#i will forever be bitter for the youth i've never had and never will. for the queer joy i did not get to experience.

[windbelle]

Perhaps Astarion looks like Cazador's friend

I have seen a lot of people headcanon Astarion looks like Cazador's former master Vellioth, which does make a lot of sense. However, I've always had another headcanon:

Perhaps Astarion looks like that friend of Cazador who was drained and killed by Vellioth.

Here are my thoughts:

In the 5e DnD Monster Manual, vampires have the nature of Dark Desire, and it says "Whether or not a vampire retains any memories from its former life, its emotional attachments wither as once-pure feelings become twisted by undeath. Love turns into hungry obsession, while friendship becomes bitter jealousy. In place of emotion, vampires pursue physical symbols of what they crave, so that a vampire seeking love might fixate on a young beauty. A child might become an object of fascination for a vampire obsessed with youth and potential. Others surround themselves with art, books, or sinister items such as torture devices or trophies from creatures they have killed."

And it seems evil aligned creatures in lore always see friendship as vulnerability and weakness. Vellioth punished Cazador for his connection to his friend by draining this friend to death, and taught Cazador to never let anyone be his equal. This friend must be really special to Cazador to lead to Vellioth doing this.

We know that Cazador is a pretty good student for Vellioth's lessons. He learned the lesson and killed Vellioth. And he's begun to see the friendship he once possessed as his vulnerability and weakness. He probably hated being punished by Vellioth for his vulnerability and he wanted to vanquish his weakness by torturing someone who could serve as a symbol of his vulnerability, someone who looks like his friend.

He might still have some special emotion, even some kind of love, towards his dead friend but his dark desire has turned his emotion into hungry obsession. So, when he saw Astarion, who looked a lot like his friend, Cazador couldn't help being attracted to Astarion but also he wanted just to possess him, belittle him, and torture him.

That explains why Cazador has this special favoritism towards Astarion in terms of torture and punishment. In fact, I somehow believe that Cazador chose all his spawns because he had some affection towards them all. But his feelings are totally twisted so that he would torture them and use them, while insisting they are a family.

I don't know whether it's true that Cazador sent the Gur to attack Astarion, but I think he did savor the moment when he turned Astarion because he now had the power to "save" him from death, and to turn him into his own possession.

His torture is not merely some sadistic hobby but quite calculated and cold according to his journal. It's only when Astarion got away that he showed emotion. It seems like he was subconsciously training Astarion as a potential successor, just like Vellioth taught him and trained him to be the vampire master of the Szarr family.

This reminds me of the 5e DND module "Curse of Strahd". In "Curse of Strahd" if you role play as Strahd, he has an objective to find a successor, because he thinks if he can find a successor to replace him then he can get rid of the eternal curse and get his freedom.

After you defeat Cazador without Astarion you can detect his thoughts, and you will find that he also thinks he is forever trapped in this immortal curse. He cannot rest and he's in grief. He wants to break the curse, and that's why he sought the profane ritual so that he could gain the ability to finally "live" like a mortal.

But apart from becoming the vampire ascendant, there's another way of terminating his grief to finally put him to rest, that is, to be destroyed and replaced by a successor.

In some way, he was subconsciously expecting Astarion to succeed him and replace him. I think his former master, Vellioth, knew it even more clearly that he would be replaced by Cazador somehow, and Vellioth was training him to do that by intention. Cazador was doing this similarly but more unconsciously. In his subconsciousness, either he would consume Astarion at last, or Astarion would end him and replace him.

Finally, and this is purely headcanon: according to Astarion's age, he was probably born after Cazador's friend was killed. If this friend was also an elf, then when Cazador saw Astarion, for a moment he might think Astarion could be his friend's reincarnation.

[longing4yesterday]

give me mcharrison thoughts ☕

ohhhhhh man. i could honestly go on FOREVER about those two.

WARNING; i ramble on forever below the cut, so be warned!!

truthfully, i think their dynamic is just as interesting as mclennon's. however, it's a bit under-explored by the greater fandom and i'm a bit sad about that personally. they were childhood friends that met with a mutual interest in music, connected and decided to learn guitar chords together!! they did typical kid things like getting up to pranks and hanging out at each other's houses. then john came into their lives and everything shifted, both for the better and worse. those two had each other's attention for ages until the formation of the beatles kinda started splitting it between different responsibilities and relationships. but, at this core, george had always loved paul. yet, as they grew older, that bitterness for being shoved out grew more to the forefront and he struggled with it heavily. of course, there's other aspects too i'm not saying that being pushed to the side in terms of importance was the ONLY thing that bothered george at that time, but it is a factor. then it all cracked when the band fell apart in 1969/70. he refused to speak to or see paul, aligning himself with other members like ringo or john, only finally seeming to somewhat amend and remain cordial when they worked together on anthology and john's tapes up until his death in 2001.

there was a push and pull with those two. of course, i'm speculating and i truly don't know if george ever really had queer feelings for anyone, let alone any member of the beatles, so don't mind me as i put on my tinfoil hat for a second. i read george's feelings toward paul as less of an older sibling-figure kind of friendship and more of a one sided affection. he probably figured that paul had his eye on john from the moment they all met, so he kept his own feelings to himself (that + the way society viewed queerness in that time is the perfect recipe for remaining in the closet with a quiet yearning harbored in your heart). things like the impulsive trip to paris early on probably tipped him off initially and it spiraled from there. was george jealous of the gravitational pull john held over paul? maybe! i don't know! his admiration of john in the beginning did die down in later years as he grew to know him and his patterns of behavior better. yet, he kept his mouth shut about liking paul, his best friend, and took a begrudging step back to let those two have their time in the spotlight. though, if he had it his way he'd have swooped up paul faster, kept a tighter grip on him. even when he was older and more detached from everyone, there's still a little part of him that's a little boy, yearning for his friend to love him like he always wanted. i've never seen get back but i think of that scene where george's watching john and paul mirroring each other, playing to each other face to face, and he looks like he's about to cry. it's upsetting and it breaks my soul every time i see it.

george loved paul, even when tensions were high. they created a tight bond with one another during their youth and never really shook the connection. i know i said this before but i'll reiterate it again; they hated each other, they loved each other, they wanted to kill each other, they obsessed over their opinions over each other. it was an obsessive spiral that harmed rather than nurtured. and that's all george wanted, to love paul without being corrected or judged. to hold his attention for just one minute without the fear it'll be snatched up by john again. yet, he never got that. paul did not reciprocate, his affection for george was that of a little brother. which couldn't have felt good.

they're so tragic GOD. i love writing about them so much and i kinda hate that mclennon eclipses them. we need more mcharrison enjoyers out there making art!! pleaseeeeee

anyways, here's some little things i wanna write someday about these two/ideas i like in general to lighten the mood a little bit;

it's been reported that if you ended up sleeping next to george you'd wake up tangled in his limbs. so i thought it was a cute idea that whenever george and paul would have sleepovers paul would wake up to a tiny little george cuddling him. instead of shoving him off, he lets him sleep in longer cause he thinks it's cute

an alternate ending to "sweetly tender is the flesh" where instead of john and paul running off to fuck, it's george and paul instead (much to john's anger and jealousy)

anything that happened in hamburg. i do not believe for a SECOND nothing queer happened over there. i already wrote a tidbit about that but like---i wanna explore it more tbh

older george and paul reconciling after john's passing :( i need it for my soul

paul being possessive of george………that is all

the tenerife vacation lives in my head rent free. i know i also wrote a tidbit about that buuuuuuuut. less angsty mcharrison fling in tenerife cause i ALSO don't believe nothing queer happened on that trip

KEY WEST. see other points above. or like---when they're all drunk telling each other they love one another, george internalizes it and almost admits that it's more than platonic but holds his tongue because he sees how much paul is clinging to john.

and i think that's all i got for now! hopefully that all made sense ^^;

send me a topic + ☕️ emoji and i'll share my honest opinion

[graciereadshannigram]

Five Star Fics: Hannigram Edition

hey fam, welcome to the inaugural roundup of the best hannigram fics i've read this past month! i read over 60 fics total, and these were the cream of the crop.

the ingredients for a five star rating typically (but not always!!) include some combination of a.) believable characterizations of both Hannibal and Will, b.) compelling plot and/or character arcs, and c.) high quality smut.

that being said, my judgment of the aforementioned ingredients is powered almost exclusively by vibes and as such, is incredibly subjective.

in no particular order, let's go!

~

Title: Veins As Fine As Rabbit Hair Author: lovetincture Word Count: 42,953 Summary: After their fall, the little yellow house Hannibal brings them to is a charmed space. It’s easy to forget there, when Will is in the mood for forgetting. In the Pennsylvanian woods, it’s easy as breathing to ignore the life he left behind. Simple to pretend they’re the last men on earth. Molly and Jack, the murder victims and the FBI seem farther away in the sea of tall, sweet grass—an echo from someone else’s dreams. That’s their life now: Will wants to forget, and Hannibal wants to let him. But reality has a way of asserting itself. No one can ignore it forever.

This was absolutely beautiful. And tender. And sweet. This is probably my favorite post-fall fic. I just get Will and love how they figure out their dynamic together. Definitely hit me right in the gut, but in a very very good way.

Title: Peccavi Author: Yggdrastiles (yoingle) Word Count: 30,067 Summary: After a terrifyingly vivid dream, Will realizes that he's going to need to pick a course of action, and the one he picks no longer involves betraying Hannibal. He knows he'll have to confess because if Hannibal were to discover the original plan on his own, it would tear them apart, and Will's not planning on letting him go anytime soon.

I'm a slut for a well-executed daddy kink, what can I say? Long enough to get really invested in the characters and top-notch smut. Nothing more to say here, folks!

Title: Demonstration Author: HotMolasses Word Count: 11,660 Summary: Will goes to a heat clinic a few days before he is due, to determine whether he wants to use the facility. But then he finds himself blindly following the scent of a delicious Alpha. Before he knows what's happening, he finds himself naked, bound, and gagged on an examination table that is being prepared for a medical demonstration, given by Dr. Lecter to a room full of students on how to properly treat an omega during heat. At first he is mortified, but Dr. Lecter's treatment soon has him enjoying himself to the point of begging for more.

This got five stars purely for the SCORCHING smut. If you're into the omegaverse and also enjoy exhibitionism, you'll enjoy this!

Title: Paragon Author: BloodyWar2411 Word Count: 552,462 Summary: When Hannibal met Will Graham (the man who had, three years prior, been mistaken for the Chesapeake Ripper), he expected amusement. What he got was his first taste of obsession. Dark and bitter in the back of his throat but achingly sweet on the tongue. He knew at once that this feeling, this Man, would consume him. And Hannibal would consume Will right back.

Need I say anything? I still don't have words for how much I loved this fic. The plot was excellent, well-paced, and I loved the characterization of Matthew so much! Bonus points awarded for making me truly understand the appeal of primal play.

Title: Realignment Author: HigherMagic Word Count: 23,120 Summary: Hannibal has a daddy kink. This was easy enough when he was younger - plenty of men were eager to take a pretty-faced, arrogant youth in hand. But as he got older, people started to see him differently, even though his own tastes and kinks never changed. He started to attract men who expected him to take the lead, and it just felt awkward to try and broach the subject. Then he met Will Graham.

As I said, I can't resist a well-executed daddy kink, but I was surprised to find out how much I enjoyed Hannibal calling Will daddy.

Title: Mark Me Not A Savage Author: KatherineKrawl Word Count: 401,953 Summary: When Will opens Hannibal's letter, it wakes something primal locked inside of him. He doesn't understand it, but what he does know is that he has to go to Baltimore hospital for the criminally insane, and he has to go now. Dear Will. He could still see the words, written in the curly elegance of Hannibal's hand, burning behind his eyelids. He breathed deeply through his nose to try and calm the unsteady flutter of his heart. A deep breath. One that clawed at his nose, one that penetrated his nostrils like a liquid, a smothering sting he felt intruding behind his eyes. One. Deep. Breath. And then it took him.

An INCREDIBLE omegaverse fic that convinced me hannigram was made for ABO dynamics. Not only was the smut incredible, but the author brilliantly incorporated their canonical mind melding and retooled it for the omegaverse. I think I also set a new reading record by reading this in under 48 hours.

Title: Kindling Author: gleamingandwholeanddeadly (something_safe) Word Count: 10,281 Summary: “You should take a date to your fundraiser." “Yes, perhaps you’re right. It would be improper to invite someone under false pretence, mind, and for my patient to understand, the evidence would need to be… compelling.” “Perhaps an ex-girlfriend,” Will says, unsure why the thought makes him feel flat and remote. “That would be incredibly inappropriate.” “A friend then. Someone you can explain the problem to. You could take-” “You,” Hannibal interjects. The words belly-flop into silence. Will’s mouth opens, and then closes, and then opens again. When Franklyn's advances of friendship become too much for even Hannibal to politely ignore, he enlists Will's help.

Another favorite trope: fake dating. This fic just had me giggling and smiling the entire time and I loved it. I feel moderately bad for Franklyn as a character and yet... I love when Hannibal and Will flaunt their relationship in front of him. Sue me.

Title: Nothing For It... Author: phenobarbital Word Count: 11,360 Summary: ...not thinking to consult Hannibal on the matter, Will went ahead with venting his anger and he thudded the headboard against the wall again, before pressing his lips together and letting out a loud humming moan, which he trailed off into an ‘aaah’ sound as he parted his lips. He didn’t even glance behind him, totally missing the startled and intrigued look on Hannibal’s face as he made another humming moan and thudded the headboard lightly again.

GOOD GRIEF. This fic left me UNWELL. In the best possible way. We love making homophobes uncomfortable, and if it leads to accidentally having sex? Oh noooo. Also, Beverly makes an appearance at the very end and she's great. Love her.

Title: Transcendent Suffering Author: itsbeautiful Word Count: 484,659 Summary: Blue eyes closed suddenly against Hannibal’s searching gaze, sucking in a breath, body going rigid. “You can’t say things like that to me, Hannibal. You cannot glorify the dark impulses inside of me and call them… beautiful.” Will stared up at the ceiling, head thrown back as if struggling to breathe, fragile and bending against the sound of his voice. “You can’t. You just can’t say them.” “Only the celestial moon and I have truly seen you bathed in blood, savoring the darkness, embracing your becoming, and I can assure you it was truly breathtaking.”

I can't remember the last time I read a fic that was as deeply gut-wrenching as this one. I cried. Multiple times. If you like incredibly well done, character-driven stories, this is IT. And the author also wrote some of the most romantic stuff I've ever read, ever. I will be processing this fic for the foreseeable future.

Title: Love Is What You Make It – A two part series! Author: orphaned on ao3 Word Count: 181,771 (both parts combined) Summary: Will and Hannibal make their way to Hannibal's safe house in New Hampshire a couple days after their plunge off the cliff and plot their next move, Will coming to terms with the fact that he is committed to it this time.

A twofer!! And oh my god this was TENDER. I am a sucker for fics that really explore Will and Hannibal's emotional journey post-fall and I think this did an incredible job of realistically portraying that, while still being indulgent. The first fic is very character-driven, and the second part is more plot-heavy. Both are so good! I found myself actively taking breaks just to make it last longer.

And lastly, the honorable mention(s)!

Title: Hannigram: Cuts Unscene -- Season 1 Author: DBMars Word Count: 71,097 Summary: Cuts Unscene is a Hannigram fanfiction challenge – to write one scene for each episode of the series where Will and Hannibal have some kind of intimate interaction that builds their romantic connection. These stories operate on the concept that they were scenes cut from the original episodes, and the attempt is to make them fit into the plot in ways that are as plausible as possible while still having a good ol’ time writing them. The devil is in the details!

Okay WOW, this is the first of four (one per season, and then an imagined season 4), and I am so deeply impressed with how the author made these truly feel like cut scenes from the actual show. The only reason I'm not giving a full five stars is because I want to actually rewatch a couple episodes and pause to read some of the cut scenes to really assess how well they fit into the overall plot. I'll hopefully have an update on this at some point in the future!

~

And that's all she wrote, folks! Feel free to let me know what y'all are reading and what I should read next :)

[gayasspoetry]

youth

I've spent most of my young years

in mental hospitals

getting called crazy for who I was

and treated for an invisible killer

that wears the name of depression

with too much pride for an illness.

I spent most my days

writing songs of heartbreak,

illness and sorrow

and missing everyone

I used to know

when I was but a little girl.

I never had that youthful innocence

but hospital nights instead

lying awake on sterile-white beds,

taking bitter medication

for an equally bitter sorrow

that's got a hold on me since early days.

I experienced anger

beyond human comprehension

for I never got to live

more than a summer of

the teenage dream that

everyone kept talking about.

but even that summer was

just the calm before the storm

before everything went downhill

with the beginning of September

when autumn crawled above the city

and sorrow crawled into my heart.

I hate the way I turned out

but it cannot be all that

life has planned out for me

because they say

if it doesn't end happily

than it's not the end yet.

so I promised you to heal

because you were right when you said

you would have no-one

to kiss goodnight

if I was not in your life anymore

or if I was gone forever.

[mcflymemes]

TICK, TICK... BOOM! PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the 2021 film, adjust as necessary

lately, i've been hearing this... sound.

the fuse has been lit.

i wasn't sure whether you would want me here.

you're thinking about how to turn this into a song, aren't you?

what's the point of having money if you can't spend it on the people you love?

make a wish.

why didn't you tell me sooner?

i can't keep waiting. this is my life.

i've been telling you for months how unhappy i am.

in just over a week... i will be thirty years old.

can we go inside now? i'm just... i'm sorry. i'm scared i'm beginning to lose sensation in my extremities.

i've heard the dancing is amazing, but the music sucks.

in eight days, my youth will be over forever and what exactly do i have to show for myself?

you are an angel on earth.

is this real life?

you know what, [name]? i'm done.

i don't know how to get through to you anymore. you keep shutting me out. you put up these fences.

i could get used to you.

well, guess what. you're not stephen sondheim.

i don't understand how you can take any of this seriously.

this has never happened to me before.

you are such a baby.

this is the last time. seriously.

you didn't have to say it. it's implied.

what are you doing with your life that's so noble?

then what are we even...? what do you want?

you're not going to pay. i don't want you to pay.

i like to see if i can write a song about anything.

somebody needs to take out this trash.

oh, spare me the self-righteousness.

this has been sitting here for a week.

you're coming next friday, right?

hey, can we talk about how amazing you were tonight?

you know how much he loves making a fuss. especially about you.

this is the biggest break i've ever had. this is that moment.

you need to ask yourself: in this moment, are you letting yourself be led by fear or by love?

can't you be optimistic?

you just quit?

are they paying you?

i'm allowing myself to be led by love.

i wish you didn't have to think like that.

how will i ever survive?

it's expensive to make art.

how are you going to pay for that?

you know, for someone who's broke, you could probably spend a little bit less on party planning.

have you found a new roommate yet?

what time's the show tonight?

i'm leaving you my mix tapes. you can play them in remembrance of me.

thank you for being so supportive of my work.

actually, it's not just show tunes. it's a very eclectic mix.

i'm happy for you. i really am. i mean, i'm also extremely bitter and jealous and envious and hateful toward you right now...

i'm the future of musical theater.

i just needed some fresh air.

you know, you're the only person who's ever said that. just so you know.

it's going to be quite the event.

so can i count you in?

call me if you need inspiration.

you know how stubborn he is. he's a pain in the ass.

why can't i write this song?

thank you for your patience.

um... can you explain it, maybe?

thank you for everything.

nobody is doing enough. i'm not doing enough.

why didn't you tell me you were coming?

can we talk about it tonight?

i'd love to take you to lunch, celebrate your birthday.

you're going to write the next great american musical in the next ten minutes?

[subsequent-interviews]

I've made peace with the changes the show made as a matter of identity and necessity for it as an adaptation. honestly, I've never been too good with change, but usually once I give it some time to settle I find that I come around to it. but some of the changes made in the show are greater than they might appear, and I find myself thinking of those differences.

in the novels, Lestat is turned when he is twenty-one. when I first read the Vampire Lestat that seemed like an eternity away: to me then twenty-one was a full-grown adult, a man. it's an age I can look back on now as one of extreme youth -- not childhood, mind you, but still, youth. at twenty-one I was so sharp, so lost, so inexperienced. in your early twenties you're so desperate to prove that you're All Grown Up Now, but every effort I made towards that only seemed to underscore how much growing I had yet to do.

Lestat never got that. Lestat was turned into a vampire when he was younger than I was when I got married, when I met most of my current friends, when I moved into my own place with my wife, when I finished my first book's first draft. Lestat was turned into a vampire at an age when nightclubs were still asking me if I was here looking for a parent. Lestat had just began to tick off a list of firsts: his first boyfriend, his first apartment, his first job, his first foray into adult life.

and it was all cut short. what strikes me now when I re-read tVL is that, for Lestat, vampirism is very much his adulthood. vampirism is what came next after those first few firsts.

and Lestat's very young adulthood informs a whole lot of his character. one part of Lestat is always twenty-one. a part of being called "the brat prince" is that Lestat is twenty-one. a part of being constantly excused from fucking up is that Lestat is twenty-one. a part of trying to take on the roles of adulthood milestones -- becoming a husband and then a father -- and failing horribly at them is that Lestat is twenty-one.

of course Louis was upset with Lestat's immaturity, his disregard for future consequences. Lestat is twenty-one! and of course Lestat could not provide Claudia with true guidance as a parent. Lestat, tragically, is twenty-one.

we can keep going. Nicki, Marius, Akasha, David Talbot, Quinn, Antoine, more: so much of what happens between these characters and Lestat is informed by Lestat being trapped in vampirism at twenty-one.

it's not the only part of Lestat, of course: as the years go on there is another part gathering up all of the bitterness and the frustration and the disillusionment and the joy and the love and the wonder of still existing. but I've always understood Lestat best as someone who has been twenty-one for a very, very long time. and isn't that the horror of it all, that Lestat will never be afforded the chance to grow and change and age as a human might? that Lestat is forever Magnus's pinned butterfly?

and now ... we come to the show. because it's one thing to imagine everything that goes down with Lestat as twenty-one. it's quite another to see the same behavior done by someone in their thirties, almost forty. it makes it all feel very different.

yes: I've neglected nuance, spent precious little time on Lestat's gravity, on the psychology of being both twenty-one forever and forced to grow up all too quickly because otherwise your family might well have starved. I've compared the milestones of young adulthood in the 2010s to those of the 1780s without an essay on historical context. I didn't even mention Rose and Viktor. and I should say that none of this is meant as an exhaustive or definitive analysis. as with most of my posts on this website ... I'm just talking.

but ... doesn't it feel different, watching Lestat in his mid-30s grow jealous of Claudia's and Louis's closeness instead of Lestat in his very early 20s? Lestat at 21 throwing himself into endeavor after endeavor to get Louis's attention is one thing; Lestat more than a decade older doing the same behavior seems very much like another.

yes: I know that your thirties are your youth, too. but the story changes when the character is one who has been denied all but his most extreme youth as a human adult, instead of a character who has had a decade more lived experience as a human adult but who still can't lose a game of chess without a shouting match.

change is not bad. these differences emphasize different parts of the character, draw our focus to different aspects of the story. and with them, characters interact in different ways. but this particular change to Lestat's age was striking to me because of how much it recontextualizes Lestat's behavior. that behavior is no longer the antics of someone just out of his teens, and I guess I'm still sorting out just how much the rest of the story is impacted by that.

[barclaysangel]

Junior Wheeler Playlist

*pats playlist* This bad boy can fit 207 songs that lasts in total 12 hours and 27 minutes. I fixate too much on Junior. But I got inspired by @high-functioning-fang1rl Nica playlist so I had to do one for Junior too.

This is on my iTunes account and idk how to manage Spotify so if y'all wanna listen to it, I'm going to put all the songs down below. The ones with * on it are the ones I 1000000% relate for Junior. And feel free to send asks about any of the songs and I'll legit do a lyric analyst to explain why I chose it for Junior.

Anyway, enjoy :)

Avril Lavigne

Losing Grip*

Wish You Were Here

Let Me Go

Billie Eilish

COPYCAT

lovely*

you should see me in a crown*

bury a friend

everything i wanted*

Therefore I Am

Happier Than Ever*

Christina Perri

Distance

The Lonely*

Tragedy

Human

Digital Daggers

Where the Lonely Ones Roam*

The Devil Within*

Can't Sleep, Can't Breathe

Still Here*

Bad Intentions

Dorothy

Raise Hell*

Wicked Ones

Beetlejuice the Musical

Dead Mom*

Say My Name

That Beautiful Sound

Home*

Evanescence

Going Under*

Bring Me To Life

Everybody's Fool*

My Immortal*

Tourniquet

Hello*

My Last Breath

Whisper*

Sweet Sacrifice*

Weight of the World*

Lithium*

Like You

Lose Control*

All That I Am Living For

Made of Stone*

The Change*

My Heart Is Broken

The Other Side

Lost in Paradise*

Sick*

Never Go Back

A New Way To Bleed*

Even in Death

Missing*

Farther Away

Fall Out Boy

I Don't Care*

My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark

Alone Together*

Young Volcanoes*

Irresistible

Centuries*

Immortals*

Halsey

Empty Gold

Hold Me Down*

New Americana*

Ghost

Colors*

Colors, Pt. II

Gasoline*

Control*

I Walk the Line

Alone*

Now or Never

Sorry

Good Mourning*

Lie*

Angel on Fire*

Devil in Me*

clementine

Graveyard

Forever ... (is a long time)*

I HATE EVERYBODY*

3am*

Finally // beautiful stranger*

Still Learning

Bells in Santa Fe*

Easier than Lying*

Lilith

Darling*

1121*

honey

Whispers*

Ya'aburnee

People Disappear Here*

Hollywood Undead

Young*

Paradise Lost*

Another Way Out

We Are*

Medicine

Renegade

Imagine Dragons

Radioactive

Demons*

I'm So Sorry*

Monster*

Who We Are

Natural*

Enemy*

LINKIN PARK

Faint

Numb*

What I've Done*

Heavy

Livingston

Shadow*

Surprise!*

Marina and The Diamonds

Oh No!*

Teen Idle

Melanie Martinez

Dollhouse*

Soap*

Training Wheels

Pity Party*

Milk and Cookies*

Mad Hatter*

The Principal

Show & Tell*

Drama Club

Lunchbox Friends*

Orange Juice*

High School Sweethearts

DEATH*

VOID*

FAERIE SOIREE

LIGHT SHOWER

SPIDER WEB*

LEECHES*

BATTLE OF THE LARYNX*

THE CONTORTIONIST*

NYMPHOLOGY

EVIL*

PLUTO*

Olivia Rodrigo

brutal*

Can't Catch Me Now*

Queen

Bohemian Rhapsody*

Under Pressure

The Show Must Go On*

Set It Off

Nightmare*

I'll Sleep When I'm Dead*

Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

Skillet

Falling Inside the Black*

Monster*

Taylor Swift

I Did Something Bad*

Don't Blame Me*

Look What You Made Me Do*

my tears ricochet

seven*

this is me trying*

hoax

Anti-Hero*

You're On Your Own, Kid*

Vigilante Shit*

Three Days Grace

Just Like You*

I Hate Everything About You

Born Like This

Overrated*

Pain*

Animal I Have Become*

Riot

Let It Die

Bitter Taste*

Break

The Good Life*

Someone Who Cares*

Chalk Outline

Misery Loves My Company*

Human Race*

Pain Killer*

Fallen Angel

So What*

Nothing's Fair in Love and War

One Too Many

twenty one pilots

Stressed Out*

Ride

Fairly Local*

Other Artists

Let Me Down Slowly by Alec Benjamin

Here by Alessia Cara*

Panic Room by Au/Ra*

I'm Gonna Show You Crazy by Bebe Rexha*

Dark Side by Bishop Briggs*

idfc by blackbear

Break the Rules by Charli XCX

Arcade by Duncan Laurence

The Monster by Eminem*

Gorgeous Nightmare by Escape the Fate*

Seven Devils by Florence + the Machine*

You Found Me by The Fray

Achilles Come Down by Gang of Youths*

So Alive by The Goo Goo Dolls*

Blood // Water by grandson*

Boulevard of Broken Dreams by Green Day

Impossible by James Arthur*

Human by John "The Ragin Cajun" Jones*

Broken by lovelytheband

How Villains Are Made by Madalen Duke*

Twisted by MISSIO

Voices by Motionless In White

Funeral by Neoni*

How You Remind Me by Nickleback*

Don't Let Me Get Me by P!nk

Cradles by Sub Urban*

Bad Things by Summer Kennedy*

Shattered by Trading Yesterday*

Unsteady by X Ambassadors*

Heads Will Roll by Yeah Yeah Yeahs

[poetry-i-live-for]

Lyrics of Starseed by Catie Trainor

I don′t know how to be anything other than honest

I have lived in Nashville four years now come this summer

Which means I have not spoken to my brother in almost six

Time sure does fly while rearranging kitchen drawers to make new spoons fit

I Venmo'd my dealer last week for some weed to help finish this poem

How many licks to the center of a hypocrite

All the same, I have been dropping masterpiece after masterpiece

I put out three over the course of one year

When California asks, I tell her I′ve been stitching together poems so big

They could be thrown over entire countries to keep them warm

And I could give a fuck about a trend

I want to be the word so universally healing

That generation after generation will keep running back to them

Because ever since I was a child

I had always felt like there was somewhere I needed to be

So when I'm feeling burnt out in an industry that is anything but gentle

I think back to my youth

Libraries as lunchrooms

I throw my soul to her fountain and wash, rinse, repeat

And I've been told some of you are wondering, and yes

I just keep on getting better at resuscitating memories with words that run like water

twenty years inside the books, now I shall never be alone again

By noon I′m ruling Rome, I built my own up from the ashes

They mistake me for the apple without knowing I′m the seed

As in which any earth I'm planted, fruit is harvested around me

And it′s funny the way they will treat you once they realize your mind is worth money

Sand dollars are found out past the break of every wave, but that is also where the sharks are

Cracking under pressure, too much liquor, forgetting all my words at slam

I promise you this, I will never again allow that shit to happen

But after all, I'm only human, only flesh and blood imperfection

And you′re bound to hit some turbulence when a bad bitch is about to shatter through a glass ceiling

Keep your eyes on the credits of the rock charts, your girls' name is about to be all over them

That′s why I never tell them what I'm doing till it's done

And the only name you′ll ever catch me dropping is my own

They say imitation is flattery, but I say it′s thievery

And sympathy is bitter depending on which pair of fangs you taste it from

If you sip on my stars, I will swallow the sun

You are limited only to what I have already done

Some see me as competition, but I see them as all my children

Because as writers, we must hold our immortality with the greatest reverence

The holy crack in the spines of our books, forever embedded in their memory

Just like Stephen said, approaching every pen in any way but lightly

So your cadence may be mildly entertaining, but what are you actually saying

That's the thing about the quiet of a page. you can′t hide from it

Strip away the smoke and mirrors of performance, let us see the quality of your sentences

So mark my words, my children and my children's children

Will never again know the weight of this brokenness

It ends with me here, so let us be this

A love letter etched into an old notebook

Tucked away on a bookcase

A collection of soul rearranged, inked into words

In hope that someone may read them

Find healing in the shape on a page

Memories found in palms I will never trace

Once I finally lay at the feet of rest

We will soon be an echo, so

Let this page be proof that I have lived

And I have loved, so good

[deputygonebye]

@florrentine asked: ❛ you’re welcome to stay, if you want. ❜

Walls of white decorated in floral, blues and ivories, anthers colored to the brightest of yellows, a field of flowers and almost rustic sensibilities, Emilia's home was cozy. Hung picture frames displayed sketches behind their glass; pencilwork in black, watercolors in orange, from their canvases in an attention grabbing spectacle. Wooden stools centered around a kitchen island, a pot on the stovetop about to whistle, the signal that tea had been finished. Water in small cup, bronze around the top in delicate trim, pastel peach from handle to base. Shane's portion of the homemade brew. Warm to the touch - somewhat bitter to the taste without the addition of sugar or honey - a delicacy come straight from the isle, held within the hands of the enemy, an American satisfied in thirst. Unlike the coolness he was used to - tea on Sunday afternoons, filled to the top of the pitcher with ice and lemon - comforted, nonetheless.

Dressed in his best, jeans that were stained only around the calves, button down cuffed at the elbow, the first three buttons left undone, Shane meant nothing by his visit to Emilia. A simple get-together between neighbors - the soles of his brown combat boots dug into the floorboards, the hardwood of darkened craft, unlikely to move - the hour that Shane was allowed between fatherhood and Alexandria responsibility. Judith watched over by the others of his group, the strangers that grew to extended family, true family, it was meant only to be tea and nothing more. A quick break from the hustle and bustle; the pleasure of hot tea and biscuits, cookies, that smelled as good as they looked. Bound to be gobbled up as soon as they went from pan to plate, Emilia a dedicated hostess, her invitation an unexpected surprise. Sudden, but welcomed, irises of copper melted into puddles, made softer and tender.

"Aw, Em. That's real kind of you. I'd love to, but the boss has got me workin' overtime today. Somethin' about the kids - worried they've been messin' around the fence or somethin'. Gotta go check on it, maybe lay the law down, too." Shane smiled, closed mouth but with a boyish air, youthful and almost mischievous.

"Alright... just a few more minutes, then I really have to hit the road. Hey, thank you. This, it's been nice. I haven't had much of a chance to sit down and relax in, well, honest to God, forever. Tea's real good, too. Ain't never had it warm before - always had it chilled. Guess I've been missin' out, huh? You best come by my place this week, I'll make us some dinner. A little token of my appreciation, if you will, for bein' so nice to me. My little girl, she's a picky eater, so we might end up havin' pasta and sauce, again, but I promise, Ms. Emilia, it'll be worth the walk across the sidewalk. Shoot, I'll even make a dessert. I'll have Carol lend a hand - she's good in the kitchen - that way, it'll be guaranteed delicious."

[hotmessteaparty]

2 in 1 uquizzes

I got tagged by my love @josephseedismyfather and now I'm finally gonna catch up to it! Thank you sm for thinking of me with all the tags 💖 I chose my OC Diah Talugmai (Citras and Vaas' mother) and Carlos for these tags. I know, he's not really my OC, but technically we don't have any information of him besides his name being dropped in the far cry experience, soooo at least how I imagined his character to be kind of is my OC, if that makes sense? Idk 😂

Again, of course tagging without pressure and only with love in mind 🥰 @piratekingvaas @jasonsnowwhitebrody @vaasonsson @insanityofvaas @merryandrewsworld @blaze13full @littlemissawry @alexredgrave @ball-pen

What is your OCs true role in the story?

Diah Talugmai

The Fallen Prodigy

Hello old friend, it's been a while hasn't it? I remember when you were just a child, gape-smiled and beaming like the sun. Where have you laid your youth to rest my love? Is it buried beside your heart perhaps? I know how deeply life has wounded you, it took away everything, didn't it? Oh poor soul, you held onto happiness with bloody, shaking hands but still fate ripped even that away from you. Your past lovers are dead or did some betray you? Turning away in fear of what they once admired. Your comrades have been slain, or their priorities shifted. I've heard you too have changed your way of thought. The people fear you know, do they normally cower at the sound of your name? Ah don't fret, that makes two of us. the masses tend to despise the things they do not have the will to comprehend. The villian finds sympathy for you don't they, well I could have seen that from a mile away. You two are the oldest friends, you made a deal with them correct? To save your late love, they tried to hold their end of the bargain, really, but I fear you are cursed to forever be despondent. Oh what a sad and miserable life without love. Is that why you chase loneliness? For is it truly a life of sorrow if you yourself has chosen it? But don't become bitter from the pain. Trust when I say I have seen wounds unfold a man, turning the gentlest spirits into seething beasts. Please, keep seeking love, even if it seems you are forbidden from it. You are the master of your own fate, I see how tired you are. the scars never healed, they twist and wrap around your entire person. Your eyes are dark and lifeless, rest. But keep fighting, not with the sword you have forsaken so long ago, but with your heart. I'll be rooting for you my friend.

The "Oh" quiz

Carlos

the first meeting

Life is normal. It's scripted. It's functional. Then one day, you meet them, and... Oh. You fix your posture, you're a little nervous, and it's totally possible you're just projecting -- But this could be something. And the only thing that makes this different from the hundreds of other times you had that exact same thought only to be disappointed is... This is the time that counts. Things change. You were looking for someone whose very existence re-contextualized yours. Which is not to say that you were incomplete, but... aren't we all? Isn't that the essence of being a being who changes? And what completes us if not the love of something or someone beyond us? Sure it's still new, and anything could happen from here, but there's something in your shared brain chemistry that makes it feel like good things are in motion. How exciting!

How intresting are these results? I think both of them fit pretty well and I actually was plenty surprised that Diah got the same result as my friends @josephseedismyfather OC Harley Jane. And tbh j think it fits them both very well, but for entirely different reasons!

Also for Carlos I think it's a pretty good fit, tho obviously you guys don't know yet what's in the cards for him 😁

[the-silver-chronicles]

Colour Palette/'What's your character's role?' and 'the Oh' Quizzes Tag Game

Tagged by @chazz-anova @cassietrn and @josephseedismyfather .

Tagging @socially-awkward-skeleton @voidika @poisonedtruth @vampireninjabunnies-blog @adelaidedrubman @shallow-gravy @direwombat and @wrathfulrook + anyone else who wants to join in.

Palette site can be found here while the "True Character Role" and the "Oh" quizzes can be found here and here.

Will be using Silva Omar, Paul Yellowjack and another original character, Azriel, respectfully.

Below are the results:

SILVA OMAR

Translated description: "Silva Omar's color attributes are red. The second attribute is achromatic, etc. Silva Omar's words contain many red color images. The main Silva Omar image is created from a combination of tones with red as the base color."

While personally, I can get behind the white, grey/silver colours, as well as the blue, for physical appearance, I believe red would be more suitable for what Silva feels internally (WRATH). The green could be a reference to the significant others she finds attractive.

PAUL YELLOWJACK

Description: "hello old friend, it's been a while hasn't it? I remember when you were just a child, gape-smiled and beaming like the sun. where have you laid your youth to rest my love? is it buried beside your heart perhaps? I know how deeply life has wounded you, it took away everything, didn't it? oh poor soul, you held onto happiness with bloody, shaking hands but still fate ripped even that away from you. your past lovers are dead or did some betray you? turning away in fear of what they once admired. your comrades have been slain, or their priorities shifted. I've heard you too have changed your way of thought. the people fear you know, do they normally cower at the sound of your name? ah don't fret, that makes two of us. the masses tend to despise the things they do not have the will to comprehend. the villian finds sympathy for you don't they, well I could have seen that from a mile away. you two are the oldest friends, you made a deal with them correct? to save your late love, they tried to hold their end of the bargain, really, but I fear you are cursed to forever be despondent. oh what a sad and miserable life without love. is that why you chase loneliness? for is it truly a life of sorrow if you yourself has chosen it? but don't become bitter from the pain. trust when I say I have seen wounds unfold a man, turning the gentlest spirits into seething beasts. please, keep seeking love, even if it seems you are forbidden from it. you are the master of your own fate, I see how tired you are. the scars never healed, they twist and wrap around your entire person. your eyes are dark and lifeless, rest. but keep fighting, not with the sword you have forsaken so long ago, but with your heart. I'll be rooting for you my friend."

Some of this is about Paul... some of it is his own words directed to his former loved ones. Though I have to ask; are they still loved ones when they no longer hold any of that old love for you back?

AZRIEL

Description: "life is normal. it's scripted. it's functional. then one day, you meet them, and… Oh. you fix your posture, you're a little nervous, and it's totally possible you're just projecting -- but this could be something. and the only thing that makes this different from the hundreds of other times you had that exact same thought only to be disappointed is… this is the time that counts. things change. you were looking for someone whose very existence re-contextualized yours. which is not to say that you were incomplete, but… aren't we all? isn't that the essence of being a being who changes? and what completes us if not the love of something or someone beyond us? sure it's still new, and anything could happen from here, but there's something in your shared brain chemistry that makes it feel like good things are in motion. how exciting!"

Pretty much all Azriel there. Except her "normal" is usually chaos. And her special someone is another original character of mine, Schrödinger Turquoise.

Hope everyone enjoyed!

[fiansethecrow]

Since I was born I always walked a life in the stars and my mind has always been in learning what life is telling me,Like I was born from the universe and I was sent down by God never looked to even my mother for love because I felt this world cold only happy in what I could bring myself to find something unreal or more spiritual,I done been thrown slavery and mental control and thought I deserved it cause I was doing something wrong,even through my pain something told me it was gonna make me stronger for something or someone and I knew it in my pit of unhappiness that there was a God even if I thought he was punishing me for whatever I've done wrong,I've always felt like his son and I had to experience life by his timely mattered blessings and I would look at the starts on my teenage home looking to God for answers why am I here if I'm pure and the world has no place for me and if the family around me gets me none and if I'm just too sensitive to my environment why do I feel so misplaced amongst the rivals of my family and the emptiness of emotions aside so I through those moments wanted more but was lead to the snares and traps of a Jezebel woman who ran with my purity locking me up for gain,My beloved sister I apologize for your surrounding unhappiness thought you'd stay forever in my sight and care but now that your gone a little brighter day has faded away you know who and why I was sold you even you used to say I reminded you of Jesus had to come out them egotistical ways to define my inner truth and in this regard I love you big sis! Miss you Brandice Nicole Webster! Even I lived in luxury and pain guess I got my worth in emptiness and emotional turmoil but shopped for Bugattis and Lamborghinis had a 24 million dollar mission on a 2016 guest list for the buying in Bel Air done lived a luxury life and a somber pain in disguise not being able to leave to save my demise how my youth was robbed and the emptiness inside became my regular design,but I learned to love being me instead of happy,now that I'm done in the past direction of a painful life and my worth grants me grace to find truth I found that a open smile can lead to the truth of a fainted cry and that a empty face tells a story of disgrace,please save me this doesn't never feel normal only deadening all who I was to gain my power and trust breaking me subjectly to the control of her pleasure and gain,Guess my heartache and trust was the broken chain of pitiful days of luxury and spoils of my lack of interest in this woman and husband, Now that I'm finally free from the judgements of a bitter mouth and a painful betrayal of gesture and compliancy and utterances that I was tricked into I can no longer live it with lies, Could've made me a forever monster but now I'm getting me back finally back to God's protection over my safety and a trance of tranquility that this woman now brings me is a gift,but also my defeat of my luxury,if I had it once in the beginning with these ideals would I be better finding out the outcome and truth,today I can say yes,Now I am thirty-four years old I hold the keys to a new beginning kingdom,and I'm Rambo in this life but my addictions is weighing me sore down deep in the past trauma and mental control of what I should've never went through,I'm the crow in the rain I'm the darkness when you're running,I'm the shadow of disgraces,the blood of tears,the embodied of pain,the strength to struggles,the laughter in victory and the pleasure to a pure design, lessons learned pain evolves you but love encompassing the strength in us to endure within self to keep pressing forward to ultimate grounds,I found my way and I found my gifts,I found my values and most importantly I found worth that was taken at nineteen years old,so I wrote this not for pity but a foundation of letting go of the past the made me feel dead inside but modeling a perfect luxury life.

[ramuma]

revving up the typewriter 🖋️

Time has proven to me that nothing is forever, but pieces of great broken things will linger around the unturned corners of the house for years and years.

Leaving is not the punishment I'd like it to be. On some days I am whimsical, a dream, a best friend. On other days I am just there, trying to speak in conversations between people who can't listen. A natural born observer, I've seen it happen to everyone. I blame it on a harmless mixture of fast-paced fun and youthful ignorance. It's always fine; in the end, it's always about love.

It had been about love.

An all-encompassing, wholly compassionate, understanding kind of love. A soul-to-soul understanding. I finally felt safe, wrapped in a boundless sense of it—mistakes and all—until yesterday.

Suddenly, I felt wholly misunderstood. The misunderstanding took me by surprise completely. I never would have ever expected someone to put those words in my mouth and try to correct me without even asking for clarification first. When someone you love does something that might be wrong, the right thing to do is investigate the matter—there's no reason to be upset before being sure.

She didn't ask me if she had heard right. She didn't check to make sure that I said what she thought I said. She just called my words "kind of crazy" in front of everyone without being sure. I may never forget what it felt like to hear that and be so confused why I was hearing it... to have someone I trusted so much to know me, be so loudly wrong about me.

Once misunderstood so deeply, it's hard to believe that it was ever possible to be perceived correctly in the first place. What other words of mine have been turned into something other than what I intended? Is the benefit of the doubt something not granted to the best of friendships like I thought it was?

When I went to sleep last night, I dreamed of the backseat of the car. Red and white lights steaming through the dark glass of the night, passing like speeding rivulets. In her place, a raven-haired ghost had formed, angry with me for having asked the wrong question. In a glimpse of a moment, I was seven in the blue leather backseat of my dad's old three series, wearing pink sneakers and being yelled at for something I didn't do. In another moment, the angle changed and I was twenty-five, in the moment it all started, explaining myself. I knew the words before I spoke them but I couldn't stop them from coming out bitter. Why didn't you ask me "what do you mean?" I'm hurt that you would think I'd say something like that. And the miserable, weak, begging to be understood: If you had asked my opinion on the matter, I would've said...

All explanations left unheard. Forgiveness is a knife you grip at the blade. I love to bleed. The scars on my palms prove I have done it many times before—it is an easy choice.

Misunderstanding, however, is a sea. Once the torrent of navy waves pulls you out, finding you comes at great cost to those on land—if they ever even realize you've been lost.

[lauramkaye]

So there's this story that I had been peripherally aware of for YEARS due to my normal pattern of fic acquisition, where I always look at the other works and bookmarks of an author who wrote something I liked, and when a story I liked is in a collection I check out what else is in there. But I'd never read it despite seeing it pop up over and over again because it was a Hobbit/LOTR story.

I wasn't avoiding Tolkien fandom because I don't like it - to the contrary, it's been a favorite of mine since I first read The Hobbit as a tiny child! But 1) the original source material was so dense and layered and massive that I never really got that "I NEED MOAR" impulse that often leads me to fic, and 2) I'm a Fandom Old and I remember Back In The Day when the Tolkien-adjacent corner of fandom, spurred by the Jackson movies first coming out, was.... how to put it... BANANACRACKERS. Literally for like 20 years my association with Tolkien fandom stuff online was "his hed is pastede on yay" and Victoria Bitter and the con that never happened and that whole conspiracy theory thing where supposedly Elijah Wood was sending The Fans secret gay messages through his clothing.

(Seriously, The Youths have no idea how truly bonkers things got back then.)

So ANYWAY this fall I finally decided that I'd give this story a try. I honestly don't remember what it was that made me decide to do it?

And so I read Sansûkh by determamfidd and like.

Y'all.

The reason I kept seeing it on the bookmarks of so many people is that it's REALLY, TRANSCENDENTLY, AMAZINGLY GOOD.

Like. It's super long. Super long. Fairly sure it's longer than all four of the books. But I was still sorry when I got to the end because I didn't want it to be over.

It converted me from "I mean, it's basically canon that they got married but I'm not all that interested in reading fic about it" to "OTP FOREVER WHY IS THERE NOT MORE FIC" about Gimli/Legolas. It took my "oooh, yeah, I can totally see why you might ship the movie versions" feelings about Bilbo/Thorin into, again, OTP FOREVER GIVE ME ALL THE FIX IT STORIES. (always happy for recs in either pairing btw). It made me care DEEPLY AND PASSIONATELY about characters that I'd given like maybe 5 seconds of previous thought to, total. (Ask me about Dain Ironfoot sometimes, if you have like an HOUR to listen to me just sort of cry incoherently and mutter "the Iron Hills for me" and then cry more.) And the ROMANCES. And the FAMILY. And the HEALING. And just. *incoherent screaming*

The interesting thing is that there's no quote I can really give to show why the story is good, because so many of the lines that will reduce me to ugly sobbing while reading only do that because of hundreds of thousands of words of careful buildup in the fic, so that something as simple as "the Iron Hills for me" or, say, "that's a lovely pen" are invested with such meaning and emotional payoff that they're like FEELS BOMBS. There's no sex in the story but I REMEMBER there being sex in because there are some scenes of such tremendous emotional intimacy and payoff that my brain interprets them as containing orgasms.

Seriously this story is nearly 600,000 words long and I've read it twice since last October, that's how good it is.

Every time I start to get into a bit of a snit at fandom being annoying and immature, I think I should be legally obligated to go read a fic that makes me happy and make a fic rec for it instead. Venting about assholes feels good for about five minutes, but cheering on the fic I love feels good for days.

[sweetbuckybarnes]

The First Bride of Green Gables

Pairings: Gilbert Blythe + Anne Shirley

Summary: Anne is finally marrying her childhood friend and darling sweetheart, Gilbert Blythe. As she steps from Anne of Green Gables to her house of dreams in Glen St. Mary.

Anne wakened on the morning of her wedding day to find the sunshine winking in at the window of the little porch gable and a September breeze frolicking with her curtains.

"I'm so glad the sun will shine on me," she thought happily.

She recalled the first morning she had wakened in that little porch room, when the sunshine had crept in on her through the blossom-drift of the old Snow Queen. That had not been a happy wakening, for it brought with it the bitter disappointment of the preceding night. But since then the little room had been endeared and consecrated by years of happy childhood dreams and maiden visions. To it she had come back joyfully after all her absences; at its window she had knelt through the butter agony when she believed Gilbert dying, and by it she had sat in speechless happiness the night of her betrothal. Many vigils of joy and some of sorrow had been kept there; and today she must leave it forever. Henceforth it would be hers no more; fifteen-year-old Dora was to inherit it when she had gone. Nor did Anne wish it otherwise; the little room was sacred to youth and girlhood - to the past that was to close today before the chapter of wifehood opened.

Green Gables was a busy and joyous house that forenoon. Diana arrived early, with little Fred and Small Anne Cordelia, to lend a hand. Davy and Dora, the Green Gable twins, whisked the babies off to the garden.

"Don't let Small Anne Cordelia spoil her clothes," warned Diana anxiously.

"You needn't be afraid to trust her with Dora," said Marilla. "That child is more sensible and careful than most of the mothers I've known. She's really a wonder in some ways. Not much like that other harum-scarum I brought up."

Marilla smiled across her chicken salad at Anne. It might even be that she liked the harum-scarum best after all.

"Those twins are real nice children," said Mrs. Rachel, when she was sure they were out of earshot. "Dora is so womanly and helpful, and Davy is developing into a very smart boy. He isn't the holy terror for mischief he used to be."

"I was never so distracted in my life as I was the first six months he was here," acknowledged Marilla. "After that I suppose I got used to him. He's taken a great notion to farming lately, and wants me to let him try running the farm next year. I may, for Mr. Barry doesn't think he'll want to rent it much longer, and some new arrangement will have to be made."

"Well, you certainly have a lovely day for your wedding, Anne," said Diana, as she slipped a voluminous apron over her silken array. "You couldn't have had a finer one if you'd ordered it from Eaton's."

"Indeed, there's too much money going out of this Island to that same Eaton's," said Mrs. Lynde indignantly. She had strong views on the subject of octopus-like department stores, and never lost an opportunity of airing them. "And as for those catalogues of theirs, they're the Avonlea girls' Bible now, that's what. They pore over them on Sundays instead of studying the Holy Scriptures."

"Well, they're splendid to amuse children with," said Diana. "Fred and Small Anne look at the pictures by the hour."

"I amused ten children without the aid if Eaton's catalogue," said Mrs. Rachel severely.

"Come, you two, don't quarrel over Eaton's catalogue," said Anne gaily. "This is my day of days, you know. I'm so happy I want everyone else to be happy too."

"I'm sure I hope your happiness will last, child," sighed Mrs. Rachel. She did hope it truly, and believed it, but she was afraid it was in the nature of a challenge to Providence to flaunt your happiness too openly. Anne, for her own good, must be toned down a trifle.

But it was a happy and beautiful bride who came down the old, homespun-carpeted stairs that September noon - the first bride of Green Gables, slender and shining-eyed, in the mist of her maiden veil, with her arms full of roses. Gilbert, waiting for her in the hall below, looked up at her with adoring eyes. She was his at last, this evasive, long-sought Anne, won after years of patient waiting. It was to him she was coming in the sweet surrender of the bride. Was he worthy of her? Could he make her as happy as he hoped? If he failed her - if he could not measure up to her standard of manhood - then, as she held out her hand, their eyes met and all doubt was swept away in a glad certainty. They belonged to each other; and, no matter what life might hold for them, it could never alter that. Their happiness was in each other's keeping and both were unafraid.

Gilbert was stood waiting for Anne, fiddling with the pink rose in his lapel, similar to the tissue paper one he'd picked up after he recited Bigen on the Rhine. He will never forget looking over at Anne when he recited the words 'There's another, NOT a sister', while her nose had been shoved in a book.

When he heard her shoes hitting the carpeted floor, he looked up and saw her walking, his heart landed over and a massive smile made its way onto his face. "Wow," he says as she was finally stood in the hall looking at him with her hand held out for him to take. "You look so beautiful, carrots," he presses a kiss to her hand.

"Gil," she grinned, as she fiddled with the edge of her veil. Her wedding day had finally arrived - even after she told Matthew she would never get married.

Gilbert had finally won the heart of his ideal woman. His Anne, with her seven tiny freckles on her nose. His future was always a girl with big, limpid grey eyes, and a face as fine and delicate as a flower. He had made up his mind, also, that his future must be worthy of its goddess.

He takes her face with both of his hands and pressed a kiss to her forehead, despite the tutting coming from Rachel Lynde - but he really didn't care, he was marrying the woman of his dreams today!

They were married in the sunshine of the old orchard, circled by the loving and kindly faces of long-familiar friends. Mr. Allen married them, and the Reverend Jo made what Mrs. Rachel Lynde afterwards pronounced to be the "most beautiful wedding prayer" she had ever heard. Birds do not often sing in September, but one sang sweetly from some hidden bough while Gilbert and Anne repeated their deathless vows. Anne heard it and thrilled to it ; Gilbert heard it, and wondered only that all the birds in the world had not burst into jubilant song; Paul heard it and later wrote a lyric about it which was one of the most admired in his first volume of verse; Charlotta the Fourth heard it and was blissfully sure it meant good luck for her adored Miss Shirley. The bird sang until the ceremony was ended and then it wound up with one mad little, glad little trill. Never had the old grey-green house among its enfolding orchards known a blither, merrier afternoon. All the old jests and quips that must have done duty at weddings since Eden were served up, and seemed as new and brilliant and mirth-provoking as if they had never been uttered before. Laughter and joy had their way; and when Anne and Gilbert left to catch the Carmody train, with Paul as their driver, the twins ready with rice and old shoes, in the throwing of which Charlotta the Fourth and Mr. Harrison bore a valiant part. Marilla stood at the gate and watched the carriage out of sight down the long lane with its banks of goldenrod. Anne turned at its end to wave her last good-bye. She was gone - Green Gables was her home no more; Marilla's face looked very grey and old as she turned to the house which Anne had filled for fourteen years, and even in her absence, with light and life.

[sleepyowlwrites]

find the word tag CCCXVII

you know, it only took me like two years, but I've finally learned how to let reblogs sit on my main blog - this one - without needing to delete them after a day. I'm still more comfortable reblogging longer stuff with copious tags to sleepylovesyou, but I used to hate having writing adjacent posts reblogged here. my brain just did not like it. but that made things pretty sparse and boring, so it's nice to have mostly gotten over that dislike. @spacetimewraithwrites

forever (dirt in the doing)

There’s a hand on each of his cheeks. Jet puts his own up to grab at them, but with tremendous self-control, just keeps them there instead of pushing them away. Copper relents and just holds his hands instead, a grounding contact.

“I don’t actually love seeing people so clearly, you know.” Copper sounds resigned, but still very firm. “I’ve always loved knowing you, and I’ll never stop loving it, or loving you, regardless of how far into the negative spaces you are. I’ll come down for you. I’ll be with you. But I can’t decide how you’re going to get out, or how you’re going to react to anyone who joins you were you are.”

“You should’ve seen me when I first met Hawk. Yarrow called me volatile, said I was dangerous to look at. He was right.” Jet looks at their hands because it’s easier. “I don’t always know how I’m going to react. I-, I shouldn’t love the anger, but I kind of do. It’s simpler, logical. I don’t want that to be what I react with forever, though.”

“You seem to be making steps in that direction,” Copper notes.

Jet huffs a little. “Yeah. Sure. I make steps and I take them back. I am volatile, Copper.”

“You were angry just now and you held yourself back.” Of course Copper would notice that.

“You’re my brother. I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

level (unfortunately, we are living on the ground, 2020)

try boiling words in acid and perhaps you can summarize

the disgust with which we experience delight

on a surreal level

combining the unpleasant taste of

joy well earned

and bitterness that someone else

left behind

game (youth story supplemental)

“They don’t hurt anymore. I just was concentrating on the texture.”

“They wouldn’t have hurt at all if you had phased.” Daniel still held one of Nyks’ hands and used it to pull him over to the card game. “And you can sense texture without causing yourself pain.”

“I wasn’t!” But Nyks had gone even quieter, holding tightly to Daniel as he followed him. “I didn’t have anybody around. I’ll phase next time, okay? I’m just trying really hard to stay solid.”

Cal pat the carpet next to him and Nyks plopped down, promptly attaching himself to Cal’s side. “I know you’re trying to stay solid, but you can let go a little and then re-corporealize when you find one of us. We’ll always lend you energy.”

Daniel looked at Nyks expectantly and he hid his face in Cal’s sweater, mumbling something into the fabric.

inside (previous lives and premonitions)

The scene was so noisy now and Arin had to be careful where he stepped with the mess everywhere. He skirted the debris where he could, Toby’s hand in his, which had happened, at some point. Devin pointed and shouted in a direction and they moved that way, finding Rose knocking on the window of the car that had met with the truck, clearly trying to help the person inside.

“Wait for paramedics,” Devin said to her, but Rose was already leaning through the passenger’s side window saying, “Get out of there, the car is going to burn!”

Other people arrived and took over worrying about the person in the car, so Arin grabbed Rose’s arm. “Let’s get away, come on!”

Rose wasn’t moving and Toby was, was crying? Arin didn’t know when the car was supposed to start burning, but he wanted all of them away from this horrible scene so he shoved his bag at Toby and lifted Rose into his arms. Devin made a way for them through the crowd and safely back across the street.

front (dirt in the doing)

Shadow flings an arm around Jet’s shoulders in that careful way of his. “Ready to go?”

Jet flicks Shadow’s arm but doesn’t shove it off, instead letting it sit there while they leave the garage. It’s a comforting weight, not that Jet would tell that to Shadow.

“We’re picking up alcohol, too, right?”

Yarrow does a little spin in front of them and nearly falls on his face. Unfazed, he starts walking backward. “Of course! You’ll be grumpy otherwise. Well, grumpier.”

Jet kicks a stone in Yarrow’s direction. It doesn’t hit him, and the bright sounds of Yarrow’s laughter make Jet want to join in. Shadow is laughing too, his hand gripping Jet’s shoulder to keep his balance.

it occurs to me that as long as Timespace and I are doing tagbacks, we'll never run out of tags. TAGBACK. @papercutsunset @enchanted-lightning-aes @lanawritesalittle @e-lisard @mr-writes @vellichor-virgo OR ANYBODY for sigh, swallow, smooth, sound. BONUS: shiny, shield.