#la mort stupide

[katjohnadams]

You know how orgasm is called la mort petite? From now on I'm calling my depression la mort stupide because it's fucking ridiculous I didn't do dishes for four days and now the sink smells like death.

[the-stray-liger]

Someone just blazed h*rry p*tter art into my dashboard I wish they could feel pain when I blocked them for that

[ouchiis]

· · ·  HE'S  DOODLING  HEARTS  IN  HIS  JOURNAL  while  kicking  his  legs  back  and  forth  and  sighing  dreamily  ,    but  he's  writing  '  beelzebub  '  and  '  asmodeus  '  and  '  balam  '  over  and  over  again  on  the  page  in  cursive.

[graveyardmouth]

i need to start using stupid ass tumblr slang in french class. mon ami, je prommy (nouvelle forme de "promettre") tu vas aimer ce livre :3

[doitforbangchan]

La petit mort - K.S

Pairing: Non-idol!Seungmin x reader

Warnings: Afab/fem reader, smut, death. im keeping this vague for the mystery aspect- read at your own risk. Not proofread :)

WC: 4.9k

Happy Halloween yall 🎃 masterlist

“Have you seen the news?” 

“I heard they found the body in the river.” 

“The cops are saying there's a serial killer on the loose.” 

“Another victim was found behind a dumpster all mangled.” 

“Each one is more violent and gory than the rest.”

Everywhere you turned someone was talking about the recent string of murders in your area. For weeks all anyone could talk about was this supposed ‘serial killer’, and after a fifth body was found last night the mania has only increased. Even here at work it was inescapable. The scariest part though, was that you recognized a few of the victims. Not very personally, but you had mingled with them and even flirted with one. And now they were dead. 

“Hey y/n?” 

You jumped as your thoughts were broken and your eyes tore away from your computer screen. Behind you leaning against the opening of your cubicle was your coworker and newly made friend Seungmin. 

“Seung, you scared me!” You scrunched your face at him, then flipped him off when he laughs. 

He brought his hands up and wiggled his fingers at you, “Scared I’m gonna get you like that killer? Ooooo better watch out!” 

You rolled your eyes, “You know, each victim so far has been a man so I think you’re the one who better watch out or you're gonna be next.” You teased him with a giggle.

Seungmin had started working for your company a few months ago, first as a temp then he was hired on as a full company employee. You were both fast friends since you both liked to poke fun. What had started as him teasing you about the Kuromi calendar on your cubicle wall turned into a wonderful friendship and dare you say- a flirtationship. 

“As if.” He scoffed. “I’m not stupid enough to get caught by someone like that.” 

You hummed, “Hm, could’a fooled me.” He scowled at you, causing you to laugh. 

“Well I was gonna invite you to a show tonight, but if you’re gonna be an ass then forget it.” 

“A show? Who’s playing?” You inquired, your interest now peaked. 

Seungmins lips curled into a sinister smirk, “No one important.. Just 3Racha.” 

“No way!” You shot out of your seat in excitement. The shit eating grin on his face told you he was serious. “Ahh Seung!” You launched yourself at him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. You had told him many times how much you loved the group and would love to see them live.

“I don’t know why you’re getting so excited, I revoked my invitation, remember?” His tone was light but still sassy as he jested and hugged you back. 

“Nope! You put it out into the universe, you can’t take it back!” You squealed and hugged him tighter, then remembered you were still at work and had to act in a more professional manner. You released him quickly and took a step back, your face flush with embarrassment as you cleared your throat. “I mean, it sounds like a good time.” 

Seungmin chuckled at your cute change of attitude. “They’re playing at that new venue across town, the small one with the bar. S’ not much but I figured you’d wanna go.” He shrugged in nonchalance. “I can uh, pick you up if you want.” 

You nodded enthusiastically, a bright smile on your face. “That would be great!” 

“Awesome.” He rubbed the back of his neck as if he was suddenly feeling sheepish, a faint pink creeping up his ears. “It’s a date then.” 

The rest of the work day went by so slowly, the hours passing by at a snail's pace making you want to pull your hair out. You weren’t just excited for the concert but to go out with Seungmin. On a date. A real date. So far you had only hung out as friends, usually with at least another person from your friend group so this was a brand new experience. And you were beyond nervous and excited. 

You had worked out the details together before you had gone home to change, deciding you would get there a few minutes early to get a drink or two before it started. After getting home you took a quick shower, then put on a pair of black ripped jeans that hugged your ass just right and a maroon colored corset crop top. Adding a red lip and a smokey eye to complete the look. You hoped Seungmin would like it, you really wanted to impress him tonight. 

At exactly 8:00 there was a knock at your door. You slipped on your sneakers and opened the door. Seungmin was leaning after your doorframe with his hands in his pockets and a grin on his face. He was wearing a black t-shirt and dark wash jeans and boots, looking both comfortable and stylish at the same time. And so so hot. 

His eyes raked over your form, making you mildly self conscious. “What are you looking at?” You said playfully to get his attention off your body. 

His eyes snapped to yours, then they rolled at you, “God forbid I appreciate the outfit you clearly put some effort into. You look great, by the way.. For a gremlin.” 

You smacked his arm making him laugh, then you lightly shoved him away so you could lock your door. “Says the troll.” 

He leads you down to his car and even opens the door for you, making you secretly swoon. The drive over to the venue was nice, he played songs from 3Rachas latest album getting you both pumped for the performance. 

The venue was small, more like a hole in the wall club with a stage in it, but it had a tiny outside area with a fire pit. Luckily it wasn’t that packed yet and the two of you were able to get to the bar pretty quickly. Seungmin paid for your drink no matter how much you had insisted since he had gotten your ticket. 

As Seungmin was talking to the bartender about what drinks you wanted you felt a body come up next to you and lean on the bar. “Hey there, gorgeous. Can I buy you a drink?” 

You looked over to see a decently good looking guy, giving you a flirty look. You shook your head with a polite smile, “No thank yo-” 

“Her boyfriend already bought her one.” Seungmins voice was a borderline growl from behind you. Your head swiveled around to see him glaring at the guy. “Get fucking lost.” 

“Seung..” You said quietly. 

The man put his hands up in defense, “My bad bro, didn’t know. Just trying to shoot my shot.” 

“Well shoot your shot on someone else.” Seungmin handed you your drink then led you away from the bar and towards the stage area. 

“What was that?” You asked in a hushed tone. “Why did you get so hostile?” 

“That guy is a fucking creep, he looked at you like you were a piece of meat.” He sneered, “You don’t need that shit.” He seemed to sense how his change in temperament made you nervous so he dialed it down. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so possessive. I just didn’t like his vibe, it was gross.” 

You placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned into him slightly, “I wasn’t expecting it, is all. And I definitely didn’t expect you to say my boyfriend bought me a drink.”

 He was lucky it was dark or you would have seen how flushed he became. “I uh -well I mean- uhh.” You had never seen him so tongue tied and it was both alarming and adorable at the same time. 

With a coo you reached up and pinched his cheek. “Aw Seung, it’s ok no need to get flustered, you can be my boyfriend if you want too. ” Seung swatted your hand away and scowled at you slightly. “No I’m serious, I do really like you and would love to have you as my boyfriend, Minnie.”

 He broke into a giddy grin. “I mean, since you're practically begging I guess I could be your boyfriend.” You rolled your eyes and reached up and gave his arm a swift pinch. “Ow! I see how it is, you weasel your way into my life then you abuse me? That’s just cruel.” Seungmin couldn’t help but break character at the end and let out a laugh, then pulled you into his arms. 

You hugged him in return. Just as you were about to lean up and kiss him the lights in the room dimmed and the stage lights turned on. You spun around quickly to see the group run on stage. You let out a squeal and grabbed Seungmins hand. This was going to be a night you would never forget! 

It was a little over an hour into the show now. You were dancing and singing along to each song, the drink in your system making you feel extra good. Seung had been beside you bopping along and laughing at your joyful antics. 

“Hey, I’m gonna run to the bathroom real quick.” He leaned in and spoke in your ear. You nodded, giving him a thumbs up. “Do not go anywhere, stay right here please.” He added, his eyes giving you a serious stare. 

“I promise I’ll stay right here.” You kissed his cheek then looked back at the stage. He gave you a pleased smile and left you to your devices. 

It was about 15 minutes later that he returned to you. “Sorry, those lines are long. Did I miss anything good?” 

“Duh it’s all good!” You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck as a slower beat started to play. “But you made it back for my favorite song, sooo I can’t be upset.” He placed his hands on your hips, pulling your body flush against him. Being this close you could see a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead, “are you alright, Min? You look a little.. Off.” 

He shook his head, dismissing your concerns. “Yeah I’m good, s’ just hot in here, there's a lot of people in here.” 

You nodded in understanding. “Well I hope you’re not too hot for a dance?” 

He smirked down at you, “For you? Never too hot.” 

He suddenly twirled you around, making you giggle then he pulled you back into him, his hand in yours. No one else around you was dancing like this, they were all jumping around or being crazy, and it made it feel extra romantic- that it was like the two of you were in your own little world. 

You both swayed together as you looked up at him taking note of all his handsome features. With a bated breath, giving him time to pull away if he wanted, you leaned up slowly and gave him a chaste kiss to his lips. 

With a deep flush to your face you gave him a shy smile. Before you could say anything he grabbed your face and pulled you into a deep kiss. You let out a gasp of surprise then melted into him, letting him run his tongue along your bottom lip. 

You put your hand on his chest as you tasted his mouth, the light lingering taste of his beer making this even sweeter. Now you were certain that tonight was special. You hadn’t had this much fun or been this enamored in a very long time. It was perfect. 

A loud blood curdling scream brought you out of your dreamlike state, making you quickly jump away from Seungmin. 

“THERE’S A BODY IN THE ALLEYWAY”

“HELP! HE’S DEAD OH MY GOD HE’S DEAD!” 

Someone screamed, causing a massive panic to spread over the crowd. Seungmin grabbed your hand before you could even react, yanking you towards the exit. “Time to go.” He said while maneuvering you both around the clusters of people.  

You could hear another person yell out, “SOMEONE CALL THE POLICE!” 

“What the fuck is going on?” You questioned as you went out the exit, your eyes were wild as they flickered to Seungmin in terror. 

“I don’t know, but we’re not sticking around to find out.” He answered, remaining steadfast on getting you both the fuck out of there. 

“Seung..” You clung to him as you entered the parking lot. You could faintly hear the sound of approaching sirens, as someone must have immediately called the police. “I’m scared.” You couldn’t hide the tremble in your voice, “What- what if it’s that serial killer? Oh my god, what if they were there with us?” 

“Y/n, I would never let anything happen to you. I will always protect you.” There was no amusement in his voice as he spoke to you, leading you to the car and opening your door. He leaned in and buckled your shaking form, then rested a hand on your face again making you look at him. “Hey, I’m serious. I will keep you safe. Do you trust me?”

With a shaky breath you nodded, “Yes, I trust you.” 

“Good. Now let me keep you safe by getting the fuck out of here.” 

He climbed into the driver's seat, starting the car and swiftly driving away. Seungmin offered to drive you home but you really did not want to go back there alone and his house was closer. He took you to his place, keeping an arm wrapped around you the whole time as he unlocked his door until it was closed and locked again. 

His house was small, and looking around it was very clean. Borderline too clean. As if it was barely even lived in. Odd, but maybe he just liked his place to be really tidy. 

Seungmin led you to the couch, sitting you down. “I’ll grab you some water, help you sober up a little bit.” 

You nodded and leaned back into the cushions. A minute later he returned with a glass for you. You accepted it with a quiet thank you, taking a much needed sip. It was then that you looked at the clock on the wall and noticed how late it had gotten. 

“Oh shit I didn’t realize it was already almost midnight. I should call an uber or something to take me home.” You took out your phone but it was lowered by Seungs hand. 

“You can stay here if you want. It’s already really late and after everything that happened I don’t think I’d trust a rando to take you home.” 

Thinking about it you came to the conclusion that he was right and you also did not want to spend your night alone. “Ok, only if you don’t mind.” 

“Of course I don’t mind. You’re my girlfriend now after all, you can stay whenever you want.” He smiled warmly then offered you his hand. “Come on, I’ll get you some pjs.” 

His room was a little messier, with his bed not neatly made and a few plants by the window. Seungmin opened his dresser and grabbed some sweats and a baggy shirt, handing them to you. You thanked him and without even thinking about you began stripping. Or maybe you thought about it a little bit, glancing at him when you pulled down your pants to see him gulp then awkwardly avert his eyes. 

After you were dressed in the pjs you threw yourself at his bed, then opened your arms as an invitation for him to join you. He threw his own sweats on and took off his shirt, giving you a quick view of his broad chest. 

Ever since you had met him you had thought Seungmin was cute- sexy even- to an extreme degree. But seeing him tonight revved that up to a hundred. The way he had gotten you out of danger and brought you to safety, how he had stayed calm and collected during the chaos.. He was like your knight in shining armor, and you wanted to thank him personally. 

Seungmin climbed in with a snicker after turning off the light, letting you wrap around him before he pulled the blankets over both your forms. After adjusting to have you resting upon his chest he let out a deep sigh of content. 

“Are you alright, Seung?” You whispered into the darkness after hearing his sigh. You let your hand rest atop his chest, running softly along his skin. 

“More than alright, babe.” He answered then kissed the top of your head. “What about you? That shit was pretty traumatic.” 

You nodded, “Yeah, m’ alright. Happy to be here with you.” You then poked him in the chest, “Don’t let it get to your head though!”

His chest rumbled from his deep chuckles at your antics, “Never.” The hand you had on him very slowly moved down to his stomach, tracing the light trail of hair and making his breath lighty hitch. “What are you up to, little devil?” 

“Nothin,” your answer was coy as you continued to lower your hand, “Just wanted to.. Thank you for keeping me safe tonight.” 

“Oh yeah?” The smirk on his lips was incredibly clear in his voice. One of his own hands came up to pet along the side of your thigh. “Thank me how?” 

Finally you made your way to the front of his sweats, feeling his bulge that was steadily growing under your touch. You kissed his neck tenderly as you palmed him, his whine and buck of his hips giving you the confirmation you needed that he wanted you to touch him just as much as you wanted to give it to him. 

“Nnngh, so that’s how. Alright sweetheart, you can thank me in any way you want.” He groaned slightly, the husk in his voice causing a flood in your own underwear. 

With tentative movements you pulled the band of his sweats down his thighs until his member was released. The man let out a slight hiss when your hand made contact with his now bare skin. From what you could tell by feeling alone he was big. Big enough that you couldn’t even fully wrap your fingers around him. You briefly wondered if that would even fit inside of you. 

“That’a girl. Go ahead and rub the tip fo’ me.” You did as he requested, your thumb running over the slit on his tip and collecting the precum that was beginning to leak out and using it as lubricant on his dick. “Fuck, that’s it baby.” 

Seungmins fingers traveled from your thigh to your own covered center, giving you a quick circle motion over the bottoms then diving his hand into them, finding your now drenched core. “Mm, Seung.” You whined when his fingers expertly found your clit. 

“Jesus christ you're so wet. What made you so sopping, honey? You like using your hand to get me off, hmm?” He had a bite to his voice that was both teasing and dominating that made you flood even further. As if he could feel it he commented, “ Fuck you do like it don’t you? Bet you like my own fingers buried in your sweet cunt too huh?” Then he shoved two long digits into you, making your hips buck into him and a wanton moan escaped you. 

With a rapid nod you clenched down on his fingers, “Uh huh, so good Seung.” 

“I know love, I know. But you know what would feel even better?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Let me put my cock in you instead of my fingers.”

 You clenched down on him again at the suggestion, “Yes please. Want it.” As soon as the words left your lips you were suddenly thrown onto your back with your head bouncing off his pillow, a gasp of surprise leaving your lips. The sheets were torn off of the both of you and your bottoms were yanked down and off your legs as well, until your lower half was completely bared to him. 

He climbed on top of you and crashed his mouth against yours, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip making you squeal from the small burst of pain. You could feel him lineup his member with your hole, his tip going to push into you slowly. 

Your back arched at the intrusion. You were right, he was big. So big that you could feel your walls squeezing the life out of him as he stretched you out. “Seuunnggmiiinn oh my gooooood.” You cried into his neck as he fully seated himself inside of you.

“Fuck babe, you’re so fucking tight, you might just squeeze my dick off if you don’t relax.” Seungmin groaned, the bliss clearly overtaking him as he tried not to move too much and let you adjust. After a few moments you started to get used to his size within you and began to relax a little. “There we go, sweet thing. Imma move now, alright?” 

“Mmhmm.” 

With your go ahead he slowly started thrusting into you. You could feel each drag of his thickness against your walls, the sensation making you throw your head back in pleasure, your eyes half open and watery. Holding himself up with one arm he used the other to rub harsh figure eights on your sensitive nub that resides between you.

“God your so fucking beautiful.” He moaned, “Can’t believe I have the most perfect woman in my bed and that you're all mine.” He picked up his thrusts, the sound of skin slapping together filling the room. “M’ never letting you go. Not now that I have you. Never.” 

His words should have been alarming and at any other time they would have made you question what he meant- but your brain was turning to mush due to the intense amount of pleasure he was giving you. You could barely remember your own name nevermind the nonsense he was spewing. 

You could feel the dam within you about to break, your high about to crash over you. “S-seungminnie, I’m gonna- gonna cum.” 

“Do it. Cum all over my cock, baby. Give it to me now.” 

With a scream you came, the band snapping and giving way to euphoria, his name a jumbled mess as you clung to him and shook. “Min- Seung- minnie oh my god, nnghhh.” 

“Mmmm, good girl, feels so fucking good. Gonna cum, gonna fill you up and make you mine. Gonna pump you full.” He practically growled and put his face into your neck, sucking harsh dark marks onto your skin as a show of ownership. There was a sudden hotness that shot inside of you, coating your insides with his white essence. It was a good thing you were on birth control or you were sure that you would have gotten pregnant. 

Seungmin trembled as he finished giving you his load, his arms threatening to give out as he lowered his body to rest atop you. The sweaty man laid gentle kisses on your now marred skin, the softness being a great comfort for you. 

After a few moments he rolled off of you, curling you up into his side. You were so exhausted that as soon as he had exited you you had begun to drift off into a deep slumber, nuzzling into him until darkness took you. 

You were awoken by the sun shining through the windows the next morning. Blearily opening your eyes you looked around your surroundings, seeing you were still in Seungmins bed and you were still very naked. A heat rushed to your face when you remembered what you had done last night, a giddiness filling you. The man was beside you, snoring quietly as he kept sleeping. 

As much as you wanted to cuddle him and go back to sleep you could feel the remnants of your naughty activities coating your lower region. With a sigh you swung your legs over the edge, grabbing the fallen sweats and slipping them on. You noticed your phone on the nightstand and grabbed it on your way to the bathroom. You decided to go out into the hall bathroom as to not wake up Seungmin. 

While you were doing your business you opened your social media. As you were scrolling you came upon the news report for what happened at the venue last night. Curiosity got the better of you so you clicked on the link.

 Immediate shock filled you as you read the article. There was a picture of the victim from last night, and a deep chill rocked you when you saw that it was the man who offered to buy you a drink that had been murdered. According to the report his face was bashed in against a brick wall until his head had become mush. 

You were so engrossed and mortified by the article that when you left the bathroom you hadn’t noticed you opened the wrong door, and instead of going back into Seungmins room you found yourself in an entirely different room. 

A gasp of horror left you when you took in the contents of the new room. Along the walls were pictures of men- not just any men but all of the victims of the serial killer. Next to their face pictures were cut outs from news articles about their murders and graphic photographs of the crime. 

What the actual fuck is this? Why would he have all this?

Your eyes scanned the contents, seeing laid out maps of homes and locations. There was a deafening beating within your chest as your brain ran a million miles a second, trying to figure out just what you were seeing. With shaking legs you backed out of the dark room, not realizing you were no longer alone until your back met a sturdy chest. 

You spun around to find his hard stare, your own eyes wide with fright.

“You weren’t supposed to find this.” Seungmin spoke lowly, a sternness in his tone that sent shivers down your spine.

“S-seungmin, I-i don't understand, what is all of this?” You tried to back away from him but he grabbed you by your arms before you could, his fingers digging roughly into you making you wince. “Ow, Seungmin let me go.”

“I can’t. Don’t you see I can’t let you go? Not now when I have you. After everything I did for you, I can never let you go.”

Pure fright was the only thing that filled you as you came to realize exactly what he meant.

“Seungmin.. What did you do?” 

His face never changed as he yanked you to him forcefully, his nails threatening to leave bloody crescents from how hard he gripped you. You tried to swing your arms to get him off of you but he was too strong, pinning your arms down and shoving you vehemently down the hall until he reached another room you had never been. 

Seungmin swiftly opened the door then using his strength he shoved you into the room, your body falling to the hard floor. He closed it behind him quickly, his dark orbs trained on you. 

You were crying now, salty tears steadily streaming down your face. With a coo Seungmin crouched in front of you, reaching his hand out to wipe your tears. You shuffled back away from him, trying to create as much distance between you as possible. 

Seungmin sighed in frustration and stood up again. He began pacing and pulling at his hair, “I should have known you would have a bad reaction. I should have waited before bringing you here. But fuck I just couldn’t help myself. Stupid, I’m so fucking stupid.” 

“I- I don’t.. Seungmin what is going on?” You were practically begging for answers. 

“They had to go.” He said simply. “Each one of them was a threat to you- to us. I just knew if I let them live they would pursue you. They’d try to put their slimy disgusting hands on you, touch you as if they owned you. No, no I would- could never let that happen.” He crouched again, invading your space making you squeal and turn your head away. He grabbed your face and forcibly turned your head to face him. “You belong with me, not with them.” 

You tried to shake your head but his grip didn’t let you. “Seungmin.. This is insane. Yo-you can’t just kill someone because they talked to me.” 

A borderline evil smirk overtook his face, “But that’s the thing, I can. And I did. For you.” He leaned in closer so your noses were touching. Your whole body was shaking in complete fear. You couldn’t believe that the man you were falling for was a serial killer. That the playful, sassy man who danced with you and played smash bros could possibly be this twisted and lethal. 

His next words instilled terror in you that would stay with you for as long as you lived. 

“Everything I do is for you. But don’t worry, babe. Now that I have you here safe with me I don’t need to kill anyone else. Because no one is ever going to come near you again. It’ll be just you and I forever.” 

The deep pit within you told you exactly what he meant; you were never leaving here. He was going to keep you trapped in his web until your last breath. 

©doitforbangchan 2024

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Permanent tags: @athforskz , @jehhskz and @seungfl0wer

[mabelstone]

La Petite Mort

hozier x f!reader

part four of lullabies <3 | part three | masterlist

cw: sex sex sex love making ❤️ no other warnings really, it's pretty gushy

word count: 2.6k

taglist: @princezty @somethinglikero @jimihendrixpopfigure @the-imperfectgirl-blog @l1nd3n xo

Hours later, the buzz of the alcohol had completely fled my system, leaving me with a residual fatigue and a love struck smile. It felt wrong, but simultaneously, nothing had ever felt so right or natural. Like the sense of deja vu that confirms you are exactly where you're supposed to be.

"Hey," he gently shook my arm from where I was sitting in a booth, almost unable to keep my eyes open. "You 'right?"

"Mhm," I grinned, fighting back a yawn. "And how are you, hotshot?"

"Overwhelmed," he huffed, extending his hand to me. He never enjoyed crowds despite their tendency to form around him everywhere he went. "Let's go home."

I let him lead me out, warmth flooding my cheeks at the simple gesture. The bite of the cold was sharper than earlier, my teeth instantly chattering. He, of course noticed immediately, shucking himself of his jacket, draping it over my shoulders.

"Andy," I shook my head trying to fight him off, but it was no use. "Now you're gonna get cold."

"I have at least three layers on at all times, the cold fears me," he joked, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Thank you," I pouted at him, overwhelmed at such a small gesture. But it wasn't small to me. Everything Andy did was grand in my eyes. "So chivalrous."

"Well, you know me," he shrugged, stifling a grin of his own.

I started humming the chorus of tonights' song as we walked, unable to remember any of the words other than imagine being loved by me, and the beautiful melody that was sure to hang around for days.

"Don't do that," he laughed with embarrassment, slinging his arm around my shoulders and pulling me close.

"Why not? It's a beautiful song, after all," I shrugged, unable to hide my smile that stretched from ear to ear. "And wasn't I the inspiration?" I teased, and it was now his turn to glow red.

"Mhm," he grinned, eyes focused on the road ahead of us. We were nearly back at the car, and the adrenaline was beginning to flood my bloodstream. "That's why you liked it, 'uh?."

"So good," I agreed, walking a bit closer to him that now our arms bumped occasionally. "Did you mean what you said? In the song?"

"'Course I did," he chuckled, unlocking the car and opening my door for me. He even helped me buckle my seatbelt. "Don't worry, it's just a song."

He climbed into his side now, the faintest pink tint to his cheeks, but otherwise, unbothered. I, on the other hand, was trying to get my stupid heart to slow back to normal.

I was fighting the urge to climb over into his lap and beg him to do all the things he'd been imagining. Instead we drove in what would appear to be comfortable silence from an outsiders' perspective. Obviously I didn't know what he was thinking, but I can promise you there was no trace of innocence in my thoughts. The air in the car was thick with desire, leaving me on the verge of choking on the tension.

We exchanged few words on the drive back to his, stealing bashful glances here and there. When the car stilled to a park, I couldn't keep my mouth shut any longer.

"Andrew?" My heart continued to pound in my ears, his brows raising slightly in encouragement. "I want you," I confessed.

He turned to face me and I could see his quickening pulse through the thin skin of his neck. He swallowed thickly, pupils blown so wide I could scarcely see any green.

His gaze flitted between my lips and my eyes, and I'm sure I too was all pupil at this point. I couldn't help myself, leaning over the centre console to feel his lips on mine. My eyes fluttered shut, as did his, and I swear something inside of me had come alive for the first time in my life.

He was better than I had ever imagined.

Lips warm and soft, adding the perfect amount of pressure that made me crave more and more. His hand slipped up the back of my head, cradling its entirety in his palm.

He pulled back slowly, his hand still at the base of my skull. His lips were plump and looked absolutely delicious, my heart aching at the loss of contact.

"I want you, you know that," his voice was lower than before, our faces still close enough that I could feel the tickle of his breath ghosting my lips. "But you just got out of such a long relationship."

"You've treated me better these past few weeks than he did in six years," I reached my hand up to cup his face. His skin was warm and soft, the scratch of his stubble in my palm pulling me back down to Earth, reminding me that this wasn't just another daydream of mine. "Please, kiss me."

And he did, pulling me in as close as the confinement of his car would allow. It felt like coming up for air after holding your breath under water, like the relief you get when a siren finally stops blaring. His scent, his warmth, his gentle breaths exhaled through his nose, mingling with mine as we moved in synchronicity, as if we'd rehearsed this a million times. I'm starting to suspect he must have been having similar dreams of me.

I pulled away this time, giving him my best doe eyes through hooded lids as I suggested, "shall we go inside?"

Without a second thought, Andy was out of the car, opening my door for me. Within moments, our lips were connected again, my arms draped around his neck, his hands quick to grab my waist. He lead me into his house, our mouths moving fast, passion coursing through our veins like electricity. I squealed in surprise when he lifted me, wrapping my legs around his waist as he carried me up the stairs. We were a mess of giggles and laboured breathing, bumping into walls, and desperately grabbing at one another.

Despite the desperation in our actions, he softly laid me onto his bed, crawling in between my thighs before kissing me again. I ran my hands up the sides of his torso, feeling him shudder slightly under my touch.

I could feel his hard on digging into my thigh, and suddenly my clothes were the biggest inconvenience known to man. "Show me, Andy," I breathed in between kisses, his lips now on my neck, my knickers well on their way to being drenched. "All the things you've been wanting to do to me."

He let out a deep, guttural sound somewhere between a strangled moan and a whine. He reluctantly pulled himself from me, slipping his shoes off in two fluid movements. He knelt before me, my entire ankle easily in the grip of his hand. He unbuckled my heels, slipping them off with a kiss to each of my calves. He slowly ran his hands up my legs, planting a trail of kisses upon each inch of skin he touched, the heat in my core beginning to boil.

He looked up through his head of curls, eyes dark and hungry. "You sure you want this, darlin'?"

I nodded desperately, hands instantly finding their way into his hair to bring his lips to mine again. His tongue prodded at my bottom lip and I let him in my mouth without hesitation, allowing him to explore. This only caused my desire for his tongue elsewhere to grow insurmountably.

All of my senses came to life when I felt his hand moving toward my inner thigh, opening my legs wide for him to grant him full access. His fingers made their way to my core, a soft groan fleeting from his lips. "Fuck," he breathed against my lips, slipping a ridiculously long finger inside of me with ease. I moaned into his mouth, one of my hands reaching down to grab his wrist, encouraging him to insert another. He did, curling his fingers with such precision that if I my brain weren't staticky from the feeling, I'd question how many lovers he'd had. He continued to pump his fingers in and out of me, kissing my neck as he did so, eyes glued to my face as if he were memorising every expression he pulled from me.

"Need to feel you," I choked out breathlessly, desperately cupping his face. "Please."

He smiled wickedly, kissing my lips once more before pulling his fingers out, dipping them straight into his mouth. My jaw nearly detached from my face at the gesture, my stomach flipping harder than ever. I watched in awe as he pulled his shirt off, his pants soon to follow, absolutely shocked that the shy, awkward, nerdy Andrew I thought I knew did not exist within these walls. I could see the outline of his cock through his boxers, swallowing hard. How on Earth was that going to fit? I sat up to rid myself of my dress, allowing it to pool around my ankles as he watched on, cock twitching beneath the thin cotton.

I made my way to him, helping him remove the last bit of clothing keeping us apart, eyes nearly bulging out of my head when I saw him. All of him. He may be the most beautiful man I have ever seen.

His hands quickly found my face, reeling me in with those lips once more before laying me on the bed again. His eyes searched mine again for any doubt, not finding any, but something else. "You okay?"

"Yes, just preparing," I laughed, only half joking.

"You're okay, you can take it," he kissed my cheek softly, lining himself up with my entrance. I gasped at the sharp sting of the stretch, holding my breath briefly. He halted all movement, no doubt used to this happening. "Tell me when, baby."

I rested my hands on his shoulders, taking a deep breath before nodding. He slowly slipped the rest of his length in, our beautiful harmonisation of moans filling the air.

It was only painful for a moment before I was practically begging for more. He was as long and thick as you’d expect, but God, nothing could have prepared me. He began to form a steady rhythm, thrusting in and out of me while I whined under his touch.

To feel his body weight on mine, his warmth, his scent, his love - I had ascended from my human form. I caved, begging him for more, begging him to fuck me how he wanted to.

He captured my lips with his mid way through a thrust, his cock slamming into that spot that made my brain fuzzy. I dug my nails into his shoulders, gasping into his mouth, “just like that.”

He obliged, one of his hands steadying himself with the headboard, the other cupping the back of my head. I wondered why, until he really found his rhythm.

With each delicious thrust, he would effectively hit my g-spot, making me weak as jelly under him, barely able to form words. My head was hitting his hand with the sheer force of each thrust, and I’m sure the thought of him protecting my skull would make me swoon if I weren’t on the brink of tears, producing noises I didn’t know I was capable of.

“Andy, Andy,” I chanted his name breathlessly, unable to even open my eyes as pleasure cradled my entire being. I’d never heard my voice this desperate ever, to the point that I had no autonomy over my words and vocality, like my soul was speaking without getting confirmation from my brain first. “You- feel- so- good,” I was near crying between each thrust, my mouth completely dry from all the panting.

“You feel good too, darlin’,” he grinned, removing his hand from the bed head and dropping it down to my clit. “So fuckin’ good.”

My jaw went slack, no coherent words falling from my mouth, just rhapsodies of praise in the form of whimpers and laboured breaths.

"Want you to cum for me," he breathed, his thrusts growing sloppy ever so slightly.

"Keep going," I barely got the words out, the coil in my stomach tightening as he dragged me closer to the edge with every word, every thrust, every skilled dance of his fingers over my clit. "Andy," I warned loudly, the high pitch of my tone sounding foreign to my ears, unsure if had even fallen from my tongue. "Oh, my God, I'm gonna-"

Within an instant, I unravelled beneath his touch, moaning a string of curses I couldn't even hear as the static in my mind grew overwhelming. I shook uncontrollably, every muscle of mine growing limp yet tensing and spasming at the same time. My back arched and my toes curled, crescent moon shapes from my fingernails marking his beautiful skin; a reminder to us both of how euphoric he had made me feel. My orgasm rippled through me like waves in a storm, pummelling me over and over as I couldn't stop my eyes from rolling into the back of my head, unable to open them, unable to close my mouth as a slurry of cries dripped from my soul. Unsure of what came over me, I begged, “please cum in me,” wanting nothing more than to feel every ounce of his loving.

When I finally came back down to Earth, the waves crashed into him, the most angelic sounds flooding the four walls we were confined to. Overstimulation wracked my bones, panting into his mouth as he rode out the rest of his high, a clash of tongue and teeth as he kissed me once more. He pumped into me a few more unsteady times, his arms shaking as they struggled to hold his weight any longer.

He pulled out of me slowly, the loss of contact leaving me with a hollow feeling, immediately clinging to him the second his head hit the pillow beside me.

“Andrew,” I breathed in disbelief, titling my head to see the tired smile on his face. “I don’t even have words.”

“Could say the same to you!” He sighed, content with his arm around me, our bodies gently slowing back to normal. “What an angel.”

You are the angel, is what I wanted to say. Instead, I basked in his warmth, his scent flooding my senses as my soul unwillingly reconnected with my body.

“Write a song about this, would ya?” I laughed against his skin, tracing shapes into his chest, feeling like I was the main character in a cheesy rom-com.

“Way ahead of ya, love,” he grinned back, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head. “Wanna have a shower? Or is that too much?”

I looked up at him with furrowed brows and pursed lips. “Andrew. There’s a chance you just knocked me up. No, showering together is not too much.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” he groaned, abruptly rolling out of bed, picking me up bridal style and carrying me to the bathroom. He laughed devilishly at the squeak he elicited from me, kissing my face while I smiled and giggled like a fool.

Fuck.

He towered over me, the beads of water dripping from his hair onto me. He looked beautiful, contented in serenity, similar to how I was feeling, I'm sure. He lathered my body in soapy suds, nothing remotely sexual in the gesture. I did the same for him, enveloped in the warmth of his skin, acclimated to the same temperature of the water. If this were my last moment on Earth, I would die happy. Andrew had a way of making me forget every bad moment of my life. Every poor decision, every tear cried for a man who only thought about himself. Surely, this was too soon to be labelled as love. But it sure felt like it.

"You are so beautiful."

i hope u liked it if u didn't tell me if u did leave requests of something you'd like to see in this next xo and i'm aware of all the run on sentences, i'm sorry if that makes it difficult to read. i will not shut up! even in text

[sgiandubh]

What do you think of the theme “we’re all adults here” starz is using

Dear Theme Anon,

That is a beautiful question and I think this is your lucky day: with a tropical night ahead (35C/ 95F - nope, that is not a bra size 😱🤣), we simply live at night, like Superman. So, while I am slowly cooking my famed (but tedious) Circassian chicken recipe for tomorrow night's semiformal dinner, it is with great pleasure that I am answering it.

Please excuse the length. I know what I am able to do when I really like a question and yours got me immediately interested. Thank you for that.

Funnily enough, I was just having a very enriching conversation this afternoon, with a very, very good friend, who is way more intelligent than I, so she has no desire to write any blogs on Tumblr. On the very same topic you raised, Anon. With her permission, I am going to sum up the gist of it (et merci encore à toi 😘😘).

Let's look at that pic again:

The Craigh Na Dun Fateful Dance of Love and Death is one of the most moving pivotal moments of the entire series. Tens of thousands of women have shamelessly cried all around the world, while watching this (haven't you? I know I have and did it with no grace whatsoever, but pinky promise: don't tell anyone else, please). And then watched and rewatched and rewatched to oblivion, with or without that Kleenex box and that Ben and Jerry icecream at the ready.

You know, it's exactly like Shakespeare writes in Romeo and Juliet's Prologue ( I hope I still remember it...): ' A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life'. Love and Death blended together is one of the most powerful narrative tropes that ever existed. So much so, that a guy named Denis de Rougemont even famously noticed that in French, a single letter separates l'Amour (Love) and la Mort (Death), with seminal implications for our Western World mentality, ever since the Middle Ages. For some mysterious reason, we seem to always be caught completely unguarded when exposed to such ultimate injustice.

Tragic magic. This is exactly what also made OL a cult series, irrespective of its (many) unjustified lengths, its (many) moments of uneven acting and its (many, way too many) bullshit pills thrown at an increasingly jaded and bitterly divided fandom. Life imitating Art was just an unexpected blessing and a curse, that much we shippers know, and I am not planning to dwell on it.

But how long can you continue to sell this product almost exclusively to women, all around the world, especially when you are faced with the prospect of a dragging/delayed merger & acquisition (never a good sign) and an increasingly dwindling number of subscribers (never a good sign, either)? I'd think not for too long, really, even if OL still is one of ***'s biggest success stories ever. How long can you pretend to sell a high-end content to 'premium women viewers', when you know very well that you chose to discard that famed 'female gaze', which turned the series' first season into an instant media phenomenon?

Riddle me that: how to sell this product for a profit and expand that fan base while, at the same time, trying not to lose your loyal hardcore viewership?

This is ***'s first answer - I bet this will be followed by some more things, but let's see what it might mean.

On that poster, the focus is still on The Mythical Couple. Selling that good old famed, surreal chemistry - remind those old fans of that moment they felt all those feels (awww....). At the same time, try and create a need out of thin air - 'you need more'. More of what? Sex? Violence? Sexual Violence? Intrigue? Politics? Political intrigue? Ethics? Dilemmas? Ethical dilemmas? All of the above? None of the above? Stupid poster won't tell, but hey: buy me and I'll speak. Buy. Subscribe. We'll think of a way to keep you hooked - at least for the next season and a half. After all, Season Eight is a study in freestyle. After all, we conveniently leaked the info that 'Erself wrote the finale's script (why risk GoT's epic #shitshow?), so all is fine and dandy.

On par with our Mythical Couple, we have that sword. Oversized. Symmetrically featured. Action, with an intelligent twist - that is a finely wrought blade, after all. Uh-oh: that spells a new, more inclusive target. Male audience. 25 to 75, to be more exact , because the only promise the poster makes is a sobering one: 'more than fairy tales'- color me surprised.

After all, 'we're all adults, here'. Key operating words: 'all' (more inclusivity) and 'adults' (not like in X-rated, but more like in 'serious shite').

Well, then. That would require narrative chutzpah and bold choices. That would require a faster paced script, less of those never-ending side stories and borderline neurodiverse focus on irrelevant details (I am still not done with that Fiery Cross and not even ashamed of it, at this point in time) that do plague The Books. And throw rotten tomatoes at me if you wish (I don't care), that would require the end of that horribly robotic directing - we all know what the hell that means.

Will they be able to keep that high-maintenance standard? One thing I am sure of: when you treat your fandom like shite and drag along endless spells of Droughtlander without as little as a bone thrown in for diversion for months in a row, you'd better hone that blade, darlings and go for a kill. Bring it on. Bring that addictive spice back, stat.

It is my humble understanding *** wishes to create an OL universe. Wanna bet the farm that somewhere in their cartons they do entertain the possibility of (at least) a second season of BOMB? S and C cameos could be a breeze to arrange, after all ( we consider this in theory - I happen to think it could be more complicated than that). The story could be duplicated to oblivion - is it way too outlandish to imagine a season devoted to Mandy and Jem's story through several timelines?

[sixpossumsinatrenchcoat]

la mort en rose

A study on Ryoji, Minato, and the people they love. P3(R) spoilers abound.

“You guys are a weird combo,” Junpei says. “You know that, right?” “What!!” Ryoji gasps. “No way! Minato and I are made for each other! We’re like rice and curry! Peanut butter and jelly! We even finish each other’s…” “Homework,” Minato mumbles, swapping the papers in front of them.

Minato is… quiet.

Not the kind of quiet that makes you a good listener—the kind that makes you seem like you’re not all there. Like even when he’s standing right next to you, he’s really somewhere else, listening to something else. Buried so deep inside himself that not even sound can reach him. Somewhere that light has never touched.

It should make him bad company, but it doesn’t. Minato is exceptional company. Transfixing, even. And it’s not just Ryoji who thinks so. He’s seen Minato’s phone. It’s an endless stream of inbound texts, a hundred colorful characters vying for his attention. Most of which are left unread.

Which should be rude! Shouldn’t it? But when Minato doesn’t text back, it doesn’t feel like an insult. You just sort of assume he had something more important to do.

Maybe it helps that Ryoji is so different. ‘Opposites attract,’ and all that. Minato’s silence gestures at hidden depths, abyssal-dark and ocean-deep. And Ryoji is all surface.

“Something about him just feels so… free,” Ryoji says dreamily. “Do you know what I mean? Like nothing he says is ever forced. Like he’s achieved, oh, I don’t know, nirvana, or something; only he doesn’t have to tell anyone, because he doesn’t have anything to prove.”

“Uh huh,” Yukari says, stifling a yawn.

She’s sitting across the table from him, twirling her straw in her iced latte and trying to look like she’s not bored out of her mind. In her defense, Ryoji is kind of a broken record. It’s all, ‘blah blah blah, Minato, blah blah blah, mirrored souls, compliments and complements and narrative foils and Minato Minato Minato.’ Like, seriously, get a hobby.

When she looks up, Ryoji’s eyes are shining, his hands clasped earnestly. “Don’t you think so, Takeba-san?”

“For sure. Totally.”

She only agreed to go on this stupid date to annoy Minato into actually doing something, instead of just staring holes in the back of Ryoji’s head and brooding at him. But she hadn’t expected to spend the entire date talking about her housemate. Wasn’t Ryoji supposed to be popular with girls?

“…so mysterious!” Ryoji is gushing now. “You get the sense that he’s always thinking about something important, something real.”

“Mhmm.” A few tables over, there’s a girl wearing the cutest little cropped halter, hemmed with lace and embroidered with tiny purple roses. If Ryoji were just a little less attentive—if he’d go to the bathroom, at least—Yukari could probably sneak away for long enough to ask where she bought it. But he hasn’t.

The shirt isn’t really in her palette. That girl has the hair for it, long and dark and silky-straight, but Yukari is a summer; jewel tones wash her out. Maybe it comes in pink?

“…do you do, anyway?”

Yukari looks up to find Ryoji smiling at her, clearly waiting for an answer. Oops. She was totally not listening. “Sorry, what?”

“In your club! The Specialized Extracurriculur…” He frowns thoughtfully. “You know, I’m not sure I’ve ever heard the full name! Just the acronym. You have to admit, it’s a little mysterious.”

Oh. Oh. Unfortunately, Mitsuru explained their cover story back when Yukari was busy hating her. And now it’s way too late to ask. “Oh, um… our senpais would be better at explaining…”

“I don’t think Kirijo-san likes me very much,” Ryoji says morosely.

“What,” Yukari snickers. “Did you make a pass at her or something?”

“I only said that, with that hair and those boots, she’d—”

“No, stop, I literally don’t want to know. You didn’t hit on Sanada-senpai too, did you?”

“Well…”

(Hah!!) “You didn’t.”

“If it’s any comfort, I don’t think he noticed.”

She can’t help snorting a laugh. “Ryoji-kun! You are relentless!”

“People like it!” he protests, but he’s grinning, too. “It makes them laugh!!”

“Some people. If you try that stuff on the wrong person, you’re gonna get your butt kicked, you know.”

“Well…”

“Oh my god. Please tell me this story.”

To her relief, Ryoji seems to forget about SEES after his second story makes her laugh so hard that coffee shoots out her nose. And good riddance. Girl talk is way more fun than prying into her supernatural extracurriculars.

You can read the rest of chapter one here: ao3.org/works/58634896/chapters/149399371

[shouyuus]

─── YOU BETTER WORK ⭑.ᐟ

wip tag game!!!

not actually tagged lmfao but i saw both @wttcsms and @suguwu participate on le dash so i thought i'd use that as an excuse u_u

> make a new post with the names of all the files in your wip folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous > let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! > tag others to continue the game

tagging: @hiraethwa @hiraethwrote @ryescapades @rabbbitseason @dira333 + anyone else who sees this and wants to do it!!!

i have a decent amount of wips in notion + fragments of thoughts in my drafts on tumblr -- here are just some of them!

bookstore!reader x professional athlete!rin who goes to the physical therapy clinic next to ur bookstore

making out w/ sae in the university stacks

jealousy x streamer!kenma wherein a twitch viewer is flirting w/ him on stream and u decide to do something about it

zoro's sensitive nips (nsfw)

chef!character x chef!reader both on a cooking competition show together

giving hawks a massage

being tobio's physical therapist

"our pleasures" - host club!bnha

"red lines" - ceo!tobio

biker!bakugo hc's

trustfund!shouto x bakery shop reader

"stupid in love" - tobio

insatiable!! - rin, nagi, oliver, isagi (nsfw)

insatiable!! - bakugo, shouto, hawks, dabi (nsfw)

"roll the dice, hit rewind" - tentatively suo

"mirror, mirror" - itoshi rin (nsfw)

"one true love" - tobio

"the wreck and not the story of the wreck" - sakura

"la petit mort" - opla!zoro (nsfw)

love bites, pt ii - kuroo, akaashi, iwa, osamu

"to love the sea" - rafayel (nsfw)

"just a little taste" - xavier (nsfw)

"hit me with your best shot" - sylus (nsfw)

fair fight - sakura, suo, ume

stolen kisses - zoro

"this is how the summer ends" - college fencer!zoro

touch-starved - sakura

"handle with care" - zayne

"color me smitten" - zoro

yikes lmfao i didn't know i had this many till i wrote them all out like this rn.... O_O; but pls do let me know which one(s) intrigue u guys the most!! i got some sweet, sweet alone time during thanksgiving week, so i'll be digging into these wips :) <3

[mcbride]

Daryl Dixon Rewatch S1E03 - Paris Sera Toujours Paris

this ep wasn't as good as the first 2, but we got to meet Fallou and Antoine, so they made up for what felt like another ep of Daryl absolutely done with everything while relentlessly looking for a radio or a boat.

i feel like Carol's "presence" has been a constant on this show, but in this ep more than ever. her name is not mentioned, but there's at least a couple of pieces of dialogue alluring to her existence, her importance in Daryl's life, and how she is the driving force behind Daryl's urgency to get back home. more after the jump....

so Nicotero got his walker orchestra, which was cool, but def not one of the reasons i watch the show. as Daryl said this was just a stupid detour and now we gonna start doing things his way!

it bothers me how these two warrior nuns are completely useless and helpless when they have to deal with a couple of walkers. in each case, Daryl had to "save" both Sylvie and Isabelle while they were stuck dumb looking at walkers dangerously approaching them. are they warriors/survivors or what?? writers do better!

Laurent spewing some philosophical bullshit about fortitude was top TWD gimmick - kids wise beyond their years are annoying to me! but if you know me, you know i legit dislike most kids written in apocalyptic shows. adding insult to injury, Laurent be like "Not to fret, Monsieur Daryl. You will not die in Paris." *eyeroll* legit. main character plot armor. thanks, captain obvious!

in the "make everything about Carol" segment, we got "La mort et le bucheron:" i think an analogy could be made about hope, and how when we are so close to losing it all is when we hang on tightly to something and finally feel the urge to live, but to do that we need to learn how to share our burden. and i think that applies to both Carol and Daryl, if they are to move on, evolve, take the next step, they must be willing to share, to talk openly, and share their burdens with each other- let the other carry a bit of their weight.

it will never not be hilarious to me how Fallou continuously ignores Daryl's request for a radio, until he introduces him to Antoine, the pigeon guy, and their only form of communication. Daryl is SOOOO done with y'alll.

most interesting lines in the whole ep are about pigeons, heck yas! "Maybe he has a girlfriend... yes? We all have a person who waits... who waits for us somewhere." Daryl's face screamed CAROL and her name has never even have been mentioned on this show YET!!!!!

Daryl and Isa have a moment when she says they are the same, "broken until the world ended." YEAH, NAHHH. not the same! sorry girl, but your bohemian lifestyle chosen by yourself got nothing to do with how Daryl was forced to grow up and survive even before the zpoc.

omg Daryl's idiot longing face looking at the water lilies, saying it reminds him of home... and all i can think about is when Daryl took Carol to watch those Cherokee roses blooming as an apology back in s2 of the original show. that's art!!!!!!

and once again, i am not disappointed Daryl is a true man of honor, and wouldn't let Isa and Laurent suffer the consequences for a shot at getting a boat to return home. it's a very Daryl thing to do, and Isa called him out on it.

AND FINALLY she tells us something we did not know.... Daryl made a promise to whom is not revealed to get back home, and that's all he cares about. he doesn't deny it!! HE CANNOT

Daryl is just so ready to leave AGAIN!!! but not without first telling Isa she's good at making things up (ouch!!), but she needs to tell Laurent the truth.

then Daryl becomes the most reasonable person ever to have ever existed. he says, "maybe he's just a regular kid, a regular kid that got lucky and lived. maybe that's your miracle." 👏👏👏 - that's Daryl being the most Daryl since ever, calling out the bullshit, and keeping shit real. i love this show for bringing him back!

Laurent runs, Codron arrives... "the reasons are everywhere." once again, right when Daryl was leaving again, something happens that stops him from doing so. the universe works in mysterious ways indeed cause what he doesn't know is that he needs to stay around so Carol can find him, and she's on her way there already!

See y'all next week for ep 4!!!

42 days left until the premiere of THE BOOK OF CAROL!!!!!

[saveugoodmadam]

lmao this has less than a day to be relevant and sorry for publishing it so late but @dedhumn here is a oneshot based off your desire for the reveal to be with red-eyed hyde!!!

Henry Jekyll was in agony.

His heart hurt in his chest- though whether it came from the waver in Robert's voice or the all-too-familiar smashing in his muscles he didn't know.

“Don't come in, Robert. Please,” he implored as that awful green goop bubbled up through his body and leaked from his face. Hyde was a constant movement, flitting from vial to vial as he babbled, high-pitched, panicked and incessant. In fact, Henry realised somewhat triumphantly, the only words Hyde hadn't yet uttered were ‘this is all your fault’.

He knew it was, though. Hyde passed through the reflection of another vial, its blue glass a reminder of less dire times. A dangerous glint entered his eyes as he reached a trembling, goo-coated hand for its neck.

“You idiot,” Robert Lanyon hissed through the door, pushing down his tears like the good little high society boy he had been trained to be. “Are you really shutting me out again? After everything we've been through?”

He was used to friends ditching him as they grew older. It was a fact of wealthy life he had been forced to become used to. Once they were too rich, or he was too queer or not pale enough for their tastes, he had always been cast aside. But Henry wasn't like them. From the first meeting, he had been kind and gentle and no, it hadn't always been perfect but it had just started getting good again and last night had been so good and suddenly words he'd tried so hard to swallow were spilling from his lips.

“Don't you know how much I-”

Just as soon as they had started to be said, they were cut off by a muffled yelp of pain.

As the transformation came over him, that familiar all-consuming pain, Henry tried his hard to muffle the wracking sobs and piercing shrieks he usually emitted. He and Hyde’s spirits swirled around like water and oil in a stirred beaker; infinitely close but distinctly separate. Their voices groaned as one as their body grew shorter and their hair longer. They were both vaguely aware of the door slamming open and a sharp gasp in a familiar voice, then the whirling feeling settled and Henry was left in charge of a body that was not his own.

Blinking his eyes open again, his eyes settled on the form of Robert Lanyon.

“Fuck. Not you,” he groaned in his best approximation of Hyde's demeanour. His heart thumped anxiously in his chest. The jig was up, after all of those years hiding it all. He could feel the sommeil de la mort swirling through his cardiovascular system and prayed it would set in before too many questions could be asked.

“Henry?” Robert gasped.

Robert could have sworn it was Hyde in front of him. Same hair, same height, same voice, same everything. Everything except the eyes. He had met Hyde before, and one of the man's most striking features were his eyes, those strange, glowing emeralds. Certainly not the deep, soft garnets staring up at him in a way that begged for mercy and affection like a stray puppy. Those eyes were deeply familiar to him, ones he had seen in every colour of light; from the soft glow of the golden hour to the sordid glimmer of a candle.

He knelt beside the smaller man and awkwardly patted him on the back, before some strange force in his chest puppeteered his arms to wrap around him and pull them close together.

“Why didn't you tell me, Henry, you numpty?” he asked softly.

“I- I'm not Henry! I'm Hyde! Henry's boring and… and likes paperwork and I like jumping off stuff!” the man in his arms declared in a poor pantomime of Hyde, his blinking somewhat sluggish.

“Henry, I can tell it's you. I'm not stupid.”

“But I look like Hyde. How could you say I'm Jekyll?”

Robert sighed, moving his head so his lips hovered just above Henry's. He could feel the erratic heartbeat just below his own chest, attributing it to simply nerves and the heat of the moment.

“Do you think I don't know you do well- don't love you so much- that I couldn't pick your eyes out from a sea of faces?” he murmured as their lips locked together. He could have stayed there forever, if Henry hadn't pulled back with a retch and a wheezing groan.

“What is it?” he asked, beginning to panic as he felt the arms wrapped around him grow heavier and watched as it got harder for those gorgeous ruby eyes to stay open. “Henry, please, we've kept secrets for too long. Just, for once, tell me something.”

“Robert, I- I love you. And I'm so so, so sorry,” Henry mumbled, his words slurring as he leaned his head into Robert's chest and shut his eyes.

“Why are you sorry, Henry? Henry, talk to me! Why are you sorry?” Robert begged, his breathing ragged as he pressed a hand against his oldest friend and greatest love’s still chest. There was no heartbeat.

Lanyon opened his lips and let a shriek tear from his throat.

[coovieilledentelle]

Je ne changerai jamais mes amis fantastiques, ma vie merveilleuse, ma famille bien-aimée pour des cheveux moins gris ou un ventre plus plat. En vieillissant, je suis devenue plus amicale envers moi-même et moins critique envers moi-même.Je suis devenu mon ami…Je ne me blâme pas d'avoir mangé des biscuits supplémentaires, de ne pas avoir fait le lit ou d'avoir raté quelque chose de stupide dont je n'avais pas besoin. J'ai le droit d'être désordonnée, d'être extravagante. J'ai vu beaucoup de chers amis quitter ce monde trop tôt, avant de réaliser la grande liberté du vieillissement Qui m'en voudra si je décide de lire ou de jouer sur mon ordinateur jusqu'à quatre heures du matin et de dormir jusqu'à midi? Qui me critiquera de rester au lit ou devant la télé aussi longtemps que je le souhaite. Je vais danser avec ces merveilleux tubes des années 60 70 et 80 et si en même temps je veux pleurer pour un amour perdu …Si je veux, je marcherai le long de la plage en short trop allongé sur un corps en décomposition et plongerai dans les vagues avec abandon, malgré le regard pénalisant des autres . Ils vieilliront également. Je sais que parfois j'oublie, mais il y a des choses dans la vie qui devraient aussi être oubliées. Je me souviens des choses importantes. Bien sûr, au fil des ans, mon cœur s'est brisé. Mais les cœurs brisés nous donnent force, compréhension et compassion. Un cœur qui n'a jamais souffert est immaculé et stérile et ne connaîtra jamais la joie d'être imparfait. J'ai la chance d'avoir vécu assez longtemps pour avoir mes cheveux gris et mon rire juvénile gravés à jamais dans les sillons profonds de mon visage. Beaucoup n'ont jamais ri, beaucoup sont morts avant que leurs cheveux ne deviennent argentés.

En vieillissant, il est plus facile d'être positif. Vous vous souciez moins de ce que les autres pensent. Je ne me remets plus en question. J'ai gagné le droit de faire des erreurs. Donc, pour répondre à votre question, j'aime être vieux. J'aime la personne que je suis devenue. Je ne vivrai pas éternellement, mais tant que je serai encore là, je ne perdrai pas de temps à regretter ce qui a pu être ou à s'inquiéter de ce qui sera. Et si je le veux, je mangerai un dessert tous les jours. Avec du Champagne.

Que notre amitié ne soit jamais séparée, car elle vient du cœur !

[sinvulkt]

Ce que l’Abbé ne savait pas, c’est qu’il y a une raison pour laquelle les templiers n’ont jamais dépensé leur argent. Une malédiction de l’ancienne magie repose sur cette ile : quiconque hérite du trésor en devient son gardien.

Edmond n’en savait rien non plus. Il vit, toutefois, un immense squelette reposant sur la fortune cachée. Quelques baleines purent avoir été déposées là par ses prédécesseurs, peut-être.

Au début, ce ne fut que quelques écailles parsemant sa peau. Rien du tout. Edmond les pris pour une quelconque maladie de peau. 

Puis, ce fut une obsession. Un besoin fréquent de retourner sur l'île. La brise était bonne, là- bas. Et sans doute pouvait-il allonger son passage vers l'Italie par un petit détour? S'arrêter vers le trésor n’était qu’une question de prudence, de vérifier que quelques voleurs ne s’étaient pas accaparé ses biens.

L’obsession tourna vite en avarice, comme les ongles d’Edmond s’allongeaient et ses doigts se recourbaient. Chaque sous dépensé pour sa vengeance était légèrement plus dur à donner. Chaque pièce mise a bien pour la machine bien huilé de son plan semblait comme une goutte de sang versé sur l’autel du sacrifice, et lui brisait le cœur.

Quelque beau jour de février, il passa, par chance, près d’un chaman, qui eut tôt fait de le mettre au courant de la malédiction. En effet, le destin de tout héritier de la fortune de Monte-Cristo était de se transformer en dragon, et sous cette apparence draconique, de garder pour toujours le trésor.

Le chaman lui donna force d’amulettes et de concoctions, mais le prévint: tant que le trésor existait, il ne pouvait que ralentir le mal.

La vengeance d’Edmond était désormais une course contre la montre.

Quand ses mains deviennent griffes, il se met à porter des gants. Quand ses pupilles se fendent, il prend l’habitude de lentilles. Dès qu’il peut, malgré la douleur qui lui en déchire la poitrine, il dilapide le trésor; dans le vain espoir d’en affaiblir la malédiction. Plus d’une fois, la providence se joue de lui, et Edmond se retrouve enrichi par les mêmes investissements qu’il avait fait pour perdre sa fortune. 

André et Haydé ont beau avoir été ignorants, ils sont loin d’etre stupide. Il ne leur faut que quelques années avant de finalement découvrir le secret du comte; bien qu’ils se gardent de le dire à ce dernier. Comment ne pas remarquer la chose, quand deux ailes immenses déchire le dos du comte, le stoppant en plein milieu de l’accomplissement de sa vengeance à Paris?

C’est l'inquiétude pour son mentor qui pousse André à reporter sa vengeance. Après tout, en prison, son père biologique forme une proie facile.

Au final, seule force de maquillage permet au comte de cacher les écailles recouvrant son visage, et d'apparaître humain pour le chapitre final de sa vengeance. Les jambes courbées du comte, camouflé sous son pantalon, rendent la marche difficile sans sa fidèle canne. Ses dents, aiguisées comme un carnivore, sont ce qui lui remporte la victoire contre Fernand.

Après cela, il sait que c’est la fin. Un cœur qui n’est pas vraiment le sien bas dans sa poitrine, et lui ordonne sans cesse et sans cesse de retourner sur l'île. Pour chaque seconde passée loin d’elle, sa raison le quitte.

Il leur laisse une lettre. Elle ne dit pas un mot de sa transformation, mais elle formule une requête. Elle demande a Haydé et André de se rendre sur l'île de Monte-Cristo, avec une armée s’il le faut, et d’y subjuguer un monstre. Elle leur demande, également, de jeter le reste du trésor à la mer, où il sera enfin oublié par l’Histoire.

Haydé et André ne font rien de cela. 

La créature, ils subjuguent, car il ne reste à Edmond que très peu de raison. Mais c’était suffisamment de raison pour les épargner, aussi, quand bien même il demande la mort, les jeunes gens l'épargnent à son tour. Ils ne peuvent le laisser aux prises de la malédiction, aussi, ils l’enferme, mais ce n’est que le temps d’affaiblir cette dernière.

L’or maudit, ils parsèment au quatre vents. Une bonne partie finit dans l’océan, sans doute, mais dans tous les océans du monde, suite aux dangers du milieu marin qui font si souvent couler les bateaux. Le reste, ils échangent, ils négocient, ils jettent. Ils finissent ce qu’Edmond avait commencé, et échangent la fortune tant et si bien que la malédiction peine à les suivre. Elle ne peut s’installer dans ces étranges papiers, qui fait la mode de la monnaie de Paris. Elle ne peut s’installer dans les fermes, les forêts, les montagnes, qui soudainement sont inscrites sous le nom de ‘Monte-Cristo’. Elle ne peut rester dans les quelques artefactes qu’on entrepose en chine, en amérique, ni dans les quelques pépites données aux africains. C’est trop grand, trop large, trop de choses différentes à trop d’endroits.

Tirée à quatre épingle, la malédiction se brise.

Il est trop tard pour Edmond, dont le large corp écailleux ne pourra jamais retrouver forme humaine. Mais son esprit est clair. Il reconnaît ses enfants, ses amis. Il reconnaît le ciel, l’océan, et leurs odeurs qui chatouillent ses narines. Il se souvient avec une douloureuse nostalgie du berceau des vagues, du sel qui prend à la bouche, de l'aventure qui guidait sa vie avant qu’elle ne s'écroule.

Il est libre, désormais. Libre de l’héritage du passé.

Et c’est libre qu’Edmond Dantès, comte de Monte Cristo, se perd dans l’immensité bleu qui l’appelle.

[transparentgentlemenmarker]

Depuis sa mort en 1979, la femme qui a découvert de quoi est fait l'univers n'a pas gagné beaucoup de reconnaissance, seulement une plaque sur le mur de l'université et rien d'autre.

Ses nécrologies dans les journaux ne mentionnent pas sa plus grande découverte. Tous les lycéens savent qu'Isaac Newton a découvert la gravité, Charles Darwin a expliqué l'évolution et Albert Einstein a expliqué la théorie de la relativité. Mais quand il s'agit de la composition de notre univers, les manuels disent simplement que l'hydrogène est l'atome le plus commun de l'univers. Et personne ne sait qui l’a découvert. C’est Cécilia Payne. Elle est l'auteur de la plus importante thèse de doctorat en astronomie jamais écrite. Et dire que la mère de Cecilia Payne ne voulait pas dépenser d'argent pour son collège, affirmant qu'aller à l'université était stupide pour une femme. Donc Cecilia a donc gagné une bourse à Cambridge elle-même. Elle a réussi les examens mais Cambridge ne lui a pas donné de diplôme parce qu'elle était une femme, donc elle a déménagé aux États-Unis pour travailler à Harvard. Elle a été la première personne à recevoir un doctorat en astronomie du Radcliffe College, écrivant ce qu'Otto Strauve appelait « la thèse de doctorat la plus excellente » en astronomie. " Elle a aussi découvert de quoi est fait le soleil. Littéralement toute étude des étoiles variables est basée sur son travail. Elle a été la première femme promue professeur de Harvard. Et même avec tout son engagement, elle n'est pas mentionnée avec tout le respect que l’on doit à une scientifique de si haut grade.

[tachlys]

→ i was so young you should've know better than to lean on me; achlys p.o.v.

FLASHBACK, JUNE 2002, NEW YORK.

tw: abuso emocional, mãe narcisista, depressão.

Os olhos amedrontados de Achlys estavam presos no chão, como de costume. Após bater na porta do banheiro onde sua mãe se encontrava por alguns longos minutos, ele desistiu. Sabia que ela não abriria, não o deixaria entrar para tentar consolá-la. Não, ela apenas chorava o mais alto que podia, de maneira que o menino conseguia ouvir seus soluços, embora não pudesse fazer nada para ajudar a quem mais amava aos dez anos de idade sentia o peso do mundo em suas costas.

Detestava quando seu pai, Thanatos, partia. Sem mais nem menos, no meio da noite, ele desaparecia, e Achlys sabia o que vinha a seguir: sua mãe começava a chorar sem parar, dia e noite. O menino não entendia por que seu pai precisava partir. As coisas eram muito mais fáceis quando ele estava presente.

A vida do Whitlock girava em torno disso: alimentar sua mãe - mesmo que com sanduíches mal feitos -, dar-lhe água suficiente, atender a qualquer necessidade que ela tivesse. Muitas vezes, Achlys era o único confidente de Anne, sua progenitora. Ele a ouvia dizer o quão dilacerado seu coração estava e como doía pela incerteza de se Thanatos retornaria. Era um peso muito grande para alguém tão pequeno carregar, mas Achlys o fazia com um sorriso tímido nos lábios. E aos poucos aquele menino sensível, que um dia sonhara com uma família feliz, foi aos poucos perdendo a esperança de que um dia aquilo acontecer, se transformando em alguém que tinha medo de se conectar profundamente com os outros afinal precisava salvar cada milímetro de si para ser o salvador de sua mãe.

“Mommy?” Achlys bateu mais uma vez na porta, decidindo que era o suficiente, não pararia de tentar até ela abrir.

“— mommy doesn’t feel very good, go away achlys.” a voz trêmula do outro lado da porta respondeu pela primeira vez, embora bastante angustiado o semideus ao menos sabia que ela estava viva.

“eu fiz um sanduíche mamãe, manteiga de amendoim e geleia de morangos, a sua favorita.” também a última porção de sua geleia favorita, mas ele sabia melhor do que comer aquilo a prioridade era sua mãe, sempre era.

“—não estou com fome querido, eu acho que dessa vez ele de fato nos abandonou, ele não vai mais voltar achlys, o que eu vou fazer? como eu…” as palavras de Anne foram interrompidas por um choro violento mas ao menos o menino ouviu o destrancar da porta, sem hesitação ele adentrou o banheiro avistando sua mãe deitada no chão.

O silêncio parecia amaldiçoar aquele ambiente tão minúsculo. Achlys se sentia horrível por não saber o que dizer, por não poder de alguma forma tirar toda a dor que sua mãe sentia. Às vezes, se pegava perguntando se vivia em duas dimensões. Quando Thanatos, seu pai, a personificação da morte, cruzava a porta, ironicamente, era como se a vida voltasse para sua mãe. Ela era perfeita, seu riso contagiava a todos, sua aura era quente, acolhedora, amorosa.

Mas assim que o deus partia, com ele iam embora todas as qualidades de sua mãe. Achlys era obrigado não só a viver, mas também a cuidar do pouco que restava de sua progenitora. Ele se tornava, então, a âncora da mãe, tentando impedir que ela se afundasse por completo em sua dor e desespero. A mudança drástica na personalidade de Anne era algo que ele não conseguia compreender totalmente mas mesmo sem entender o Whitlock tentava expressar compaixão. Deitou-se no chão ao lado de sua mãe e acariciou sua mão. "you have me mommy, i promise i will be good, i will take care of you, everything will be okay."

"—stupid child, do you think you know anything?" era mais uma das mudanças drásticas de humor de sua mãe, uma das quais lhe deixava paralisado, o menino engoliu em seco.

Os momentos de ausência do pai transformavam a casa em um lugar sombrio. O riso e a alegria davam lugar a soluços e desânimo, e Achlys sentia o peso de um fardo muito grande para carregar sozinho. Ele tinha que ser o adulto, o cuidador, o conforto. Não havia espaço para ele ser apenas o que de fato era, uma criança, para ter suas próprias dores e medos, ou até mesmo para chorar por também sentir falta do pai. sentia-se dividido entre o desejo de ser um filho normal e a necessidade de ser forte por sua mãe.

"desculpa, eu não queria te irritar eu só..." sentiu os dedos de sua mãe tocar seus lábios, ela não queria ouvir nada que o menino tinha a dizer, ele sabia o que havia por trás do olhar de sua mãe, ressentimento, Achlys havia roubado sua beleza ao nascer, era por isso que Thanatos já não a visitava tanto, era sua culpa.

"— Achlys querido, sua voz está me dando náuseas e fazendo minha cabeça martelar, quer me ajudar? traga minha garrafa de vinho e vá contar quantas pedrinhas tem no chão ou... só suma da minha frente, agora!" bradou se virando pro lado oposto repentinamente, com medo de provocar algo pior Achlys apenas acatou e sequer teve a coragem de entrar no banheiro, deixou a garrafa de vinho na porta do mesmo para não enfurecer Anne. covarde, como poderia ser tão covarde?

@silencehq

[lunamarish]

Vorrei che tu venissi da me in una sera d’inverno e, stretti insieme dietro i vetri, guardando la solitudine delle strade buie e gelate, ricordassimo gli inverni delle favole, dove si visse insieme senza saperlo.

Per gli stessi sentieri fatati passammo infatti tu ed io, con passi timidi, insieme andammo attraverso le foreste piene di lupi, e i medesimi geni ci spiavano dai ciuffi di muschio sospesi alle torri, tra svolazzare di corvi.

Insieme, senza saperlo, di là forse guardammo entrambi verso la vita misteriosa, che ci aspettava. Ivi palpitarono in noi per la prima volta pazzi e teneri desideri. “Ti ricordi?” ci diremo l’un l’altro, stringendoci dolcemente, nella calda stanza, e tu mi sorriderai fiduciosa mentre fuori daran tetro suono le lamiere scosse dal vento.

Ma tu – ora mi ricordo – non conosci le favole antiche dei re senza nome, degli orchi e dei giardini stregati. Mai passasti, rapita, sotto gli alberi magici che parlano con voce umana, né battesti mai alla porta del castello deserto, né camminasti nella notte verso il lume lontano lontano, né ti addormentasti sotto le stelle d’Oriente, cullata da piroga sacra. Dietro i vetri, nella sera d’inverno, probabilmente noi rimarremo muti, io perdendomi nelle favole morte, tu in altre cure a me ignote. Io chiederei “Ti ricordi?”, ma tu non ricorderesti.

Vorrei con te passeggiare, un giorno di primavera, col cielo di color grigio e ancora qualche vecchia foglia dell’anno prima trascinata per le strade dal vento, nei quartieri della periferia; e che fosse domenica. In tali contrade sorgono spesso pensieri malinconici e grandi, e in date ore vaga la poesia congiungendo i cuori di quelli che si vogliono bene.

Nascono inoltre speranze che non si sanno dire, favorite dagli orizzonti sterminati dietro le case, dai treni fuggenti, dalle nuvole del settentrione. Ci terremo semplicemente per mano e andremo con passo leggero, dicendo cose insensate, stupide e care. Fino a che si accenderanno i lampioni e dai casamenti squallidi usciranno le storie sinistre delle città, le avventure, i vagheggiati romanzi. E allora noi taceremo, sempre tenendoci per mano, poiché le anime si parleranno senza parola.

Ma tu – adesso mi ricordo – mai mi dicesti cose insensate, stupide e care. Né puoi quindi amare quelle domeniche che dico, né l’anima tua sa parlare alla mia in silenzio, né riconosci all’ora giusta l’incantesimo delle città, né le speranze che scendono dal settentrione. Tu preferisci le luci, la folla, gli uomini che ti guardano, le vie dove dicono si possa incontrar la fortuna. Tu sei diversa da me e se venissi quel giorno a passeggiare, ti lamenteresti di essere stanca; solo questo e nient’altro.

Vorrei anche andare con te d’estate in una valle solitaria, continuamente ridendo per le cose più semplici, ad esplorare i segreti dei boschi, delle strade bianche, di certe case abbandonate. Fermarci sul ponte di legno a guardare l’acqua che passa, ascoltare nei pali del telegrafo quella lunga storia senza fine che viene da un capo del mondo e chissà dove andrà mai. E strappare i fiori dei prati e qui, distesi sull’erba, nel silenzio del sole, contemplare gli abissi del cielo e le bianche nuvolette che passano e le cime delle montagne.

Tu diresti “Che bello!”. Niente altro diresti perché noi saremmo felici; avendo il nostro corpo perduto il peso degli anni, le anime divenute fresche, come se fossero nate allora. Ma tu – ora che ci penso – tu ti guarderesti attorno senza capire, ho paura, e ti fermeresti preoccupata a esaminare una calza, mi chiederesti un’altra sigaretta, impaziente di fare ritorno.

E non diresti “Che bello! “, ma altre povere cose che a me non importano. Perché purtroppo sei fatta così. E non saremmo neppure per un istante felici. Vorrei pure – lasciami dire – vorrei con te sottobraccio attraversare le grandi vie della città in un tramonto di novembre, quando il cielo è di puro cristallo. Quando i fantasmi della vita corrono sopra le cupole e sfiorano la gente nera, in fondo alla fossa delle strade, già colme di inquietudini. Quando memorie di età beate e nuovi presagi passano sopra la terra, lasciando dietro di sé una specie di musica.

Con la candida superbia dei bambini guarderemo le facce degli altri, migliaia e migliaia, che a fiumi ci trascorrono accanto. Noi manderemo senza saperlo luce di gioia e tutti saran costretti a guardarci, non per invidia e malanimo; bensì sorridendo un poco, con sentimento di bontà, per via della sera che guarisce le debolezze dell’uomo. Ma tu – lo capisco bene – invece di guardare il cielo di cristallo e gli aerei colonnati battuti dall’estremo sole, vorrai fermarti a guardare le vetrine, gli ori, le ricchezze, le sete, quelle cose meschine. E non ti accorgerai quindi dei fantasmi, né dei presentimenti che passano, né ti sentirai, come me, chiamata a sorte orgogliosa. Né udresti quella specie di musica, né capiresti perché la gente ci guardi con occhi buoni.

Tu penseresti al tuo povero domani e inutilmente sopra di te le statue d’oro sulle guglie alzeranno le spade agli ultimi raggi. Ed io sarei solo. È inutile. Forse tutte queste sono sciocchezze, e tu migliore di me, non presumendo tanto dalla vita. Forse hai ragione tu e sarebbe stupido tentare. Ma almeno, questo sì almeno, vorrei rivederti. Sia quel che sia, noi staremo insieme in qualche modo, e troveremo la gioia. Non importa se di giorno o di notte, d’estate o d’autunno, in un paese sconosciuto, in una casa disadorna, in una squallida locanda.

Mi basterà averti vicina. Io non starò qui ad ascoltare – ti prometto – gli scricchiolii misteriosi del tetto, né guarderò le nubi, né darò retta alle musiche o al vento. Rinuncerò a queste cose inutili, che pure io amo. Avrò pazienza se non capirai ciò che ti dico, se parlerai di fatti a me strani, se ti lamenterai dei vestiti vecchi e dei soldi. Non ci saranno la cosiddetta poesia, le comuni speranze, le mestizie così amiche all’amore. Ma io ti avrò vicina.

E riusciremo, vedrai, a essere abbastanza felici, con molta semplicità, uomo con donna solamente, come suole accadere in ogni parte del mondo. Ma tu – adesso ci penso – sei troppo lontana, centinaia e centinaia di chilometri difficili a valicare. Tu sei dentro a una vita che ignoro, e gli altri uomini ti sono accanto, a cui probabilmente sorridi, come a me nei tempi passati. Ed è bastato poco tempo perché ti dimenticassi di me. Probabilmente non riesci più a ricordare il mio nome. Io sono ormai uscito da te, confuso fra le innumerevoli ombre. Eppure non so pensare che a te, e mi piace dirti queste cose.

Dino Buzzati