#one of the most beautiful plays i ever seen

[nikandrros]

Atma by Team Atma (Indian myths and 8bit, it's short and great and free).

When The Past Was Around by Mojiken (the reason why I made this list, it's a story told by puzzles and point and click and music).

Missed Messages by Angela He (free, kinda sad but beautiful, done entirely by a single person. If you like this one you might also like A New Life, by the same programmer).

If Found by Dreamfeel (lots of emotions about this one).

Moon Hunters by Kitfox Games (this is one is simply gorgeous, also 8bit).

Papetura by Petums (this was entirely made with paper sculptures and love, and it's also very lovely).

Florence by Mountains (I cried playing this one).

Seasons After Fall by Swing Swing Submarine (it's a very enjoyable and cute platform game).

The Mooseman by Morteshka (also platform but darker and has indigenous lore).

Those are a little more expensive but it's worth mentioning them:

LUNA The Shadow Dust by Lantern Studio (has been one of my favorite games for years now, also a puzzle story that makes you unlock your memories through point and click, looks a little silly at first but the plot is... Something else).

Spiritfarer by Thunder Lotus Studios (I cried a LOT).

Minute of Islands by Studio Fizbin (for the Adventure Time hoes that love apocalypse stories).

Gris by Nomada Studio (one of the most stunning pieces of art I've ever seen).

Milky Way Prince by Eyeguys and Lorenzo Redaelli (toxic twink yaoi changed me for the worse).

steam sale:

$4000.00 unfinished triple a game now on sale for $3999.95!

The most life changing indie game you've ever seen, usually $4.99, now on sale for $0.45

[sliced-peaches]

hitman!Haechan x reader | 1.2k | frenemies..?

he really has the best seat in the house tonight

💿 now playing: sour diesel - zayn // ordinary life- the weekend // zeal - tchami // igloo - kiss of life

a/n: I should be working on my wholesome jaehyun fic but I had this bouncing around in my brain since the tour trailer dropped and watched a bunch of action films. it’s coming soon, I promise. enjoy the beginning of something darker for now 😈

mentions of: MURDER, guns, violence, drugs, nothing really explicit but be warned. 127 members listening to haechan thirst over comms, red velvet Irene, idk I think that’s it

You’ve just walked into the rooftop lounge and it’s the highlight of Haechan’s day. He’s a rooftop away, eyeing you through the scope of a sniper rifle, and you’re stunning. The way you saunter through the crowd of dancing bodies makes every head turn, confidently swaying your hips as you head straight for the bar.

He’s never seen you in anything like this before, a little sparkly dress (if he could even call it that) covering little to nothing and a pair of pretty heels. It’s not really your style, but damn did you knock it out the park tonight. It almost makes him forget you could kill a man at least seven different ways unarmed.

Knowing you, you most likely still found a way to conceal a weapon under the solid one by one foot of fabric that made the entirety of the dress. But with his finger on a trigger he can’t let himself get too worked up over hypothetically trying to find a knife on your person.

“Got a visual on our angel,” he says into his earpiece. “She’s beautiful.”

He can feel Johnny rolling his eyes before said man’s voice crackles over.

“Thank god she’s not on comm, she’d rip you a new one.”

Honestly you could point a gun to his head and he’d probably cream his pants. He keeps that one to himself though, Johnny would probably cuss him out in three languages and throw him off his game.

“I love a woman who can kick my ass,” he dreamily sighs. It earns him a few curses from Yuta instead.

“Shut your weird ass up, targets moving.”

You sit at the bar, dress riding up just a bit when your ass touches the seat. The little extra inch of exposed skin is what really does it for him, like your entire back on display wasn’t enough. He can’t believe you look like this under your usual tact gear.

When the bartender takes your order, you tuck your hair behind your ear and point at a bottle behind him. The way you tilt your head slightly at him as him tripping over his feet, and Haechan grins. You were playing the role so well- this was the sweetest he’s ever seen you.

You were so cute while playing dumb and innocent.

When the team had to regroup after a botched run-in with this city’s most wanted drug lord, you and Doyoung had been adamant that none of the men on the team should engage with your target this time. Last time had been too close of a call for Johnny and Yuta- they got a little too up close and personal with the authorities, almost blowing everyone’s cover. The offensive, more direct tactics just weren’t cutting it and were getting too dangerous.

It was time to go on the defensive and try a more subtle approach, as Doyoung put it. And so they decided that one of the ladies would have to go undercover for this one.

Between you and Irene, it was decided that you’d be the one to go in. While they had said it was because you’d had more experience, it was really because Irene couldn’t pretend she liked men talking to her if her life depended on it.

At first, Haechan had been a little apprehensive.

“This guy can’t be that stupid, right?” He asked back at the hideout, cleaning a piece of his gun with a cloth.

It was a valid concern, even to you who disagreed with him often (sometimes just for funsies). You could do recon, you could blend in, but it had been a while since you purposely stuck out in the crowd. Would you be able to sell it?

But Jungwoo was quick to dismiss any doubts, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

“Men like that only care about two things: money and pussy. And they’d die for at least one of them. Throw a little something at him, I think you got this one in the bag.”

When the man of the hour walks in with his crew and you immediately catch his eye, Haechan feels it in his gut.

You were going to execute this flawlessly.

“Target spotted.”

Just like they predicted the man makes a beeline for the you while his men spread out in the crowd. You just sip out of a pretty glass and pretend that you’re none the wiser while you wait. You even throw in a little fake jump when he slides in next to you to ask what you’re drinking. Oldest line in the book.

What a loser.

Haechan watches in amusement as you bat your lashes at the man, flashing him the prettiest smile known to man. Serving yourself up to him on a platter.

He has no idea what kind of venom you have running through your veins.

Doyoung and Yuta check in over comms.

“We’re in position. Ready when you are.”

“She’s doing amazing, just a little longer.”

You continue to flirt with the target, throwing your head back in laughter at something he says while Haechan aims right between his eyes. He considers asking if whatever he said was really funny or not later, but that might be disrespectful to the dead.

“I have a clear shot.”

He stills as your hand runs up the man’s arm, stopping to rest on his shoulder.

“Wait for her signal.”

Then you slide out of the barstool, press up against him to whisper something in his ear. The mans eyebrows shoot to the sky.

Oh, how Haechan wishes he could be a fly on the wall instead of a sniper on a roof.

You begin to walk away from the bar, a hand intertwined with the targets as he brainlessly follows. Haechan waits patiently as you raise your free hand to the sky.

He sucks in a breath…

And there it is.

You take one small step to the left. He breathes out and takes the shot. One is all it takes.

“Got him.”

The target crumples to the floor.

“All right, let’s move!”

Chaos erupts, everyone ducking for cover and trying to escape as shots ring out. You quickly grab the gun out of the dead man’s holster and jump behind the bar to take cover. He expertly takes out someone who’s spotted you before they could chase after you.

Yuta and Johnny make quick work to clear the opposition as they make their way to you. With no one to answer to, the dead target’s crew is easy to take out or discourage altogether and soon the rooftop is cleared out.

Haechan stands up to get a better look. You stand there as Johnny checks you over, a scowl on your face when he laughs. The tall man points to where he stands on the roof, and you follow his arm to see Haechan waving frantically.

He waits with a shit eating grin on his face while Johnny passes you his earpiece.

“Fuck you, you got blood on my dress.”

“I’m sure with your cut you can buy a new one. But I’ll make it up to you.”

He howls when you flip him off.

[yorit1]

Elphaba was feeling flirty; she felt like texting Glinda.

‘Hey, Glinda, are you Google?’ Elphaba texted.

‘Oh no, please don’t say it’, Glinda texted back.

‘Because you’re everything I’m searching for,’ Elphaba texts.

Elphaba waited for a response from Glinda.

Five minutes later, Elphaba received two texts back from Glinda.

‘I hate that these work on me.’

‘Come to the bedroom.’

Elphaba walks quickly to their bedroom. There, she sees Glinda in her best pink lingerie. At the sight of Glinda, Elphaba feels herself growing wet.

“On the bed now, ELphie,” Glinda says in a commanding voice.

Elphaba gets on the bed. Glinda takes off her glasses, and Elphaba looks at her beautiful eyes. Glinda is the most beautiful woman Elphaba has ever seen, and she cannot believe she is lucky to have her in her life.

Glinda leaned in and passionately kissed Elphaba, showing her how much she wanted her.

“I’m gonna strip you off and then take care of you since I’m everything you’ve been looking for,” Glinda said.

Glinda kissed down Elphaba’s neck, and as she unbuttoned Elphaba’s shirt, she kissed down between her breasts, then down her stomach. Glinda unclasped Elphaba’s bra and took one of her tits into her mouth. Glinda sucked on the nipple and licked the pebbled nub. Glinda released the breast and took the other boob into her mouth, sucking the nipple and lavishing the pebbled nub.

Elphaba’s moans were music to Glinda’s ears. Glinda loved that she was bringing pleasure to her Elphie.

Glinda moved further down to Elphaba’s pants and worked on taking them off. With Elphaba only in her panties, Glinda smirked.

“Now you are all mine, and I can do it with you as I please,” Glinda said.

“Please, Please, Glinda,” Elphaba begged.

“Anything for you, baby girl,” Glinda said,

Glinda took off Elphaba’s panties and lowered herself so that she was facing Elphaba’s cunt. Glinda licked across her wet slit. Her labia was wet and prepared for what Glinda wanted to do to her. Glinda licked across Elphaba’s clit and sucked it in her mouth.

Glinda took one of her fingers and placed it at Elphaba’s entrance she placed her finger in Elphaba’s cunt, feeling how tight she was.

“What a good girl you are, Elphie. The best girl for me,” Glinda said.

Elphaba moaned out her enjoyment. Elphaba caressed the soft skin on Glinda’s tummy and up to her lingerie covered breasts.

“You want this off, Elphie. Okay, I’ll get undressed, too,” Glinda said.

Elphaba reached over and kissed Glinda as she unhooked her bra. Elphaba kissed Glinda’s breasts. She took one tit into her mouth and sucked on the nipple. Next, she took the other one into her mouth and sucked it.

“You are so good for me, Elphie, yes, just like that,” Glinda said, showing her appreciation.

Next, Elphaba took off Glinda’s panties. She kissed her revealed clit and took it into her mouth. Glinda sucked it and made sure to bring pleasure to Glinda. Elphaba released her clit from her mouth.

Glinda stood up, went to their drawer, and removed the strap. She put the strap on herself and positioned herself between Elphaba’s legs.

“I’m going in now,” Glinda said.

Glinda slowly slid in. She slid in smoothly so that she was hip to hip with Elphaba.

“Is this good, baby?” Glinda asked.

“Yeah, more, more Glinda,” ELphaba moaned out.

Glinda thrust in and out, bringing each of them pleasure. Glinda continued thrusting in and out of Elphaba. She took Elphaba’s clit between her fingers and played with it. Glinda was close and could feel that Elphaba was close, too. Glinda lowered her head and kissed Elphaba. The kiss was passionate, and they showed each other how much they wanted and loved each other. Glinda felt herself about to climax and decided to take Elphaba’s nipple into her mouth she sucked on it as she thrust into Elphaba. Glinda was coming, and so was Elphaba. They came in unison, their juices streaking between them.

Glinda took off the strap, lay next to Elphaba, and kissed her.

“I’m everything you’ve been searching for, huh? I bet I performed marvellously today to show you that I am everything you’ve been searching for,” Glinda said.

Glinda kissed Elphaba softly and laid her forehead against hers. She looked into Elphaba’s eyes. Glinda thought she was the lucky one to have Elphie in her life. Elphie was everything that she was looking for. She understood Glinda in a way that no one else had before. She could see her whole future with Elphaba staring her in the eyes. It was a glorious future. One with more fantastic sex than they just had. With more love and support and more of Elphie’s beautiful eyes looking at her with so much love.

“Of course, you are everything I’ve been looking for. I finally found someone who loved me unconditionally. Who loved me for who I am. Who is also fantastic in bed, which is a huge plus. Who has a big heart and is always willing to help anyone in need. Who appears vapid and superficial at first glance but actually has a huge heart. With those big doe eyes looking at me, I can’t help but be head over heels for you. You, Glinda, are everything I’ve been searching for,” Elphaba said.

Glinda hugged herself to Elphaba, feeling everything that had just happened between them. She decided to look into Elphaba’s eyes.

“Thank you, Elphie you are honestly the easiest person to love. I don't know why many people think you are so hard to love. You helped me find my real self. Who I was always meant to be. I love who I am when I’m with you. You are the best of me. Always look at me like that. Please never stop believing in me. Your belief in me is so invigorating. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably still not admit to myself that I was a lesbian. I love who I am when I’m with you,” Glinda said.

“I love you, Glinda, with my whole heart,” Elphaba said.

“I love you too, Elphie,” Glinda said.

Glinda softly kissed Elphaba and laid her head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat. She was reassured of Elphaba’s love for her and that Elphaba was still there with her. Listening to Elphaba’s heartbeat, she was lulled to sleep, feeling her heartbeat at the same rhythm.

[mommyownsmee]

Praising you

because you deserve to be worshipped

„You’re my perfect little toy.“

„You take my commands so beautifully.“

„Every sound you make is music to my ears.“

„You’re so beautiful when you surrender to me.“

„You’re my good girl, always ready to please.“

„Your trust in me is the most precious thing.“

„No one else could serve me as perfectly as you do.“

„You’re so obedient, and I love that about you.“

„You’re mine, and that makes you perfect.“

„You make me so proud every time you follow my rules.“

„Every inch of you is exquisite to me.“

„You’re stronger than you think for letting me break you.“

„I see every part of you, and I adore you for it.“

„You’re so good at giving me everything I want.“

„Your submission is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.“

„I love the way your body reacts to my voice.“

„You’re my masterpiece, molded exactly how I want you to be.“

„Every time you obey, you become even more irresistible.“

„You make me so happy when you submit to me.“

„You’re the sweetest, most obedient thing I’ve ever owned.“

„There’s nothing I want more than to keep you as mine.“

„You’re my treasure, my prize, my everything.“

„You make me feel powerful, and I adore you for it.“

„Your devotion to me is the most beautiful gift.“

„You’re so sweet when you follow my every word.“

„I love how eager you are to please me.“

„You’re mine, and no one could ever compare to you.“

„You’re perfect because you’re mine.“

„Your submission is the most perfect thing you could give me.“

„You’re so beautiful when you beg for me.“

„I love how needy you get when you’re under my control.“

„You’re irresistible when you’re completely at my mercy.“

„You’re my favorite thing to play with.“

„Every time you kneel for me, I feel complete.“

„You’re my good girl, and you know it.“

„Your obedience makes you even more precious to me.“

„You’re so good at taking everything I give you.“

„You’re my little piece of perfection.“

„You’re the only one who can satisfy me like this.“

[theoi-crow]

Perfect, no notes!

OP hit a grand slam with this one. I just want to point out some observations on why people seem to have a hard time understanding the themes of Greek mythology that I have personally encountered:

1) Greek words: As OP mentioned, a lot of times ancient mythology was an allegory and some names of the Greek gods are the literal personification of those concepts. Zeus isn't always kind because lightning isn't always kind. He can seem ruthless because lightning can be ruthless. In the Prometheus myth he is the one who decides if humans have fire or not because lightning causes fires and Zeus was probably believed to have given the first humans fire.

2) Local myths that have been re-organized: Sometimes the confusion stems from the fact that different city states and towns in the ancient world had their own local government running it and so myths varied from polis to polis like the death of Adonis being caused by Ares, Artemis or Apollo depending on the location or Hercules being an Olympian depending on the location. A lot of these locations also had tourism and depended on tourism as a valid source of income so they depended on their myth being different enough and hero focused to bring in tourists or people on a religious pilgrimage. Unfortunately as the Hellenistic and Roman periods had empires that blended all those cultures together but selected the favorite version among all of them (often Athenians but not always) I find that modern people have a hard time wrapping their heads around the concept that myths are wobbly, but I agree with OP that Zeus represents order in most ancient cultures that worshipped the Greek gods.

3) Evolution of the Gods: I also find that people have a hard time with the myths because they are older than writing, were originally oral (anyone who has ever played the game Telephone will get that variety will happen over time) and may have started in the Mycenaean period or even older but changed over time. For example in the Iliad Zeus mentions his war with Poseidon and that's because in the Mycenaean religion Poseidon was the original king of the gods, not Zeus. Artemis and Apollo were not twins and Artemis and Dionysus were originally the children of Demeter, this is why they both have ties to the wilderness and mother nature because they were originally rustic gods like Pan. So I find people often mix the gods and myths because they have changed over time.

4) Ancient culture vs Modern progress: The biggest misunderstanding is the ethnocentric way modern people view the ancient world. In anthropology ethnocentricity is the act of judging a culture based on your own culture's standards which ruins the understanding. Anthropologists try to judge the cultures based on the culture's own rules and standards to better understand why they do what they do. In the ancient world women were seen as property and didn't have the same rights modern women have. Kings were also oftentimes seen as directly connected to the gods and thus given "Divine birth" to rule. People see Zeus cheating and judge it based on today's standards whereas the ancient world saw it as a connection to Zeus and Zeus granting this king the right to lead because either he's a direct descendant or an ancestor was and praised their mother's beauty in the process because beauty was very important to the ancient Greeks and if a person was so beautiful to drive a god to procreate with them, then it was seen as high praise. So if they're being praised, why is it described as "rape?" That's because of the purity culture of the ancient world which discouraged women from seeming willing in order to give them a modest appearance. We don't know the true feelings of the women because they were not the main topic of the myth, their children were. Also, even if they seemed like they were consenting like the myth of Semele who is excited about being with Zeus but gets tricked by Hera, they couldn't be seen as actually consenting because they were viewed as property and thus the consent needed to come from their husband or father and most of the time the gods bypassed that consent. Any sexual act towards a woman by a god was seen as a violation of her father or husband but never her because she never had a say in her own life. They were captured by the god and the old word for captured would often be translated as raped. In the modern world this is thankfully different with sexual liberation helping women untangle from purity culture but the ancient world had its own rules and in order to better understand the myths, one must understand the ancient culture, rules and laws or else big misunderstandings will happen. For example, often times when humans in ancient history were seen as very exceptional, beautiful or brilliant to the point of seeming inhuman it was believed they were the secret love child of a god. This can be observed with Alexander the Great who was often seen as being the son of Zeus. Sidenote: Consent of a woman also didn't matter to the ancient Greeks because marriage was seen as a political union. This is also why Aphrodite is seen more as a type of madness that opposes Zeus/order instead of love in the way we understand it today. Love was not the priority in marriages and Aphrodite was seen more as a goddess of lust and then later Greeks and Romans started to explore her more and look at love differently but in the ancient oral myth world she was definitely seen as a menace that ruined arranged marriages and thus got in the way of order.

5) Allegories vs local legends and tragedy: As OP stated, the gods were a way for the ancient Greeks to understand the world around them. These myths were Mnemonics (named after Mnemosyne: goddess of memory) to tell the story of how something came to be or to remember when to water the crops or remember when the seasons change, etc. There is a myth of Orion lusting after and chasing the Pleiades because he's literally following them in the sky. The ancient Greeks were also comforted with the thought that if a person died young it probably meant they were loved by a god and taken. Local legends like the Spartan Prince Hyacinth who was said to have been tragically loved by Apollo, were said to have been chosen by the gods and so we have the "brides of Hades." These were young girls of marriageable age dying and being buried in their wedding dress and said to be marrying Hades. So there is a lot happening allegorically but when modern people encounter an ancient myth without the historical context they judge them in the same way they would judge full humans and forget the allegory.

6) Missing myths and cultural references: There are so many vases that reference mythos that were either never written or have yet to be found but well known or specific to their region. There are also a lot of ancient tragedies and comedies we have references to that have yet to be found or are incomplete or were purposefully disposed of like some of Sappho's work. Even if you know the information, you can't judge a culture based on small samples and echoes of preserved fragments. We are missing so many cultural, religious and historical references that it's hard to make a confident assessment on so much that is missing, but we try and might still get it wrong so some people who have done research might be using older resources that are now invalid due to new discoveries or old biases from researchers that are now contested, this is especially prevalent with 19th and 20th century research of the ancient world. So it's important to keep in mind that we might be getting information about the gods that might be outdated or littered in 19th/20th century biases which tended to see the gods in a more negative and human light.

Conclusion: The ancient myths are fascinating and fun but it's important to remember they are older than the Bible with concepts we have lost the meaning of due to various reasons but even in their own context the stories follow the pattern OP listed. I graduated studying this and will be going to a Master's program to study the archaeology of it, and I can tell you they are way more fascinating in their original culture and context than ethnocentric modern interpretation.

Another reminder that Greek mythology is always somehow symbolic, metaphorical, allegorical, since we are dealing with anthropomorphic personifications and other embodiments of cosmic powers.

For example: Demeter has sex with both Zeus and Poseidon. Something-something about the relationship of the Earth with the Sky and the Sea (or the celestial and chthonian powers). ESPECIALLY since these relationships are said to happen at the beginning of the world, in the primordial times during which the world settled itself for what it is now.

Herakles' wedding with Hebe, the personification of youth, checks in with when he becomes an immortal god (aka, an eternally young entity). What better way to symbolize a hero escaping the clutches of death than by him becoming the husband of the spirit of eternal youth?

Why is Hestia never leaving Olympus? Something-something about her being the literal personification of the hearth, which is at the center of the house/community and does not move.

Why is Ares getting his ass kicked by Athena? Because Athena is civilization, and Ares savagery, and in the Ancient Greek mindset intelligence, wisdom and craft will always be above brutality, bloodlust and random cruelty.

Do I need to spell it out that the myth of Persephone-Hades-Demeter is about the cycle of the seasons, and how the earth renews itself and brings back life after a time of death?

And I wonder why Ares' companions during his mass-slaughters are called Phobos, Deimos and Eris - Fear, Panic and Discord... Why would the goddess that breaks harmony and sows feuds and chaos be depicted as the close sister of the god of the ravages of war and of the brutality of conflicts, what a strange mystery!

And I can go on, and on, and on. Remember, the Greek gods aren't just super-heroes or wizards (that's more in line with more "humanized" mythologies, like the Irish or Nordic ones). They are embodiments of concepts and ideas, personifications of natural forces and cosmic powers, they are living allegories and fleshed metaphors. Zeus wields the lightning because he IS the lightning and thunder. Dionysos is both the bringer of joy and madness because he IS alcohol. Hades is both the name of the god of the dead, and of the realm of the dead. Hestia's name is literaly "hearth" in Greek, Hebe "youth", Nyx "night", Gaia "earth", Eros "desire". You can write "Eris met Helios at Okeanos' palace" or you can write "Strife encountered the Sun at the palace of Ocean" and that is the EXACT SAME THING!

[Mind you to limit the gods to being JUST allegories is also a mistake not to make. Greek deities are much more than just X concept or X idea... But one part of the myths will always be, down the line, some weather metaphor or some natural cycle motif]

[baby-yongbok]

Eclipse

Lee Know x afab!reader

☾ ˚｡⋆ Genre : Lovers to Exes - Fluff to Sweet Angst

☾ ˚｡⋆ Word Count : 1.8k

☾ ˚｡⋆ Summary : Like an eclipse, you and Minho collide in a radiant and all-consuming display of passion. But even the most breathtaking eclipses must pass, leaving behind the bittersweet beauty of what can never be again.

✮⋆˙ Masterlist ˙⋆✮

You call it a love story. One that was bigger than the ones who had it could ever recognize. You call it beguiling, bewitching. You call it yours.

Here’s how it goes.

It was mid-autumn when you bumped into him in the parking lot of a pet store. You were blinded by a bag of cat litter maybe four times your size and he hauled his own stash on each of his leather clad shoulders when you collided. Your introduction was laced with clumsy apologies spilling over the cusp of the prettiest lips he’d ever seen. 

His name is Minho. Lee Minho.

He was a gentleman from the start. He helped you to your car, ignoring his own responsibilities to dip his toe into your ocean.

Minho couldn’t resist the instant hit. A craving for the sweet five foot something girl before him. He stayed, chatted and found himself getting addicted to the timbre of your laugh and that shake and swell that your smile caused. It only took a taste.

He managed to get your number. He proposed a playdate, for the cats, of course. He took a leap of faith as he stood in front of you, the woman that he wished wasn’t a stranger. You certainly don’t feel like one. 

When you agreed he found himself planning your wedding colors. 

You'll have to excuse him, he can get a little delulu when he meets a woman like you who sparks a new flame in his chest. He flashed you a smile and watched you as you flew down the asphalt on four wheels that he desperately wanted to follow, but it’s alright. He’ll see you again soon.

You'd never admit it but you’re no better than the bright eyed man that you can’t get off of your mind. He’s got you hypnotized, tossing and turning all night. You want to see him again, you want to hear his voice. You only spoke to this stranger for a second and he’s already rented a space in your mind and suddenly you feel a for sale sign staked into your heart. 

The night of the playdate comes. The kitties played to their heart's content, chasing each other in circles as your head followed your heart around on a leash in your living room.

How can someone look like this? So enchanting and warm. You stole each other's thoughts right out of the other's mind and their words right off the tongue as you shared a gentle laugh about things you found that you have in common.

“I’ve never met anyone who liked that movie too.” You smiled and he melted. 

“So you’ve never met anyone like me?” It’s brown staring into brown as you engage in a cautious stare down. It’s gentle and comfortable.

“I guess I haven’t” 

“I’ve never met anyone like you either.” Suddenly your mind wanders to penning elegant invitations. Lace and white and love and Minho. All that is Minho. “Would you maybe want to hang out again sometime? Just us, no cats.”

His nose scrunches up in a smile as you laugh. He could listen to that sweet sound for the rest of his life. You cover your blush, bringing your hand up to your face and Minho waits patiently for you to give him a view of the sweet scarlet sweeping across your skin.

 “I think I’d like that.” The cats rush by in a scurry, running and jumping, something like what your heart is doing in your chest.

It was all downhill from there or maybe it’s up, whatever you want to call it but you’ll settle with the title of perfect. You went hiking on your first date and a cafe for your second. You met his friends and stayed out late on rainy nights, dancing in the formless droplets that watered a connection deeper than the two of you could ever fathom. 

“It’s cold!” You squeal and he laughs, pulling you closer and picking you up in a giggling spin just as the thunder cracks above. “Minho!” You get away but only because he wants you to. Only because he wanted to watch you scurry and make a half hearted escape with the hope of being chased by him. 

It’s then that he decides that he’ll follow you anywhere. He’d walk through waters and hike mountains bigger than the feeling pressing against his chest, all for you.

Days and weeks turned into months of your shadows following his. You rose and set with his name on your tongue or his tongue on yours entirely. You proved to be inseparable. Insatiable and insufferable to his friends and yours. 

So much so that one night, when your friends were sick of the kissing and cooing, you two escaped into the night hand in hand with not an ounce of a plan, but a hunger for adventure and each other. It took you four blocks to realize that the man next to you was the very adventure you desired. Black shirt, jeans and hat with a jacket you wanted to wear around your shoulders or maybe see on the floor. 

You’re not picky.

It took a sweet call of his name and bat of your lashes for him to cup your cheek and kiss the lips he swore could say no wrong.

He savored you. You devoured him. 

Stumbling and clumsy you found yourself in a park with little light, but you had this man memorized. Your hands went up his chest, over his shoulders and through his hair. 

Minho’s hands, gosh - his hands - they took their time. They always did. He’s a perfect balance to the force that is you and you a refreshing crash against his still shore. 

He picked you up, pinned you, kissed you and laughed. Gosh, you two laughed like you didn’t know anything else. You laughed like the two of you were completely by yourselves and hopefully you were because the sound that interrupted your gleeful giggles was less than wholesome when he took you. 

He moved with ease, propping your leg up and making room for himself like you’re a puzzle he’s solved a million times already. 

“Jagi.”

He panted against your lips, tongue finding yours as he practiced what he wanted to call you for the rest of your lives. 

You tell yourself that there was an eclipse that night. That’s how you remember it. 

A dimming and completion. 

A colliding of forces

An event bigger than the both of you.

But even the most magical of moments end. 

Those months turned into a year. A year of cats running around a messy apartment and a drawer filled to the brim with t-shirts and forgotten panties for visits that turned into weeks of sharing a bed. A year of kisses on every plain of skin that light touches. 

A year of magic and now you’re being shown the trick.

It was Minho’s idea to get ice cream, but you knew that he’d hope to pass that pudding place he loved so much. You let him think his plan had worked. He got his pudding and you your ice cream and you walked arm and arm down a street that you and he call yours with how often you frequent it. 

You were smiling as he told you a story, something ridiculous and exaggerated when someone caught his attention. A little girl with brown eyes wide like the sweetest boba on earth. She smiled and her mother hurried behind her with a haste that made you both grin. It was cute.

”Cute.” He cooed quietly, as you two passed and you hummed. “Ours will be just as adorable, maybe prettier.” He took a shot with that and smiled but that look in your eyes, the one that he’s never seen before, let him know that it was a shot in the dark.

”Minho…” Your eyes said it before your mouth could.

”You… don’t…” You both stop, staring and suddenly the plates beneath you shift and you lose yourself, or was it him that you lost? “I never asked, I just assumed…”

You considered changing your mind. You considered lying or converting your values but he’d see right through you. He always has. “You don’t want kids?”

Your ice cream melts, cone crumbles and he knows. “I don’t…” Suddenly he’s not hungry. Suddenly the sun is too bright and the hue of a prepossessing pink is gone from view. 

The white and lace that was once pretty and shimmering is torn. The elegant invitations are ripping in a heavy wind and the color scheme is all wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, no, no. no.

The eclipse has passed. 

It’s after a week of grappling at the shattered pieces of what once was that the two of you sit on the end of his bed with puffy cheeks and bloodshot eyes. 

You shake, feeling guilty even though he’s begged you not to. Your shadows overlap as you sit side by side and you pretend that your eclipse has returned for a second. Just a second, until Minho stands. He turns and he speaks and it’s weak. “We can’t…” and he breaks. “We can’t stay together…”

Sooni hisses at the air but you like to think that the idea is what the feline truly opposes. “I know.” You whisper and stand, drifting further in orbit.

You collect your things and for a second you try to work out an equation that tells you the exact moment that you were doomed. The exact moment that losing him also meant losing you. 

Minho watches, fighting his tears and himself and his damned desire for a family. He curses himself for letting that desire be bigger than the one he has for you. 

You turn to him, teary eyed and cracking at the corners. “I’m sorry.” He refuses to accept that. He steps forward like you’ve threatened him and cups your cheek. You lean into him one last time. 

“Don’t you dare apologize to me.” 

“But I’m so sorry…” You choke on the guilt metastasizing in your chest, wrapping around your ribcage. You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to cut it out. Not after this. “In a perfect world we would’ve never gone farther than a simple hello and I would’ve never hurt you. I hate that I’ve hurt you.” 

Minho folds, he lets the tears fall but that beautiful moon of yours comes back one last time in the form of his smile. “I had the chance to love you. That seems pretty perfect to me.” 

You smile for just a second because he’s right. You were able to love him. To have him in a way that was extraordinary, unexchangeable and more than anything - it’s yours. 

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ALSO, please follow my back-up acct. @minniee-verse 💕

[dostoyevsky-official]

Coralie Fargeat, director

His films opened gates towards imagination. Towards an endless mental space where each could project its own inner world. We could wander in his films. Go back to them again and again. They were thick with secrets, with the unexplained. They were full of the unnecessary.

That was so essential. It requires a lot of strength: the deliberate act of creating worlds with no boundaries. To create paths where our mind can follow its own way. Carpets. Back yards. Heavy rooms. Roads. A whole unseen world was infusing behind each of those spaces. They were becoming open spaces for our imagination. I loved his work for that.

Paul Schrader, director

David couldn’t get Blue Velvet made. Dino De Laurentiis told David he’d pay me to rewrite the script and David gave it to me. It was one of the best scripts I’d ever read. I told Dino there was no way I could improve it. David thanked me and Dino financed the film. The rest is film history. The only thing to add is this: smoking kills.

Stephen Woolley, programmer and producer

When I finally caught up with Eraserheead, I was so mesmerised and besotted with its beautiful design, disturbing imagery and surreal humour that I programmed it for two months exclusively at the Scala cinema in London. It was one of the most important films I had ever seen and still is.

He came for the opening. But, looking at the programme, he appeared suddenly alarmed (his expressions usually vacillated between open-faced exuberance and intense curiosity). I asked what was wrong. He apologetically explained in what can only be described as a Jimmy Stewart drawl that there was a mistake: it said the film was playing during the day. He went on to explain: nobody watched it in daylight; it was a midnight movie; it would flop at 3pm.

Ironically, Lynch liked to describe Eraserhead as his Philadelphia Story – not the charming romcom with Stewart, Hepburn and Grant, but a tale inspired by his time living in the most violent and crime-ridden neighbourhoods in the city. He had lived all over the US, after being born in Montana, but kept that adorable, sing-song midwest accent throughout his life.

I told him there was no mistake – and happily David was wrong. Eraserhead is a transgressive and pleasurable enigma, existing alongside movies like Tod Browning’s Freaks, Buñuel’s Un Chien Andalou and Jodorowsky’s El Topo – as a masterpiece of grotesquery as beauty – like a Francis Bacon painting or a Louise Bourgeois sculpture.

Peter Strickland, director

I first saw Eraserhead at the Scala cinema on Saturday 10 February 1990 and to say it was an influence is an understatement. It pointed to an aesthetic pathway hitherto hidden from view, and most tellingly, as with many altering experiences, it revealed something within me that was probably always latent, but required unveiling.

At one point I fell asleep. But my dream state was porous enough to allow in fragments from the film, such as the Lady in the Radiator song, which made the whole experience even more indelible.

For all the genuinely repellent scenes in Eraserhead, the film’s ignition is in its confoundingly wayward tonality and how Lynch saw and heard the world. It was the first time I considered sound as something expressive rather than illustrative and considered film as something impressionistic rather than representative. The film functioned as an environment more than anything. I kidded myself that I could live in that inner world, though my only concession to that was in purchasing the film’s poster from a shop in Reading called But Is it Art?.

Carol Morley, director

It’s hard to believe Lynch has gone, but incredible to contemplate all that he did, and just how his avant garde art bravely made it out into the big wide world and continues to thrive. His film-making turned everything upside down and inside out and he did it with such originality it was breathtaking. He didn’t analyse. He felt, he had dreams and he tried to catch something in the air. In the book Lynch on Lynch, he said: “There are things that cinema can do that are very difficult to talk about.” He understood the mystery and magic like nobody else.

The best thing in the world for him was to have an idea. And he inspired me to stay true to my own ideas even when navigating the tricky and sometimes suffocating parts of film-making that are essentially commerce above art. Over the years I’ve watched and read interviews with him, and once spent a morning in bed reading his insights into life and creativity in his alternative self-help book, Catching the Big Fish. I’d begun the day never wanting to get up again and certainly never wanting to make a film again, but he returned my desire to do both. And through this, he taught me to hang on to the personal, to always return to the beginning of a process – to remember what you fell in love with when you had the initial thoughts and to never let go of that feeling and to keep going deep.

Lynch dreamed up his films – literally. The ending of Blue Velvet came to him in a dream. He inspired me to connect with my unconscious, to pay it respect. I loved how he explored the unmentionables in life, shone light into darkness, created monsters and outsiders, how he reconciled opposites such as the innocence and horror of small-town America, how he looked at “the weird on top” (as Laura Dern’s character in Wild at Heart says) and then took us underground.

The original Blue Velvet trailer says: “It will open your eyes to a world you’ve never seen before.” That pretty much sums up all of Lynch’s oeuvre. There’s a familiarity, but then again … I was around when Twin Peaks aired on TV in 1990 and my friends and I couldn’t stop talking about it. We began to see things differently. Life became Lynchian. I swear he altered the structure of our brains.

His work has always been a great challenge for the mind, but it’s the emotion in his films that has kept me returning for clues. As inventive as he was with performance, image, sound and music, nothing he did was embellishment for the sake of style, everything Lynch did was in service to the story. And It’s clear how much he loved his actors, how he gave them a safe and freeing space to do the very delicate and personal work actors have to do.

Alice Lowe, director

Many remember the first time they encountered Lynch’s indelible images, heard his sound and music for the first time. To me, he’s just always been there. And that’s when a cultural loss feels hard: when you’ve not met someone, but their work feels personal to you, part of your psyche.

But what’s strange is how many feel that way. The strangeness and intimacy of his work is counterintuitive to its popularity, its sheer power to force its way into culture collectively. His work spoke its own language, but a language that was strangely universal. In a time when the very nature of film as an individual’s perspective and the human auteurship of art is in question, it feels seismic to have lost him.

He reminded us that genius can be coupled with kindness and humanity. To me his greatest collaboration was with his audience. The generosity to allow people to project their own interpretation upon his work, forging powerful bonds with it.

For me it is the power of colour within his work; the soul-shifting nature of the sound design; his unforgettable characters: Bob crawling over the sofa, Diane Ladd covering herself with lipstick, Nicolas Cage’s sweetness in Wild at Heart, the log lady, the lady in the radiator, The Elephant Man choosing to die. He deftly mixed tones – nigh impossible. Humour and darkness and horror and sadness and wonder. All human experience contained.

He was the best magician. His spell was to dispel accusations of elitism or pretension with the sheer primality of his incantations. It is happening again. You may not be able to explain it, but deep down, you understand it. Universal. He showed us monsters without being a monster. And his showmanship was filled with empathy.

I’m going try to find something in the wreckage of this loss: a promise to be creative, to trust in art, in humanity, that there is a collectivity to our experience, and it’s worth sharing it. I hope his family are comforted by the love pouring out for this wonderful human.

[tylered-up-in-blue]

This is one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen - I am so, so excited to play this it is SO beautiful.

It is the 1920s, and in a sleepy Sussex village, beekeeper and former world's greatest detective Sherlock Holmes (James Quinn, Apostasy), is trying to arrange a pleasant clifftop picnic for his lifelong companion Dr Watson (Andrew James Spooner, Muppets Most Wanted). The only problem is that a series of mysteries keep getting in the way!

Features

Explore a seaside town It’s the day of the village fete, a suspicious new neighbour has taken a lease on  a long-abandoned cottage and something strange is happening down on the  beach…

Interrogate and befriend a fully professionally voice-acted cast of eccentric characters including a clown with a tragic past (Felix Trench, Wooden Overcoats), the local leader of the women's institute (Alison Skilbeck, The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, (yes that one)) budding young naturalist (Alice Osmanski, Sanditon), a wannabe showman (Layla Katib, Victoriocity) and a prickly police officer. And lots more. I love this cast to bits.

Make deductions and decisions. Puzzles have multiple solutions, some of which may please your neighbours more than others.  What path will you choose? Who will you enlist to help you?

Phone for help of you get stuck! Your older brother Mycroft (Richard Rycroft, Game of Thrones) is always ready to act as your consultant, just give him a call at his club if you need a hint. 

A  relaxing bespoke soundtrack by @sandygarnelle

🐝Releasing March 2025🐝

Hey so, I'm @jabbage, and I've spent the past few years and thousands of hours making the funny, poignant, cosy, queer game I always wanted to play. I can't wait to share it with all of you!

If you would like to support the project, please consider following this blog, wishlisting the game to feed Steam's algorithm, reblogging this post and spreading the word to your friends - it really does make a massive difference to a solo indie developer like me! <3

Wishlist on Steam | Itch.io Demo | Discord | Press Kit

(Also feel free to ask me a question about it!)

[dearweirdme]

In the interest of justice for my gayby JK, here are a few non-Tae-related reasons I personally think that JK is not only not straight, but probably gay:

• Starting out with JK's own words about himself, the "I am still me" thing. This came up for JK twice in 2019, when he mentioned it in relation to himself during that year's Festa, and when he posted an art piece featuring this phrase. Obviously the phrase is from Love Simon, a coming of age/coming out movie about a gay teenager, which is telling already, but I think it's also worth noting that around this time, JK had been going through a bit of a phase in terms of his thoughts regarding being open with himself. He talked quite a bit in 2018/2019 about feeling like he was wearing a mask when he met people, his struggles with authenticity, and his fear that specifically fans wouldn't love him anymore if they knew the real him. I think a lot of the members were struggling with similar feelings at the time, no doubt because of their rising fame, and we see that reflected in their disbandment talks and in LY: Tear, but JK seemed to struggle with it really personally, and his struggles lasted beyond the disbandment talks, still coming up quite a bit later in 2019. I think it's also worth pointing out that Love Simon isn't so much about Simon realizing his own sexuality as it is about him opening up and sharing that with other people, which also ties back into JK resonating with that message while struggling specifically with his perception by others, and how much he could or wanted to be open about himself with other people. He also talked a bit around this time about trying to find the balance between what should stay personal to himself and his private life versus what he could be more open with. All of that taken into consideration with his clear resonance with the phrase and idea behind "I am still me" gives a pretty clear indication of where those feelings were coming from, I think.

• Beyond his words about himself, I think there are a lot of small indicators that add up. JK has always been pretty obviously interested in male bodies (his comments on random strangers while traveling, on the men's bodies in that Netflix show he watched during his fried chicken live, and the Namjoon "thighs" story all come to mind as examples). A lot of his favorite/enjoyed artists over the years have been openly queer (Troye Sivan, Sam Smith, Kim Petras) and explore queer themes in their work consistently. He has a lot of soft, dainty mannerisms that he doesn't seem to make any effort to hide or stamp out (playing with and tucking his hair behind his ears, "sitting pretty" as fandom calls it lol, the skipping and his style of running when he isn't attempting to be genuinely athletic). And just to be clear on this last point, anyone can have mannerisms like that and it doesn't necessarily mean anything about their sexuality, but the fact that this is just a part of who he is, how he moves through the world, with no attempt to "masc" himself up, while at the same time not taking away from his other, more "traditionally masculine" traits, says a lot, I think. People contain multitudes, and the fact that JK embraces his is both revealing and quite beautiful imo.

• So far all of this paints a pretty clear picture, in my personal opinion, that JK is probably not straight, but the reason I think he's most likely specifically gay is less about what he does show and more about what he doesn't, because I have never seen any actual indication that this man has ever been attracted to a woman lol. He's basically the walking embodiment of that "name a woman!!!!!" meme. It still sends me that in that one interview, he couldn't come up with a single actress to just say he liked ("I know her face, but not her name. I know the movie, but not the movie's name." Sure, Jan 😭). Even when he was pretty young in the early days, when other members were focused on the women around them, JK couldn't care less, and that's stayed consistent over the years. There are times when you can see other members show subtle interest in the women around them but for JK, there's just nothing there. I'm so sorry to anyone who would like to believe otherwise, but flirting with fans on lives, fans he can't even see and doesn't have to have any kind of personal one-on-one interaction with, does not count. That's his job, and on top of that, he clearly finds it incredibly silly and unserious to do. It's goofy, and it's for fun, and it isn't a genuine expression of sexual or romantic interest (obviously).

If I brought Tae into it, we'd be here forever, but hopefully this was interesting or fun to read for people curious about where this opinion comes from lol. Justice for 🏳️‍🌈 JK loml

Hi anon!

Thank you for this 💜

[catbolt]

— CRUSHING

[SOUNDTRACK] Crushing - Eartheater || ▶︎

[TAGS] rafayel x reader, fluff, slight angst/allusion to myth, slightly suggestive

[A/N] italicized text is taken from the lyrics of Crushing by Eartheater (aka literallyyyyy the most raf song ever which inspired me to make this fic and also make my raf playlist)

this is just my ode to raf in all his sweetness and glory. i really like this fic :') this length and this sort of free minimal plot slice of life style is exactly my comfort zone and something i want to keep doing for sure. hope u guys enjoy!

[WC] 1k

songfic 5/?

You’re the wave crushing the shells into sand  You’re the flame melting sand into glass

When Rafayel touches you for the first time that night, his hand sliding purposefully around your waist, each finger pressing with insistence like they’re trying to sear their mark into your skin with an invisible brand– it’s like he’s someone else. Behind the silly jokes and banter that both of you share, that someone else is always there.

You’re the glass holding the wine You’re the wine making me drunk

Among the clink of glasses, the hum of hushed, polite conversation as Rafayel steers you through the exhibition by his side, that palm of heat pressing firmly into the small of your back is unignorable, ineffable. You engage in small talk with passing socialites, as does he, appearing as jovial and engaged as ever, but the way his fingers gently slide through the sateen of your dress and play with the fabric at your hip is beyond distracting. 

Only he can do this to you– touch you so innocently in a way that makes your stomach clench, makes your lungs seize onto each gulpful of air like you’re drowning in a warm sea, makes your skin erupt with gooseflesh, every single tiny hair on your body standing on end.

You’re the drunk telling me lies You’re the lies that come to light

Each wall in the museum hall is decorated with a piece of him, canvases of bright blues and deep reds, pearlescent whites and seaweed greens that glitter with an unexplainable texture like crushed diamonds. You can’t help but look around in awe. You’ve been in his studio before, seen the man himself at work, but being in an exhibition of his work, a celebration of it, is different. It feels like you’re in a hall of mirrors– each painting that you see is a reflection of the man you love staring back at you, hours of dedication, suffering, and passion laid bare for all to see. 

It’s profoundly intimate and honest, almost uncomfortably so. You squeeze his arm gently in an unconscious protective gesture as your eyes scan over the walls of paintings, suddenly wishing everyone would disappear except the two of you.

“What?” Rafayel murmurs gently under his breath. “You okay, cutie?” 

“Yeah,” you respond. “More than okay. It’s so beautiful. All of it.” You gesture broadly with your hand. A soft smile rises on his lips, a twinkle in his lavender eyes. 

“I’m happy you’re here with me.” 

You’re the opening of a shell You’re the shell that has a pearl

When you’re back at Rafayel’s place after the exhibition, kicking off your heels and reclining into the couch, his hands snake around you again, greedy and beseeching around the circumference of your waist. He leans into you, head nestling into where your neck meets your shoulder, breathing in your perfume.

“You know,” you murmur, hand stroking through his hair as the two of you lie quietly on the couch in the moonlight. “I feel like I don’t compliment you about your art enough.”

He laughs, his warm breath ghosting over your neck. “What, you want to boost my ego even more? You’re the one who always complains I’m too full of myself.”

“Not because I want to boost your ego,” you correct with a chuckle. “Because I want you to know how talented I think you are. Seriously. Every time you draw the sea, I feel like I’m seeing Lemuria how it was.”

His body stiffens in your arms for a few seconds before relaxing again. He’s silent momentarily as you continue petting his hair, feeling his soft breath on your skin. You can tell he’s thinking. He presses a brief kiss to the side of your throat. “Thanks,” he finally responds, his voice tinged with roughness.

You’re the body that blows my mind You’re the mind that stays open

You could spend the night like this, holding him close on the couch, but he has other plans as he nuzzles closer to you, his hand slipping past the hem of your dress and lazily up your thigh. “I don’t deserve you,” he mutters. “But you give yourself to me.”

“Don’t say things like that,” you chide as his fingers rub circles on the inside of your thigh. His touch is delicate and light, his fingers a paintbrush drawing gentle strokes on your skin. “It’s true,” he says. “But I won’t let you go again. I’m not waiting another 800 years. I won’t wait for even one.”

You’re the turn on that I can’t refuse You’re the fuse that detonates my body

You want to ask what on earth he’s talking about, but he silences you with a soft kiss. You can almost taste the yearning, the way his mouth fervently seeks yours with a taut intensity. There’s something– someone else there in the way he kisses you, a searing, claiming force behind the way his mouth moves against yours.

You wonder if he’ll ever explain it to you, exactly what goes on inside his head in moments like this. The times you feel like there’s something stronger behind his kisses and the way he touches you. The times he gets serious, the times he’s uncharacteristically quiet, staring out off the balcony, watching the waves lap gently against the sand in the middle of night. When the shadow of that someone else is there, dark and visible, behind his eyes.

You have a feeling he won’t. And that’s alright– you can live not fully knowing why he looks at you the way he does, like he is now, like he’s afraid you’re going to disappear if he turns away for even a moment.

 As long as he never stops kissing you just like this. 

You’re a well of reasons to keep crashing To keep crushing on your shore I’m still crushing That’s for sure

[whayjhey]

Across the Hall (or: a modern Anidala AU where Anakin is a single dad and Luke wants to play cupid.)

Luke is five when he gets a new neighbor across the hall. Her door is wide open, and he stops in his tracks when he sees her face and poofy, curly hair.

She is pretty, he thinks. The prettiest girl he's ever seen.

His eyes widen as he catches a glimpse of her a-part-ment (big words are hard! But Daddy is helping him learn so many). Some tall, big men carry boxes inside while she tells them where to put them. He also sees a shelf, and he gasps at the number of books she has. 

So many books! She must be so smart. 

Her eyes move to where he is at by the door, and he freezes at getting caught. Uh oh. 

But then she smiles, and Luke thinks it's the warmest, kindest smile he's ever seen. It gives him the same feeling as Daddy's laugh  and Daddy's hugs. 

"Oh, hello," she greets him, moving closer to where he is by the door. 

Before he could stop himself, Luke asks, "Are you an angel?"

She looks at him funny, like she wants to laugh. "What?"

"An angel," he huffs. He was being sir- ser?- serious after all. "My Daddy says that they're the most beautiful creatures in the u-ni-verse!" That was another big word he just learned a week ago, when he and Daddy were learning about space. Luke likes — loves — space.

She gives him a soft chuckle. "I'm not an angel, no." She holds out her hand for him to shake. "I'm Padmé. What's your name?"

Luke's eyes widen in a-maze-ment once again, before taking her hand in both of his, shaking it happily. "I'm Luke!" He almost shouts. "It's nice to meet you, Miss Padmé!"

She smiles even more widely. Luke is convinced she was lying; she looks like an angel, really, really! He has to tell Daddy later so he can see for himself! 

"You're very polite, Luke. Do you live here?"

"Uh huh." Luke nods excitedly. He points to the door to his home, just across hers. "I live there with my Daddy! You should meet him!"

He looks up at Padmé, who is very small, he decides, compared to Daddy (whom, Luke swears, he is going to be as tall as one day).  But she is just as nice as Daddy, just as kind. He wonders what Daddy will think of her, if he'll think she's pretty, too. If he'll like her as quickly as Luke had.

Luke gasps.

An idea forms in his head. 

(check out the rest of my stuff: masterpost)

[pacheonmaeng]

sqs romeo ver. red stage

[youvebeengalindafied]

Wicked (musical/movie) was really like “here’s a drop-dead gorgeous perfect beautiful young woman with super high cheekbones, dark dangerous eyes, and waist-length raven-black hair, who has a biting wit, is very passionate about everything, stands up against a fascist govt, wears a midnight-black homemade corseted dress that sweeps along the floor, and becomes really really hot when she goes a little crazy….. and everybody hates her because she’s green.”

[froginabogg]

babe wake up new bryce charles pictures just dropped

x x x x💜x x x x

[sysig]

Coming in to play! (Patreon)

[boxwinebaddie]

this selena cover is the cd song ever of all time jysk :*