas." Thank the gods you put him out of his misery. Vilkas feels numb when you launch yourself at him, arms around his shoulders and face buried in his neck. God, the world feels so wonderful right now. Vilkas holds you to his chest, relief slowly ridding him of those nerves until he's practically giddy - you've agreed to marry him.

[oh-no-its-bird]

Look all I'm saying is that if I were going to make a minecraft movie.

Well, first off I'd put down the first person to even reccomend we do it in cgi. Not just because it looks objectively terrible and half of the magic and nostalgia factor of minecraft is in its texture but holy shit budget much??? You are literally looking at a situation where the cheaper option is also objectively the better option. What the fuck are you doing

But I mean, after that.

Second off, all my writers must watch popular smps and minecraft roleplays/let's plays to understand the "magic" of the game. That's how we're studying for this, not the game books or whatever. Those guys are clearly doing smthn right, and as the executive/writer who knows very little about mineraft that I am in this hypothetical scenario, I need to do my best to make money. And that means learning what people like about the game and community.

Maybe even bring on some popular (non controversial please god) smp writers for consulting. They literally make minecraft movies as their fucking job, they are the expert u need to consult

Story wise, you NEED to choose if you wanna play this straight or silly. I'm so sick of movies trying to be all emotional and "ohh this world is so beautiful,, if u could only understand,, woaa" with their epic sound track and dramatic lighting, but then the dialogue being ripped out of a stupid marvel knockoff trying too hard to be witty

Anyways. Give me a generic "kid has a hard life and uses [thing] to escape it but then their parent trashes [thing] to teach them a "lesson"" movie.

The thing is minecraft and this kid is totally in love with letsplays and smps and has a server with their online friends (get a sponsorship from discord for that good good film sponsorship money, have them play while in call)

The mom or dad or maybe both trash the kids computer for some reason (bad grades maybe or one of those shitty "you need to talk to us more!!! That computer is killing ur brain!!! You don't love us as much as you should and it's that damn games fault!!!" But like it's actually just a kid being a normal fucking kid and having normal fucking kid hobbies things and the parents are dicks)

They delete the minecraft world rip

Them boom, kid somehow gets stuck in the game

Switch to NON CGI FILMING IN MINECRAFT. If you really need to add your stupid shitty fucking cgi then at least make it look like an ACTUAL MINECRAFT ANIMATION holy shit

It'll save us so much money too

So main plot is this kid, being trapped in minecraft, actually falling through different minecraft servers.

We can have different cameos from popular smps and youtubers, get some old youtubers and gameplay in here too. Get fucking dantdm and the diamond minecarts og series with the lab thing, it'll make the old fans lose their fucking MINDS.

The youtubers themselves don't even have to show up, just shove the kid into settings that are clear references to smps and letsplays. Have them wander through Aphmau's OG minecraft diaries sets or Sundee's lucky block series

The best part is that as backdrops, you don't even have to fully commit to "you'll only get this/find this interesting if you know these guys" bc if your writing is good enough you can still make people care by just. Introducing it correctly. Don't present it as "Aphmau's old minecraft diaries series world" go "oh wow look st this cool village,, woah I wonder who built this ,," And have them interact with NPCs organically

Meanwhile the parents go into the game after the kid to bring them back and we do this whole world hopping adventure where the parents learn that,, minecraft can be fun? Actually?

They find the kid and the kid is like "nooo I'm having too much fun the real world SUCKS!!!" but then we do that "it's cool to have fun and indulge but you still need to be present in the real world and do real people things too in order to have that fun responsibly" where somehow the kid realizes that moderation is good for u.

Maybe they almost die in game fr fr? Every world they enter has its difficulty upped a little bit till they enter *gasp* a hardcore world (oh no)

So like the kid learns that you can't just lock yourself in the room and wish the world goes away while you play minecraft for 12 hours straight, and the parents learn that minecraft is cool and fun and can be a good outlet and outlets are important for adults and children alike. And also that they totally pulled a dick move and they need to try to understand their kid instead of just demanding the kid understands them

Somewhere along the way, the kid ends up in their friends server and the friends help to pull them out of the game w the parents

We end the movie with the kid making an effort to be more present with the parents, and the parents also making an effort to interact with the kid in ways that they know the kid will enjoy and respond well to— shown a family dinner scene where the kid very eagerly eats their food while talking about school, then they all go to play minecraft together

The end <3

Oh right and if you seriously want Jack Black there so fucking bad then make him either the dad or like. School computer teacher who helps the kid use Minecraft EU to learn science (shows off that some schools use minecraft for education purposes) who also helps the kids friends pull them and the parents out of the game

Overall, lots of themes not just about how the game is cool and can let you do cool shit, but also about how the community is cool, and how it's provided so many kids and adults outlets to express themselves and have fun together

That's how you do a game movie

Anyways yeah, minecraft movie looks shit. Hire me instead next time

[lionhanie]

moving to busan (kim leehan)

where you move to a new city and fall in love with a boy on the beach 

surfer!leehan x gn!reader (non-idol au)

this work is my contribution to @onedoornet 's summer event! ^_^ check it out here!!! ♡

word count: 5.5k

genre + warnings: fluff!!! maybe a tad of angst o_O, written in all lowercase!, mentions of depression + feelings of unbelonging (??), leehan is referred to by his real name (donghyun), ft. side characters taesan and woonhak

a/n: me when i had to watch surfing videos to write this LMAO sorry if its inaccurate…….. i can't even swim! LOLLLL. i def channeled some of my own feelings into this, so it was rlly fun to write. i'd even go as far to say this is my Most Favorite piece yet :,)

reblogs ↺ + feedback always appreciated!

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you didn’t know what home felt like. which felt odd to say, given that you were extremely fortunate to grow up the way that you did– a roof above your head, food on the dinner table, and a family to share it with. the older you got, the more it felt like you needed to leave. there wasn’t anything inherently wrong with your life; sure, you had your fair share of rough patches here and there, but it was never anything too severe. despite that, you felt suffocated. it was hard to wake up in the same bed you’ve used for lord knows how long, going outside to walk the same paths you’ve walked on thousands of times, all to see the same faces everyday. this was all you knew.

moving to busan was something you never expected yourself to do. the decision was made more on a whim than anything else; immediately upon graduating, you decided to pack your bags and move to a new city, feeling like a stranger wandering alone in the foreign streets. there wasn’t much to pack, anyways. you were committed to truly leaving everything behind and starting fresh, bringing only one suitcase and a backpack for your essentials. 

you grew up in a smaller town, about five hours away from where you were now. there, you were used to the quaint homes belonging to the families you'd grown up with. the kind crossing guard by the middle school you used to attend still worked there years after you graduated, now bearing wrinkles by her eyes, but still possessing the same sweet smile she would always give you while helping you cross the street. everything you needed was a quick bike ride away. the area was quiet, comfortable, familiar. and yet, you left. 

you’d gotten to a point where you grew sick of the familiarity. to live life in one place forever scared you. it was best described as a fear of being stuck– like a stagnant body of water, peacefully undisturbed but painfully boring, to say the least. a fear of missing out on all the things you could be doing if you just lived somewhere else. anywhere more exciting than the town you knew like the back of your hand. you yearned for something else, something different. 

moving to busan meant doing things you never got the chance to do back at home. growing up, you quickly realized that being in a small town meant that you couldn’t do the same things that kids in bigger cities could do. all you had were necessities– a supermarket, doctor’s office, run-of-the-mill shops lining a dirt road in the core of the area. it was enough, sure, but you were hungry for more. on the other hand, busan was full of unique experiences waiting for you. some being as simple as trying new cuisines at restaurants you’d only dreamt of seeing in your hometown, or attending various local festivals held in the area for tourists and residents alike. 

it was crazy to think that life could be so different, even a few hours away from your childhood home. to most, giving up everything you once knew is a terrifying thought. to you, it was a wish you made to yourself when you blew out the candles on your birthday cake. you marveled at the way it’s been nearly two months since you first settled in and there’s still an endless list of things you’ve yet to try! it felt more like a dream, than anything. life has never been so bright– especially after years of feeling dull in a town you now dreaded returning to.  

moving to busan meant finally meeting new people. it was a breath of fresh air, really. the apartment complex you lived in was on the corner of a busy area, giving you access to a wide range of personalities each time you stepped out the building. you were lucky enough to get a part-time job at a newly opened cafe a couple blocks away, where you quickly became friends with your coworkers: taesan (who didn’t like coffee in the first place) and woonhak (who spent more time talking to the customers than actually making drinks).

you would’ve been content if those were the only two people you managed to befriend in the big city. they were full of life– a never ending source of laughter and stories from their respective hometowns, making your shifts go by significantly faster when you were scheduled together, much to your disappointment.

this is exactly what you had in mind the first time you thought about leaving. it was exhilarating. being someone completely new to the area meant that you could be whatever you wanted to be. there were no expectations from those around you; nobody knew who you were prior to moving. it was a freedom you feared you would never experience if you stayed back home– the smallest changes in your appearance would be the talk of the town, especially with the way history ran deep between the residents. in busan, it was a relief to be a stranger. 

moving to busan meant being by the water every chance you could get. you’re glad you moved right around the time spring started. the weather was perfect; just warm enough, not too hot. in your free time, you find yourself walking along the shore. it was only a short distance from your apartment, being only a fifteen-minute walk away from the sea. as a kid, you’d only visited it once. to you, the water was so terrifyingly beautiful. one would think they know what it has to offer on its surface, but the truths lie deeper than one could ever imagine. the very bottom of the sea could hold the most precious treasure in the world or the most dangerous creatures unbeknownst to man– the possibilities were endless. it’s a shame that you didn’t get to indulge in your interest more when you were younger, but you weren’t complaining now that the beach was practically in your backyard. 

sometimes you find yourself alone, sitting in the sand on an old blanket of yours. it’s normally right around dinner time, where most people have left the beach and the sun begins to fall from the sky. you could sit there for hours, listening to nothing but the waves crashing against the sand while you wait for the mix of colors from the sunset to paint the sky. you try to find a new place to relax every time you come to the water. much like how you felt about your hometown, it didn’t feel right to return to the same spot each time. 

on one of your routine visits to the beach, you met a boy, whose story felt oddly familiar to you. much like your own upbringing, he’s been in the same place his whole life. this is where your timelines falter– it’s clear he has zero intentions of leaving the city he grew up in. to him, this is the only definition of home he could imagine. you were almost jealous. you yearned to know what it meant to truly enjoy being in the same place for so long. maybe it was commitment issues, or maybe it was just a never-ending desire to know more– to experience everything life had to offer. for donghyun, he seemed just fine being here forever. 

the first time you saw him was by chance. today, you decided to go see the water after work. it was rare you worked the mid-shift, which coincidentally ended around the time you would normally find yourself sitting in the sand. “are you doing anything after work today, Y/N?” taesan asks, watching you take off your apron and fold it neatly before placing it into your bag. 

“i think i'll go to the beach today.” you smile at the thought, having quickly found comfort in the location.

“wow, i'm jealous,” woonhak pouts at you from behind the register. “can’t believe you’re leaving taesan and i to close all by ourselves today!” 

you playfully roll your eyes at the boy. “you should blame our boss, not me. if we’re all off one day, i promise we’ll all go together!” your coworkers wave goodbye to you as you walk out of the front entrance, happy to see that it was still somewhat bright outside. you normally left long after the sun had set, when most of the neighboring stores were closing as well. 

the walk there was always pleasant. you liked exploring different routes, seeking out all possible ways to get to the same destination. it’s hard to keep the excitement bubbling within you contained when the vast expanse of sand first comes into view. there were still groups of people scattered across the area, but because it wasn’t exactly “beach season” yet, it wasn’t too populated. you hadn’t brought your usual blanket with you; coming here was a spontaneous decision. instead, you decided to lay out your apron close enough to the water to smell the salty air but just out of reach of the waves rippling against the shoreline. 

you plant yourself onto your makeshift beach towel, the sand feeling soft below you, still warm from the sun’s touch. looking into the distance, you’re entranced by the movements of the sea. it was healing, the rhythmic push-and-pull of the waves leaving a white foam in its path, bubbling and full of life. the calls of seagulls from above you, soaring around peacefully.

you wish you knew what it could feel like to fly like that, to feel the air beneath your wings. complete freedom. a small figure comes into your view, pulling your gaze away from the birds. someone’s surfing? it’s a little cold to be doing that right now. even so, the boy didn’t seem to mind. standing on the surfboard, his face was filled with pure joy as he rode the water beneath him. the closer he got, you were able to hear his fun-filled cheers more clearly. complete freedom. 

he was awfully good at what he was doing, unphased even if the tide seemed to pick up a bit more than expected. right now, the stranger looked completely in tune with the water; as if they were one and the same. his movements were graceful, despite how difficult it must be to keep balance. 

the wave soon dies down, crashing against the sand as it always does. your eyes observe the way he laughs to no one but himself as he walks through the shallow parts of the water. drops of water fall from his hair as he shakes his head, board held securely beneath his arm. the wetsuit is tight against his skin; his figure is lean and toned, presumably from all the surfing he does. 

he’s not too far away from you now, catching his breath as he sits in the sand parallel to you. the surfboard sits idly against the sand as he looks out into the horizon, seeking his next adventure. it’s not long before he gets up and approaches the water once more, sensing a big one coming up. you didn’t know much about how this worked, having only seen it in movies or tv shows, never in-person like this. 

the man lays stomach-down onto his board, determined as he paddles deeper into the unknown. he’s dismissive of the smaller ripples against him, not nearly powerful enough to get a good ride. it’s impressive how he seems to control the water, rather than the other way around. it’s clear that he loves what he’s doing. you decide you love it too, completely mesmerized by the way he maneuvers through the tide. he disappears briefly as a larger wave washes over him, but he’s quick to rise above it, emerging on the other side and pushing further into the sea. you watch as the water begins to crest close to him. this is the one. 

if you weren’t paying enough attention, you would’ve missed the way the stranger effortlessly springs to his feet, knees bent slightly when he first mounts the board. he shuffles slightly, adjusting his stance for better balance. almost in tune with the water, he skillfully navigates the wave, letting the water bring him back to the shore once more.

the sun was behind him now, a beautiful arrangement of pinks and oranges flooding the sky, making the picture perfect. you almost couldn’t believe you had the pleasure of seeing it in real time, the whole scene looking like a frame out of a movie. there it was again, an expression of bliss as he enjoys the ride, arms stretched out in the air by his sides as the board is pushed back to the shore once more. even when he falls off the board as the momentum slows down, the grin on his face never dies. 

despite your attentiveness, you don’t comprehend the way the handsome man was heading your way, being led by the tide. much like before, he’s chuckling to himself as the high from the ride slowly dies down. his hand runs through his damp locks after wiping the salty water from his face. now, he’s walking directly towards you, eyes shaped like crescents with the way he was cheesing so hard. your heartbeat speeds up. you turn around, finding that there was no one else around. his smile is reserved for you. 

the board is held close to his body as he leaves the water, his footsteps leaving indents in the damp sand behind him as he settles a couple feet away from you. there’s a soft plop as he drops the surfboard on the ground, taking a seat next to it. 

“do you want to try?” his eyes flick over towards the water before they’re back on you. 

“huh?” you’re baffled at the way you were observing him from afar only a couple minutes prior, and now he’s striking up a conversation. 

“you’ve been watching me for a while, no?” he tilts his head, lips curling into a small smile. his accent is thick, more obvious than some of the others you’ve heard in your short time there. he must be from around here. 

“was i that obvious?” you joke, playing with a handful of sand by your feet. 

the stranger laughs in response. “there’s barely anyone else here right now, at least around this time of year. you think i wouldn’t feel a set of pretty eyes on me while i surfed?” your cheeks heat up at the comment, feeling a bit flustered at the sudden praise. he’s properly facing you now, hand outstretched in your direction. “nice to meet you, not-so-secret admirer. my name is kim donghyun.” 

his hand is still wet, drops of water touching your own as you reach out to shake it. “i’m L/N Y/N. it’s nice to meet you too, donghyun.” 

“is that an apron you’re sitting on?” he points out, moving to fiddle with one of its strings resting in the sand. 

“pfft, yeah. forgot to bring my blanket today.” you explain, laughing at your forgetfulness. “i just got off work.” 

“you come here often, then?” his hair was completely soaked still, droplets falling from it and landing beside him. 

“i guess you could say that. i only moved here a couple weeks ago.”

“you picked the perfect city. i love it here.” the sun was almost completely out of view now, having slowly disappeared into the horizon. it was beautiful out. you breathe in the salty air as you watch the stray clouds floating by. 

“yeah, i think so too. busan has been treating me well.” 

“god, i’m starving,” he gets up abruptly, brushing his hands together to remove the sand clinging to them. you expect him to pick up his board and walk off, turning him into nothing more than an oddly-sweet beach interaction. “i know a good gukbap place nearby. coming with?” he extends a hand out to you again, waiting for you to accept his invitation. why not? 

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moving to busan meant enjoying summer for the first time in years. as a kid, you used to dread this time of year. most of your friends looked forward to school finally ending, but to you, this just meant you truly had nothing to do with your spare time. your days were spent walking down the worn down paths listening to music, or sitting in your backyard reading one of the many books in your collection. this was the closest thing you had to “escaping” from your reality. 

now, you had an entire city to explore. you were eager, but you wanted to take your time doing so. the last thing you would want is to get tired of busan, even if you arrived just a couple months ago. you didn’t see your excitement wearing down any time soon. 

“there’s my favorite barista!” donghyun’s smiling at you in front of the register, where you’d been standing for the past couple hours. once you told him you were working at one of the local cafes, he quickly became a regular (only when you were on schedule, of course). 

“you’re not getting anything today?” he shakes his head no, making you chuckle. he actually never bought anything when he was there, rather showing up just to talk to you in your free time. you tap a few buttons on the screen, starting your thirty minute break and walking out to the main floor of the shop, the surfer following closely behind.  

“do you want to go to the beach with me later?” donghyun rests his head against his hand as he looks at you from across the table. “i’m going surfing again.” it’s sweet the way his eyes sparkle when he talks about his beloved hobby. 

“wow, i would’ve never guessed!” you respond sarcastically, earning a giggle from him as he shrugs. “i’m closing today though. guess you won’t have an audience today.” 

he pouts back at you, sniffling as he wipes away non-existent tears. “who else am i going to show off to then?” ever since the day you met, you found yourself seeing donghyun more often than you initially expected. you thought that he’d just be a friend you’d find in the waters every so often. not that it was an issue, no– rather, you found yourself perking up every time he walked through the doors. it’s something woonhak quickly picked up on when working with you, often nudging you with his elbow suggestively every time donghyun showed up. 

“i’m off tomorrow, though.” you’re looking at your shifts on your phone. “if you’re free, maybe we can-”

“yes.” he answers immediately, catching you off guard.

“you’re not going to let me finish my sentences now?” you can’t hold back the grin on your face at how forward he was. “what if i asked you to go fishing in the middle of the night or something?”

“...i’d still say yes. that sounds fun, actually. we could totally do that if you want to!” every word that came out his mouth was so incredibly endearing, even if he wasn’t trying. 

…and that’s how you found yourself next to him at midnight, only a couple hours after you got off work, sitting in two fold-up beach chairs on the dock. “i’d question why you have all this fishing gear, but i should’ve expected as much from you, donghyun.” 

“hey, isn’t this nice though? there’s no one else here at this time.” he looks proud as he rests the fishing rod on the wooden guard rail, line casted in the water. “isn’t it kind of romantic?” 

your cheeks heat up at his implications. if it weren’t for the warm lantern placed between you two, he would’ve missed the blush on your face. “i was joking when i said we should do this, you know.” 

“oh, was it? i was serious, though.” you can tell he’s telling the truth with the way he looks at you with a serious gaze. 

“yeah, i know that now.” you didn’t mind being dragged around to his odd antics. weird, yeah, but you can’t deny the fact that you enjoyed every second of his company. he enjoyed yours as well. “i find it funny to think you find this to be romantic.”

“why wouldn’t i? you’re here with me, after all.” with that, you realize that you see donghyun as more than just a boy you met on the beach. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚🍁🎃🍂 

moving to busan meant having someone to walk with once the autumn leaves started coming in. it was always nice to see the trees begin to change color, but you always wondered what it would be like to see the transition on a bigger scale– and busan gave you the perfect chance to do just that. now that you finally got to experience the fall wonder somewhere new, you weren’t sure if you could ever go back to the life you once lived.

days like this were common, where you’d walk through the streets that donghyun grew up in. usually it was just you two, but today, he suggested you come with him as he walked his dog. naturally, you accept; it was hard to deny a cute boy with an equally cute dog in his arms. you hold onto the leash, smiling at the way koni would stop every couple minutes to sniff something on the ground. 

as you walk a bit further, you stumble across a large crowd of people surrounding various street vendors, curiosity piqued within you. “ah, is it already time for the jagalchi festival? how could i forget!” donghyun marvels at his poor memory, he hadn’t realized it’s already been seven months since you entered his life. time seemed to go by quicker with you by his side. 

“festival? this happens every year?” your steps slow down, koni gently tugging on the leash to keep walking towards the bustling area. 

“yeah, it’s basically like a huge fish market that runs for a couple days. tons of people come from around the country to see it, actually. the local fishermen show off all the catches from the season, so you know it’s the freshest you can get… and there’s performances too! you have to see it now that you’re a busan resident!” 

donghyun takes your hand in his, leading you towards the festival. banners were put up all over the area, welcoming in visitors from near and far into the heart of busan. colorful lanterns adorned the sides of each vendor’s stall, enveloping the area in a comfortable glow. there were people of all ages in attendance, smiling and laughing amongst each other as they explored everything the market had to offer– this was something you would’ve never experienced back at home. 

the two of you come to a stop at one of the less crowded sellers. its owner, a kind looking old man, was standing proud at the buckets of fish laid out on the ground in front of him. “should we raise a fish together?”

“donghyun, these fish are dead.” 

he rolls his eyes at you playfully. “duh, i know that. i mean like, going to the store and getting a new friend for my tank at home.” 

“wouldn’t that just mean you’re raising it on your own? i don’t have any space for a fish tank at my place.” you think back to your apartment, which now felt like a space you could truly call your own. you were proud to think that you finally felt like you were where you belonged, even if you’ve only been here for a short time. 

“that’s fine! what matters to me is that we bought it together! obviously i’d give you visiting rights to our child.” how could you reject him when his eyes light up at the mention of getting a pet with you? 

“woah, our child? we must be serious now.” your comment is nothing more than a joke, but he’s silent as he thinks about what he wants to say. he gives the hand he’s holding a slight squeeze. 

“can i be your boyfriend, Y/N?” 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚❄️⛄🧣

moving to busan meant finding a new type of warmth amidst the cold winter. back at home, winters felt especially difficult. you were prone to the adverse effects of seasonal depression when this time of year came around. the days weren’t as long, sun setting much earlier than it did in the summer, leaving you with nothing but darkness. just getting out of bed felt like a hassle– there was nothing to look forward to in such a boring town. everything was just… so bland. you were in a constant state of irritation, the smallest things ticking you off and leaving you frustration for no specific reason. 

this winter, you found it hard to believe those old feelings haven’t come back yet. not when you had someone like donghyun at your side. if you found it hard to get out of bed, he’d be there to drag you out with him, humming to himself as you made breakfast together in your tiny kitchen. if you felt like crying, he’d be waiting next to you, box of tissues in hand as he wiped away your tears.

winter usually felt like being dragged deeper into the ocean, unable to swim– but now, donghyun was there to bring you back to the surface, safe and sound. each day spent with him felt like healing; as if nothing bad could ever happen to you knowing that there was someone who looked at you with nothing but love in his eyes.

“do you ever miss your hometown, Y/N?” you were laying in your boyfriend’s arms in his childhood bedroom. his prized fish tank sat on his dresser, where the fish you bought together swam happily amongst its friends. there were photos of him as a kid framed on his walls– him at his middle school graduation smiling proudly between his parents, him holding koni as a puppy, him crying beside his older sister on the playground– each one giving you a glimpse of the life he lived before he met you. “i can’t imagine throwing everything away and leaving like you did.”

“well, it sounds bad when you say it like that. i don’t think i was happy there, though.” donghyun knew he wanted nothing more than to give you a home you felt comfortable going back to. a place where you could feel true happiness in. he’s mindlessly running his hands through your hair from behind you as he listens. “i can’t say i miss it just yet. maybe i’ll visit sometime soon, just not now.” 

“does that mean you’re happy here? in busan, i mean.”

“yeah, i’m happy,” you take a moment to reflect on the way your life completely changed upon leaving the town you once knew; how a stranger on the beach brought color into your colorless world. sunsets spent eating ice cream on a hot day at the beach, meals shared at his favorite local restaurants, and nights much like this one, being embraced by the man you love, as you talk until the sun rises. “i knew things would be better somewhere else, but i’d never imagine meeting someone like you so soon. you make me feel like i should look at things a little differently at home.” 

“if you ever decide to go back there, can i come with you?” he rests his head on your shoulder, cheek touching yours. 

“hm? i mean, if you want to. there’s not much to see there. i don’t think you’d have as much fun there as you do here.” you offer, thinking about how disappointed he’d be upon seeing that there truly was nothing to do there compared to busan. 

“i want to see it. i don’t care if you think it’s boring,” he’s sincere with his words, you can tell he means everything he’s saying when it comes to you. “we can rewrite all your bad memories together. it makes me sad to think you look back at the town you grew up in without fondness.” 

“it’s going to be at least a year until i want to see that place again,” you grab his hand, large fingers enveloping yours. “but i’d like that a lot, donghyun.” 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚💐💗🌸

and by the time spring rolls around once more, and it’s finally been one year since you moved to busan, you think you finally understand what it means to feel at home. you never got the chance to visit the temples last year, just barely missing cherry blossom season when you first unloaded your boxes in your empty apartment. from then, you promised yourself you’d save it for the best time of year, when the blossoms were in full bloom, baby pink petals on display and falling along with the occasional breeze. 

you’ve never known what it felt like to be loved wholeheartedly, but you’re certain this is it, as you walk hand in hand with donghyun through a path of cherry blossom trees. with him, you found that every day felt like a scene out of a drama. exiting through the temple’s entrance, you return back to the streets you were now familiar with. there’s a small creamery hidden between a restaurant and convenience store, and you find yourself sitting at a table outside, ice cream slowly melting in their cups in front of you. 

“i wish i was cooler when i asked to be your boyfriend. i think about that a lot,” donghyun plays with your fingers across the table before intertwining them with his own. “in all honesty, i was thinking about it for a long time before that day.”

“really?” this was news to you. you knew you had more than platonic feelings for donghyun that night at the dock, but you were surprised to hear he felt the same way as early as you did. it warmed your heart to think he fell in love as quickly as he did. 

“yeah. i wanted to do something cool, like surprising you at work with a big bouquet of flowers, or making you your favorite food and hiding a note in it. just anything more interesting than popping the question at a damn fish stall.”

you burst out laughing at the thought of finding a piece of paper in your meal. “it was perfect to me, though. i’m more shocked at the fact you saw me like that for so long, donghyun.” you feel shy suddenly, reminiscing on the way your heart would speed up everytime he walked into the cafe, or when he would walk you back to your apartment after spending the day in the water together.

“i knew you’d be someone important to me the day i noticed you watching me on the beach. i don’t know why, though. maybe it’s just because people don’t really bat an eye when they see me surfing.” 

“it was hard not to. i’ve never seen anyone so carefree. i guess i was just jealous of the fact that someone could look like that.” you can’t believe it’s already been a year since you first saw him on the beach. it was almost as if the sea brought the two of you together when the wave he was riding pushed him straight to you. 

“i think you look like that when you’re with me,” donghyun’s smiling at his realization. “when i’m with you, it feels like i’m riding a wave that never dies. i’d give up surfing if it meant i could have you by my side forever.” the confession shocks you, knowing how much he loved spending hours at the beach every day, chasing the high he got when he was on his surfboard. you wanted to cry; to think that someone would let go of something that meant the world to them just for you. donghyun thinks he could cry too– to think that he had found you, a person who changed his world in a matter of months, by a stroke of fate. 

to donghyun, you moving to busan meant making you a part of his definition of “home”. 

taglist: @onedoornet @minwrlds @dongminz (my OG beta readers BTW. <3) @serejae @loserlvrss

@arafilez @nicholasluvbot @0310s @gluion @blumisiu

@woorcve @brachioswrld

© lionhanie 2024 ; all rights reserved!

[deluxewhump]

Not sure if this is anything but I really love the bakhauv and would love to see the boys explore the captive\prisoner\belonging\patient thing with Rune. I really love whumpetakers that still have ulterior\immoral motives but are kinda nice\morally conflicted about it. Would love to see rune start to trust the boys some more too, even if wrongly

yees this got me thinking about some interactions right after the last chapter, communication

the bahkauv- francis and rune scene

cw captivity, nonhuman whumpee, references to burning, clinical curiosity, carewhumpers, partial trust, touching

All night, he fought the instinct to run again. Though the urge came in waves, his escape attempt ended disastrously the first time, and no doubt would again. He was far from any wood or fen he recognized. The forest here was old and thick, and the road was traveled by too many humans to even think of using. And there was the other thing— the three travel companions who held him captive now were the least vicious men he’d come upon since his initial capture.

He slept as far from their campfire as he could get, for the heat hurt his new skin. He preferred shivering in the cold to the feeling of searing slowly. His captives allowed it, and did not force him closer than he wished. They kept a rope tied to his ankles, which led to Stephan’s waist where it was looped like a belt as he slept in his bedroll. Stephan was the largest of the three, with arms like the boughs of trees and a right hook that had rung Rune’s head like a rattle when he’d hit him. 

Still, any real punishment for his transgression— biting one of his captors and drawing blood— never came. At least not yet. He jumped when he felt a weight on him in them idle of the night. It was a second blanket, and it had been laid over him by Francis, who stood with his head cocked to one side, his silhouette blocking the black spires of the pines. “You’re shivering,” he explained. “You’re sure you won’t come closer? It won’t hurt you.”

Rune considered explaining that even the moderate heat of a campfire did hurt, because his skin was newly formed and highly sensitive. It was sensitive to the ropes on his ankles, the scratchy blankets given to him. It could be foolish to bring attention to such an exploitable weakness. He had explained his bite to Stephan was non venomous, but that was because he had to. He should not explain how easy it was to hurt him when he was freshly regenerated. But Francis was curious. He climbed down to the cold earth beside Rune and sat cross legged looking at him. “What can I say to convince you?”

Rune shook his head. 

“Nothing? Truly?"

“It’s not you,” Rune offered. He should offer something. They had been so soft with him. 

“What is it then?”

Rune glanced about to  make sure Stephan and Arthur were still asleep. “It’s hot,” he shrugged. “It hurts my skin.”

Francis narrowed his eyes. “Even just sitting beside it like we do?”

Rune squirmed.

“It’s alright,” Francis said, sensing his discomfort. There was something eager in his posture that Rune found unsettling, even if he was always so concerned, always trying to help.  “Is it always like that?”

“No,” Rune admitted miserably. “I’m…” he pushed his arm out of the blankets to show the virgin sheen of his forearm in the dim light of the camp. “I’m all... new.”

“Of course,” said Francis, eyes widening in realization. “It's never been in sunlight, or water, or anything…never had a scratch, or even a touch.” He reached for Rune’s arm and then hesitated, waiting for him to draw back or allow the contact. Heart pounding, Rune placed his wrist in his captor’s hand, remembering every touch of the hunters who held him for so many weeks. A gentle thumb brushed over the underside of Rune’a wrist, back and forth. It was not to elicit any sort of reaction in him, but to marvel at the new skin and its properties. “Any man burned like that would have died…” he murmured as if to himself. “You're immune to festering. To infection.”

Rune’s temples and armpits itched as a sheen of sweat broke cold over his body. He tensed his arm and shoulder, not quite daring to pull away. As if awoken from a trance, Francis noticed and let him go. He pulled his arm back beneath the blankets. Blankets Francis had given him, he reminded himself. For presumably no reason other than his comfort.

“I study disease,” Francis told him. 

“You’re a healer?”

Francis scrunched his face in partial disagreement. “Not in the usual sense of the word. More studying. You don’t suffer the same way humans do.” He realized his mistake when Rune’s eyes flashed up to his. He held up his hand, a gesture that seemed among humans to mean he meant no harm. “I didn’t mean you don’t feel pain. I know you do. I misspoke. I mean you don’t suffer the same consequences for things as we do. Like infection. Your wounds heal without festering. Is that protective magic, or something in your physiology?”

Rune drew the blanket closer about himself. “I don’t know, sir.”

Francis seemed to sag. The eagerness went out of his shoulders and his oft-animated hands and he hung them limply from his knees instead. “I know,” he said in the low tones of an apology. “Of course you don’t. And call me Francis. I’m no knight.”

Rune nodded, eyes down. He managed not to flinch as his captor reached out and tousled his hair with a gentleness that bordered on timidity before retreating to his own bedroll.

-

Taglist:

@paperprinxe @whumpsday @i-eat-worlds @handsinmotion @stormchaser819 @annablogsposts

@clickerflight @daffyduckcommittedtaxfraud @scoundrelwithboba, @blood-and-regrets @morning-star-whump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @shiningstarofwinter @vampiresprite @thealchemistal @risk606

@alextries @distinctlywhumpthing @gr8butnotstr8 @a-formless-whumper @valravnthefrenchie @jumpywhumpywriter @honeycollectswhump

@sordayciega @wollemi-whump @fleur-a-whump @tundra-tiger

[puppetwoman17]

I can’t remember who initially said the idea of the RoE being a multiverseal center but this is based off that

The RoE (depending on how it’s portrayed) switches from existing at the center of the Universe or outside it, so I went “universe is doughnut shaped” theory and said it’s both and that it’s also the only RoE in the multiverse. Which means that sometimes Billy runs into other versions of himself and just kinda got used to it.

It’s a dumb idea but Billy running into alternate versions of himself or universe hopping out of boredom or for the guaranteed adventure through the door room of the RoE.

Possibility for humor with the wackier Captain Marvels and universes, fun adventure, and the typical angst of him not seeing some versions of himself around the RoE after a while

Uh, no, this is NOT a dumb idea😍! I’ve thought about this too!

After all, it seems odd that there could be multiple RoEs. For importance purposes there has to be only one.

Anyway, the whole “Billy meeting other versions of himself(and probably his siblings too) definitely keeps my gears turning. I’m imaging that he started out seeing a lot of other Marvels/Shazams when he first got his powers. The Rock was full of kids running through different rooms, getting magic tools, reading or hanging in the cafe, complaining about their adult team members, etc. All of them grew close because they all shared the same burden.

But as the years go by, something changes. Some Billys come through their doors less and less. And when they do, the stress is written all over them. I’m ofc referring to the Billys of Injustice, Flashpoint, DCAMU, etc.

It’s a slow process, but at some point, they realize that some of them have stopped coming all together. The rock gets quiet. There are no more loud parties in the cafe. The thrones were pushed aside to make room for blankets and pillows because there were too many of them for just seven thrones. No one site there anymore.

Everyone’s too scared to reach out, stuck in their own worlds, their own problems. It’s no wonder that no one notices when their numbers start to dwindle.

The thing is, Billy can feel when something happens to his counterparts. He’s sensitive to it thanks to his position. He feels he laser eyes and the cut throat and the leg being torn off of him. He feels it all.

He goes to the rock one day and it dawns on him how quiet it’s become. Obviously he’s not the only one left, but they just don’t talk anymore. The hero life has taken its toll and the kids are scared of having any fun. Now when one billy sees another, they just walk on.

The doors to the other worlds are sealed off, as no one wants to see their own dead body. When a new Billy arrives, they steer clear, not knowing what end this one will meet.

Okay I’m gonna end the angst here cause this made me depressed😅

[therese-lokidottir]

Saw a girl walking around at con covered in full TVA gear. The jacket, a purse, the works. I’m not one to stop people from liking things but damn, it’s weird how the fandom is just okay with this nasty ass organization and treats it like it’s cute/silly.

I'd say this is an example of the death of media literacy, but in all honesty plenty of blame for this also falls on the one making the media.

This is a weird mess all around, I have to say starting off the in-universe the TVA is repeatedly shown to be terrible. The hurt people, they torture and destroy all for a false cause. The people working there have been manipulated to be a part of it and are horrified when they learn the truth. So, the TVA is bad right? Well, apparently not, apparently its grey and needs to keep existing because loom bulls*** and also it still needs to exists even after loom bulls*** is taken care of.

This is a problem that is with both the consumers and the makers of the product. In the story, in the thing going on in-universe at no point does the TVA do anything good or even necessary. At most they scramble around trying to put out a fire they help start. But then they go on and just keep being terrible. Deadpool 3 what to we find out, they are just leaving people to rot in the void, people who can be consider heroes and the TVA only help when it can conveniences them.

It is amazing how viewers get so hung up on the induvial character they like they ignore the story going on around them, to the point they don't even seem to realize that even those individual characters have been hurt by the TVA and what they were tricked into doing was bad actually.

As I've made this point so many times and will keep making, the TVA are fascists. Their aesthetic it directly taken from Orwell's 1984, they have used straight up nazi imagery. The TVA has used more nazi imagery then the MCU version of hydra.

I don't even think this can be call a lack of media literacy when the media makes stuff like this and then decides to sell it on a handbag, when it goes so hard into the merchandising it neglects the titular character.

[booksandabeer]

A Man Takes His Sadness Down to the River (The Consolation of Philosophy) (E | 150 K)

To celebrate the completion of the fourth & final part Lost Vocabularies that Might Express (The Memory of These Broken Impressions) in this wonderful series by dorian_burberrycanary.

Author's summary: The worst of times, like the best, are always passing away. How’s that for some consolation on the road? A post-The Falcon and The Winter Soldier Stucky fix-it as part of the all-American road trip, detours included.

Follow Steve and Bucky on their Great American Road Trip as they drive and eat their way across the country and beyond. From the beaches of the Jersey Shore to the graveyards of Savannah, from the cragged horizons of Mexico to deserts with (small) volcanoes, from college campuses to earthship settlements, from the mountains of Colorado to the monumental emptiness of the Great Plains and on and on and on…there is always more road ahead.

A Man Takes... is a miracle of a series that works with what should be an unworkable premise: Steve really did leave to go live in the past. He returned a few months later, yes, but he still made that choice. Knowingly. So, how can any author, any story, rectify such a colossal mistake, and how can it be reconciled with a believable, satisfying romance that short-changes neither Steve nor Bucky? Like this. With patience, and care, and often painful honesty. Just like Steve, this story slowly digs itself out from under the burden of that terrible decision.

I know that some people are very reluctant or even outright refuse to read EG-compliant fics and I understand why this might be a tough sell for them. Believe me, I do. But this series manages to neither let Steve off the hook for his choices nor does it punish him excessively. Instead, Steve and the readers are repeatedly confronted with the fact that there are no magical solutions here, no take-backs—it’s a fix-it, yes, and very much a Stucky fic through and through, but it’s not a fix-it fantasy where in the end everything turns out to have been an unfortunate misunderstanding after all. What's done is done and the only way out is through. But. even if you usually prefer to ignore anything that happened post-[insert preferred point of canon divergence here], please, please try to give this absolute marvel of a series a chance. It is genuinely one of the most rewarding and satisfying works I've ever read in this fandom. It's catharsis in slow motion.

You will find descriptive writing here that is so incredibly beautiful that it will bring you to your knees in awe. This series transcends fanfiction in many ways, as it stands out for the remarkable quality of the prose and the nuance, subtlety, and precision with which it explores both the emotional landscapes of its protagonists and a fictionalized, yet very recognizable post-Snap America. At the same time, it could only ever work as fanfiction because it stays so close to the characters and is so deeply rooted in and filtered through Steve’s inner life and perspective. Just like the real Steve Rogers, this story is smart and curious, and deeply empathetic towards its characters and the world they inhabit.

Every detail is imbued with meaning. The food Steve and Bucky eat. The clothes they wear. The art they look at. The books they read. The music they listen to. The places they stay at. The landscapes they drive through and the objects they carry with them or acquire along the way. One doesn't need to understand or even notice all of the references, allusions, or ambiguities to enjoy the series, but it makes for such a rewarding reading experience to really dig deep into the many, many layers the author has so expertly assembled into this phenomenally rich text. More often than not in this fic, the curtains aren’t just blue. Or rather, Bucky’s sweatpants aren’t just gray.

At some point amidst this sprawling, reflective journey, a bittersweet realization sets in: There simply is no compensation for the time and life lost, for the pain suffered. No money, no medals or statues, no hagiographies, and certainly no delusional pipe dreams forcibly made real, will ever make up for all that loss. You can't outrun your past, but that doesn't mean you should bury yourself in it. And maybe, solace can be found in mutual understanding, not just between these two men, but in interactions, in shared community—however fleeting—with ordinary people doing ordinary things in their ordinary lives. And in the beauty of the mundane and the relief that there still is a world in which such beauty can exist, even though it is so often a cruel and unjust place. Steve Rogers finally allows himself to feel his feelings: his grief and his shame, but also his joy and—even though he’s already so very tired—his hunger for more. More time, more life, more Bucky.

This series is a wonderful tribute to Steven Grant Rogers—an honest and affectionate portrayal of this compelling and lovable, if at times difficult, character. It is also a gorgeous, intricate love letter to the miracle of a man that is James Buchanan Barnes. As you can probably tell by now, I love it a totally not normal amount.

A most heartfelt thank you to @burberrycanary for taking us all along on Steve and Bucky's long journey across America and (back) to each other. Thank you for letting us sit in the back seat and watch as they learn to love and live with each other in old and new ways, finally find some measure of well-deserved rest and peace, and, together, face their greatest challenge, their longest fight, the eternal question:

How to live with all this survival?

[allegraforchrist]

Can I enjoy movies, tv shows and certain characters while living for Christ?

I’ve been thinking about this since Saturday evening. I was watching the first two Deadpool movies, and just saw Deadpool and Wolverine yesterday, and something in my Spirit became upset. Even though I like Marvel, and I appreciate the comedy and action of Deadpool, it doesn’t mean I agree with his character and his morals. I don’t appreciate his profanity, or using God’s name in vain, and most of the grotesque sexual undertones of his jokes. Even though I like his character and storyline, I don’t like him. I don’t deny I am a fan of the films because it’s a break from what the Marvel universe is, but I try not to idolize him over my love for God. I appreciate the creativity of his character, and even the effort put into the franchise by the directors, producers and writers, but it shouldn’t desensitize me from the reality that it’s still vulgar and profane.

I like Deadpool, but I don’t like Deadpool. If you understand what I mean.

I found that, even though you may like something, you must not like it more than the Holy Spirit’s discipline. You can appreciate something, without agreeing with it. You can watch things by your own volition, but don’t watch it if it desensitizes your Spirit and obedience to God. Remember your eyes are the lamp into your Spirit, this goes for your ears as well.

I also want to make mention that a lot of Christians watched the Deadpool and Wolverine movie and said it blasphemes against Christ. Kind reminder that, Deadpool on multiple occasions has used God’s name in vain, so if you didn’t pick it up then that he has little regard to respecting Christ and God, you’re taking offense - at first- in the wrong film. Second, when he referred to himself as “Marvel Jesus”, I was uncomfortable too at first, but then I realized that while it may come across as a joke, the writer’s inadvertently admitted that only Jesus has the power to save anyone, and this case, Wade Wilson needed that kind of power to save his universe and the people he loved. So by my understanding it wasn’t an offense meant to be taken, it was an off-putting compliment essentially. Next, Wolverine wasn’t crucified the way Christ was, he was nailed to an X as a form of torture to the defeat of the X-men in the Apocalyptic time, with the sea of skulls being the millions of deaths of people and mutants. Christ saved us, by punishment and humiliation. Wolverine was tortured because he couldn’t save anyone.

I’m not making excuses as a Christian, I saw these images at first and also took offense, even anxiety, towards them. But once I let myself calm down and actually evaluate the intention and purpose of those images, I realized that I’m taking offense to the wrong things. As Christians, we are so eager and busy to defend Christ, and even get angry toward persons and things that do blaspheme Christ, that we misdirect the same offense towards other things that we completely miss the true message or intention of. We live in an insensitive sinful world, that’s sensitive to the Holy things of God. If we can practice catching ourselves out, as quickly as we are to catch others out in their wrong, I think we’d be a lot more disciplined and obedient to God. But we’re not. That’s why we need God and His son to guide us. To teach us. To call us out on our poor offenses against the Holy Spirit. To make the tough choices and reflections on what we desire and enjoy. Yes, we have a choice everyday, to live and Glorify God, and to do what we like. But it doesn’t work that way, you can’t drink from the cup of demons and the cup of Christ. You can’t say you love God but then hate people when they make characters or movies swear against Him. You can’t love God and be eager to love the world and its temporary pleasures. You can’t love God and hate correction. You can’t love God and ignore only the minor things that build you closer to Him, or tear you away from Him.

I can feel in my Spirit, yes I do like Deadpool but I know I can’t love it and physically I can’t because there’s just as much sin in it as there is entertainment in it. Just like Spider-man, I like Spider-man, but I can’t love it more than I love God. More than I love Jesus. And I need to honor that because my life and love is for God, and God only. I can’t compromise my purpose in God, for my pleasure in the creative.

[reborrowing]

a strange appearance, part six

Stranger Swap Masterpost | ao3 First | Prev | Next

word count: ~2900 cws: fear, angst, hunger, reference to past abuse, reference to last chapter's mention of human-ish experimentation (nothing new)

Phoebe

Phoebe yelped as the ground slipped out from underneath her without warning. Or, table, as it were. She reached the floor sooner than she should have, and her leg banged against the edge of the coffee table and stayed there. She caught her breath and sat up and was briefly confused by what she saw. Her apartment, the front room, exactly as it had been the night before.

“Oww,” she said loudly, but the shock was probably worse than the impact.

It was over.

She rubbed at the fresh sore spot on the back of her head and briefly considered how hard she’d hit it. None of the morning was possible and it would be far from the first time Phoebe had fallen asleep in front of a screen instead of in her bed. Again, the idea presented itself: the whole thing had been an unwanted dream.

But she looked down (down, thank god!) to the coffee table and there was her phone, still open to an obscure journal article. And there was the sheet scrap she’d tied around herself like the world's tiniest toga. Dull pain all over assured her that she’d done more than lay around on the couch. She caught a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye as something darted out from underneath a sweatshirt left empty on the couch.

Val, she realized.

She didn’t have time yet to marvel. They scrambled across the couch cushion much faster than she’d expected, and then kept going. She only got a glance at their face, but they were obviously panicking again. They clawed their way up the back of the couch frantically, but had nowhere back there to go but a jump to the hard floor on the other side.

“Woah, woah, stop! Hey!” she cried.

Phoebe lurched unsteadily to catch them before they could fall. They flailed for a second, trying to find a new handhold in the upholstery, then fell limp against her grasping fingers. She cupped her other hand around them and pulled them away from the couch.

It went without saying, but they were so small. It was almost easier to understand the scale looking at them than what she’d already gone through this morning. Val didn’t even fill up her palm. How many things their size had she lost, she wondered, running a finger along the length of their stringy tail. It twitched as she reached the end, tickling her with its trail of fluff, and then jerked away to curl up around Val’s leg. She took a sharp breath.

How many things their size had she broken?

She realized that Val definitely hadn’t meant to hurt her earlier because would be all too easy to accidentally hurt them now. A sudden twitch would send them to the floor, a tight squeeze might break bones. She angled her palm to try and make a more comfortable seat and wondered if that was even possible.

Val looked past her hand as if sizing up the fall, until she moved to block their jump. They shook and hunched forward, hugging their knees, as if they were trying to make themself even smaller. Or maybe just trying to keep warm? They’d been wearing a thick sweatshirt all morning and now they were back to the nude. Phoebe wondered if their size gave them trouble with temperature. She hadn't felt too cold but...they weren't human.

“I’m sorry,” they whispered.

“For what? You’re good, I just don’t want you to hurt yourself. I can put you down on the table here if you’ve calmed down a bit,” she said.

She didn’t want to let go of them. She wanted to turn them over and over in her hands like a puzzle until she had more answers. But she was curious, not heartless: she could wait.

“This is normal for you, right? Like nothing else happened?” she asked. They finally looked up to meet her gaze, their expression uncertain.

“Y-yeah, yes. And please, put me down. Please. I’ll be good.”

Val’s tone made her uneasy. There was a sudden bitter taste in her mouth as she re-contextualized the scars down their torso. The size of them, the symmetry of the scratches. That burn on their shoulder looked horribly circular and unnatural, not something likely to have come about accidentally. She felt sick realizing they probably hadn’t been speaking hypothetically about being hurt if a human discovered them. Her disgust must have slipped out onto her face and been misinterpreted because their heart rate suddenly spiked and they leaned forward.

“C-calm, I mean! I’ll sit still. Please,” Val’s voice cracked and wavered.

Phoebe bit her tongue and slowly knelt down to let them on the table. She was still hovering way above them and wasn’t sure how to fix that without laying down which seemed just as uncomfortable. Val dropped almost immediately dropped into a seated position and sat with a tense, unnaturally straight posture and waited for her to say something.

"Dude, it's okay, I'm not gonna hurt you," she said.

She didn’t like this. She’d never been especially good with uncomfortable feelings, whether they were her own or someone else’s. She tried to joke about things being so normal again to the tiny person sitting on a coaster and it didn’t help. She laughed nervously and after a pause just long enough that even she was sure it was still uncomfortable, Val joined her. She didn’t know what else to do and mumbled something about going to get dressed, pointing out the scrap she’d been wearing so they could do the same if they wanted.

Val flinched again, the fur on their tail bristling as the shadow of her gesture approached but otherwise they were nearly perfectly still. Her cheeks pinked as she realized they may not want to wrap up in some old, trashy rag a near-stranger had just been wearing. She decided she should just get herself dressed first and shifted uncomfortably, debating whether or not she should leave them here or if that would strand them on the table. Was she supposed to cut up another outfit to be a good host? Finally, Val stood and shuffled to the fraying purple scrap.

“What are you going to with me?” they asked quietly.

“What?”

“I thought it would be nice to know before you… I don’t know. Sorry. I can just get dressed,” they muttered.

“No, what do you mean? I’m not gonna do anything to you,” Phoebe said.

They bristled and turned to consider her with eyes wide enough that she could see the iris properly, even from here. They looked bewildered and disbelieving. That sick feeling in Phoebe’s stomach grew, along with a pressing need to defend herself—was it that unbelievable? Were their experiences so universally awful that they thought humans were all just as cruel? The disgust must have slipped out onto her face because they recoiled and slunk back to grab the scrap.

“No, I’m sorry, no, it’s just I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with you. Or, no, I’m not doing anything with you, that’s not what I meant, I mean—I’m not going to hurt you or kick you out or anything. I’ve never had a guest that’s…like you before. That I knew of anyway.”

Val managed a smile at that, if only for a second.

“I—it’s not that I think you want to hurt me or anything but…after…I don’t think anyone would blame you for…you could, you know?” they said, voice soft.

“If you mean like, for earlier, I’m not mad. Like, all these bruises don’t feel great but you were having a bad morning, I get it. Kinda. But I don’t want to get payback, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she said. It was enough to get them to relax at least a hair.

“I—we probably should get dressed, like you said. My um, my clothes are under your dresser from this morning, if you don’t mind giving me a lift over there. O-or you could bring them here, if you don’t want to—it’s awkward, now I know,” they said with an empty laugh.

“What would you prefer?” Phoebe asked and they startled.

“Oh! Um, either is fine, thank you. Whatever’s easier for you.”

Phoebe was skeptical of that, given how skittish they’d been, but held out a hand for them. She didn’t want to dig around on the floor, she had spent enough time down there today. Val cringed at first as she reached for them, then loosened as they looked at her open, waiting palm. They bundled up the sheet scrap to cover their chest before looking up at her with a shy smile.

“Thanks. Um, for not grabbing me again. And…just, thank you for not being mad,” they said.

Phoebe nodded uncomfortably. She’d only been trying to keep them from hurting themself, had she hurt them instead? They didn’t look injured. Her hand wavered, but they bounded easily up her fingers and sat on the cushion of her palm with a lightness that took her breath away. They had an easy balance even on her uneven flesh and settled comfortably against her fingers as if they had been made to fit there.

They were so impossibly small and spectacularly delicate-looking. Their eyes were big and wet and they were altogether cute in the same way as a kitten, if she pretended she didn’t know about those brutal scars. She brushed her thumb through their hair and felt their ear twitch as her fingertip passed it by. The fur on the end of their tail tickled her palm as—also like a cat—they thumped it against her hand in apparent annoyance until she sheepishly apologized.

“It’s alright, you’re not the first. I already knew I’m pretty,” Val said.

Phoebe rolled her eyes and stood up. They set a hand on her thumb as if for balance, little claws resting in the ridges of her fingerprint, but she could tell they didn’t need the support—there was no weight in the gesture. Unlike her, they were used to this. They barely swayed as she started to walk.

“Hey, so, before we uh, turned back, we were talking about other people like you? You said you were a borrower, was it?” she asked.

“R-right, I was… we were looking at those… right. Yeah, borrower. I don’t know if that’s the ‘right’ word, scientifically. It’s like…you’re human but call yourself mankind? I think there’s another word,” they mumbled.

“Like what?”

They took a deep breath and crossed their arms like they were hugging themself. She could feel the tension ripple down their back. She waited for them to decide on how much they were willing to share.

“I always just say borrower, but, um…I think it also starts with b, maybe. Not sprite, though. I’ve never heard that.”

“I’ve never heard sprite describe anything real, just fantasy creatures. I guess I’ve never heard of anything like you being real either,” Phoebe said.

This time Val muttered too quietly for her to hear and gestured towards the dresser. They must be with questioning again. She set them down on the floor and shuffled backwards to the closet, hyperaware of how heavy her footsteps were, before turning around to grab her own clothes and offer them some privacy in process.

By the time she turned back around, Val had vanished. She called out and looked under and around the dresser for where they could have hidden themself, but they were gone.

-

Val

Val spent what felt like an eternity tucked against the side of the mattress waiting for Phoebe to give up and leave. There was a terrifying minute where they chose not to breathe as the shadow beneath them deepened and Phoebe searched in the dusty space below the bed. She sighed when all she could find was her own clutter. They were glad they were themself again but they wanted this whole thing to be done and over. They worried it never would be.

They should come out, they knew that. It was awful and rude to run off and disappear without a word of goodby, worse to skulk around where they didn’t belong. Even if she really wasn’t upset with them already, she’d have every right to be furious when she found them. And it was a matter of when, not if, unless they moved away from her apartment entirely. She knew now and Val was a mediocre borrower on their best days. She’d catch them eventually. Their gut told them it would have been better to stay and cooperate and just hope they could convince her not to use them as a lab rat.

They had only run because the colony was so close—running was the right thing to do by borrower standards, or the least wrong anyway. If they could convince the colony that it hadn’t been their fault… Better yet, they could try to cover it up like it had never even happened. They’d never be able to do that if they stayed with her.

All Val wanted was a place in the colony where they could pick up some specialist trade and never had to leave the walls again. They were more learned than most borrowers after all, entirely literate, they could be useful. They didn’t mind tedious busywork. They didn’t mind being ordered around. They were tired of being fending for themself alone like this.

“I guess you went home. Not sure how I feel about you skulking around my room, but... alright. I’d still like to talk about… well, everything, really, if you’re willing to come back sometime,” Phoebe said eventually.

Talk. Would she really be willing to leave it at talk?

They let another few minutes pass after she left the room before rushing for the nearest escape. The climb home was long and laborious without their gear and once they made it, they collapsed onto their little sponge bed and stayed there for days.

-

Val listlessly re-arranged their shelf in a futile search for a forgotten stash of food. There hadn’t been anything there yesterday, or the day before, but the day before that they had found a little pile of sunflower seeds they didn’t remember taking. Those had only lasted so long.

They hadn’t left their loft since they made it back home. They’d barely left their bed. They had lost track of how many days had passed—at least a week. They should have been packing. They should have packed, past tense. They should be gone. They should have sent word to the colony in the center of the complex that one of the tenants knew, (that maybe everyone knew), but how could they defend themself this time—the truth was too unbelievable to be an excuse. And how many times could they mess this up before Parsley and the rest of their council told Val that they were no longer allowed to live in the complex?

The idea terrified them more than starving did. They weren’t built to survive outside, not with the weather and the cold and about five hungry, violent creatures for every one Val had already heard of. No, they’d much rather starve than get banished to the wild to be eaten.

But it was getting late. The unit downstairs had pets and the one next door had another outcast rumored to have been exiled for his violent tendencies. Val didn’t have the energy to navigate around either. They barely had the energy to trudge around their own loft. If they didn’t do something now, this was going to get even worse and then they would die.

They wrapped themself in another layer of flannel and glared at the floor. As if in mockery, the kitchen below them smelled amazing. It was so close. Hot, seasoned food. They could almost see it through the drywall, simmering on the stove.

Muffled music bounced through the walls, occasionally joined by Phoebe's off-key alto. They listened when she spoke up now, in case she was saying something that they needed to know. Several times, she had addressed them directly as if they were in the room with her. She wanted to see them again.

She said she didn’t mind if they stayed.

They squeezed their eyes closed and rolled deeper into their bedding. Bad idea.

Of course she said didn’t mind if they stayed. She was more than curious, prying. She had let them go, but Val had felt the hesitation. The slight jerk of her hand when they went to leave, the desire to keep them for herself to study. Val shuddered at the thought of those photos and pulled their blankets tighter around themself.

Maybe some ants would make their way into the loft, now that Val had choked down the last of the herbs they’d been using as pest deterrents. Their empty stomach lurched in distaste that roiled into another pang of hunger. They had never liked their mother’s awful outdoorsy, survivalist eats. God, they envied how long a human could go without food—what good did the ability even serve, when they had all the food they could want?

Maybe they should risk the cabinet once they were sure Phoebe was away from the kitchen. Maybe she hadn’t set any traps. Maybe they could get lucky again. Maybe it wouldn’t so bad.

-

taglist: @da3dm @whumpsday @gt-daboss

(To be added/removed from the taglist please comment, ask, or message, I’ll forget if it’s just in the tags of a reblog!)

[howdoesagrapewrites]

Hii! I really liked you Pavitr poly so I wanted to make a request, could you do one where Reader is able to escape and go and star a new life in another country (or city) and they see each other after year's of them gone (bonus if reader became a hero)

𝙄𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙖 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙤 (𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙞𝙧𝙧𝙤𝙧)

CW: yandere things, escaping, spiders?, reader experiences mental health issues surrounding everything, fem!reader x lovesick!Pavitr Prabhakar x lovesick!Gayatri Singh, but it's reader-centric, I love MJ

Notes: This follows the events of Bound by Webs but reader's escape was successful

You stare at they sky as if it'll give you any answers, any references for what you should feel. You wish there was starts to wish upon, however, Mumbattan is a polluted city, filled with lights, sounds, polluted hearts. Everything's mesmerizing and oh so overwhelming, it fills your senses and distracts you from the truth, from the stars, maybe if you paid attention to them, they would've guide you through a path with a better ending, and path much sweeter than this. But at the absence of the divine guide, obnoxiously blocked by human intervention, you willingly fell into the spider webs, caressed them like one would find peace in silk sheets, delicate, singular, crafted with the finest kind of expertise and care: love. But as you allowed yourself to be enveloped by it, you lackadaisically forgot spider silk has one use: to trap a victim.

Now, every thing that marveled you seems to be darkly stained with ink,like a ruined painting, like something made to be a masterpiece, utterly disgraced by the growing obsession of the artists behind it, forever ruined in a fit of desperation. Now you look through the train window and contemplate what used to lay behind the nigritude of the canvas, you watch the colors, the oils, the beautiful narration of a story, corrupted but beautifully beholding the remainings of what it could have become. You're now on a train going far away from Mumbattan, with barely any money, no other clothes than what you're wearing, and leaving (more than) half of your heart behind, your lovers, your family, your friends, the sense of familiarity, the idea of what home means to you. If home is where the heart is, what kind of home exists for such a bruised, lost one like yours? You simply ran without allowing yourself any sort of goodbye, you didn't look wistfully to the horizon, to the rooftop where you saw the sunrise once, the police station, the streets, no poetic tear-inducing lingering around, you ran. It was the best decision, honestly, you didn't allow yourself to be trapped while lost in your own mind. But now all these complicated knots in your head start to twist further, play around like someone braiding hair, unraveling and disarraying around, all the memories spill messily, you lose sense of time, of space, and the only coherent thought you can recognize is "I shouldn't cry or someone could suspect". So you let the blot of feeling slowly eat you, gnawing, biting, tasting, slow to devour, but so quick to cloak one completely.

You don't even realize when the train gets to its final station. Gayatri found you, cold sweat covers your forehead and the hairs in your nape spike. Wait, that's not Gayatri, that's the kind lady from the train letting you know you must exit the vehicle, you nod and profusely apologize. You could've muttered a half excuse with something like "sorry, long day" but you're far too strayed from social conventions in your current shock state. You lay your feet on the ground and let your body guide you to the platform outside from the train, the air that should smell like freedom, feels unbreathable. You should look for a shelter tomorrow, you should sleep. Your tired brain just demand for the warmth of your mattress, your feather duvet, and the other miriad of shallow items that would be brought to you, in order to get any reaction. It's funny, they would present you with a gift like they were trying to gain the favor of an emperor, a master, but in reality, they were bringing caviar to a prison cell.

When you sit down, you feel the physical tax of everything coming down to you, it feels foreign, you're about to pass out, but you can't feel your toes. You want to scream, and break things, and do a victory dance, and crawl back to them, and you feel like throwing yourself off a roof to see if you can fly. Your body doesn't respond to you when you want to get up, you feel dizzy and lost consciousness.

You're woken up by spiced and sweet incense, feeling terrified to open you eyes, you wonder if this is heaven. Or on the contrary, if they found you, and this is hell.

Soft, honeyed voice tingles your ears, you don't even register the words, a beautiful woman appears before you, vaporous like an apparition, like an angel. Brown radiant skin, thick eyelashes, a long hooked nose and between her eyebrows lays a perfectly traced burgundy bindi. You wish your commotioned head had the words to attempt to describe such belle, instead, you content in basking in the worry invading her piercing brown eyes before starting to actually understand the words her lips spill.

"How do you feel? I'm Meera Jain, I found you on the subway station, did someone drug your cup?"

"Cup?" You feel physically tired by simply furrowing your eyebrows in disconcertment

"Yes, at a party? I mean, where were you before? All I know is that you passed out in a bench and I brought you home."

"Do you know who I am?" You question, fearing this beacon of hope might be quick to go off. Why would someone help this stranger? If she knew who you were, you're sure she'll get you back where you started.

For a question that would make some roll their eyes, she gave a kind smile and light laugh. "I don't, that's what I'm trying to figure out."

"If you don't know, why am I" you look around, this is definitely no hospital "Why am I in your house?"

"Well, you needed help. And I'm a girl's girl" she shrugged her elbows, the smile never leaving her lips. "So, may I know your name?"

"My name is Y/N... L/N. I don't really want to talk about what happened"

She didn't asked. For the three months Meera Jain nursed you back to health, she didn't ask a single question, even with the sassy and gossipy personality you would later discover, she seemed to have no problem helping someone she didn't now a single thing about, you didn't even have a document to prove your identity, you could've lied, you would get paranoid and think you should've lied, even your name, as unique or common, is a tie to the past, a lead for spiderman to follow.

MJ was a university student in her last year, and you were. You were complicated, you couldn't enroll on school without documents, and you would sit in front of the computer for hours, cry, overwhelmed by simply writing a CV, all you could think was Pavitr and Gayatri storming in your part-time job at s grocery store or food chain, looking you in the eyes and pulling the invisible leash still tightly suffocating your neck, even kilometers away, you were under their control. You hated it, you hated them, hated the thing that took your life away, but what you hated the most right now, is that you'd throw all of MJ's efforts down the drain without saying thank you, if you were promised a life where the three of you could be happy again. The past chased you, and it weighted like an anchor.

Days kept passing and you found a job at a local flower shop, the man who worked there simply gave you a job when you asked (begged) for one, he didn't request any more information, you learned a lot about flowers from a dusty enciclopedia forgotten in MJ's house, reading helped calm down your thoughts.

You were arranging some pink camelias and dahlias for an offer you received earlier that week. When you finished you closed the shop, and headed to "your" house, like usual, there was a "usual" now.

MJ still doesn't ask any questions, it's a relief, but it makes you feel isolated. You wished there was a way to simply pass the information over to her head from yours, without having to talk about it ever again, words stopped and crashed with each other when you tried to talk about that.

"What happened there? Angry flower?" Meera Jain asked when she saw your hand while stirring the chai. "A spider bit me, it was hiding in the flowers and I froze so I couldn't kill her. It'll go in a couple days" you brush off. Meera Jain thought you were scared of spiders, it was a very common phobia, after all. And you were, sort of, you were frightened by a spider in particular.

A very lovesick, strong, completely unreasonable spider. You visibly cringed at the kids wearing Spider-Man masks, the billboards and merch, a constant reminder of the dangers. But it slowly disappeared, you didn't know why all of India seemed to be forgetting about the great honorable hero Spider-Man, but it was no sorrowful loss for you.

You were ignorant, but word was on the street that Spider-Man was getting violent.

Life like this didn't agree with you, there was so many things that didn't sit right with you, that didn't make you feel secure or comfortable, but it was better than what you ran from, right? You prayed in your dreams that something would change, something that would make you feel less alone, that would make you stick to this routine willingly. The kind of "stuck" you meant, however, never included sticking to walls.

Becoming a spider-person was hard, you hated it, all you wanted was to remain anonymous and escape from Spider-Man and his girlfriend. Yes, him wearing the mask felt wrong after knowing all, why should he protect people when he's a threat himself? But you wanted literally anyone else to take on the duty. Why you, why did this happen to you?! You tried to simply ignore the powers, but your spidey sense was disrupting everything in your life, you knew crime was rising, and you sat on the couch to cry about a life you lost, instead of doing something for the hundreds of civilians in need of help.

But with unwanted power comes great responsibility. You avoided the calling emeging in your insides boiling hot, burning you, with guilt and angst. It wasn't really until it hit you closer than you'd like, that you understood why Pavitr, like many others, had decided to put the mask on. It was late at night, you were walking home with MJ after accompanying her to a party, you didn't mingle or danced a lot, and were fairly sober, MJ wasn't back out drunk, just alittle tipsy, and she was very aware of her surroundings, despite everyone having a pre-conceived idea of an airheaded party girl, she was intelligent and sensible. So she didn't make a great fuss, neither attracted attention, aside from the sounds of both your steps and little laughs here and there, but apparently that was enough to get noticed by the more unpleasant individuals around there. She always carried a pepper spray, skillfully uncapping it, she blinded the guy, but there was other two goons behind you, both larger and probably armed. Your spidey senses were driving you absolutely insane, you felt like your head was being squished and your veins carried caffeine. Time stopped when you saw a gun being pointed at Meera Jain, an impulse took over your body like nothing had ever done it, and you body slammed the man into the wall, making him drop the pistol. At superhuman speed, you disarmed the other one, who ran away as soon as he had the chance. You looked at her facewaiting for the imminent reject, but she just looked you, wide eyed, mouthing "that was freaking awesome". You had to tell her how you had been feeling, and that you were mostly sure of what was it, since you were acquaintanced* with Spider-Man from Mumbattan. This lead to a big revelation with little words, you partially told her how Spider-Man wasn't a great guy under the mask, and you were sorta running away from him and someone else, you omitted details of what exact relationship you had with the two, and as much as curiosity itched, she didn't question further.

"I just feel so sick of causing you trouble, you saved me that day, and I'm just a mess" you admitted

"I didn't save you, I helped you out, told ya that." She looked at you with sincerity "Just like you helped me out before, if you can help someone stay alive and all that, you just do it, no one's gonna save you " she chuckled at your confused face "You gotta save yourself."

You look at the wall, a mirror hanging, Meera Jain used it for late minute makeup when she was late and away from the bathroom. You look at your face like you did moments before escaping last time, and you notice your expression, full of doubt, full of fear. Do you look like spider-man? You question, but then it hits you. Spider-man doesn't look like anything, it's a mask. Anyone can wear it.

And it wasn't that day in the street, or the day you got your suit, or the first time you put the mask, it was in that instant, that you became Philadelhi's one and only Spider-Man.

Being Spider-Man was so easy. But as you rose, you saw eye to eye with the only person on the same level as you in your universe, and even though you were stronger than you've ever been in your whole life, your knees get weak. Not in the head over heels nervous kind of way, in the "I'm injured before a predator" way.

You swinged desperately, sometimes breaking your webs by how unstable your pulse was, Pavitr's voice made you feel light-headed, nauseous.

"Can you stop there bro?" He swinged, chasing you "I just need to talk". Bro? He never would call you that, he probably didn't know who you are, you intend to keep it that way. His moves were now more aggressive and faster "I said stop! C'mon!" You knew Pavitr sometimes had moments like this, where he was scary, but as far as you knew, Spider-Man was still safe, he wouldn't use his powers wrong, or so you thought before remembering everything that went down, and forgot whatever notion about his morality you had left. You wanted to scream until your throat was raw when you felt his webs restricting you. But you were left speechless, he brought you to a rooftop, and did a series of number combinations that activated an hologram in his watch. "Sorry to do this, but I kinda got to lock you up, or more like bring you to be examined to know if you'll get locked up or not. There can't be two Spider-Man in one universe, less in the same country, you know? Rules and all... You probably want to breathe, right? Let me help you out" He tried to pull your mask, but you flinched and moved your face away. What would he do if he saw you? It had been two years after all, had they forgotten about you? Had they renounced, deciding you were a traitor and simply abandoned the idea of finding you again? Or on the contrary, they wanted to find you for revenge purposes? What does Pavitr think of you now? He was always so delusional, so sure you loved him, is he still lost in this fantasy? Or has he finally accepted the truth? Maybe it's neither. All this thinking makes your blood rush, your heightened senses pick up in your rapid heartbeat, and you notice that his' do too, it's normal though, you are being held captive, of course you're nervous, he still toys around with the goober in his wrist. "You know, they'll take it off anyway when we go to HQ, and I know you wouldn't understand this, but your heartbeat... It makes me feel- it reminds me of someone, so sorry, but I need to steal the big reveal." He comes for your mask again, you wiggle around in an effort to avoid it, but it's futile when he grabs your shoulders and keeps you in place. You feel your world crashing down when he sees your bare face once again, his reaction is nowhere near what you expect. He starts laughing, not like he was told a joke, but like he can't contain his excitement, he laughs and laughs, like a hyena. You just stay there, still, stunned, after a few minutes, Pavitr speaks again. "Of course! Of course it's you! It had to be this way, after all. See, Y/N, there's this thing called a "canon event" that every Spider-Man has to undergo, and there's patterns, like things that always go a certain way, like, Peter Parker and Gwen Stacy falling in love. I'm a variant of Peter, Gayatri is a variant of Gwen, and when that happens, things always go wrong, and I saved you and Gayatri that day on the bus, remember? So canon has to go into place, and you had to escape so canon wouldn't be interrupted, it all makes sense now! You being Spider-Man too can cancel out the whole tragedy thing around this!" You can't move, even if you wanted too, so you can't do much when he kneels down to the floor to kiss your cheek and call you sweet names. "Peter Parker always falls in love with Gwen Stacy, and even when bad things happen, he never regrets it. I get it now, I don't regret falling for you." But you do, you regret it more than anything.

[bloodpen-to-paper]

Spider-man: Across the Spider-Verse Trailer Thoughts

Can I just start this post off by saying that I am totally normal? Over this movie? Perfectly reasonable in my level of hype and mentally well in every way? Mhm, trust me. Anyway, onto the blurbs!

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-Seems Miles is at his teenage rebellion stage

-Miles' teacher telling him he's not doing too well in Spanish in front of his Puerto Rican mother is an ouch (in that it's hilarious, but not for him. Sorry Miles)

-Seems there's gonna be a rift between Miles and his parents now that he's Spider-Man full time and very much keeping it secret from them; maybe this movie is where they find out?

-Across the Spider Verse seems to also have a core theme of Miles going against the grain and doing things his way, forging his own individual path for how he wants to do Spider-Man. Looking forward to seeing a more grown up Miles that is able to go further into his self-exploration now that he's reaching older teen/young adulthood.

-I think Gwen and Miles might get together this movie which... eh. Alright. No hate to the ship, but the first movie felt very platonic save for Miles liking her cause she's a pretty girl, and rip to cishet society but that ain't enough to sell me on a relationship. Maybe they'll get some development in this movie? Until possibly that I'm just gonna enjoy them as friends personally

-Apparently Oscar Isaac voices Miguel... Doctor Strange was not kidding when he said the multiverse got screwed in NWH

-Here we have Jessica Drew, Marvel's first (continuous) Spider-Woman! She looks awesome, and based on how often she appeared in the trailer, I'm assuming she will play a key role.

-I also suspect she will help push the narrative around ATSV's theme of parenthood, with Miles having issues with his own, and Peter becoming a father.

-Regarding the race change for Jessica, I earlier referred to her as the first "continuous" Spider-Woman, because she was the first woman to notably don the spidey title. However, the first official Spider-Woman was actually a one-off character named Valerie the Librarian. Originally, Valerie had no powers; she instead went around as a non-super helping Peter Parker's Spidey in any way she could. Spider Verse has always been by black people for black people, so it doesn't surprise me that they (allegedly) are honing back to Valerie, a black woman and the first official Spider-Woman, to base Jessica's appearance on. Goes to show the creators did their homework, which I'm pleased to see.

She is so beautiful ma'am please take my hand in marriage; also, she's pregnant! She is literally hero-ing while pregnant, which I've realized is not something we really see like... ever. Granted, because its dangerous, but Spider Verse has always made strides to give more diverse female representation, and a pregnant spidey mirroring pregnant working women seems to be next on their list. Happy to see it!

-We got Miguel O'Hara! Admittedly I'm not the most familiar with him, but one doesn't traverse Marvel comic fandom without having heard of this guy. Based on what I'm seeing in the trailer, he looks like a very fun character and I'm excited to know more

-"Don't even get me started on Doctor Strange and the little nerd back on Earth-199999." I am... so normal about the acknowledgment of the MCU in Spiderverse. The multiverse really is converging, which on a meta sense is something I absolutely love so I am very excited to see where the Marvel universe heads.

-Also people have been saying Feige stated the MCU was Earth-616 and Spider Verse went against that, which they're happy about, so if someone could fill me in on what happens in Earth-616 I'd appreciate it!

Peter's back! And he has a spider baby! From what I've seen this is Mayday Parker, daughter of Peter Parker and Mary Jane Watson, and she does indeed get her father's spider abilities in the comics. Perhaps we'll see more of her in the future?...👀

Stab me, it would hurt less.

(Looks like Gwen's backstory is being explored more, which is a hooray moment, but its exploring her trauma, which is less hooray.)

And of course... the meme, made multiversal. (Is that fucking PS5 Spiderman)

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That's about it, very excited for this movie, also afraid, but mostly excited! See y'all when it drops!

[pandoraimperatrix]

The White Bird

NejiHina | 2,3k| Romance/Supernatural | Read on AO3

For NejiHina Week day 2 - Folklore AU

For more information about the NejiHina Week find @nejihinata

This is a Folktake AU inspired mostly in the Brazilian version of the Blue Bird Fairy Tale, that I grew up knowing as O Pássaro do Limo Verde/The Green Lime Bird. In my research I found out a Mongolian version too, and I'm taking some references from that. Because it is an AU inspired by Folktale/Fairytales it will follow what I call fairytale logic, so if the characters seem off, a little irrational and talk funny, it's on purpose.

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The heavens saw what he did on the battleground, they saw his sacrifice, and the cowardice hidden in his words. They understood that his sacrifice was not pure of hear, that it was a way to escape his cage and a future in which he would have to see his beloved marrying another.

And before his soul was released from the birdcage seal by death, the heavens locked him in another curse, so Neji could keep his mission and forever protect his princess. This time as a white bird.

The ornate cage and the exquisite bird were waiting in Hinata's room when the Hyuuga party came back from the war. How it got into the deposed heiress room was a complete mystery.

It is true that the most powerful warriors of the clan were away to fight, but it was still an unthinkable thing that a stranger someone could trespass the fortress wherein even the smallest child could see though walls.

Yet, there it was.

Beside her bed, next to the window, bathed by the moonlight, in a intricate cage of silver and gold, the most beautiful bird she had ever seen. It's snow white feathers shimmered emanating an iridescent glow a as it moved to acknowledged her presence and silver eyes where unmistakable, although tiny, byakugan. The bird rose his elegant head when he saw her, and sung, it was the most beautiful song she had even heard, out-of-worldly so, each note pulling Hinata's heartstrings and although, by nature, it didn't have any words, somehow, she knew what she had to do.

She filled her white gold wash basin with the crystalline water from the koi pond, scented the water with her own lavender and lilac perfume, and opened the cage's door. The bird perched elegantly on her white arch of her hand and waited for her to lead it to its bath.

As soon as the feathers touched the scented water, the bird was no more, and in is place, Hyuuga Neji showing no signs of harm or death. The only difference being that instead of green, his seal was now silver, and his complete lack of clothes.

Hinata gasped.

"It's you!"

It was as if something took control of her or maybe, for the first time in her life, she was allowed to just act, free from inhibitions, free from shame, free from proprieties, from shoulds and should'nots.

Her trembling hands reached for his face, marveling, at the warmth of his skin under her, the adoration in his eyes, completely bare from any artifice. How had she never noticed before? His eyes had never lied, never hidden, it was so obvious.

She kissed the droplets from his eyelashes, hot pillowy lips hesitating just a moment to ask for permission with her eyes before sliding softly to his sill moist cheekbones, hands cupping his jawline, shaking, desperate.

He didn't shy away from her desperate touch, he didn't ask questions although they remained in his surprised gasp at the end of their first kiss.

In the first night, she didn't speak either, fearing to wake from that magical sinful dream.

She realized he had been in love with her in those last moments where life left hies eyes, but she had been sure that she loved another, didn't she? She had laid her life for him twice, didn't her?

Why then when presented with such miraculous dream the urge to offer her body and soul to the one that has been her promised, her keeper, her teacher, her brother and her foreman was stronger than any love she professed to harbour to any stranger?

It didn't matter. When he kissed her back, she parted her lips to let his hot, moist tongue in, moaning at the exquisite sensation on having him so close and desperately aching for more. Hinata laced her arms around his neck, loving the silk softness of Neji's long chestnut hair and let him pull her to his lap rocking against his naked arousal against her clothed middle.

All thoughts of ever loving others dissipated when he, without breaking eye contact, parted the middle of her mourning kimono to free her left breast from its confines and holding it like a cup of the finest wine, took it to his mouth and sucked the tip until it perked rosy and taut.

And they made love for the first time on the floor of her room under the shadow of his cage cast by the moonlight.

Hinata woke up the next morning in her bed, but her she was mortified to find herself completely nude under the covers and her sleeping clothes folded neatly on her desk's chair.

The cage was exactly where she had left it, and the white bird on its perch, sleeping with its beak under one magnificent wing.

When she left the bed and padded her way to the front of the looking-glass, there were love bites all over her otherwise milky breasts and shapely thighs. Her face heated with the spreading blush, and she looked nervously over her shoulder to the bird, but it remained asleep.

On the second night, there was an attempt to talk, but soon enough she found herself bending over the same looking glass from earlier, while he took her from behind ans her elated moans filled her childhood room.

Now that she knew that it was not a dream, Hinata was trying hard to muffle her own noises of pleasure, putting her hand on her mouth , but he took her hand and kissed its palm and then held her gaze through the mirror before taking his other hand from her breast and pinching her clit making her come apart in a thousand starbursts.

He stopped thrusting and held her, spreading kisses on her shoulders while she came down from her high.

Hinata let out a whine when Neji pulled out and turned her around in his embrace only to carry her in his arms.

"Aren't you afraid of being heard?"

"No, this room is sealed by the same magic that keeps me in bird form, and," he added lying her on the bed and delicately peeling a piece of hair from her eyes, his own gaze playful, something she rarely saw after the death of his father, "there is little you fear after you die."

Her heart ached in her chest and her eyes glazed remembering the bodyless funeral they held for him after the war, and Hinata pulled him into an embrace, speaking against his ear in a shaky voice full of sentiment.

"Please don't jest over such matters."

He held her tight for a few moments before pulling away to look into her eyes.

"My apologies, but so you know, my lady, the only thing that can harm me until the seventh night is your betrayal."

"There is nothing to fear, then."

Her fingers slid from his face to his neck and down his chest, stopping a moment over the urgent beat of his heart, like the rustle of a bird's wings, and then she continued, marveling at the goosebumps that her touch was creating in its path until it reached his cock and gently pulled him inside of her again.

There, completion. And there were no wars, no evil goddesses, no curses, no losses, just him and the endless night.

In the third evening following the miracle brought by the curse from heavens, Hinata arrived late with the perfumed waters, the moon was already tall in the sky.

The white bird perched on her hand as usual, but as soon as he took human form, it was clear that something was wrong.

"You are late."

"My apologies."

She reached a hand to touch him, but for he winced and moved away,filling her heart with confusion, in his eyes tears of hurt and betrayal.

"I smell the fox in you."

Her lip trembled.

"Naruto-kun came to pay his respects."

"So you were with him," never his voice sounded so cold, not even in that battle when the cruelest thing he could call her was 'too gentle'.

"Neji-nii-"

She covered her own mouth in horror as with a heart wrenching cry he morphed back into a bird and flew away through the window.

Hinata waited by the window the whole night, her tears washing her face until the breaking dawn, but he didn't return, in the cage only a a pale, almost silver feather remained of the white bird.

Shaken, but resolute, she took the memento with her as she decided to go find him, no matter where he had went. She would find and say she was sorry, that she didn't know what to do with herself without him watching her shadow, that she didn't want to find out alone or by another's company. That she was wrong when she thought she could ever want for another. That she admired Naruto-kun, was grateful for the part he had in their life, in mending their relationship, but there was all. That she already belonged to Neji and only Neji. That she would never snub a heaven's given present as it was granted to them.

Like in that battle, so many years ago, she would make him listen.

If she had to go to the end of the world she would.

And that she did.

At the end of the world she first found the Moon surrounded by court ladies of stars.

The Moon, who was unstable by nature, understood doubt too, and who also had once misunderstood the Sun's, their brother, uncouth acts as betrayal, understood Hinata's beloved feelings too.

"O daughter of mine, to thy next phase I cannot take thee. But for thou art full of grace, be wary in thy path unto my sister, and shelter thyself with this veil of my ladies' weaving."

Protected by the silver veil the gentle Tsukiyomi granted her, the Hyuuga princess kept forward in her journey and when met with the unforgiving Sun, was not harmed by her violent scorching rays.

Amaterasu was resplendence, and wasn't for the veil, Hinata couldn't even look at her without losing her eyes to the impossible glare.

She was less understanding, and refused to talk to Hinata, who remained in pleading posture for five whole days and four whole nights until the Sun, took pity of her.

"I shall give thee this once, the one named after that which I touch, for thou art full of grace, and it is in my nature to cause the seed to bloom. Yet I cannot help thee alone. I see, my sibling, the Moon, hath helped thee, and my lord brother, Susanoo, shall not be as kind; but without him, to balance my heat, no bud shall sprout, nor flower turn to fruit, and thy beloved doth belong to him now. This is the day when the three of us shall meet, and if thy heart be true, and thy purpose unchanging, and thou canst endure his storm, then mayhap, mayhap, the one thou hast foolishly lost twice shall be returned unto thee."

"I'll do it, whatever it is."

"Art thou certain that this is that which thou desirest?"

"With all my heart."

"Then shalt thou earn it."

"Byakugan no hime," from far away, they heard the powerful voice of the storm's winds "When the time cometh, the Sun shall melt the shackles that bind thy beloved, and the Moon shall seal for the last time his destiny. But ere he becometh forever thine, thou shalt prove thy love worthy of the gods' favour, and walk the wedding path beside him, enduring all the might of my tempest. If thou dost not waver, if thou dost not fail, thou mayest have thy prize. But if thou hesitatest, even in thine heart of hearts, I shall know it, and thou wilt lose him forever; not in the next life shalt thou meet again."

"With him by my side? Not behind me? By my side for once? Oh my lord, that is all I ever wished for, there is no storm I cannot weather with him by my side."

As soon as the words dropped from her lips, the heavens opened, and the white bird came soaring towards her. Hinata, who haven't felt her beloved in so long, foolishly pushed the veil from her eyes and felt the full force of the storm pushing her down, still, she did not fall. She firmed her feet firmly on the ground and opened her arms, the bird, flew towards her, but instead of feathers and beak, it was with warm skin and silky hair that her embrace met.

She sobbed against his chest, mumbling apologies and promises of forever.

He held her face and before gods and the end of the world, kissed her, apologizing too, for his hastiness and distrust.

Each God served them three doses of rice wine from which Neji and Hinata sipped from each three times, both of them had tears of happiness when they finally bowed to each other, and when the left the end of the world to face the rest of their lives, they knew, not matter what happened next, they would be happily ever after.

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This was fun but also very hard to write!! I hope someone enjoy it LMAO.

[doueverwonder]

May I request fluffy Loui-centered Floui hc's? :]

*not forcing ofc !!*

I don't have many & fluff isn't particularly my specialty but I will do my best for you friend o7

I kinda mentioned this one, but I don't think Loui particularly likes Disney, he doesn't dislike it but he wouldn't pick a Disney movie. But he knows 90%. of Disney/Marvel/Star Wars etc... movies & shows by heart, because nothing beats the look on Florida's face when someone finishes/understood his reference. Loui is watching Disney movies like he were studying for a test, he takes notes

(ie. the 'what's a motto?' 'nothin, whats a matter with you?' ':D' from that one video)

(^ also in reference to those he does like Princess and The Frog but even that might just be because Florida was so excited to take him to it when it came out)

Florida is actually super jealous when it comes to Loui and Louisiana doesn't even realize it, he just is "I got a compliment from a stranger and completely unrelated Florida has been really clingy since :)"

When its too hot to actually be all over each other Loui is just *affectionate face bap* once he wasn't paying attention and almost took Florida's eye out but y'know you live and you learn not to smack your boyfriend in the face without paying attention

I think that’s all I’ve come up with so far, I’ll let u know if anything else comes to me o7