#i've not moved on and i shan't

[khaotunq]

i dial drunk, i'll die a drunk, i'd die for you

[philosophiums]

hi sam ok now i would love to know if you have any jji hot takes 👀

KJSDBVDKJFBV trying to get me #canceled i see i see /jkjk

i kind of only have one really Hot Take i guess (i have an uncountable amount of opinions but those have been said before by myself or others, or are just... yknow. vibes and feelings and preferences), and it's that:

gege is a character writer, specifically with an emphasis on character relationships (mirrors, foils, family, [perceived] romance, etc.), but he is not particularly skilled at plot (and specifically seems to struggle with balancing story within the plot), and i think a lot of the current animosity towards jjk would not exist if he had really buckled down on and maintained the level of character-centered storylines that we got at the beginning.

i will elaborate under the cut bc i don't think everyone needs or wants to read my thought processes KJSDBVJKDBV

jjk, in my opinion, has a very clean dividing line that is Everything In The Beginning and then Everything Post-Shibuya. up to the end of the shibuya incident, the story is character-driven (though a bit fast-paced, it still manages) and has a very clear and defined goal (not for the characters, though they also have their own motivations, but for the plot): get yuuji to eat all of the sukuna fingers, and then execute him. obviously a story has to story, so there are antagonists getting in the way, and there are underlying themes and actions that make that goal more heartbreaking, but it is laid in stone right away that there is no happy ending here (yuuji will die) and the best we should hope for is happy memories along the way, while the best we can hope for is the characters figuring out a way to get around this doomed reality. we had a great main cast and a through-line for the plot and, most importantly, circling themes of character/relationship mirrors, cycles in general, and the connecting thread between power and a severing or loss of humanity (which all created a story).

there's a reason so many readers are unhappy with the culling game arc and the sukuna fight, and i think that reason is the really hard pull away from characters being able to drive the story (it's a little bit about pacing too, i think, because the culling games were long and boring, and the sukuna fight has equally been long and predictable). i truly think the worst mechanical decision gege made for jjk was separating the main cast during the culling game arc. it created a "need" to introduce a million new (pointless) characters, and all it did was underline and emphasize that character (as a writing tool) doesn't actually matter to the story anymore.

like objectively it's not... bad. there is (probably) a plot that he's following, and he (probably) has an end-goal in mind and a conclusion that he is gunning towards. he is maintaining continuity and wrapping up loose threads that were mentioned in previous chapters. things are linked. but like.... it's just so, so hard to care about what's happening in the plot right now because A) so much tragedy based around characters we don't know has only made me exceptionally numb to everything gege decides to do now, and B) we the audience have been seated next to the narrator instead of next to yuuji or gojo or yuuta or whoever. it's soooo drawn back, it's so far away from character. and i think that was just.... a really bad decision.

anyway, i think, all else equal, jjk would be on better footing right now if gege had decided to maintain the writing from Pre-Shibuya and stick to a character-driven plot. at least all of the carnage would mean something, then 🤷

[frobby]

Lets all name fanfics that formulatively changed our lives

Ill go first: there's this haikyuu kenhina fanfic where Kenma works at CVS and every time I see a CVS I think 'Kenma work there'

[hellaverse-critical-confessions]

(from this video)

[archivedsorrow]

// ivan actually making me be eager to write now has me battling the ponderings of whether or not he deserves his own blog. this was meant to be mostly as a tester muse, but i didn't expect him to rekindle that spark in me.

[luveline]

hiiii not sure if your requests are open but if they aren’t just ignore this😭

imagine getting into an argument with james, sirius, and remus because you brought a stray kitten or something home and you really don’t have the room for a kitten

“but look at him🥺”

“no”

“🥺”

“… no” *less convincingly*

You hold the kitten in your hand. Remus strokes her head, her little damp ears. “It's not about that, Remus, I just couldn't leave her there, the box was falling apart and… I thought that only happened in movies.” 

Sirius leans forward on his knees to give the kitten a stroke of his own. “She's lovely,” he murmurs, scratching under her chin and grinning when she moves into it for more. “It's too bad the flat's so small. Otherwise we could keep her.” 

She's tortoise shell with a white half circle around her mouth, eyes squinted closed as she shivers. You've wrapped her in a tea towel like a blanket. She is, without a doubt, that cutest and saddest creature you've ever seen. “Where is she supposed to go, Siri?��� you ask gently. 

“People love cats.” Sirius puts his hand on Remus' thigh casually, giving it a loving squeeze as he settles in. “Everybody wants a kitten.” 

But not everyone will be nice to a kitten. She feels like your responsibility now; how can you leave her? She's burrowed into you from the moment you picked her up, shushing and murmuring, your knees sodden in the puddle of rainwater beneath you both. 

“We have to keep her, please,” you say. 

There's a mutual surprise. “Dove, we can't,” Remus says. “The bathroom barely fits the toilet, shower, and sink, we'd never be able to have a litter box.” 

“It wouldn't be fair,” Sirius agrees, “on us or the kitten, she'd have no room once she turns into a cat.” 

You bring the kitten close to your chest and show them her helpless face. “But look at her,” you say softly, widening your eyes gently, your brows bunched together in the beginnings of heartbreak. 

“No,” Remus says, shaking his head sympathetically. 

You frown at him and Sirius in turn, your bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly. 

“No,” he says again, sounding unsure. 

Sirius rubs his leg. “Stay strong, my love.” 

“There's just not enough room.” 

You fear you may be losing this battle, and if they really don't want a cat, maybe you shouldn't force them. But then your trump card comes out of the bathroom with a towel around his neck, shirtless, grey joggers low on his hips, and you know you still have a chance. 

“Wow, Jamie,” you say, not having to act very much to give your voice a hoarse rasp, “you might need to shower again.” 

His smile is magnetic. “Yeah?” he asks, immediately delighted by such a brazen comment. “How's the little sweetheart? Reckon we can leave her alone?” 

“She's cold still,” you say.

James visibly melts at your sad tone, while Remus rolls his eyes. “She's just trying to get you on her side, James. I've said we can't keep the cat and she's–” 

“Taking advantage of her feminine wiles?” Sirius suggests. 

“Cheating,” Remus finishes. 

James leans over the back of the sofa between your head and Remus to kiss behind your ear, a brief press of the lips. “Why should I care? Doesn't she deserve her own way?” 

“It's not as though I'm lying,” you say guiltily. 

James laughs and kisses your jaw. You bring your shoulder up to your chin and flush with heat at such a simple thing, trying your hardest not to jostle the kitten in your hand as he wraps an arm around your front, resting his face against yours. The wet curls of his hair are cold on your skin, and the straight line of his jaw digs in. “I know,” he says. 

“Catch on, Jamie,” Remus says. 

“Shan't, won't.” Another kiss to your cheek. 

“Please, Remus, I promise if you don't want her then I won't make you, but if it's about room, of course there's enough. The four of us manage to squeeze in, don't we?” You lean into James’ embrace, eyes melty-soft. You're practically batting your eyelashes at him. 

Sirius flops into Remus’ lap with a resigned sigh. “If you don't say yes, I will anyway. Look at her.” 

You don't know if he means the kitten or you, but you choose to believe it's you he's complimenting, and you react accordingly, your little smile pushing Remus completely over the edge. 

He sighs. “Yes, alright. Fine.” 

You pass James the little warm parcel of fur and use your freshly emptied hands to grab Remus by both arms. “Thank you! Aw, thank you, Remus. Sirius. I'll be so absolutely clean and if it does seem too small I promise, I won't make anyone suffer.” 

“I never thought you would,” he says. “If you really want to keep her, I can't stop you. I'm your boyfriend, not a prison warden.” 

“Well, we share a home–” 

“I know,” he says warmly, “it's alright. Keep your kitten, dove. Looks like you've found her for a reason.” 

You laugh happily and gather him up for a hug. “Oh, I love you.” 

“What shall we name her?” Sirius asks around you. 

“I'm not fussed. What do you like?” James asks. 

Sirius meets your eyes as you and Remus pull apart. “You always get your way, hmm? Why don't you name her?” 

Oh, you could hug him to death too. He looks comfortable where he is, his face on Remus thigh, hair fanned out over his joggers, and you don't want to disturb him (he's not quite as tactile as the others), so you stroke a curl from his cheek and offer him a cheeky smile. “Don't you have any ideas?” you ask. 

“About you, or the cat?” 

You laugh at his teasing. “Which one do you think?” 

Remus nudges you in the ribs. “Don't start. If we're keeping your cat, we need to go out, don't we? You'll have to go get dressed again.”

You give them all a glowing smile and clamber off of the sofa to find your shoes. 

[llamagoddessofficial]

📚 pretty please?

I shan't give too many details about this one, because I am pretty dedicated to writing it at this point - but Farmtale Sans is on the cards. Here's a teeny extract from the first chapter I've written out.

---

You sat down at the kitchen table. The chairs smelt of wood varnish. You had no idea what you were going to do for food, the last store you recalled passing on the way here felt like hours ago. You had no heating, no lights. No gas. Almost definitely no hot water. 

You felt like just laying down on the floor and crying forever. 

A knock on the front door. 

You jumped out of your fucking skin. Someone was at the door? Suddenly, a bunch of horrible thoughts started racing through your head. Did you get the wrong house? Was the will wrong? Did the key just happen to fit? Is this someone’s home, and you just came in, kicked their carpet and sat at their table? You scrabbled over to the door, rattling the handle and eventually shoving it open. 

... A massive, lanky skeleton monster stood before you. 

“HELLO THERE!” He spoke extremely cheerfully, but in a volume that made you startle. He was wearing dark blue overalls, heavy black rubber boots, and an orange gingham-patterned top. “WHY, IT’S LOVELY TO FINALLY MEET YOU! I’M PAPYRUS, YOUR NEW NEIGHBOUR!”

He stuck out a huge hand, covered by a garden glove. 

You stood there for a moment, dumbfounded, blinking up at the skeleton. He was... how did he get here so fast? Eventually you snapped yourself out of your rude gawking and took his hand, shaking cautiously.

“... Neighbour?” you managed to say. But there weren’t any houses around for what felt like miles...?

He nodded enthusiastically. “MY BROTHER AND I OWN THE FARM JUST OUTSIDE OF THE TOWN. WE’RE A HALF HOUR DRIVE AWAY.”

You paused. “You came out all that way, just to greet me?”

He seemed confused, for a moment, but quickly smiled again, even breaking into chuckles. “OH! YOU MUST BE FROM THE CITY, RIGHT? NYEHEHEH, YOU MUST THINK HALF AN HOUR IS A LONG DRIVE! NYEHEHEHE!”

... What a strange feeling. You’d never before met someone who could laugh right at you, yet not feel malicious at all. He still made you feel like he was laughing with you. Papyrus’ smile reached his eyes (eyesockets?) so much that he had smile lines in the bone.

You smiled yourself, a little. “Y-yeah, I guess I do think that’s a long way. I’m (y/n). How did you know I’d arrived?”

“TORIEL HAS BEEN LOOKING AFTER THIS HOUSE FOR A FEW YEARS. WHEN I HEARD IT WAS FINALLY GOING TO BE PUT TO USE, I STARTED DRIVING PAST EVERY DAY, TO BE CERTAIN THAT AS SOON AS OUR NEW NEIGHBOUR MOVED IN I’D BE ABLE TO GREET THEM LIKE A PROPER NEIGHBOUR SHOULD.” He spoke so fast, but so confidently. “I’M SO GLAD I WAS ABLE TO MEET YOU BEFORE I REACHED ONE HUNDRED VISITS!”

You couldn’t help it. You laughed. “Th... thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“ANYWAY. NOW THAT I’VE INTRODUCED MYSELF, I MUST INSIST YOU JOIN US FOR DINNER!”

What? “Huh?”

“OF COURSE!” He nodded again, as if agreeing with himself. “IT IS NOT ONLY THE POLITE THING TO DO, BUT I HIGHLY DOUBT YOU HAVE IMMEDIATE DINNER PLANS THAT ARE HEALTHY OR NUTRITIOUS CONSIDERING YOUR LONG TRIP! I MUST INSIST THAT YOUR FIRST MEAL IN YOUR NEW COMMUNITY IS A GOOD ONE!”

... You could’ve cried. Perhaps this wasn’t going to be as nightmarish as you thought.

“I’d love to. But I’ve really got to unpack everything first, and clean this old place out. We could exchange phone numbers?”

“I’LL HELP YOU UNPACK!”

You stared incredulously at the monster before you. Was he real? “I-I,”

“I’LL CALL MY BROTHER. I CAN’T GUARANTEE HE’LL BE HERE BEFORE WE’RE FINISHED, THOUGH, HE’S SUCH A SLOWPOKE.”

[hier--soir]

feb + mar + apr reads

norma jean baker of troy by anne carson [★★★★★]

"Sometimes I think language should cover its own eyes when it speaks."

"Is she human? Are you? Is she a beast out of control? There's so much danger. No human can become just a beast, you plunge beyond - beyond what? Remember Jack the Ripper? 'I'm down on whores and I shan't quit ripping them till I get buckled,' Jack wrote in a letter to the newspaper, September 18, 1888. He never did get buckled. Of course insane, his mind blooming with it, who could go down that rabbit-hole or unlock such a puzzle as Jack? - but still, the woman! the thing is! the woman has everything and you smile and you take some."

: ̗̀➛ an exploration of the lives and myths of marilyn monroe and helen of troy.

: ̗̀➛ anne carson is there anything you can't do? please email me back. please.

piglet by lottie hazell [★★★★]

"'I want to make some food,' she said. 'For both of us?' he asked. 'No, just for me.'"

: ̗̀➛ one woman, piglet, and the lead up to her wedding in the face of a big confession from her fiancé.

: ̗̀➛ this one slipped beneath my skin and writhed around the spot inside me where i've tucked away all of my food issues.

merciless gods by christos tsiolkas [★★]

"I'm scared that if I let go, not only the room, not only this city, but the whole world will go cold forever."

"Your false gods cannot save you. There is only one God, my God."

: ̗̀➛ short stories that bash you over the head with how awful things and people and places can be. i did not live for this one... particularly wasn't into the one where a guy jerked his dad who has alzheimers off.

foe by iain reid [★★]

"All day. Time keeps moving. I've always thought that was a good thing. Until recently. I'm not so sure now. Is it good? For time to go by fast?"

: ̗̀➛ they want to send junior to space and replace him with a robot that looks and acts and talks exactly like him so his wife has company in his absence.

: ̗̀➛ marriage and trust and complacency, and a guy called terrence who we get reminded over and over has long gorgeous hair.

: ̗̀➛ a little boring for my taste. i had an idea of where it was going pretty early on, and it took a while for me to be proven right. pretty disconcerting!

acts of desperation by megan nolan [★★★★]

"The need was a true and human part of me, but I could feel nothing else of myself to be true or human, and so the need seemed ungodly, an aberration."

: ̗̀➛ a book full of confession, desire, jealousy, violence, and power. messy messy messy!!!! readers procceed with caution.

: ̗̀➛ shout out to everyone who said i should read this - you were right, it is up my alley.

gone girl by gillian flynn [★★★★]

"My wife was no longer my wife but a razor-wire knot daring me to unloop her, and I was not up to the job with my thick, numb, nervous fingers. Country fingers. Flyover fingers untrained in the intricate, dangerous work of solving Amy. When I'd hold up the bloody stumps, she'd sigh and turn to her secret mental notebook on which she tallied all my deficiencies, forever noting disappointments, frailties, shortcomings."

: ̗̀➛ i have become a gillian flynn STAN this year, it's true. despite having seen the movie multiple times, i enjoyed reading this, and was delighted to find some differences in the texts [for better and for worse].

: ̗̀➛ nick dunne, big fan of the lie of omission, mama's boy whose mama is dead, i'd like to introduce you to couples therapy.

dead beautiful and life eternal by yvonne woon [reread] [★★★]

: ̗̀➛ the first two books in a paranormal romance trilogy. these kinda bang guys, i can't lie. 15-year-old me was onto something when she decided to keep these instead of donating them. however, they DO have some of the worst book covers i've ever seen, sorry yvonne.

fourth wing by rebecca yarros [★★★]

: ̗̀➛ a romantasy book that has dragons, smut, and twists that you'll see coming from a mile away. pretty fun. recced to me by one man in person and a thousand women on tik tok.

: ̗̀➛ no one who has the thought 'double standards for the win' is using 'whomever' in a casual sentence with the guy she's having sex with.

: ̗̀➛ good enemies to lovers should have actual murder attempts. but maybe that's jusT MY OPINION.

my book rating system is as follows:

★ = i felt pure contempt the entire time

★★ = yeah it's a book

★★★ = i liked it!

★★★★ = good fucking book, damn

★★★★★ = blew my dick clean off and i'll throw a tantrum if everyone i know doesn't also read it and love it

[iguana-eyanna]

To Miss Laurant... Pt. 1

Pairing: Lord Alfred Debling x Reader

Summary: What happens when two souls who had not found love find it within each other?

a/n: okay a bit late on watching bridgerton (don't come at me please) but I feel like Debling is a well written character and would love to see him more so mwUAH! I also wanted to give the reader a name so the last name is Laurant.

"There, one of my greatest works!" Madame Delacroix said as she finished the hem of your dress.

You admire the beading by your sleeves and how it flows by the end of your gown, which was also adorned by a cape.

"It's just us, Genevieve. You can lose the accent" You said, looking back at your childhood friend.

"Oi. I have to keep appearances, you'll never know who'd walk in those doors." She said in her regular voice. You both laugh as if you two haven't seen each other since your family moved to the Americas. You then became a traveling performer, singing for the largest of crowds and now back home to sing for the biggest event.

"I still can't believe you're back home, and performing for the queen no less. Are you nervous?" She asks.

You press your hand on your stomach, feeling the butterflies.

"Very. I never sang for royalty before. I thank Lady Danbury for opening her home to me for my stay and offering counsel on how to approach her majesty."

"Well, the bachelor's will swoon by your talent, wit, and beauty for tonight." Madame Delacroix, she said, kneeling by the end of your dress to fix a hem.

"I'm afraid that's where you lose me Gen. I faced too many heartbreak in my life, sometimes I don't believe in the words I am singing."

Genevieve tsks at you and rises up, placing her hands by your shoulders.

"You shan't forsaken your passion for love. Who knows, maybe you shall meet a certain suitor tonight."

"Perhaps..." You said, looking back at the mirror, unsure that you believe in the feeling.

+

"My Lord, welcome back home." an older man said, offering his assistance to Lord Debling.

"Only temporary Buford, I do wish things do recover." Lord Debling replied, as he looks down at his cane.

Upon his mission to save a rare mammal during an unforgiving snowstorm, Lord Debling lost his footing on a weak stone by the side of a cliff and fell 20 feet down. It was remarkable that he survived the fall, but he broke his leg and he had scars around his face and torso from the turbulent fall.

His crew helped him find the nearest physician and was told he must return home to recover for the sake of his health. With much dismay, he returned back to Mayfair, hoping he could leave to complete his mission.

"Yes sir, a speedy recovery you shall have." Buford replied as he helped the Lord get into his carriage.

They rode off to the estate, where Lord Debling looks outward to the town. He accidentally made eye contact with a few townspeople and they began to whisper. The Lord whipped the small curtain closed and inhaled, catching his breath.

"Your return has spread quickly here, they've said you've cheated death." Buford said with caution.

"What I've cheated on was my mission. If I'm not back by the end of this season, the creatures would not survive the rest of the winter." Lord Debling said.

"Of course sir, my apologies. If you like, I can provide on the latest news since your last visit."

"I suppose that wouldn't hurt."

"Well, the queen is having a ball at the palace. You did also receive an invitation."

"I do not wish to entertain anyone for the matter, Buford." the tired Lord replies.

"If I may speak freely, you have not been seen in ages, my Lord. I believe some live entertainment shall lift your spirits momentarily."

The Lord ponders for a moment.

"Well, I guess I shall use my night wisely. Thank you for your counsel, Buford. Live entertainment you said?"

"Yes, a singer. She's an accomplished musician who's toured around the Americas, Asia, and Europe. I have her flyer here." Buford offered a folded paper to the Lord.

Alfred Danbury looks fondly, reading out loud your last name.

"Laurant?"

"Are you familiar with her?" Buford asks.

Lord Debling shakes his head no as he folds back the paper.

"No, I'm afraid not." He replied as opens back the window, looking outward.

As the night arrived, Lord Debling felt like he was out of practice around the high society. People often shared condolescences on his accident and women would near him, they're faces would be etched with pity.

He wanted to crawl out of his skin and be in the confinement of his home. It was like the walls of the room was closing in and rushed out as fast as he could. He slowly took off his coat and vest, leaving on his white button shirt.

He managed to get by the gardens and sat down, hissing as the ache in his leg was acting up. He drops his clothes and cane to the side and tends his knee, closing his eyes.

"Are you alright?" a soft spoken voice is heard.

He opens his eyes and faces you, as you sat in your plain dress by the quiet fountain that were etched with baby angels.

"I wish I could stop hearing that." He grumbles to himself.

"I'm sorry for asking." You said, huffing as you turned away.

Lord Debling felt horrible as he straightens up as best he could.

"Forgive my manners, all night I've been consoled and pitied for. I do not wish to feel like a wounded creature." He says, showing his cane.

You turn your head towards him again. You bow your head, understanding.

"It's alright, my apologies for striking a sour chord."

Lord Debling couldn't help but laugh and cracked a smile, a manner he has not done since his accident. He offers you a seat by him and you obliged.

"What is a maiden as yourself outside for?" He asks.

You struggle to find the right words and looked at him with kind eyes.

"This is my first ball, I was afraid I'd make a fool of myself."

"It's impossible, I do not know you well but you carry yourself with such poise." Lord Debling says.

You couldn't help chuckle, not believing his words.

"We must not let fear get to us tonight. Life is too short to squabble in the mist of doubt."

Lord Debling was beguiled of your wisdom.

"Well said, miss..." he trailed on, not getting your name.

You were about to reply till the bell tower rang.

"Oh no, I'm late!" You said, grabbing your dress and quickly running off.

"But wait, I don't know your name!" Lord Debling said, getting up.

You turned towards him, screaming out your name.

"What is yours so I may remember?"

He was about to say his title, but he stopped. You seemed so free from high society, he didn't know who you were or what your ranking was. He just saw you for, well you.

"Alfred!" He yelled back.

"We shall meet again, Alfred." You said, before running off.

Lord Debling placed his hand on his heart, feeling it race like gazelles.

He had kept his heart from ever loving something more than protecting the innocence of wildlife, and yet, you ran away and he longed for your presence once more.

He placed his outer garments, grabbed his cane and walked with purpose back at the ball, trying to find you in the sea of people. Soon, the floor cleared and an announcer walked on the platform.

"Our dearest guests, we have brought you a special talent for tonight. As she prepares to travel to the pacific this summer, she has graced us with her voice for this season. I present to you, Miss Laurant!"

Everyone cheered and a figure slowly walked onto the platform, with an almost glowing dress that illuminated more by the lights. She looked outward to the crowd, afraid with those memorizing eyes.

That's when Lord Debling knew it was you.

You looked upward to the queen, as she gave you grim look of disappointment. You looked away and tried to find peace in your stirring mind. That's when you made eye contact with a familiar face.

Alfred.

He shook his head to you, almost indicating that you had enough courage to go on.

You straighten upward and faced the orchestra by the side and you began to sing.

Lord Debling stood like a statue. Your voice captivated his ears like a songbird, and he was too afraid to move in fear you would stop.

You didn't leave your gaze on Alfred, as he was your anchor through the storm that filled your head with dread. For once in your life, you begun to understand the words you've sung about love. Something ignited you, and it was proven as there was a roar of applause that was for your performance.

You look back at the queen and she nodded in approval, smiling contently. You bow in her presence and left the platform.

The orchestra resumed the delightful tune of dance as you were congratulated by the court. Lady Danbury walked up to you, beaming with pride.

"My dear, I understood you've sung for a living but I underestimated that voice. Do not let me doubt you again." She says lively.

"Oh, you're too kind, Lady Danbury. It is you I have to share gratitude for. Thank you for having me into your home."

"Anytime, my dear. I also bring good news, her majesty is requesting a private audience with you during your stay here."

Your mouth dropped into an 'O' and you hugged Lady Danbury, then a split second letting go as you straighten yourself.

"Apologies, but this news has elated my mood of late. Thank you." You said, as Lady Danbury just gave you a beaming smile.

She was about to say something until something caught her eye. "It seems you have made an impression to a particular someone."

You don't understand what she's saying until you see Alfred, now dressed formally. He walks towards you two and bows his head.

"Lady Danbury, it's a pleasure to see you tonight. Miss Laurant, I did not expect you were tonight's performance."

"You two know each other?" Lady Danbury asks.

"Br-Briefly. We exchanged words by the garden." You said, confused as you thought Alfred was a footman of sort, but dressed similar to those in the court.

"I was blown away by your performance tonight, Miss Laurant. Perhaps when I am in the best of health, I can escort you to the dance floor sometime."

"Lord Debling, I thought you never dance at balls." Lady Danbury teases making him chuckle.

"Lord?" You ask, your eyes wide.

"I am sorry if I did not share my title at the time-" Lord Debling tried to explain but you took a step back.

"Lady Danbury, I must rest before meeting her majesty this week. Thank you both for your kind words, but I must go." You bowed before you left them in confusion.

"Did I offend her honor? I did not know my title would have her leave." Lord Debling asks, feeling as if he'd hurt you.

Lady Danbury could see his sincere features and tried consoling him.

"It is not you, my Lord. Before Miss Laurant came back to London, she has told me she has had a troubled past. It appears you may have reminded her of something that she can't escape."

Lord Debling could only look at the direction where you left, wondering if you were alright.

Soon, you hailed a carriage and traveled to Lady Danbury's residence. You sank by the wall and began to cry, holding yourself for some comfort.

You thought Alfred was like you, free from title and expectations. You thought that maybe, you could love him.

But you can't give your heart to a Lord,

not again.

To be continued...

[diazsdimples]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday

Hi, it's new wip time. I started watching Man in the High Castle and had the biggest hit of inspiration I've had in weeks. The TV series is based off the premise of "What if the US lost WW2 and were occupied by Japan and Germany?" Here is a snippet, with context and tags below the cut!

Buck shifts restlessly from foot to foot. It’s stiflingly hot in the station, the air oppressive and suffocating. Every glance from an officer seems condemning, as though they suspect something. Beside him, Lucy is the picture of tranquillity. Her hand rests gently on the swell of her abdomen, cradling their – no, her – baby as she waits. Sensing his unease, Lucy lays a hand on his arm. “What’s the matter, darling?” she asks. From the outside, it seems like nothing more than a concerned wife checking in with her husband, but Buck can read the subtext. Quit fidgeting, dickweed, you’ll blow our cover. Buck moves towards her, his lips ghosting over her ear as though leaning in to kiss her cheek. “Omnis nox mox vertetur in diem” he whispers, repeating the code they’ve spent days mulling over. The only clue Nash had given them about the identity of their contact. “How do we know which one he is?” Lucy reaches up and brushes a curl off his forehead, smiling sweetly. “Best hope he’s got a great fucking sun on his shirt, hadn’t we?” She pats his cheek, outwardly reassuring, but he knows she’s reminding him of their situation. One slip up could end them both in the cells, beaten for information until they spill. She might not actually be his wife, but Buck feels a sense of duty towards Lucy and her unborn child, at least until they’re through the checkpoint and he’s met the contact – night turning into day or whatever the fuck that means. The line moves forward, and Buck takes the opportunity to scan the people waiting on the other side. There’s an elderly couple, the lady clutching a handy to her chest as she waves at someone behind him, a severe looking man in a black trench coat and a hat – far too obvious to be their contact – standing beside a harried looking couple with four young children, all clamouring for their parents’ attention. A man catches his eye. He’s tall, brown hair flopping over his eyes as he eyes the people in line. A thick moustache rests on his upper lip, but he’s otherwise clean shaven, smooth brown skin that vanishes into the crisp, pressed collar of his shirt. He looks to Buck to be of Latin descent – something he doesn’t come by often in the East. Beside him stands a young boy, leaning heavily on a set of wooden crutches. His legs seem to be bent, but if he’s in pain he hides it well. He looks up at the man – presumably his father – with wide and trusting eyes. Waiting for the return of their mother and wife, Buck assumes. Lucy takes his arm and ushers them forward again, jolting him from his daze.

Context: In this fic, Buck is a member of the resistance and escapes the German East with Lucy (also a member of the resistance) so he can deliver information to R. Nash in Los Angeles. Lucy only goes as far as Colorado. Eddie is also a member of the resistance, living in the Neutral Zone. He and Buck meet in Colorado and travel together the rest of the way to the West, where they finally reach the resistance stronghold in LA. And the rest I shan't say. But here's a snippet, beneath the cut to save your dash!

Tagging @theotherbuckley @daffi-990 @hippolotamus @spotsandsocks @buckera

@steadfastsaturnsrings @actuallyitsellie @bigfootsmom @jesuisici33 @rainbow-nerdss

@lonelychicago @monsterrae1 @watchyourbuck @bidisasterevankinard @wikiangela

@cal-daisies-and-briars @tommybuckleykinard @bibuckbuckgoose @wildlife4life @bucks-daddy-issues

@dorkydiaz @queerdiaz @bucksbignaturals @exhuastedpigeon @slightlyobsessedwitheverything

@alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @kitteneddiediaz @thekristen999 @perfectlysunny02 @inell

@epicbuddieficrecs @bekkachaos and anyone else who wants to share something (lmk if you want to be added or removed)

[starleska]

barges in/ WHAT ABOUT BTAS JERVIS X READER?

OWO

why, thank you for asking 😉 i've had this persistent concept knocking around my brain wherein Jervis earnestly tries to move past his devotion for Alice...only to tumble straight back down into obsession when he meets You 😳

Jervis Tetch x Reader First Meeting headcanons

🎩 although it pains him to admit it, the years of unrequited love have taken their toll on Jervis. his Alice is long gone—departed from Gotham with her now-husband (filthy brute), with a new name and her hair dyed a mousey brown. as far as he can tell, she's dropped off the map entirely, and it's been nearly a year since he last caught any trace of her. months in yet another cold, lonely stint at Arkham leave his soul more empty than ever before...and he decides, one lovelorn night, that such suffering should not befall a gentleman. although the thought sickens him, Jervis resolves that when he gets out, he is going to make a fresh start...even just for a while.

🎩 when finally he next escapes (his technology being instrumental in a jailbreak largely orchestrated by the other rogues, of course—no need for him to do their dirty work), Jervis makes good on his promise and leaves Gotham for a few cities over. he travels in civilian clothes and fights the urge to wear any sort of hat, fearing that even a simple cap could betray his identity. yet the experiment is a success. within days he has sequestered himself in an unassuming little apartment, and even ventured out to speak with a neighbour or two, none of whom recognise him as The Mad Hatter. it's a queer feeling, not seeing fear reflected in the eyes of those around him...and it gives him a quiet thrill which makes him forget himself, leaving Jervis grinning far too wide.

🎩 still, Jervis is a man with certain compulsions. he's partial to an afternoon walk, and at 3 o'clock exactly makes his way out into his new city, looking for nothing in particular and simply enjoying air without walls. however, he soon comes across a quaint little teashop, its sign scrawled in a delightful Shakespearean font and the windows ringed with English ivy. "How serendipitous," Jervis murmurs to himself. "I shan't pass up an opportunity such as this...after all, you'd only have to whisper a hint to Time, and round goes the clock in a twinkling!"

🎩 Jervis orders his usual beverage without incident and takes a seat which gives him an excellent view of the whole teashop. his discerning blue eyes scan the room, but it isn't until he's cleared half the customers that he realises he was searching for a glimpse of Alice's golden hair. Jervis sighs, and takes a long, sad sip of his tea—only to splutter when he spots You in the corner of the room. You are tucked up with your legs crossed, your nose buried in a book. there's a little half-smile on your face, and Jervis watches with interest as you chuckle at something you read. he stares at You and the book, and an icy chill of recognition works its way down his spine.

🎩 before he can stop himself, Jervis abandons his tea and makes his way over to You. for a full minute he looms over You quite unnoticed, so absorbed You are by your book. after quietly clearing his throat does not catch your attention, Jervis opts to take the direct approach. "Excuse me, my dear." You look up, curious. Jervis smiles with all his teeth—too bright, too intense. "I do hope you'll forgive my impudence, interrupting you on a fine day such as this. But may I ask...what are you reading?"

🎩 "Oh!" You say with a giggle. You turn the book towards Jervis, revealing the cover. "I'm reading Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. It's my favourite story."

[undiscovered-horizon]

Imagine being the one who releases Morpheus. - Part 3 A/N: I've got other WIPs and requests but Emo Brooding Morpheus and Gentle Warm Reader is a brainrot I welcomed a little too warmly

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [ENDING] [ALT. ENDING] || Sandman-inspired playlist

🫀REQUESTS ARE OPEN🫀

"Have you found them?"

Your voice was hardly audible over the sound of crashing waves and screaming seagulls. The wind kept tugging at your clothes, gnawing at your skin and soon you found yourself feeling cold. The warm sunrays, sporadically emerging from behind the grey clouds, were a pleasant relief as they gently brushed against your face. Spring never comes soon enough...

"What exactly do you mean?" Morpheus asked.

The reason why he accompanied you on your walk back home was a lovely secret - one that might be ruined the moment someone tries to learn it. To your satisfaction, he never questioned why you were walking on the sand and not the bricked boulevard, which would have been a lot more comfortable. Despite the sheer pleasure that it brought you, your choice of route was motivated by something more profane: the loneliness that you shared. Morpheus would never admit that himself, you could already tell but he needed to talk to someone as much as you did. In that moment he was about as human as an entity can get and yet he was never going to realize that; when people recognize each other's loneliness as their own they form a connection a little too deep to be captured by a language and far too strange for the mundane world.

"Your belongings, naturally. The jewel, the pouch..." you counted as you recalled the wonderful and strange trinkets he had with him that day, "the creepy mask," you added as your face involuntarily turned into a grimace thinking about the unnerving bone contraption he wore. "Father seemed very content with his, well, theft."

Morpheus suddenly stopped. His eyebrows furrowed slightly and those cold, blue eyes stared into yours with astonishing intensity. The cold wind pulled at his hair as it brushed against his forehead. Looking at his face, you could see the small moves of his jaw as he clenched its muscles.

"Do you know anything of them?"

His voice didn't waver and considering his alarmed appearance, it was an impressive feat. The longer you admired his otherworldly composure the more you grew convinced that you had misinterpreted it the first time you had seen him: what painted his expression blank was not the lack of emotions behind it but rather a certain reluctance in feeling sensations that were already there. Such a disconnect was strangely human for a king of dreams, not to mention horribly forlorn. If one desires no relation to their feelings, how could one ever relate to another being?

"I'm afraid I don't," you answered in a mild tone. "I've only heard rumours among the manor staff as though your gem had been stolen by my father's mistress. But, unfortunately, I cannot speak for the reliability of that hearsay. Even if that were true, I haven't the foggiest where she's gone."

"What of the pouch and the helmet?" he coexed. It seemed as if the remnants of his hope long gone were being washed away with each wave that crashed against the white sand of Southend-on-sea.

"Hard to say," you said with a shrug. Digging your hands further into the pockets of your coat, you began walking again. "Perhaps they're locked away in the deepest dungeon underneath the mansion or maybe they were sold on the black market. In any case, I'm afraid I can't even try to inquire about that. My letters were never answered."

"You have written letters to your father?"

"No, not to Rodrick," you said quietly as you absentmindedly shook your head. There was another for whom your heart broke - someone who might never know the amount of love you once had for them. "I wrote to Alex. I know he hasn't been exactly kind to you but he's an exceptional boy. He will grow up to be a great man, I'm sure of that. Although, I'm afraid I shan't get to see that..."

Morpheus silently studied your somber expression as you looked at the faraway horizon. Somewhere there, where sky dipped his toes in the endless waters, you saw all the magnificent possibilities of Alex's future. A sad smile appeared on your face as if those fantasies made you both proud and completely heartbroken. For the second time, Morpheus began wondering why humans were capable of feeling such contradicting emotions at the same time.

A tear fell from your eye. It glistened in the afternoon sun with a myriad of colours as if misery could once be breathtaking. As the teardrop run down the curve of your cheek, Morpheus instinctively raised his hand but only slightly like some anxious thought at the back of his head prohibited him from moving his arm further. It was the very same hesitation that had decided about the fate of the world more than once.

He thought something you had told him all those years ago when you said you wished your brother never had died. Back then he didn't quite understand the difference - the small difference, a change of perspective - that made your choice different from your father's. But now, watching the glistening tear on your cheek, Morpheus felt a fraction of understanding due to nothing more but his selfishness: instead of wishing to brush away your tear, he wished you never had cried.

"I'm so sorry, I just miss him a lot," you whispered. A sniffle and a deep sigh left your lips. "Oh, only now do I realize my utter lack of manners," you resumed the conversation. With a frantic move of your hand, you brushed away the stray tear. You forced a gentle smile on your face and Morpheus grew angry, although he couldn't quite explain why. "You're a king, are you not? Should I not call you 'your majesty'?"

"There is no need for that." The cold tone of his voice never once revealed the silent affections he had pondered just before. "You are not one of my subjects."

"As you wish, Dream of the Endless. I may not know where to look for your belongings but I do have a burning suspicion that we will not find them among those cold sands and murky waters. As much as it pains me to say so, we should leave this lovely town as soon as we can."

"My affairs are not of your concern."

You stopped walking only to look at him. For a moment, your kind face stared into his eyes - they were such an exceptional shade of blue. Their cool hue was both haunting and dazzling, perhaps serving as an adequate showcase of their owner's nature. It was a wonderful thought that no other but Morpheus inspired the saying that 'eyes are the window to the soul'.

"I want them to be," you confessed before continuing to walk towards your house.

Morpheus couldn't follow your step. He wasn't sure what to make of your words or most of all - whether you actually meant them, at least in the same way he understood them. The longer he listened to the echo of your confession inside his head, the more the realized that only the reasonable part of him desired to dismiss your decision. Yes, deep inside Morpheus wanted you to be concerned with his affairs. Maybe one day, when he lets that intimate thought resound in his mind, he'll realize he wanted to be your concern.

Looking over your shoulder, you noticed that Dream hadn't moved from his spot. His dark attire was a startling contrast to the white sand under his feet and the greyish-blue water behind him. The cold wind kept nipping at his hair and clothes and yet his skin was just as pale, not a shade of red or purple revealed that he could be cold in that weather.

"The world is spinning, your majesty," you yelled over the crashing of waves and seagulls' calls. "We can't just stand on it."

___ Tagging people who were interested in a follow-up: @rosaren2498 @jessiboobdbdb @chantzmar @lexi-anastasia @bisexualunicronrunningloose

[amoransia]

Really late, but here's my ekuoto chapter 70 commentary. Nothing special, just me freaking out. You know. The usual.

Watch out for spoilers!

Dante got a very special dialogue balloon with "..." in it. Which is curious to me. I'm sure it means some sort of reflection or surprise happening within him; I really want to what he's thinking. How do you feel? Knowing that the that child you were entrusted can't even bear to be awake anymore? That he runs to escapism? Must suck. Anyway.

On the other hand, dearest Daniel is real composed. Good job on getting info out of Belphegor. That's not really a high bar, though lmao... I mean, how are you a demon and can't LIE? Embarrassing... Go back to demon high school or something. Fall from grace again! The whole premise of your existence is being a lying thing that leads people to sin, and you're here having communication issues??? Dude. That's so moe.

Everyone thinking Belph's got something up his sleeve is fucking hilarious. No. Sorry. He's not Kira or anything like that. It's not all according to his "keikaku". He's just kinda dumb and suffers from Villain Monologue Syndrome...

Him saying "my witch", though... ough! (takes critical hit)

Really funny how he showed him off sleeping and everything. Why are you bragging? Is this something to show off? I guess it is for you... I'd be embarrassed if all my coworkers suddenly saw me sleeping on a plasma 100" inch TV, though. Maybe have a little consideration! Also, I don't think anyone's mentioned this before, but I think it's a cool detail that Priest's in a fetal position. Not only does this position bring one comfort, but it can also represent how he's about to be "reborn" as a witch of Sloth. The sphere he's sleeping in can kinda be a uterus, right?

Belphegor and Mikhail replying to each other while Leah was suffering out of confusion was funny. She got the straight man role forced onto her. Miha's "I see!" was cute. Very casual, as if he wasn't talking to a Demon Lord lol. To be fair, Bel is not really intimidating.

Meanwhile, Vir is busy trying to lead his shounen manga team to victory... (or not really.) They'll definitely get some piece of Belphegor though. I wonder what it'll be... he doesn't have anything like Asmodeus' eyes sticking out, so this is a mystery to me.

Me when I get excited about an interest of mine and end up yapping too much

Dante and Vergilius are heading to the same place, so they'll meet up again... I'm looking forward to the mess that comes out of that 👀.

Imuri needs to step up her game, or I'll be taking matters into my own hands because this is ridiculous. Femme Fatale? Wtf are you talking about. Fraudmuri. The Demon Lord of Fraud. Her true title.

Her biggest crime so far is being more in love with the idea of being in love with Priest than actually caring for him. Does that make sense? So far, she hasn't done any effort in actually coming to know him. She needs to KNOW!!!! At least I can respect that she also takes male rivals seriously... and her aggressiveness towards them. Lole.

She doesn't call Priest "sleepyhead" in the JP raws. I don't really mind the addition, but I thought it was worth noting here anyway. Makes it cute.

"It'll be over soon" Naw bro Imuri is coming at you with a fucking sledgehammer. Watch out.

Tiny Imuri is so fawking cute. I've been craving these Imuri flashbacks for forever because we know virtually nothing about her. What moves her. Why does she long to love!! We'll know in due time, I guess. But please show me a bit of it, Aruma-sensei...

Asmodeus being considerate enough to make sexual things vague to Imuri is nice, but it confuses me a bit. Well. I shan't dwell on it, lest my head blows up.

Imuri seems to have some complex about being a demon with no demon power, because she keeps asserting that she is a demon? Am I explaining this properly? Like in this chapter (ch.70) and chapter 3.

Anywho.

Imuri imagining the BL route... save me... my fucking sides... I burst out laughing the first time my eyes laid on that panel. True to her succubus nature, she didn't even consider the possibility of them using blood or whatever else instead of straight-up KISSING. Those are still bodily fluids, right?? Calm down, girl! Stay put!!!

"I'm not letting his first kiss go to some guy that just appeared!!" HE'S BEEN THERE FOR A DECADE! YOU ARE THE NEWCOMER!!! IMURI, GIRL!! You absolute buffoon! Clown, even!

Whew. Lmao.

This arc also feels like a callback to that one "sleeping beauty" comment from chapter 3.

...except their roles have switched.

This time, Imuri will be the one kissing Father on the cheek to wake him up, and it'll be so, so cute. Trust. Trust me. This will happen. (Going insane).

Go and make him your witch, Imuri... Dew it... Make a move... (screaming and crying)

[empressofmankind]

[Part I] [Part II] [Part III] [Part IV] [Part V] [Part VI]

I've been (re) watching One Piece and with the English dubs this time around, and I had forgotten how absolutely solid Crocodile's original voice overs are.

Bury me, I can't handle them.

Mihawk just has not moved in the last 30 minutes or so, lol.

Also, why does that hook rinkle-dinkle like a brass door handle about to come apart? You should probably let Benji take a screwdriver to that before it comes off. I wish I could link 'Beggars Shan't Be Choosers' as to what I am on about, but sad life - I haven't finished editing it yet.

That "Hmm?" noise he makes when turning to look at Mihawk has wormed itself into my brain and made itself at home there.

Mihawk has a point. Lets go with his point.

HIS FIRST POINT.

NOT his second point. omg.

[Part VIII]

[bonniewame]

I don't feel loved, but not because I am not loved. But because I don't know whether it's right.

You smile at me? Why smile. Is there some malice you hold between the togetherness of your teeth as you grin at me with crinkles under your beautiful, pretty eyes - I'm so lucky and undeserving - that hide depths of irritation for my presence?

You talk to me? Why converse, when my voice only proves to move you towards annoyance that sets your lips into thin lines, and drags your eyes around in arches? I cannot understand where your sarcasm and seriousness have started and ended, and this distresses me. Would you like me to talk more about it? No, no, I shan't; I talk far too much.

You love me? Why save me. Don't lie, I'll understand. I'm not anyone here's favourite, I sit quietly until called upon - why call? - I ache for love, and yet I'm not sure I'm even liked.

I'm too cheery. Too loud. Too quiet. Too Much. Too obsessive. Too clingy.

I'm sorry I touched your arm, I've been so desperate for you to reach out for me that I've overindulged myself and I apologise for it. I'm sorry I won't leave your side, I'm quite scared of people and you're warm and I have named you Comfort. I'm sorry, I really am, for loving to talk to you, because conversations with you are soothing to the chest, and I like you and your passions, and I hope to talk to you forever if only to make you laugh.

[droughtofapathy]

"Welcome to the Theatre": Diary of a Broadway Baby

2024 Chita Rivera Awards

May 20, 2024 | Special Event | NYU Skirball | Evening | Award Ceremony | 2H 40M

What a special night full of wonderful tributes to the late Chita Rivera. This marks the first year we don't have the legendary Chita Rivera with us. But she was with us. The whole evening was sublime, so here are the standout moments for me.

Highlights from the event:

Host Jared Grimes's freestyle tap-dance routine.

Bebe Neuwirth in a pretty dress with her pink glasses introducing a special staging of "All That Jazz" with Bob Fosse's original choreography.

Stephanie Pope Lofgren's "Kiss of the Spider Woman."

Ben Vereen's tribute speech to Chita. He had the audience inhale, and exhale, and said that was Chita with us. She was all around us in the very air we breathed.

Norm Lewis sang "Bui Doi," and it solidified for me that even a magnificent singer cannot soothe my anger and hatred towards that show. I fucking hate Miss Saigon.

Damn, Debbie Allen looked good. She had her own Chita stories, and introduced "America," with Kyra Sorce (Bernadette Peters' goddaughter) dancing Anita. The Rosalia dancer is the very same one who originated the role in the 2009 production and was featured at the Sondheim 80th Birthday Concert celebration. She looks and sounds exactly the same after fifteen years. I knew her immediately.

David Hyde Pierce gave a marvelous introduction to Lifetime Achievement Award winner Bernadette Peters.

Christ almighty, okay, I am now officially a Kristen Chenoweth convert. I have spent almost two decades being relatively unmoved by her character voice portrayals, but her legit singing? Incredible.

Lea Salonga did something magical that night with her "Move On/Not While I'm Around" medley that cannot be put into words. Just listen.

Truly the best tribute video I've ever seen. Bernadette Peters's life is astounding. I hope they make it available to watch in the future.

I shan't be talking about the actual awards, because I am not entirely pleased.

John Kander also sent in a little video tribute to Chita and Bernadette, and Joel Grey sent his regards and a story.

Verdict: My Soul Transcended Space and Time

A Note on Ratings