#i would sing this song to myself and i'd look out the window the whole time to make sure they werent back

[lapdogchase]

heaven by troye sivan . save me .

[puddingyun]

salve . ݁₊ ⊹ k.ys

yeo x reader

: 840 words, domestic, fluff, comfort :

The smell of waffles wafted into your room from the kitchen, waking you from a restless sleep. You rolled over onto Yeosang's side of the bed, pressing your face into his pillow and breathing in the scent of his shampoo and skincare products, your heart fluttering happily in your chest. There was nothing you wanted more than to stay there forever, wrapped up in a bubble of warm sheets and the scent of your lovely boy, but you couldn't resist the smell of breakfast or the sound of Yeosang's soft humming any longer. With a grunt, you pulled yourself out of bed and trudged to the kitchen. 

"Morning, baby," you greeted Yeosang through a yawn. He sing-songed back a soft 'morning', giggling when you walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist. You squeezed him close and pressed a kiss to his shoulder, nuzzling your nose against the comfy fabric of his oversized sweater. "You doin' dishes already?"

"Well I wanted them to be done before you woke up," he explained, squirting more lemon scented dish soap onto a bowl. "So you wouldn't feel like you had to do them to pay me back for the waffles."

You rolled your eyes, swaying slowly from side to side with Yeosang. 

"I can't believe you made me waffles," you mumbled. "You're gonna give me cavities, you know that?"

Yeosang just shook his head, cheeks turning pink as he held back a smile. As he set the bowl aside and reached for a dish towel, the sleeve of his ridiculously large sweater slid down his arm and revealed a puffy, red mark that made you frown. 

"What happened there, Yeo?" you asked. 

"Where?" Yeosang asked, quickly moving his arm back so that his sleeve slid down again. You felt him tense in your hold, clearly pretending not to know what you were talking about as he stood stock-still, waiting to see if you would move on. You sighed and pulled your arms away from his waist.

"Come on, Yeo, let me see," you urged him, keeping your voice as gentle and reassuring as possible. Yeosang turned his head to look at you, pouting for a beat before he turned around and lifted his sleeve to reveal what you'd seen earlier. 

"I just burned myself on the waffle iron earlier, it's nothing," he mumbled, looking down at his feet while you held his hand and examined the nasty looking burn. You rubbed your thumb back and forth against his palm in an attempt to soothe both Yeosang and yourself. 

"Let me put some ointment on it," you said, bringing his hand to your lips and kissing his wrist.

"It's fine, baby, really-"

"Come on, you made me waffles," you insisted, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. "Let me take care of you too."

With a shy smile and red cheeks Yeosang finally let up, whispering 'okay then' and laughing when you took off to find your first aid kit. 

With the morning sunshine streaming through the windows you carefully smoothed ointment over the burn on Yeosang's arm, watching his expression to make sure you weren't accidentally hurting him. The whole time he watched you right back, chewing on his lip while he smiled at you. 

"Does it hurt?" you asked, pressing a feather-light kiss to the red, sore mark when you were done. Yeosang tilted his head to the side and shrugged.

"Just stings, mostly," he admitted. After a moment of silence he looked away from you, and through a pout began to speak again, his voice quieter this time. "I didn't want you to see it since... A lot of people already say I'm clumsy and clueless, so I didn't want you to think the same."

You felt your heart flutter in your chest for the second time that morning as you watched Yeosang pretend to be wildly interested in a stain on the countertop. Your beautiful boy, always worrying more than he had to. Easing his sleeve up so that it wouldn't roll down over his burn, you took a step closer to him and kissed his birthmark, watching fondly as the skin beneath it glowed and blushed afterwards.

"I'd never think that about you, silly," you reassured him, stroking a fingertip down his forehead and the tip of his nose. "You're my gorgeous boyfriend who makes me waffles in the morning. Helping you with a burn won't make me think any less of you."

Yeosang smiled, eyes darting around for a while before he made eye contact with you again. He closed the space between you both with a sweet kiss, sweeter than the waffles and syrup waiting for you on the kitchen table, sweeter than the orange-yellow sunlight pouring through the windows, and sweeter than the smell of his shampoo lingering on your bedsheets. 

When you pulled away from each other there was a wide, giddy smile on your lips. Yeosang kissed you once again, quickly this time, and gave your waist a fond squeeze.

"Let's eat."

[roo-bastmoon]

So privacy has been violated OR...

... a smear campaign has begun.

Let's just get this new dating scandal out of the way so we can get back to buying and streaming...

Listen, I don't share unofficial content, but by now everyone in this tag knows there's a video going around that's supposed to be of JK in his apartment with Bam, walking around back-hugging and perhaps kissing a girl. Folks say there's the same couch, same wall panel, and a mood lamp.

I'm side-eyeing this because it's super grainy footage, the windows are different, the wall panel seems to be in different places in the two videos, the guy is shorter than the girl, and he's wearing a mask indoors. Plus, the account that dropped the videos supposedly posted then promptly closed up shop, which seems like they had the intention for deliberate sabotage instead of clout chasing as a sasaeng.

But people say the apartment set up seems really similar and the man has a similar hairstyle to what JK had in the beginning of 2023. So I guess it's Schrodinger's cat at this point.

(Isn't it curious that apartment-related scandals seem to happen on the day new content drops? Hmm... I digress.)

Look... If Jungkook (or Jimin) ends up dating someone else, I'm still going to support them as individuals. I'll be sad of course, because Jikook had AMAZING chemistry and I was really rooting for them to be together forever and all... but, I want them to be happy and fulfilled more than I want them to fit into any fantasy or ideas of my own.

That being said: at this very moment, half of Jimin's insta feed is about Jungkook. Most of Jungkook's lives for 2023 have JK mentioning Jimin, or even being totally focused on Jimin. There's years of super duper sus history between them. Right up to and including yesterday, where Jimin very heavily implied they are sharing Chuseok together.

It feels really weird to me that Jimin would want to tie JK's hair back neatly, call JK baby, beg JK to stay longer at his rehearsal, and joke that he can handle seeing JK naked -- but JK can't come over to shower and visit b/c Jimin says he just isn't that easy... if JK were in a relationship with someone else.

It also feels really weird to me that JK would light up like a super nova any time Jimin commented on his lives, would beg Jimin to hang out, would sing all of Jimin's songs and memorize Jimin's interview content, would travel with Jimin for his debut, then roll around naked in bed grinning and blushing while flirting with Jimin on live... if JK were in a relationship with someone else.

That would make Jungkook kind of a shitty boyfriend and Jimin kind of a shitty friend.

I know Jungkook is cultivating this cool guy/ladies man image right now and that is kinda baffling. I know friends can play-flirt, too... but to do all that on lives, after all their history together, knowing what half of Korea and ARMY thinks? Hm.

That's not "fanservice;" that's really toeing the line of queerbaiting. And it's really hard for me to imagine Jimin or Jungkook doing something like that. Jimin said he hates fake bromance stuff. (I guess anything is possible. It's a new chapter, after all. Maybe it's par for the course in idol-world.)

Hey, maybe Jikook had an amicable break up but are still really close and are fine teasing each other? Maybe they always liked to flirt but never were together? Maybe I've been reading it all wrong this whole time? Or maybe this is a bullshit video?

Whatever the reality is, I'm prepared to acknowledge it. At any time.

I'm not in a cult. I don't have to convince myself of anything. Jikook's behavior had made me think Jikook were in a relationship. If JK is dating someone else now? Okay then. I will just stop posting Jikook content and continue to help OT7 and celebrate my bias with all my heart.

No need for elaborate conspiracy theories or coping histrionics. If JK is in his Loving Women Era, good for him. Go with god, my brother. (Personally, I'd never recover from losing my chance to be with Thee Park Jimin, but that's me!)

But something about this just doesn't quite feel right. I wonder if he'll address it at all, like he did when folks filmed him in his gym or sent food to his home? Because if this is somehow real, it's a HORRIBLE invasion of privacy; home is supposed to be a safe place, and stalkers are scary.

And if it's not real, then someone is going to an AWFUL lot of trouble to overshadow Jungkook's release and upcoming album and that is unhinged. The kind of trouble that reminds me of apartment break-ins and tampered mail.

In any case, like I said: I'm ready to accept whatever the reality is, once the reality becomes clear.

I really love Jungkook. I really love Jimin. I really love BTS. They were there for me at the darkest, lowest point in my life. So whether I was right or wrong about Jikook, it doesn't really matter. In the end, I support them as far as I can.

But also, I sorta think this video may just be bullshit. So let's let them have their privacy, and focus instead on voting for Jimin and buying and streaming for JK instead, hmm? Eventually the truth will come to light.

No matter what happens, let's behave in a way that would make Jimin and Jungkook proud.

Love, Roo

[wroteclassicaly]

Summary: Two years. You never drive far anymore, you don’t linger outside of your new city limits. Because how can you drive into the desolate life you once had? Then again, Hawkins and its story book tragedies have a way of bringing you back for more. A mangled marriage, an abandoned two story, and a loved one in turmoil, it finally brings you back home.

Parings: Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Warnings: Language, shitloads of angst, mentions of major health trauma (it’s heart related, so be warned before reading, as I don’t want to trigger anyone), that angsty angst, but with a happy ending, & obvious smut/nsfw content that will appear later in the story!

A/N: Sneak peek/teaser into my new series, and the first one I’m publishing for this fandom — That House In Indiana (inspired by Ethel Cain’s ‘A House In Nebraska’. Lyrics below that I obviously don’t own) There will be a happy ending, so don’t worry! I’ve also drawn off myself for the situation with Wayne, based off what happened to my own dad. It’s pretty rough, but Wayne will be okay — I promise! He has a health crisis in this that might trigger some people, so please DON’T read if you know it’ll upset you! And let me know what y’all think if you do read, please and thank you? ❤️💘❤️💘

February 1st, 1990

~*~

Labored breaths and bed sores, sing it to me all day long

When the aching sound of silence used to be our favorite song

You and me against the world, you were my man and I your girl

We had nothing except each other, you were my whole world

Then the day came and you were up and gone

And I still call home that house in Nebraska

Where we found each other on a dirty mattress on the second floor

Where the world was empty, save you and I

Where you came and I laughed, and you left and I cried

Where you told me even if we died tonight, that I'd die yours

~*~

Shaking hands with chipped polish of a once fresh manicure, now worried down from alternating chewed grinds between chattering teeth and trembling lips, stained with overflowing salt — switch to a tight grip around a faded leather steering wheel, the cracking leather mingling with that of rustling denim. Scattered neon pink chips spray nail beds, making you twitch with the need to placate that urgency in your guts that pummels the muscles, seizing those in your eyes to force you to glance at where the gold band used to sit, used to distract you so perfectly. You were sure that you’d gotten over that. Funny what delusions the mind can bank on to get you through destruction and pain. You sniffle upon a jagged exhale, breath coming out choppy and overused.

Your body feels stuck to the seats, melted into a frozen statue. You really don’t want to be you, to think. Hell, your thoughts border on everything they shouldn’t, all the what-ifs, the blames, past tragedies, and your wishes that if this was the end result — maybe it would’ve been better if you died that night in the Spring of 1986. Long drives that aren’t in line with the simplicity of five minutes, you’d avoided for the last two years. Four hours from your one bedroom townhouse in Illinois to a hotel room in your hometown of Hawkins, Indiana — you’re a prisoner to your psyche.

You’ll see your crumbling dream in the form of white plaster, broken wood planks, and rotten rose bushes, frosted across shattered glass windows — ones you had stewed over for days on what color would look the best for curb appeal, and a large for sale sign in the front yard that was once littered with the cars of friends and loved ones. That very same home, the one you had shaped with your partner, that curly haired, doe eyed boy that you first met when he gave you money to pay for the groceries you couldn’t quite afford when you were fifteen, unbeknownst to you that it was his last five dollars, but he gave it to you because he knew you needed it more. He’d be fine as long as you were. You don’t have to try to embrace every whisper his hands had gifted your skin with. Your walls are gone, body ripped open and bare for the entire town you’d left behind two years ago.

The scenery is starting to fill in, barren trees near bloom. Maybe an early Spring, you can’t be sure? Your tires click against wet asphalt when you turn, splashing water on the chrome body of your car as you head into the embankment of treetops that glow, entwined into an arch that blankets the road in charcoal shadows. You manage to raise your hand to hit your windshield wipers, crystal clearing in a thick smear. Your sclera, however, floods over, lashes sticking to raw under eyes, puffy and exerted. You swallow harshly around a raw and wet throat, foot accelerating the gas pedal. You have to get there.

You haven’t slept since you heard his voice, your ears floating into a familiar peak, a swell of overwhelming longing stealing every ounce of breath from your lungs, trapping your diaphragm beneath whimpers not cried. You knew right away that something wasn’t okay. He called for the first time in years, he was in the place of his uncle, your confusion palpable as you hadn’t expected the youth for the familiarity of your weekly calls with his own family. You could hear his deep voice, raspy and shrouded in painful storms unmatched. Your body was like a dead weight, fingers struggling to hold onto the receiver, tone a mere whisper, one that felt like broken glass being dragged out through your windpipes.

“What’s wrong, Eds?”

“He… I, Y/N—“ Like a plea that was too silent to fully find its vessel, his voice became caked with an ocean of tears, thick like the swamps of isolating despair.

You’d almost resorted to begging, but you had known, even then, Eddie always took his own path to processing grief. Resisting an instinctual soothe towards him was like rejecting the air that earth offered you.

Your fingers prickled in an uncomfortable heat, numb and dulled, tongue heavy and choking you. The same as that night you awaited to hear whatever horror Hawkins had dropped into your lives once more.

“It’s Wayne.” There was an eerie quietness as Eddie had caught up with himself and moved forward enough to inform you. You couldn’t have stopped the gasping cry that left your mouth if you’d taped it shut.

He’d wanted nothing more than to reach through the phone and take you into his arms, needing to remember what the heartbeat of another human felt like, more specifically — his human. But you weren’t, you hadn’t been, and he wasn’t calling you to tell you that. You loved his uncle like a father. Having to break this news, to lay a layer of pavement over your spirit and let it dry, driving over it to forget, Eddie guiding your heart into another turmoil — it made him want to attempt to dislocate his own jaw.

“What about Wayne? Please tell me what’s going on?” You lost every piece you’d mangled together, helpless to their violent disappearance.

Eddie had trembled as he sighed, shaky and worn. “He had a heart attack a few hours ago.”

Your organ had begun to lose traction, beating sporadically that you were sure some of your bones had been reduced to ash beneath the forceful erratic rhythm. Leaving behind everything but your shoes, coat, keys, and purse, you were already at your front door, phone cord stretching with you. “I’m coming home. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Yeah. Kay. I’ll be here.” Eddie sounded lost, that light he’d accumulated in his lifetime, part of it was dimming. He couldn’t lose the one person that had been with him his whole life. You were already gone. This would devour him whole.

You sit up straight in your seat, the action causing your back to crack. You take a few deep breaths, engrossed in the glossy branches in your sky view, thunder roaring in the distance, your vehicle approaching the clearing and ready to hit that final road that will take you home.

~*~

[mrsnancywheeler]

Muse wrote “man of the house” by Rachel Zeglar about Billy

~~~~~

“How sweet

You're the man of the house to me”

Muse fully sees Billy as her future. He will be the “man of her house” yk?

~~~~~

“I watch you from the window and I see the good in you

The good in me”

When Billy is doing good Muse truly sees the good in him. She sees the two of them together and thinks about how sweet and good they can be together

~~~~

“That's who you are

And what I need

It's what I need”

Muse just knows that the way Billy acts when he’s high or drunk or having his fits isn’t the real him, he’s just acting up. He’s good! She swears! And she desperately needs that goodness from him.

~~~~

“I curse your name

It brought me pain and now

Without you, I don't know how to be”

In moments where they’re bad muse really does curse him, curse the fact that she stays, the fact that without him she doesn’t know who she is. Muse literally NEEDS him, her soul yearns for his. At this point he’s nestled into her heart and he can’t be removed.

~~~~~

“Hurts so bad it brings me to my knees

I still believe”

What Billy has put her through hurts Muse, it’s physically painful. That pain you get in your heart when the emotions are too much. I don’t doubt she’s fallen to her knees sobbing, it has tugged at her heart yet she still believes he can be good. She beloved deep down he loves her.

~~~~~~

“You're breaking my heart in the best of ways”

Despite the fact that Billy breaks her heart she comes back because the pain that he puts her through feels better than not having him at all.

“How many versions of myself will it take?”

Muse would genuinely change for him, she’s asked him how she could change, she wonders who she has to be for him to love her.

“How many men I've seen with a similar face

I always look for you in so many ways”

So idk how to put this but Billy truly is just a man, rockstars act like him all the time and muse has been around these stars her whole life. She is fully aware rockstars act like this but she believes Billy would be different.

She looks for him in a crowed, she looks for him at home, she’s constantly trying to be around him.

~~~~~~

“With all of my love comes all of the pain”

Muse knows that her love for Billy is what is causing her pain, if she was able to let go she’d be happy, she wouldn’t go through the pain he gives her. But she can’t let him go.

~~~

“You come and you go and I stay the same”

Billy is so much of a push and pull, he leaves muse and he comes back, nothing about muse changes but the way billy acts you would think something about her changes. But nothing has, Billy comes and goes and muse stays.

“But if you came back now, I'd take your name”

Despite everything Billy has put muse through if he came to her and called him hers, said they’re together, say he wanted to be married one day, all of it, she would immediately be with him.

~~~~~

“How does it feel to be God?

How does it feel to be God?

I'm in the palm of your hand

I'm in the palm of your hand”

Okay let’s be honest, Billy has somewhat of a superiority complex. He plays god with Muse’s feelings, with her hope, with her love, she is just in the palm of his hand.

~~~~~~

This song just FEELS sad, it has so much yearning, it’s idolizing someone you can’t have (in the show Juliet sings this after finding out Romeo has been exiled). Muse reaches out to Billy, she strains herself, she reaches so hard she rips her muscles, yet he barely reaches back.

anyway if you haven’t listened to the song I’d recommend you listen to it!

-🌾anon

oh rachel zegler, the love of my life fr

and and muse basically lives with billy, he's the one working by being the rockstar, she just goes where he does, follows his plans, let's him make decisions for what happens in life very "man of the house" behavior

muse can also see them from like an outside perspective, from old pictures and videos, from just thinking back, and despite the bad times see all the good that billy harbors as well as the good she has in her

she just knows who billy is on the inside and needs that version of him so bad that she'll come back everytime for that version of him, it's like she's addicted to billy dunne

it's like billy has tattooed himself on her heart, there is no escape, no matter how many times things crumble to pieces she genuinely doesn't know what to do with her life if it's not devoted to him, it's why she struggles so much when he goes to rehab, she realizes she's given up so much sense of self, so much individuality, intertwining herself with him, their needs and wants into one, rather than separation

muse has so much belief that things will somehow, at least somewhat change someday, that even though the hurt has her sobbing, drinking, doing more drugs, acting out, she'll always let him back in

the hurt it also all muse knows, she's adapted to except the cycle, so when billy does get better she has her freak out bc it's not what she's used to, it's not even just an addiction to billy, but an addiction to the cycle itself that she has to overcome

and muse has changed, evolved over time ("I changed into goddesses, villains, and fools, changed plans and lovers and outfits and rules" is what that made me think of, they're also so cososom coded) as she was with billy, sometimes consciously and sometimes not, to try and cling onto him, not like changing herself or who she is, but the way she approaches the situation, all of it though it still so her

AND listen guys, follow me here, muse looks for parts of billy in eddie, I do in fact think it's part of why she loves him. she's found parts of billy reflected in eddie, and in fact, she looks for pieces of billy in everyone. even when they're not together, everywhere she goes she finds pieces of him in everything.

muse also knows and understands that it's her love for him and his love for her that is scaring him into lashing out to try and protect himself somehow, and yet she cannot let go, she can't loosen it at all

billy will go from treating muse like she hung the moon and stars to acting like she's ruined his life. and it's baffling bc it's not like she's loving him any differently, it's all in his own head

everytime billy does come knocking, muse does take him back, they could literally fight, break up, and then he could show up and ask to marry her and she would.

and muse feels so out of control of herself, over her emotions, all of it relies on billy, his mood, attitude, love, everything. she has to learn independence, learn who she is outside of being affected by him.

oh my shayla, my shaylaaaaaa 😢

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary458

12/27-28/24

friday-saturday

woke up late today

and suddenly i'm very tired! i sent something off as a submission today and had a couple ideas for writing. i should probably write them down as outlines but i kind of want them to ferment. that went okay for me last time i tried that and i have some kind of opening for one.

despite waking up late i really have no energy, hit with extreme drowsiness, i think i should try to work out now and go back to sleep? i'll try.

i worked out and brushed my teeth so i'm a little less tired now, while brushing my teeth i puked a little, i went too far back, or my stomach is too full i guess, i ate these cookies we bought yesterday and forgot how dense they are... that's why i liked them though, so it's crazy to forget that, you only need to eat one but i ate two because i thought i'd want 2, i should have only had 1... anyhow despite having rather good control of my gag reflex, i really got myself and puked a bit. idc if it's tmi, it just strange.

this song is crazy good, the way she sings boy in this brings to mind alex chilton's hey little girl, which is another #creepyclassique.

this whole record is good, some songs veer a little industrial, some a little no-wave, very fun mess, rather diverse.

i've just read, here are the quotations i liked:

"it was a strange waiting silence. it seemed to lie all around him like an invisible country whose borders he was always on the edge of, always in danger of crossing. form time to time as they had walked in the city, he had looked to the side and seen his own form alongside him in a store window, transparent as a snakeskin. it moved beside him like some violent ghost who had already crossed over and was reproaching him from the other side. if he turned his head the opposite way, there would be the dim-witted boy, hanging onto the schoolteacher's coat, watching him. his mouth hung in a lopsided smile but there was a judging sternness about his forehead. the boy never looked lower than the top of his head except bu accident for the silent country appeared to be reflected again in the center of his eyes. it stretched out there, limitless and clear."

just really incredible writing here, or not just, but this 'silent country,' being haunted by oneself, not just some articulation of unconscious feeling, but these impulses, this physical need and sense of fate, abandoned and only left with oneself, this perfect infinity clarity around himself, transparent as snakeskin, transparent as snakeskin, voided of himself, his loose double hulking in the clear dimness of the stores and pupils of the boy who he is compelled to baptize.

"sensations, his friend--no longer a stranger-- said. feelings. what you want is a sign, a real sign, suitable to a prophet. if you are a prophet, it's only right you should be treated like one. when jonah dallied, he was cast three days in a belly of darkness and vomited up in the place of his mission. that was a sign; it wasn't no sensation. (...) the lord speaks to prophets personally and he's never spoke to you, never lifted a finger, never dropped a gesture. and as for that strangeness in your gut, that comes from you, not the lord. when you were a child you had worms. as likely as not you have them again."

more here about the desperate wishing for true signs, for the heavenly to appear, the resplendent and heavy, the burning wheels to sanctify his mission, to make it worth something and for god to speak to him especially. but god is not here paying special mind to him. that strangeness in your gut, that comes from you.

"(...) at night he took them to a restaurant, a different one every night run by a different color of foreigner so that he would learn, he said, how other nationalities ate. he had always left the restaurants hungry, conscious of an intrusion in his works."

here this one is of interest to me just for how it articulates the reactionary mindset within the boy, or perhaps of that particular religious mania. here too, just as well, one sees the racism of the time preserved, as the one restaurant i recall rayber bringing the boy to was an italian one, that was the one scene we got to see of that. also the portion prior to this, about the weak nutrition he gives the boy compared to the old man's food, fatback every morning, interesting to think on, the way strength is written out here.

"the trees rustled thickly and the clearing rose to his mind's eye. he imagined the blackened spot in the center of it between the two chimneys, and saw rising from the ashes the burnt-out frames of his own and his uncle's bed."

this image appeared to me a faint and static-y thing... a ghostly projection of ashen metal frames, skeletal and rising into the sky, 2 or 3 places at once, from heavy trees in a park waving to the empty yellowed clearing and a grey place, anonymized by ash, total destruction. very ghostly and odd. i love it the most as this lunar-collage in broad daylight, a particle of gray rising between two trees and a yellow corona of field situated around the nowhere of two bed frames in different corners arguing, almost. arguing meaning, navigating taking up the same place while being elsewhere simultaneously, a kind of z-fighting.

"the sun, which had been tacking from head cloud to cloud, emerged above the fountain. a blinding brightness fell on the lion's tangled marble head and gilded the stream of water rushing from his mouth. then the light, falling more gently, rested like a hand on the child's white head. his face might have been a mirror where the sun had stopped to watch its reflection."

never knew the verb tack before, a way of moving in sailing against the wind by changing course repeatedly, a time consuming and arduous thing. the other thing here, is this chapter gets into the fountain scene from the perspective of tarwater, and i want to note as well, much of this novel is so recollective, rayber thinks on his past, revealed slowly through the book, taking up chunks of chapters, the beginning was so much history and then the death came so quick, and then there are these moments where shot forth from these histories come confrontations, with ideas in the form of the girl in the church the spiritual carnival, and then in this chapter, or with tarwater and bishop and the fountain, it's all situated in these long explained histories that the book finds itself looking at, even portions we see are carried back out as in this chapter, part of the church scene being here as well, to give us the boy's perspective, but to also situate it in the personal history which is where people change, and these changes or new feelings or sensations only come after some thinking upon them, when they are white-hot they take on the character of nightmare or hallucination or intrusion, when cooled, they are more workable in these narratives. this is why some of her short fiction is i think 'better' horror, as it feels so monstrously hot and intrusive, an explosion at times. here though, the creaking of the universe and our lives is amplified, that things enter personal history and become oddly narrativized and the difference in perspective, it's illuminating, makes me think about the ideas i've had recently, coming to them differently perhaps? i don't know.

"well, that's your sign his friend said-- the sun coming out from under a cloud and falling on the head of a dimwit. something that could happen fifty times a day without no one being the wiser. and it took that schoolteacher to save you and just in time. left to yourself you would have already have done it and been lost forever. listen, he said, you have to quit confusing madness with a mission."

"goddam you, his uncle thought, all i'm trying to do is save you from being a freak."

i wanted to quote this just to bring to mind again the notion of 'freaks' and their place, the psychological angle of rayber and his rationalism, while pregnant with plenty of odd and religious ascetic qualities, he cleaves near to science in this way, and this way of classifying the boy is weighty, it's that he seeks to cure him, as he imagines he may have some cure to himself, though he knows, by his morbid surging love for bishop, his love for his son and need to protect his life while thinking it may have been best for him to not live and not suffer, a wordless being and futureless thing he believes, still for him to be and suffer a precious thing (he even leaps nearly from the boat fearing his boy running from the dock into the water as he and tarwater set off and the woman from the hotel pulls him back), in short he knows there is no cure, still wishing to fit the boy and himself into the grid of social hygiene and wellness and so on, of mental fitness even. it's an odd thing to read for but it's oddly present throughout the book.

"children are cursed with believing."

"flying is the greatest engineering achievement of man, rayber said in an irked voice. 'doesn't it stir your imagination even slightly? if it doesn't i'm afraid there is something wrong with you.' 'i done flew,' tarwater said and suppressed a belch. he was entirely occupied with his nausea which he could feel minutely rising. 'how could you have flown' his uncle asked angrily. 'him and me give a dollar to up in one at a fair once,' he said. ' the houses weren't nothing but matchboxes and the people were invisible-- like germs. i wouldn't give you nothing for no airplane. a buzzard can fly."

there are some other bits from this chapter, maybe i will go back through and pick them out as i'm more awake now... tragic since i'd like to sleep soon... but at least i can sleep whenever i need, basically. i might need to wash my face i guess, i'll do that soon. anyhow, this chapter, i found it really special, it's making palpable something coming and it's the first confrontation where rayber and the boy seem to get anywhere, and it's not one sided with rayber, i think, as with the final quote, we see his faith in man, science and engineering, it's been struck at over the course of the book, the new rationalism of the time not really an escape, a bunch of empty signifiers held up by a man who had tried to kill his son who he loves out of some strange terror for his passions... though the voice in the boy also agrees with rayber in some ways, but there is this optimism on either side of the boy, it feels like, the one the old man had, and the world rayber points to as full of excitement, i think in some ways flannery's gesturing at that belies a kind of odd perspective she has, for instance, the boy's negative refusal of the foreign food, at the same time it's hard to not feel his pessimism in other ways, from so high up, the houses are matchboxes, the people disappear, there are these facts of pain, as the man tries to warm him to something kinder, there is a nightmare the boy is terrified he is not communicating with, this is, well when thinking of wiseblood, you saw hazel become a synthesis of what he was, and what he saw, surrounded by this faithless cynicism, himself trying to take up nonbelief seriously, to wound the church which lied seriously vs. those who expressed faith without believing, he crosses a boundary, and carries forth this intense guilt, this suffering, he enters a world of penance where belief may not even need to figure into it so much as varying intensities that he feels must be expressed, a figure for writhing, seeing a hole through the world. here the boy is aligned with that kind of thing but on either side there is an upward faith in something, but i'd like to complicate that, and say that rayber's scientism is as much a farce to him as it is the boy it feels like, when he says those things, such as, we'll go see our ancestor the fish, it feels like he reckons with that as empty to him, what isn't empty in his moment on the boat here, is his confession of trying to drown bishop to tarwater, that he resisted the urges the old man planted in him to baptize him, he says this:

"the great dignity of man,' his uncle said, 'is his ability to say: i am born once and no more. what i can see and do for myself and my fellowman in this life is all of my portion and i'm content with it. it's enough to be a man,"

this is, more than what he holds up in his odd moments of rationalism, is close to what i think flannery always tries to get at, some catholic experience. which is odd to think on, and if i'm being honest what he says resonates but in a political way, and i don't think she means it in those terms, but i think we can all admit there is something of jesus lodged in him, here, or his fantasy of saving all children from a faith that would take advantage of them. just as well, the friend inside the boy often sounds like rayber, that the boy is seeing things, consumed by a madness planted there, that these signs he senses are nothing, that god has not sent the true experience of a prophet to him, a mirror of rayber almost. i'm curious where all these thoughts will end up, in the novel. also i would like to note that he pukes, the boy, feeling guilty and making himself sick on what he ate before the boat, the guilt is something interesting to think about, guilt over failing his grandfather maybe, guilt over not being not a freak, too, maybe. the world makes the truant child guilty, and here it seems that it is not enough to be a man, or that to be a man is to be measured constantly, under analysis and observation and measured against history, or by history, by narratives of history and reactionary flotsam, race is in an odd place in the novel, the boy is complicated like rayber, rayber seeking to educate the boy on those outside himself, and the boy essentially being racist, though it only comes up a few times but enough to be a fact about him. i was wondering when i started the book if rayber's rationalism would end in him being some kind of extreme racist as well, i don't know why but i imagined that, instead he is a sort of, it seems at least at this point, progressive figure, who i think flannery sympathizes with but she is constantly focused on this subterranean nightmare of existence, the silent country seen in dark glass of stores and our second selves transparent as snakeskin...

here is another thing:

"the first sight that met his eyes when he got out of the car at the cherokee lodge was the little lake. it lay there, glass-like, still , reflecting a crown of trees and an infinite overarching sky. it looked so unused that it might only the moment before have been set down by four strapping angels for him to baptize the child in. a weakness working itself up from his knees, reached his stomach and came upward and forced a tremor in his jaw. steady, his friend said, everywhere you go you'll find water. it wasn't invented yesterday. but remember: water is made for more than one thing. hasn't the time come? don't you have to do something at last, one thing to prove you ain't going to do another? hasn't your hour of dallying passed?"

i found the description of the lake moving, the reflection of the crown of trees and the infinite sky, and the angles planting it upon the earth, a tiny mirror set among greenery from upon a hill. the dialogue here from the friend also recalls what the boy says to the woman at the lodge the chapter before, about doing one thing to make sure you don't do another. odd compulsions grip him.

wrote more, i thought about blanchot while washing my face (now moisturizing...), and that offered some guidance. something about the broken-up-ness of how i remember his writing, the fragmentary and strange qualities, and then the narrativizing of flannery, neither are really evident i think but they helped me realized what has to happen, which is i just have to say what was in my head but then there was a way to that that felt emotionally right.

now i guess i'm going to play with legos... sorry...

okay i built one half of the set... the other half is tom nook's store... and i really had a lot of fun and started to feel really nostalgic + sad there weren't sets like this when i was a kid. the one i built tonight reminds me of favorite lego piece, this one:

i can't explain why other than really loving it when i saw it at my cousin's house as a kid. the half of the set i built tonight was rosie's house, she is a good villager, though i haven't played any animal crossing past new leaf... i need to find my freaking ds actually idk where i put it. i love it... my mom got me the animal crossing skin 3ds... animal crossing makes me so nostalgic it's messed up. they were so special to me, that one and the gamecube one... waow... when i find my ds i might make a new character on there and stuff.

i took some pics of the set... here:

i love how the flash makes it look, it seems more dreamy, which is kind of what legos are, this set is also so cute you want to hug it but it's all sharp corners too, and hard plastic. a huggable 90 degree angle. i am really elated, after building this.

oh, also, i made a song, now. because i saw a video of someone playing with some modular stuff and it sounded cool so i wanted to do something noisy. it ended up cute but that is #cool to me.

well now it's 5 am and i thought i'd sleep earlier, but i guess i expected to not... today was a really good day though. my gf watched me build the legos... she was really impressed with how fast i was, which isn't really a cool thing about anybody, no one else would find that cool, i think maybe you shouldn't find it cool, but she really does love me, she sleepily watched me build it because it made her happy... wow i want to cry now. oh well,

i should sleep soon,

so,

byebye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[iris-shifts]

🥀The Tortured Poets Department🥀

Talking about my favorite songs on the album!

In no particular order.

Fortnight (feat. Post Malone)

It took a few listens to get into this one, but I really enjoy it. I was excited that Taylor would be working with Post, and I think he adds an added depth to the song. I've compared it to Dial Drunk, which he did with Noah Kahan, because I think he adds the same effect and texture to both songs.

But Daddy I Love Him

I love this song. It's such a good song to sing along to, or dance to, or run to, or- you get it. The chorus is great, the transition through the song is great, everything is just perfect.

Florida!!! (feat. Florence + The Machine)

I gotta tell you, Taylor outdid herself with the collabs on this one. Post Malone and Florence + The Machine??? Again, a really nice depth and layer is added. Something about this song wakes you up, which I love.

Guilty As Sin?

Okay, this one- I love it. I loved it a little less when I found out the, um, subject was you-know-who. But, if you ignore that, this is great. What did it for me was the "What if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh", 'cause wasn't that everyone's fantasy at one point?

Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?

It has "mad woman" vibes, and I'm loving it. Such a running song too. I was down in the basement, running my little heart out on the treadmill, imagining a whole scene. It was great.

The Alchemy

It's something about this one that I love. Maybe the football references, maybe the sound of it, maybe the images it creates. It's such a fun song, and I love the "He jokes that it's heroin but this time with an 'E'".

The Albatross

This is my favorite on the album. I didn't think I'd be able to choose a favorite, but here we are. I'm a willow girlie, so this one was just, an instant connection. The lyrics- the sound- everything.

I Hate It Here

Almost every word she said in this one- I could relate to it. Hello? "Secret gardens in my mind"- those of you who know-

thank you aimee

Very much a grown up "Mean". To be honest, I thought of "Clean" as well. This song, to me at least, felt like healing.

I Look in People's Windows

I loved the theme of this song. You know, seeing that person, and then you look for them everywhere, and you get kinda obsessed, and- I'll stop before I expose myself. Anyway, this one was cute and upbeat, overall a great song.

Peter

The gasp I gasped when it went "You said you were gonna grow up, then you were gonna come find me". Peter Pan and Wendy anyone??? I love this song, and I was indeed singing it the rest of the day.

The Bolter

"But as she was leaving, it felt like breathing". Need I say anything more?

The Manuscript🥀

*Sighs*. This one made me tear up. I'll admit it. It may just have been because it was the last song, but something about this did it for me. The single notes in the background- *sighs again*. It's just such a pretty song about moving on and reflection.

If you've gotten this far, thanks for taking the time to read this. I'm tired as fuck right now, so I apologize if you can't understand some of this.

[aonoexpat]

Landing

05-02-2023

I finally have time for a more elaborate update!

The moment I entered Brisbane airport and saw the terminal for my Air New Zealand flight indicated on the screens, I was getting giddy with anticipation. The vibe at the airport was vastly different from that at Incheon and CDG. I only had a 1:35 layover, but was quickly greeted by a lady with that lovely Ozzie accent letting me know there was absolutely no need to rush. My gate would be right up the stairs, and everything was all right. I thanked her and went to empty out my water bottle for the next luggage check. The air flowing in through open doors or windows was hot and humid, and it had that tropical smell to it that instantly brought me back to my backpacking trip around Australia seven years ago. It felt a little like coming home 🥰

Even on the plane, people seemed much more cheerful and welcoming than on the previous flights. Other passengers were singing along to the songs playing during boarding, the safety video was stunningly beautiful, and during the flight I found out they have a little app on the entertainment system called 'seat chat', which allows you to message other passengers. I took some chances and randomly invited a couple of seats to a chat, and one of them accepted! We had a really nice chat and shared some amazement about the gorgeous views from the plane as we made our approach to Aotearoa:

I'd been worried for about thirty hours that my luggage wouldn't successfully be transported all the way with me, but to my relief it was one of the first to roll in. After getting through customs and biosecurity (which luckily allowed me to keep all of my items), I was kindly picked up from the airport by my friend ♥️ She drove me into the city to say hi to her husband, and then we headed to their home, where I am lucky to be welcome to stay for a while. The whole drive I was gaping out the window, in awe of both the hot weather and the hills and ocean. She hit me with a lot of cool information about the area, and my heart was just about ready to leap out of my chest! First impression: absolutely wonderful ♥️

After getting a much needed shower, I went into town with her to grab a bite to eat, and after that we went for a walk along the beach in the sunset:

In the supermarket later that evening a stranger came up to me and said they liked my hair so naturally I'm already IN LOVE with this place ☺️

It's funny how, when you're planning a move like this, you can feel like you won't find your way in a new place at all. Especially if I haven't travelled for a while, that's the one thing I forget the most quickly. It feels like you'd panic, or won't find a place to sleep at night, or won't find a job to support yourself. But then when you get there, and (if you're as lucky as I am) you have some people helping you get settled in, it all works out so easily. All those walls and fears come crumbling down in a single conversation, and it feels magical. You find out you still have your wits about you, you still have your skills and your intelligence, and you can still ask questions, get answers, and make sensible decisions that work for you. All of that applies no matter where you are. And of course it's still scary, don't get me wrong. It's a vastly unfamiliar environment, everybody drives on the wrong side of the road, I am actually having some trouble properly parsing Kiwi English, and living costs are high. But I'm reminding myself regularly that I have a whole year to find my way around here!

So after getting a good night's sleep, today I've gotten a local phone number, done some groceries (sooo many nice vegan products here!!) been invited to a board game night, have found several jobs to choose from when I'm ready, have looked around for accommodation options, figured out the public transport situation, have looked up open mic night events, and have found several second hand guitars online that I'm interested in buying :)

Looking forward to the next 363 days!

[edtriestowrite]

hiiiiiii tell me about the taylor swift parallels

OKAY SO FIRST OF ALL. FORTNIGHT (first track of her last album) AND HITS DIFFERENT (last track of her second newest album)

the first lines in fortnight are a direct reference to the last lines in hits different ("Or have they come to take me away?" -> "I was supposed to be sent away but they forgot to come and take me")

In My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys she has a lyrics that says "'Cause it fit too right, puzzles pieces in the dead of night" and it can be a parallel to So It Goes..., a song in reputation (aka the album full of chaotic love lyrics), where Taylor says: "And all the pieces fall, right into place".

In So Long, London she mentions the Heath, and there is only one mention of that place in her entire discography: IN LONDON BOY.

"I'm your queen, Stella McCartney, on the Heath" -> "I left all I knew, you left me at the house by the Heath".

This is not a parallel or anything but But Daddy i Love Him is like Love Story but WAYYY more angry lol

OKAY. So, in Fresh Out Of The Slammer, she first says "Now, pretty baby, I'm runnin' back home to you", and, in Sweet Nothing, she says "I find myself running home to your sweet nothings".

Then, she says "Splintered back in winter, silent dinners, bitter" and the silent dinners can be directly referencing tolerate it ("Lay the table with the fancy shit", "I polish plates until they gleam and glisten")

This might be overexaggerating, but, she also says "for just one hour of sunshine" referring to all she suffered thru for just one hour of that. You know what is closely related to sunshine? Daylight. She might be referring to Lover (her seventh album) with that line.

In the bridge, she sings "to the one who says I'm the girl from his american dreams", and in King Of My Heart (another love song from reputation) she says "Salute to me, I'm your american queen".

Finally, Taylor sings "at the park where we used to sit in children swings, wearing imaginary rings." She also has a song named Paper Rings, from Lover, where the chorus says: "I like shiny things but I'd marry you with paper rings".

GOOD GOD. GUILTY AS SIN. OKAY, in the first verse, she says "This cage was once just fine", which can be referencing the next line in Dancing With Our Hands Tied: "Gold cage to my feelings".

In general, the whole song can be a parallel to False God, a song from Lover. they are both equally horny tho lmfao

In loml, Taylor sings "I thought I was better safe than starry eyed", and, in Call It What You Want, she says "starry eyes sparkin' up my darkest night". BUT, in The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived, she also sings "Was any of it true? Gazing at me starry eyed".

THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVORITES!!!! In How Did It End? Swift sings "We'll tell no one except all of our friends". I might be a bit insane, but, she could've perfectly replaced that line with "We'll tell no one except our group of friends". However, she might have not written it because in champagne problems, she says: "the evergreen, our group of friends, don't think we'll say that word again".

During the chorus of I Look In People's Windows, she says "Transfixed by rose golden glows". In Daylight, she speaks about how love was no longer red, black, or white, but golden ("I once believed love would be burning red/black and white, but it's golden"). Maybe this is a way to imply that she misses that golden love and looks for it. idk

And that's it!! At least for The Tortured Poets Department

[curseofaphrodite]

DIALOGUE PROMPTS

while this is part of my 2.6k celebration and mostly for personal use, you can use it on your fics too. credits aren't needed but appreciated. like or reblog if you use! these are very much original btw 😭

1 | "I'd rather go through a tunnel full of rat piss." "So that's a no on the date?"

2 | Person A: "Why are you covered in blood?" Person B: "It's jam." Person C: (at the same time): ''It's ketchup." *person A slowly backs off*

3 | "I love you so much." "Stop flirting with the pizza!"

4 | *frustrated* "You look beautiful as the fucking moon."

5 | "This is a murderous affair. I thought I asked you to dress business casual. We don't want any attention on us." "But I always dress to kill!" >:(

6 | "No offense but you're not as cute as you give yourself credit for." "First of all, I'm completely offended."

7 | "Please be my valentine. PLEASE. I WILL BUY YOU THREE THOUSAND TEDDY BEARS."

8 | "Can you feel the love tonight?" "If you sing another Disney song, I'm throwing myself off this window."

9 | "Who's cooler - Taylor Swift or me?" "Taylor Swift. Always her. Because a) her songs are art, b) she is art and c) she isn't the one pointing a gun at me."

10 | "I'll buy you dinner when this is over." "You could buy me a whole damn garden and you'd still owe me." "I'll start with a rose then."

11 | "Pink or red?" "Red, like the blood of my enemies." "So pink like, uh, the blood of yours?"

12 | "Plan B, we sing Hamilton soundtrack." "We'll use that if we can't get out and prefer a faster death."

13 | "Your hand-" "If this is a dirty joke, I swear to-" "Your hand fits so well into mine." :) "Oh, yeah. I- uhm- yes." :') "I wonder what else would fit-" "OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE."

14 | "I'm devoted to you for eternity." "Don't say that." "Why not?" "You deserve a god crueler than me."

15 | "It's going to be alright, I'm here, I'm- wait did you just wink at the mirror?" "I LOOK PRETTY WHEN I CRY, OKAY?"

16 | "I'm sorry I don't know why I'm laughing right now..." "It's cause my life is a joke. Don't worry, I laugh at myself three times a week."

17 | "I love you so much..." "Did you drink?" "Yes but that's not relevant."

18 | "I packed two switchblades, a gun and a taser." "...for a science field trip?"

19 | "Can you help with my dress?" "No. No, no, hell to the no!" "What-" "GO AWAY SUCCUBUS!"

20 | "This date is so boring." "This is not a date, we're breaking into a museum."

21 | "Today morning, I witnessed the death of my dearest friend." "For the last time, I said I'm sorry!" "He is dead to me."

22 | "Is it really a Monday?" "You're asking me? Me?"

23 | "I'll pray for the fuckers who hurt you."

24 | "I can take care of myself." "I'm not worried." "You're a little bit worried. It's cute... and stupid. Fuck off."

25 | "God what I'd give to kiss you." "What?" "What?"

26 | "We're gonna team up." "This is how we die."

27 | "You're so immature." "You're So iMmATuRe." "Stop repeating after me!" "StoP RePeAtiNg- no where are going, come back!"

28 | "You okay?" "Fine! Wonderful! Splendid like a spring evening! Of course I'm not fucking fine, I just got stabbed!"

29 | "Did you get shot?" "Did all the blood give it away?"

30 | "We could be like Romeo and Juliet." "Yeah, you're certainly gonna be the death of me."

pretty sure I found 29 and 13 somewhere on the internet cause I just got a deja vu a month later after posting these

[marvelous-harry]

omg do a piece h/flo/reader where reader dyes her hair lmao

*this is not inspired by real events happening rn. nope*

"You're touching yourself, touching yourself. Touching your, touching yourself," I sang as loud as I could while boogying my way to the master bathroom while carrying one of our portable speakers, my bleach, and hair dye.

"I've got Buffalo 66 on DVD... why is it 66? It would be so easy to go for 69?" I mused as I dumped everything into the sink. "Hi, Siri," I said loudly and looked at my phone. "Is there a DVD called Buffalo 66?"

"Buffalo 66 was released on DVD in 1998. Would you like to hear what it's about?" Siri spoke in her true robotic tone.

"Yes, please," I replied as I grabbed the phone before skipping back downstairs.

"Buffalo 66 stars Vincent Gallo and Christina Ricci. Summary: A man just released from prison returns home to Buffalo, where he kidnaps a young woman who must pretend to be his wife to convince his parents he wasn't really in prison," I listened intently while grabbing two bottles of wine and the full glass I already had poured myself.

"Siri, add Buffalo 66 on DVD to cart," I said before taking a sip. "Sounds horrible and amazing," I mused as I went back upstairs. Taking a huge sip of wine, I grinned happily at the delicious taste and put the bottles and wine glass on the bathroom counter. Leaning on the edge of it, I stared myself in the eyes. "You're amazing. This is going to be amazing. Stunning. Art," I said seriously while nodding.

"Cheers!" I finished off my little speech and took yet another big sip of wine.

"Siri, play Wet Dreams by Wet Leg," I said as I opened the cupboard and started searching for the hair scissors. "Put on repeat," Grabbing the scissors, I grinned victoriously and gave them a little test chop in the air to make sure they worked.

Staring in the mirror, I bobbed my head as I just grabbed some hair and started chopping away.

"And you're licking the windscreen, I've never seen anything so obscene! It's enough to make a girl blush, it's enough," I shouted as I threw the scissors into the sink and shook my head to fluff my hair. Taking no time to think more about it I started mixing the bleach together.

"Here we go, here we go, here we go," I continued shouting slash singing as I started squirting the bleach at my ends. "Oh fuck," I mumbled as I searched the box for the gloves before putting them on it in a rush so I could smooth out the bleach.

"3, 2, 1. Let's begin, here we go," I mumbled as I emptied the bottle. "Ahhh, it stings. And the smell! Fuck!" I gasped as I rushed over to the window and opened it before searching for a towel and wiping at my skin where I'd spilled the bleach.

Grinning as I looked myself in the mirror, I blew myself a kiss before grabbing the wine glass and chugging the rest of its content. "Fuck, I love wine," I mumbled as I opened a new bottle and poured myself another full glass.

"Siri, put a timer for 45 minutes," I said before finally taking off the gloves and throwing them into the sink. "I was in your wet dream. Saw you at the side of the road. There's no one else around," I closed my eyes as I danced around the bathroom, spilling wine a bit here and there while singing at the top of my voice.

I kept my eyes closed while I danced, sang and drank.

"Hey! What the hell? Turn it down!" Harry said as he opened the door and walked in. "Woah," he mumbled as he took everything in.

"Harry!" I squealed. "I'm doing my hair! Also, note. This song is so fucking good. Can't believe I've gone my whole life without hearing it before you sang it," I said and gulped back some wine.

Harry stared at me for a few seconds before turning around. "Florence!! I need you!" he shouted before turning back. "I think that's enough wine," he said gently as he took my glass and put it on the counter.

"You're licking the windscreen, I've never seen anything so obscene," I sang as I started spinning around. "Harry, dance with me!" I said and grabbed for him.

Florence walked into the bathroom and took in everything. "Well.... Someone is having fun," she said gently and gave me a little smile.

"Flosssieeeeeee, hi! You guys came back early. Very sneaky. supposed to be a surprise," I chuckled and tried to grab the wine glass.

"Oh, we're plenty surprised," Harry replied and pushed the wine glass back further.

"Darling, how long has the bleach been in your hair?" Florence asked as she looked at me.

"Siri! How long till timer runs out?" I practically shouted.

"Timer ends in 32 minutes," Siri said back over the speaker.

Florence turned to Harry. "Right, battle plan. You help her shower and wash the bleach out when the timer runs out. I'll get water and some food. And cleaning products," she sighed spotting all the little bleach spots.

"And what do we do until the timer runs out?" Harry asked as he watched me dance and sing along.

Florence grabbed the wine glass and took a sip. "We are going to finish this wine and make sure she doesn't fall on her face," she replied and held the glass out to Harry.

"Good plan," he replied and took a big sip of the wine.

[heliads]

hello lisa!! it's been so long since i've requested something from you so i figured i'd indulge myself in your beautiful writing

could i have a tasm!peter x fem!reader inspired by the song radio by lana del rey?

basically the reader's a singer, and she's finally "made it", and she feels like now she's finally worth something now that her songs are playing on the radio

she's never really felt like she's deserved peter's love until now; she'd always viewed him as so much better than her, what with his spider-man duties and fame due to that, and thought that once she became famous she would finally be worthy of him

but now that she's gotten wrapped up in fame, peter's grown distant, and feels like he's lost the "true y/n"

basically just a lot of angst, but if you could figure out how to make it have a happy ending that would be great

love you lisa!! tsym <3

thank you so much!! oh i had fun writing this one lol

masterlist

The room is silent, save for the whir of gears and the click of your pen as you finally shut the cap once more. You consider the completed design in front of you, then nod at last in satisfaction.

“It’s done.”

Beside you, your boyfriend looks up with a start. “You finished? This is it?”

You nod happily. “This is it. My first album cover, finally completed.”

Peter Parker stands up, putting down the mess of metal and wires in his hands so he can peer over your shoulder. “I think that looks fantastic. That means you’re ready to release your stuff, right?”

You swivel your chair around so you can face him. “Exactly. I’ve been singing for a while, but now it’s going to be out there.”

Peter whistles. “That’s my girlfriend, out there. I’ll be buying a dozen or two copies as soon as I can.”

You laugh. “Don’t blow your whole budget on the first album alone, Peter. I’m sure to have a tremendously successful tour in a matter of months.”

Peter pulls you into a hug. “I’ll take out a loan, no worries. I can’t wait to see how the album does.”

You smile into his shoulder. “Neither can I.”

Honestly, this feels like a fantastic step forward. You love singing; making music is the best way you can picture the world around you, all through the frame of song lyrics. Sure, something might hurt you today, but once you put it through a few chords and stanzas, it’s no problem at all. Music makes sense for you, and releasing this album is going to let the world see your life through your own eyes.

Not even they can stop me now

Boy, I be flying overhead

The best part is that you have Peter right by your side throughout all of it. He’s there to count down the seconds until the album goes live online, he happily calls out every incremental change in streams, he tells all his friends and neighbours to go listen to your songs. You couldn’t ask for a better person to hold your hand throughout all of it.

Their heavy words can't bring me down

Boy, I've been raised from the dead

Right now, the two of you are driving in Peter’s car, windows rolled down to best let in the sunshine. You’re both wearing the cheap plastic sunglasses you bought on a prior date in the mall, when you tried on every combination of lens style and frame color until the kiosk owner was sick of you.

The car radio has been on for a while, but you haven’t been entirely paying attention to it. The announcers always talk too much in between songs, and you’re about to switch to another channel when you hear the opening notes to a very familiar song.

All of a sudden, your carefree mood comes to a crashing halt, and your hand flies to the volume controls. “Peter, that’s my song!”

Your boyfriend blinks in surprise. “What?”

You gesture frantically at the car radio. “The channel, they’re playing my song! That’s my new song!”

Peter’s mouth drops open. “No, that’s crazy! That’s one of the most popular radio stations in, like, the entire country. Turn it up!”

You don’t have to be asked twice, but even when the car is practically shaking with the force of the chords, the song still holds true. That’s your song, that’s your music, and everyone’s listening to it. Your mind is fighting whether it wants to burst into wild laughter, sing along at the top of your lungs, or just start screaming in excitement, so you do a little bit of all three.

Peter is just as happy as you, so much so that he has to pull off the road onto a narrow shoulder so he can dance around with you. He unbuckles his seatbelt once he pulls the parking brake, reaching for you as soon as he can.

“That’s you, Y/N! That’s my girlfriend’s music!” He’s practically yelling, and a couple who happen to be walking by the car pause to give the two of you strange looks.

You, however, couldn’t care less about the concerns of some random pedestrians. Your music is on the radio, god damn it! You’re popular. You’re real. Isn’t that everything? You never thought you’d get to a point where you could be worth something, not like this, and it feels utterly fantastic.

For once, looking over at Peter, you feel like you deserve him, really deserve him. He’s a wonderful boy, and he goes out of his way to make sure you feel loved, but sometimes it’s hard to feel like you’re on the same level. He’s Spider-Man, and thanks to his patrols and the constant spread of media attention devoted to figuring out who he is, he’s always had this sort of aura to him that you’ve never been able to match.

No one even knows how hard life was

I don't even think about it now because

I finally found you

Peter is, of course, terrifically humble. He’s never made you feel like you’re less than him, but you feel like that nonetheless. How could you possibly feel equal to him when he’s out saving lives every night and you’re staying in to do calculus homework? Sometimes, you just feel like a pet project, someone whose presence he’ll tolerate until he finds some other superhero just as bright and important as him.

Now my life is sweet like cinnamon

Like a fuckin' dream I'm livin' in

Now, though? Now, there’s no pretending. You’re important, just like him. People know your name, just like they know of Spider-Man. There’s no power dynamic, even if neither of you ever bring it up, because the two of you are finally on the same level. This is exactly what you have always wanted, and it’s finally yours.

Baby, love me 'cause I'm playing on the radio

How do you like me now?

It’s a rush, to be honest. Even after listening parties with Peter, where the two of you can’t stop cheering over all the people talking about your album, there’s still so much to do. Choreographers are messaging you by the dozens, hoping to be the one to design dance numbers for all your future performances. Radio hosts and late night stars want you on their shows.

It’s fantastic, isn’t it, to be wanted like this? You’re thinking about it on the flight back home after a particularly thrilling radio interview. People love you, and everyone wants to hear from you. The stars in your eyes haven’t faded, even in the months since your album first released.

American dreams came true somehow

I swore I'd chase 'em 'til I was dead

The only person who doesn’t seem taken by it, strangely enough, is Peter. You always thought you’d have him in your corner, especially after all the times he brought up your music in a conversation or wanted to talk about your songs on his own accord.

Right now, though, walking home with him after he met you at the airport, you don’t get the same supportive feeling from him as you always did. To be honest, it’s already got you on your guard, even before he starts to say what’s on his chest. You’ve always stuck by him with his Spider-Man stuff, even when the police hated him or when the public loved him. You bandaged his injuries, you helped him design his suit. Shouldn’t he be able to do the same thing with you?

I heard the streets were paved with gold

That's what my father said

You can tell Peter’s been thinking about something for a while, but it’s not until halfway through the walk that he finally starts to switch the conversation towards whatever is going through his mind.

“So, my favorite rockstar, I was just thinking that we haven’t gone on a date in a while. How about we catch a movie this weekend? I’ve heard of a few that check all of our boxes.”

You wince. “That sounds amazing, Peter, but I’m supposed to be meeting with my record label manager to discuss potential deals for future albums. He lives way out of town, so I’m going to be gone all through Saturday and come back late Sunday.”

Peter nods, a slight clench in his jaw the only sign that he isn’t fine with this. “No problem. What about next week? After school, maybe?”

You sigh, trying to picture your already jam-packed calendar in your head. “No dice. I have to head directly to a radio station headquarters after school for another interview.”

Peter’s frown refuses to leave. “The weekend after that? Hell, any time in the next two months?”

You don’t like his tone. “Peter, what’s this about? We knew I’d be busy when the album was released, there’s no need to take it out on me.”

He rakes a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I knew you’d be busy, but I thought you’d at least be trying to make time for me.”

You laugh sharply. “Of course I’m trying to make time for you. That’s why we’re walking together now.”

Peter scoffs. “Instead of, what, you getting a limo home? Don’t act like I’m anything but replaceable now that you’ve got the world revolving around you.”

You stop walking, and Peter stops with you. “What is your problem, Peter? I just said that I’m trying to make this work. Sorry if you feel otherwise.”

He folds his arms across his chest. “It’s not just a feeling, Y/N. You’ve been different, ever since that album came out. Do you even care about stuff other than the views or the celebrity shoutouts?”

That stings. “So that’s your problem, that I’m happy my album is doing well? What other way could I possibly respond?”

Peter gestures uselessly with a free hand. “You could still be you, for one thing. I can barely see you around the Louis Vuitton brand deals. I mean, take your latest single. What was that one line, ‘Now I’m in L.A. and it’s paradise?’ You don’t even live in L.A., you just visited it once or twice! There’s the Y/N I fell in love with, and there’s the Y/N that’s jetting across the world for her fame, but I don’t think they’re the same person anymore.”

You draw back from him. “I can’t believe you. I am happy for the first time in a very long time, so happy I don’t even know what to do with myself. When you started getting pleased with yourself because everyone knew who Spider-Man was, I stuck by you, even when it made me feel like nothing. I’m sorry to see that you can’t do the same with me.”

Peter realizes what you’re trying to say, or avoid saying. He takes a careful step forward. “Y/N, I didn’t think–”

You shake your head. “No, you really didn’t.”

You turn away from him and start walking down the street. This time, you’re alone, and this time, Peter doesn’t try to catch up. That’s for the best, isn’t it? Even if he apologizes, he still won’t get it. He won’t know what it’s like to never feel like you’re good enough. Sure, it’s easy for him, he’s important. Why can’t you be important, too? Screw Peter. You can do what you want.

Now my life is sweet like cinnamon

Like a fuckin' dream I'm livin' in

In fact, you pour all your energy into doing exactly what you want. You laugh alongside big-name celebrities on late night talk shows, you charm your way into high society gatherings until people swear they can scarcely remember a time when you weren’t among the red-shoed ranks.

The only problem with all of it, the gold drippings and gemstone party favors, is that none of it feels quite real. At first, it was wonderful, all a dream come true. Everything is perfect here, the lipsticked smiles never end, but you never mean any of it. Every laugh disguises apathy, every best friendship formed hides blank nothingness.

For example, you’re currently seconds away from performing live at one of your biggest concerts yet, and you don’t feel a thing. No excitement, no nerves. You don’t even feel stage fright at the sight of so many people all staring back at you. There’s just an endless cloud of emptiness.

The music starts, and you start to sing, every movement perfect and practiced. You were able to have your choice of choreographers, and you’ve already inspired thousands of dancers to try and imitate your routines. Not a hair is out of place, and your costume is shimmering and gorgeous. Every note comes out polished and pure, and when you finish, you’re surrounded by thunderous applause.

You stand on the stage, looking out at all the people who can’t get enough of you, and you realize that you hate it. When was the last time you felt anything? Even heartbreak would be good, although people only seem to encourage it when they think it could inspire another album. These people would stomp you into the ground if they thought it would get you another chart-topping single, and you would let them do it. Who have you become?

Baby, love me 'cause I'm playing on the radio

How do you like me now? (Oh, sing it to me)

You head home that night, restless and unable to rescue your mind from the same tunneling realization that you don’t want it anymore. You still love your music, the clothes, the opportunities, but you feel like you’re missing something important. Or, perhaps, someone.

You change out of your designer gown and too-tall heels when you get home, wash the perfect makeup from your face. You’re not entirely sure that you recognize the girl in the mirror; she’s just a little too different, too tired, too worn. You swear that your eyes are supposed to be brighter, your hair more full, but the stranger looking back at you still moves when you move, so she must be you after all.

You pull on comfortable clothes, and after taking one last moment to make up your mind, walk over to your window and throw open the sash. It’s relatively easy to climb up the fire escape to the roof, and you sit, legs dangling over the edge. You don’t know that anyone will come. Although Peter once promised that he’d visit whenever he could, that promise was made to a different girl, and it might not hold true with you.

A wind blows across the roofline, and you pull your knees up to your chest to block out the chill. The movement must distract you from approaching noises, because you don’t hear Peter approach until his voice sounds from next to you.

“I didn’t think I’d find you here.”

You lift a shoulder, somehow afraid to look at him lest you dispel the myth that he might still be here for you. “I could say the same thing about you.”

Fabric rustles against metal, and then Peter sits down next to you. He isn’t looking at you yet, just staring up at the sky. “I saw you in that performance earlier today. You seemed miserable.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “That’s what every girl wants to hear whenever they’ve been on live television.”

Peter shakes his head. “No, it’s not like that. You looked beautiful, but you always do. It was your eyes, that’s where I saw it. You don’t want it anymore, do you?”

You close your eyes for a moment. “No, I don’t. I mean, I like it plenty, but it’s not the same.”

Peter nods, as if expecting this. “I don’t think anyone else could tell that you hated it. Then again, they haven’t known you as long as I have.”

You dare to glance at him again, and find that he’s finally looking back at you. “Why did you watch today’s performance? To see if I would despise myself as much as you despise me?”

Peter leans forward slightly. “Same reason I watched every other performance you’ve done. I missed you, and this was the only way I could pretend I was with you again.”

The sudden truth makes you go quiet. Peter continues. “I never hated you, I just missed you. I haven’t felt like I’ve known you in a very long time.”

You look down at your lap. “I don’t think I’ve known myself in a long time, either. I don’t know where I went wrong, but none of it is right anymore.”

Peter reaches out a careful hand to lay it on your shoulder, and you instinctively lean into his touch. “I don’t think it’s all wrong, just that you need to sort out what matters most to you.”

You watch him again. “You. That’s what matters. That’s the one thing that has made the rest of this feel worthless.”

Peter’s lips twitch up in a half smile. “I’d like to believe you quite a bit,” he says, “But how do I know if this is just another performance?”

You’ve told enough picture-perfect lies for him to doubt you now, and you hate it. “There’s no audience listening now except you, and I know you well enough to know that you’ve always had a soft spot for people trying to do their best. I don’t know who I am, Peter, but I know who you are, and I figure if I can find my way to you again, I’ll find myself in a matter of moments.”

Peter chuckles. “That’s a pretty good sentiment. Put that in one of your songs. I’m expecting a sad ballad that ends happily.”

You smile. “Does that mean we’re ending happily?”

Peter leans over to press a kiss to your cheek. “It does. I don’t want to fight anymore, Y/N. I just want you.”

You want him, too. It sounds like a fair deal to you, and you take it.

Baby, love me 'cause I'm playing on the radio

How do you like me now?

marvel tag list: @namoreno, @thatfangirl42,  @rogueanschel, @mycosmicparadise, @ellobruv-blog, @caswinchester2000, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @amortensie

[louismeanhoe]

my sunkissed trampoline

a/n :: hello me louiessssss! i'm excited to share my first little story with you! i started writing about him, and just couldn't stop. i really hope you enjoy this little something i came up with.

warnings: none, really, tooth-rotting sweet fluff.

pairing: dad!louis x reader.

The nightstand clock announces it's past midnight. I can hear the wind billowing outside, pouring rain spattering the glass windows. I’m still dazed, lost in the fog of recent sleep, when I palm the left side of the bed, searching for Louis’ body, only to find it cold as if he’d gone up, and left hours ago. I look around, suddenly alert, the room eerily quiet. The baby monitor on my nightstand was gone, too.

This was odd.

I slip out of the comfort of my warm sheets, put on my white silk robe, and stand up, the chilled wooden floor making me shiver. He must have left a window open, but, before I checked which one, I needed to make sure the baby was okay. She should be sound asleep, considering that no siren sounds echoing can be heard through the house. Even so, I have to see her little face if I want some peace of mind when I go about looking for my silly-head husband.

Nearing the nursery room, I started hearing a soft humming. I would recognise that voice anywhere. One thing about Louis that I love very much is that he’s always humming something. It can be irritating, for sure, but cute all the same. Endearing.

At first, I couldn't quite decipher which song he was humming, then, finally, I heard it, and my heart melted.

Joanna was huddled on his bare chest. He was singing her the song that she was named after. The song I was screaming my lungs out when we met at the pub all those years ago. Our song. I would blame it all on the hormones, but I felt myself get teary. Seeing Louis with his daughter was magical, the tenderness, how his blue eyes would light up when she went for his hair, tugging, and then laughing when he would say “ouch”. Pure love could be witnessed when he held her. When he called her kitten, darling, and poppet.

With arms crossed on my chest, I leaned against the threshold, just watching them. Watching him singing, in a low voice, ‘Little Joanna’ to our baby girl.

“Yeh mama loves this one, baby,” He says then, nosing the top of her soft head, the little blond hairs starting to sprout there. “Little Joanna’s got big blue eyes… Yeh got them from me,” A little laugh slips, “I could die lying in her arms, where castles are made of sand, we start to dance, but only the music is bleeding when crickets replace the band… She will always be my sunkissed trampoline, she goes up and down in my heart, turned it to jellybeans, and I'm starting to believe that danger's never near

when Joanna is here”

“I do love that one,” I whisper, and he looks up at me, a bright smile shining on his face. He could power an entire city, an entire country, just with that smile. “Go on, don’t let me get in the way.”

“Nonsense,” With a headshake, he invites me close, one arm keeping the half-asleep baby in place, and the other wrapping around my shoulders. “She started crying, didn’t wan’ t’wake yeh up, you look too pretty when all relaxed out.”

“We’re already married, we’ve got a baby,�� It’s a half-joke. “No need to keep buttering me, ‘m yours.”

Louis presses his lips to my temple, “I’ll keep buttering you f’t’rest of me life, sweets.”

“I’ll hold you to your promise.”

Jo makes a fussing sound, little chubby hands going to clutch his hair, jealous that she didn’t have all of his attention to herself. I just knew she’d grow up to be the biggest daddy’s girl in the whole world, and, honestly, no one could hold her accountable. He started singing again, lulling her back to the sleep she needed. Only half an hour later, we went back to our bedroom.

I'd long forgot about the open window, his warm body snug to mine, one tattooed arm around my waist. Louis started humming the song again, singing me to sleep too. And the very last thought before drifting back to sleep is that, when he’s home, I know what true happiness tastes like, I feel it in my bones. I feel it in my soul. It’s love that can’t be put to words.

“I love you, sweets,” He whispers.

“Yeah, I love you, too.”

[legguk]

Hi!! So,

it's my ( literal ) first time writing fanfiction, so I'm pretty new at this stuff, but Lady Dimitrescu is all I was able to think about for weeks and I >needed< to do something about it.

( If you want some context, I wrote this thinking “what if Alcina survived?” - Alcina's pov )

———

The fall,

The end of everything you once loved

Ethan Winters.

You woke up... somehow, you woke up. The frigid air hitting your fresh wounds felt like a jolt send by reality, as if one says "you're still alive" -

- and oh how you were starting to hate that feeling.

Laying on the demolished floor of your castle, muscles twitching in pain, mouth open gasping for air... that's how you are, how you will remember yourself from now on. A defeated dragon, a crushed woman, a dead mother.

You should get up, you should let go of your carcass and crawl your way back into the warmth of your home, you should—

—you should be dead, actually. Resting on death's cold embrace along with your daughters.

Daughters.

God, your daughters.

The memories flood your mind with a painful, unbearable reminder; they're gone, dead, crystalized - gone. They're gone. Your lovely daughters, your pride and joy, the main reason you'd open up your eyes in the morning...

...Bela,

Cassandra,

Daniela....

Their names are long cold, not yet forgotten - no, never forgotten - but somewhere else, as they don't belong here anymore; not on your arms, tucking them to bed. Not on your hands, caressing their faces. Not on your lips, kissing their foreheads. Not on your tongue, as you say them.

A raspy scream leaves your throat, it sounds disturbing.

You sob, hot tears trailing down your cheeks and neck, small cries for help find their way into the wind, disappearing with less importance then when they materialized.

You cannot recall for how long you stayed at that very same position, perhaps some hours, perhaps a day, but you are certain that at some point you were overcame by tiredness and collapsed - probably the best to do for now.

xxx

And so, rises the moon and the stars watch upon your limp body, the night howling a merciful wind and singing a melodic song. Grunting, you push yourself up with your elbows, sitting up and facing the sky through the hole you've made on the roof... and the levels above...

A huge carcass sits besides you, it's wings bended on itself and it's big mouth open to whoever would like to have a peek; you probably changed back into your normal body while unconscious... Now that you can see it clearly, you notice the damage that man-thing did to you... by heavens, how were you still alive and...

Oh. The castle. You look forward, taking in the horizon - the stars look exclusively shiny tonight - you breath in, the dusty air causes you to chough a few times. Stretching your neck a bit to see your whole house, you tell yourself it looks.. fine, actually, ignoring the broken windows. The broken windows.

It's cold. You shiver harshly, panting as the air meets your bare back and rumbles through your lungs, making you hug yourself, - you're naked, you just realized - the winter in Romania is truly kind to no one.

Your legs tremble with just the thought of trying to stand on your feet. You don't rush to do it either, let the wintry breeze take in your wounds, make it sting, burn it, freeze it; freeze your body along.

“To die. To die is to live. To live without them, that's torture. To live without their presence, absent of their scents, to not hear them, nor see their faces again, that's worse than death; far, far worse. How could I ever walk into that damned house without the heavenly sounds of their laughs, the tapping of their feet as they walk free, the steadiness of their heartbeats, reminding me that my own still beats.

Beats for them. For them only.

And they're gone.

So who shall my heart beat for? Myself? No, that wouldn't do. I will rip it out from my chest if I must, sacrifice it to any god who may hear me, all so I could spend five more minutes with them. Then I'd die in peace and find them at my arms again at whatever comes after this poor life.

But I'm here.”

You still hold yourself as you stare at a castle's - broken - window, new warm tears hanging the same trail the old and now dry ones did, a silent cry.

Your intrusive thoughts were abruptly cut by a loud noise from the inside of the castle, making you jump up, gathering all your last strengths to stand and walk a few shaky steps closer to home. The more you walked, the louder the noises got; a little rustle became a bang, and your tiptoing became a sprint, you hold yourself as tight as you can, ignoring the bleeding, the cold air spiking your lungs, how insanely fast you heartbeat was. You need to get there, protect the last remnant of them you still have.

The gates felt heavy now, even for you, who would open them with one hand. Where is your strength now? The fearless dragon who'd do anything to protect her house? Perhaps she died on that fall, and now all there's left is a shadow of what you were one day.

With much pain, you open the big doors, leading to the comfort of your house; you don't get in, you throw yourself in. The warm atmosphere engulfed you like a summer kiss on a winter storm, all you needed to ground yourself to reality for now. Grabbing some sheets laying over an old counter, you wrap yourself in it – oh, that's gonna get soaked in blood, but that's not of your concern now – moving incredibly fast for someone as hurt as yourself, you follow the continuous sounds that could not mean something good. The main doors are open, the cellar is unlocked as well, that idiotic man-thing couldn't even close the doors once he finished slaughtering your home? Imbecile.

You stand at the library's door now, suddenly frozen; you know what happened in there... do you really want to get in? Are you truly ready to face it again? Maybe you should take a step back and walk away, it would be the most logical decision to take now.

But what is logic when the heart screams? What is the brain for once your emotions take the best of you? You can't walk away. Put some honor on your name. Save the last bit of your daughter that fate is still conceiving you. Your chest rises and falls completely out of coordination, your fists close around the fabric involving your body; get ready, you're going in; gather the last bit of courage you have inside yourself and blast these doors.

And so you do.

You bring those pieces of wood to the ground, the only barrier between you and the reality you couldn't accept; a guttural growl forms in your chest as you see a lycan approach your child's crystalized body; you're blind with ire, sorrow, protectorship - you name it - and it makes you shout at the top of your lungs as you dilacerate the filthy beasts you'd bat your eye at. A bloody trail of corpses marks your way through the castle grounds, your claws dripping with fresh sanguine fluid - which you can't tell if it's from the creatures or from yourself - the crimson path follows you all the way to the other wing of mansion like a spirit who must haunt you for eternity.

You scream like a feral animal, blood soaking the once white cloth around your form; the scream becomes a shriek, which descends to a yelp, ending as a furious cry. You can feel the anger leaving you, like the waters of a waterfall; explosive, big portions of water falling into a numb, deaden lake. Hopefully those waters will carry you with them, you shall fall and sink at a anesthetizing lagoon.

You kneel, eyes closed, eyebrows frowned; a loud sigh fills the deafening silence in the air, your mind is blank – better, your mind is red, scarlet red mixed with black, ire and grief. Slowly, your head lower itself so you're facing the floor.

The big Lady Dimitrescu,

kneeling on a pool of blood, defeated.

•

“Lady Dimitrescu!”

Who..? The voice was so far yet so close, you try your best to focus on the direction of the calls but your nerves just won't cooperate.

“Lady!”

Who would be calling for you? Is your mind playing tricks on you now? And since when you were laying on the floor? Too many questions for too little answers. You try to stand up, but a sharp pain on your side made you cry out and fall on your back, face knotted in pain – perhaps your adrenaline rush was keeping you from feeling what was really happening with your body, and now you feel like you're betraying yourself for that.

A small figure approaches you in a fast pace, causing you to unleash your claws one more time and snarl at the not-so-possible threat; you were hurt. Vulnerable. Letting someone close was the last thing you wanted now. The humanoid thing backs away a few steps with your aggressive reaction, hands on their chest, visibly afraid – even though your vision is quite blurry, you identify their expression: scared, desperate, sorrowful – they call out once more, almost shouting.

“Please, Lady Dimitrescu, let me help!”

Ah... Help... The now clearer feminine voice washes over you - a wave of compassion - as if hope has found its way to your house again. Well, it better go away again, or you'll drag it out yourself.

“Out.” was all that left your lips, your intense gaze locking with hers, a silent yet not so discrete warning; although you had only said one word, it was well understood by the woman, who stepped away, eyes still meeting yours, a dreadful cast hang on her face.

Still, she didn't left.

Is that girl testing her luck? It can only be. Once again you warn her: “Leave. I will not repeat myself.”

Her posture stiffens, after a moment of silence she looks at the door, truly wondering about leaving or not; her body turns around, her knuckles going white from how hard she was grabbing the fabric on her chest – she's conflicted. But why? Who is she, after all? – A long, defeated sigh leaves her, as if she knows there is no choice left.

“Allow me to help.” A failed effort on trying to sound confident; her voice is full of tears and her tone is oscillating – it makes you wonder if she has been crying – The human walks towards you, trying not to make any eye contact; you can't stand on your feet, you left hand is pressed on your injured side, the other is open and directing your now extended nails towards her.

Oh how funny it is, no?

The predator being cornered by the prey. The dragon being trapped by the rabbit. How ridiculous it is.

Her extremely shaky hands hang in front of her, trying to say she won't hurt you – oh if she only knew it's going to be the other way round. – One step closer.. Her lips and chin tremble; Another. Your claws grow bigger, eyes peering through her soul; another step, your eyebrows frown, her eyes are teary. The last step - your blood is boiling hot, your nerves on edge; you are still the predator. - a slicing sound and a half-scream saturate the air for a millisecond, just for silence to overfill it once more. Red splashes over the room again, on your face, on your chest, but mostly on the floor, where the girl was thrown at.

An agonizing scream leaves her throat - what a miracle, she remains alive - both of her hands cover her face, blood spilling all over her; what a sight, you would most definitely enjoy this very much on another situation. She cries out in despair, making you face the ceiling and close your eyes, a tired look on your face – you just want all this to end, you don't have any more patience for this. You want to crawl back into your bed and starve, you want to destroy this place, make it abandoned ruins of what one day was a home; you want to kill that damned sickening man-thing, kill this foolish girl for perturbing your grieving, and then yourself.

The woman captures your attention once again, she is kneeling, her body facing yours, her right hand presses her ripped face, the other makes its slow way up to you, although she is trembling, she manages to keep her hand steady enough to hand you a little green flask with a yellow-y label; You look closer, 'treatment disinfectant' it says... Oh you can only be joking. You feel like slaughtering the girl right this instant, but takes in a deep breath and holds the flask, her hand immediately falling along with her body. Is she dead? No, her slow yet consistent breathing exclaims that she is still alive – you honestly find it a bit offensive – You should, but you cannot bring yourself to finish the human; you should end her suffering, but now she caught your attention; and besides, she wants to help, doesn't she? then the price she'll pay is staying alive.

———

hahaaa I'm so nervous about posting this,,, ,

and yes! It is a alcina x maiden fic! I do plan it to be slow burn, and if some you liked it and read it till here, please like and/or reblog and I'll post chapter 2!

( posted on Ao3! Name: “The woman in your castle” )

( chapter 2 posted!! )

[layce2015]

The Last of Us Part 2 (Joel x Reader)

(A/n: just wanna say that I'm not gonna follow the game completely. A good amount of it I will follow but there is a fate of a certain character that I'm gonna change as I feel Naughty Dog did this character dirty.)

Chapter 1: I Don't Know What Happened

The Last of Us (Joel x Reader) Masterlist

"I don't know what happened." Joel admits to Tommy as he starts to clean the neck of the guitar. The two brothers were out on patrol and decided to stop and take a break in this abandoned house. There Tommy had to ask Joel what happened with the Fireflies as Joel and (y/n) seemed a bit tight lipped about what happened.

"(Y/n) and I were suppose to take her to the Fireflies and walk away." Joel said before he let's out a small scoff. "You go halfway across the country with someone. She needed her immunity to mean something. Maybe we were starting to buy into that whole...cure business. Maybe (y/n) and I just wanted to do right by her. And then we made it." Joel explains as Tommy sits across from him, listen intently.

"We found the Fireflies. And because of her...they were actually going to make a cure. The only catch...it would kill her." Joel said, whispering the last sentence.

Flashback

"Sweet Jesus." Joel mutters and (y/n)'s jaw drops as the couple made it to the operating room.

"Doctor?" A nurse said and the doctor turns to them and gasped. "What're you two doing here? I won't let you two take her. This is our future. Think of all the lives we'll save." The doctor said as he grabs a scalpel and aims it at them. Joel glares at the doctor with determination while (y/n) closed her mouth and started to reach for her gun.

Present Day

"Jesus, Joel." Tommy mutters, shocked, as he stares at his older brother. "What did you two do?" He asked. Joel looks up at Tommy for a moment and replies. "We saved her."

Flashback 

After killing the doctor, Joel disconnects the tubes and goes to pick Ellie up. "Stay back!" (Y/n) yelled at the nurse as Joel whispers to Ellie. "Come on, baby girl. I gotcha..."

As he picks her up, the couple look out the window to see some lights shining through. "Oh shit." Joel said as he starts to run at the door. "Get back!" (Y/n) ordered at the guards that were coming in, aiming her gun at them before turning around and follow Joel out of the room.

Present Day

"Damn, Joel. That's um...that's a lot." Tommy said, sounding like this was a hard pull to swallow. Tomny looks down them back up towards Joel. "What does Ellie know?" He asked as Joel continued to clean the guitar. "I told her they ran some tests. I told her...her immunity meant nothing." Joel replied.

"And she believed you?" Tommy asked, curiously. "She didn't say otherwise." Joel said, softly, as he looks down. "And (y/n) was okay with this?" Tommy asked. Joel stops cleaning the guitar, looks at the floor for a bit before he raises his head up and nods at his brother.

Flashback

"Joel?" (Y/n) asked her husband as they drive down the highway in the truck, Ellie still passed out in the backseat. Joel turns his head slightly to look at her, her face full of concern and worry. "Are we really gonna go through with this? Lying to her?" She asked.

"We have to. For her sake." Joel replied. (Y/n) let's out a sigh then looks down at her hands. She looks over her shoulder at Ellie and starts to think over what just happened. "You're not having second thoughts, are you?" Joel asked her, concerned.

(Y/n) continues to look at Ellie, as if she held all the answers, and she started to think about what if they let Ellie die, and it turned out that the vaccine didn't work? Then Ellie would've died for nothing. But then what if it did? Would the world go back to normal?

(Y/n) let's out another sigh before she turns to Joel and shakes her head at him. "No. I just don't like lying to her." She whispers before she turns back around and starts to twiddle her thumbs together.

Present Day

Tommy let's out a heavy sigh and shakes his head before he looks back at Joel. "We should head back." Tommy said and he gets up and grabs his backpack. Joel watches him start to leave then stands up, grabs his bag and the guitar and follows him out.

The two brothers go out to the garage, open the door then head to the horses and climb on. Then the two head out and start to head back home.

They make their way over the grassy hill to see the town of Jackson in the distance. As they make their way down the hill, Tommy starts to speak. "Did (y/n) go for her checkup?" Tommy asked Joel as they continued down the hill.

"She's suppose to go today...guess I'll find out how she is when I get there." Joel replied as the worry for the wellbeing of his wife started to linger in his mind. The past week, she had been sick and throwing up it seemed like every morning. She thought it was some type of flu but it didn't feel like the flu.

Luckily, there was a doctor in Jackson and (y/n) decided to go see him. Joel hoped that the doctor would figure it out and give (y/n) some sort've medicine. He hated to see her so miserable.

"We're almost there." Tommy said to Joel as they make it to the front gate of Jackson. As they got closer, the doors opened and they trotted inside and head over to the stable. Joel gets off of his horse, grabs the reigns and starts to lead the horse to the stable.

"It's okay. I got them, you go on." Tommy said to Joel. "You sure?" Joel asked and Tommy nods. "Alright." Joel mutters then he grabs his bag off of the saddle. "About what we were talking about earlier...." Tommy started to say and Joel stops and turns to him.

"I can't say I'd have done different. I'll take it to the grave if I have to." Tommy said to Joel, who nodded at him. "I'll see you later, Tommy." Joel said and he starts to walk down the street while Tommy leads the horses to the stable.

Meanwhile, Ellie was sitting her little room, which was basically a shed behind Joel and (y/n)'s house, drawing in her journal. She was listening to her walkman, which she fixed, and started bobbing her head to the music as she continued to draw.

Unbeknownst to her, there was a knock at the door but, thanks to her headphones, she didn't hear the knock. The door opens and Joel sticks his head inside. "Hello? Ellie?" He calls out but he noticed that she had her headphones on.

So he walks over to her then nudges the chair with his foot, which startles Ellie as she jumps and takes off her headphones. She turns her head and sees Joel standing behind her. "Jesus, you almost gave me a heart attack." She said, breathless, as she closes her journal and stands up to face him.

"I tried knocking, but..." Joel stops as he gestures towards the door. Ellie leans against her desk and looks up at Joel. "Hey." She said. "Hey." He said back. "What's up, Joel?" She asked him. "Just checking in." Joel replied. "Folks are..." he let's out a sigh then he starts to pace back and forth in her room.

"...y'know talking about how impressed they are with you and how well you're helping out." He finished. "Good." Ellie said. "Yeah." He mutters.

"Umm...is (y/n) okay? I heard she wasn't feeling good." Ellie said, concerned. "She hadn't made it back from the doctor yet....but I guess I'll find out here real soon." He said and Ellie nods.

"Tommy and I went out riding the other day and he, uh...he told me a joke and I thought about you. It's ummm....." Joel said but then he stopped as he tries to remember the joke. "Well, shoot, I forgot it. Something about a clock...how do you--" he started to say but Ellie interrupts him.

"Joel, it's, uh, it's pretty late, and I gotta get up in a few hours--" she said. "Yeah, yeah, I know, I know, and I'm gonna get out of your hair. I just um--" he said then he points towards the door then looks back at her. "I wanna show you somethin'. Just gimme one second." He said as he goes to the door, opens it and picks up the guitar then comes back in her room.

"What's this?" Ellie asked him, nodding towards the instrument. "Some folks call this here a gee-tar." Joel replied, really pouring into his Texas accent. "Funny." Ellie chuckles, softly. "You wanna hear something?" Joel asked her. "Okay." She said and he nods as he goes to sit down, the guitar on his lap.

"Promise me that you won't laugh." He said to her. "I won't laugh. I won't." She assures him as she sits down in her chair. "I'm trusting you." Joel said, smirking, then he takes a deep breath and starts to play.

If I ever were to lose you

I'd surely lose myself

Everything I have found here

I've not found by myself

Try and sometimes you'll succeed

To make this man of me

All of my stolen missing parts

I've no need for anymore

I believe

And I believe 'cause I can see

Our future days

Days of you and me

As he sings the song, Ellie smiles, softly, at him while (y/n) started walking towards the door then leaned against the frame. She got back from the doctors and spent most of the evening walking around Jackson, trying to clear her head as she was shocked at what the doctor had said to her.

It took her awhile to convince herself that she had to tell Joel and she was heading back to their home when she heard music playing. She followed it and realized that it was coming from Ellie's little shed house and walked up just in time to hear her husband sing.

She smiled fondly at this as she remembered the day he first sang to her. It was actually about a year after they started dating and he brought out his guitar and started to play and sing for her. In that moment, (y/n) realized that she had, indeed, falling in love with Joel. When he was done singing, she said the words "I love you" first and he, of course, he said "I love you" back.

(Y/n) was brought back to the present when she heard him stop playing and he looks over at Ellie. "There you go." He said. "Well...that didn't suck." Ellie replied, smiling, and Joel chuckles while (y/n) smiles. "I'll take what I can get." Joel said.

"Well, in my opinion, you still got it." (Y/n) said and both Ellie and Joel look over at her, both of them startled as they didn't hear her come in. "Hey." Joel said as he starts to stand up, still holding the guitar in his hand, and walking up to her.

"Hey, (y/n). You doing okay?" Ellie asked and (y/n) let's out a heavy sigh. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine but, um..." she said then she looks over at Joel. "I-I need to talk to you, privately." She said to him.

The two share a look before Joel nods then goes back over to Ellie and holds out the guitar to her. "She's yours." He said to her, who looks at this in shock. "No. No, no, no, I don't know the first thing about this." Ellie said, quickly. "I promised that I'd teach you how to play." He said as Ellie takes the guitar.

She looks up at him, surprised that he remembered that. She smiles then looks down at the instrument. "You did." She said, softly. "So what you say? Tomorrow night, first lesson?" He asked her. "Deal." She replied, smiling. "Okay." Joel said and (y/n) smiles at this.

Joel walks over to (y/n), who takes his hand in hers, and they start to walk out until Ellie speaks up. "Did--" she stops as the two adults turns to her. "Did you remember the joke?" Ellie asked him and Joel leans against the door and thinks for a moment before he remembered how the joke went.

"What is the downside to eating a clock?" He recites and Ellie thinks for a moment but shrugs as she couldn't think of an answer. "It's time-consuming." Joel said and Ellie chuckles and (y/n) snickers under breath. "That's so dumb." Ellie laughs. "Yeah." Joel and (y/n) said then Joel grabs the knob of the door.

"Goodnight, kiddo." He said and he shuts the door and the two adults head back to their house.

Later, Joel opens the front door of their home and (y/n) walks in first before she stops in the middle of the hallway. "Everything alright?" Joel asked her after he shuts the door and walks up to her, her back facing him and her arms folded across her chest.

(Y/n)'s heart was beating rapidly, whether in fear or excitement she wasn't for sure. She just wasn't sure how Joel would take this news. "Hey." Joel said, softly, as he comes up to her and places his hands on her shoulders. 

She turns her head to look at him then placed her right hand on one of his hands. "Whatever it is you need to tell me, we'll get through it." He said and she smiled at this, then she removes her hand off of his and turns to face him.

"I, uh...I really don't know how to say it, so I'm gonna come out and say it." (Y/n) said and Joel gives her a worried look as she takes a few deep breathes before she starts to speak. "Joel...I'm pregnant." 

Joel's eyes widen and he let's out a gasp at this. "What? Y-You serious?" He asked her, shocked. "Yeah. He thinks I'm at least alittle over a month along. So that night we had together when we were out on patrol and that storm came through and we took shelter..." She replied and placed her hand over her stomach, feeling the little bump. There was long shocked pause between the two before she speaks up.

"Joel? Honey, are you...?" She started to asked but then Joel cups her face in his hands then leans in and kissed her on the lips. "Thank you." He whispers, his lips ghosting over her lips. (Y/n) let's out a breathless laugh and the couple share another loving kiss then embrace one another, relishing in this happy moment.

A moment that neither one of them ever dreamed would come true.

[k-jay22]

I held your hand

I held your hand on that pretty Sunday mid evening. 

You talked and talked about the days when I was young. I let you reminisce on when you'd pick me up from school as a child, even though I couldn't quite remember the events myself. I told you my future plans, and you explained you once had the same passion as I did. 

I held your hand on that pretty Sunday mid evening.

I told you as much information as I could about the past five years of my life that you'd missed for silly little reasons that aren't important now. You smiled, and you laughed about the time I told you I was fired from my first proper job. We talked about how bright the sun Shawn through your curtain draped bedroom window. 

I held your hand on that pretty Sunday mid evening,

sat cross legged on your bedroom floor. My legs ached from the pois I held , but I didn't care. We looked at the pictures you had on your bedroom wall of the beatles. And in my mind I had replayed the times where you'd make us all stand in a circle in your living room, while you'd dance in the middle of our glee, singing out your favourite songs to the top of your lungs without a care in the world. 

I held your hand on that pretty Sunday mid evening.

You told me you had more time. You spoke for the future, although I was uncertain. I told you I'd see you again, because I really thought I would. 

I held my hand today, on this pretty Saturday mid evening,

and wished I was holding yours. It hadn't even been a full Callander week that had gone by when I listened to the words of our loved ones tell me you'd left us all for good. I ran down the stairs, and I locked myself in the small bathroom and cried. I knew that your time was coming, but the shock was as forceful as ever. My lungs felt deflated. I felt like I couldn't breath. I held the frail body of my sister today, and I let her cry in my arms. She'd been trying to keep her pain in, but I knew it wouldn't last. We begged to be able to say goodbye too you, although you wouldn't be present to hear or see us. Our pleas weren't answered. Our goodbyes were given in the form of our loved ones while we stayed behind In composure. 

I held my hand today on this pretty Saturday mid evening

and I listened to all the songs you used to know. My eyes fixated on the last picture we ever took together. Some time in June 2016. 

Tomorrow, I will hold my hand marking a whole week since the last time I physically saw you present and cognitive. I'll remember our last conversation, and I'll treasure the look on your face when you first saw me walk though your bedroom door and told me how grown up and good I looked. I'll keep those with me forever, like the Polaroids I wear on my bedroom wall, as constant reminders that you were here, and I'll miss you for just as long. 

Grandad - 5/3/2022