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Dominate Local Search Results: Increase your reach in your community with our local SEO services, designed to put your business on the map and attract more customers.
#rudramsoft#seo#leads#paid leads#leads generation#local seo#seo company#search engine optimization#seo agency#on page seo#off page seo#technical seo
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look i understand that humans are complex creatures who do bad things and are capable of learning from mistakes but also i think saying my ex should never get a good shag again is funny
#ramble#one of those mythology style punishments y'know#this sounds worse than it is without context#the 'separating bc of valid differences' is fine the 'leading me on and exploiting me out of a lot of time and money' is not#he never paid me back btw#every now and then i go through a period of being Very Not Fine before someone slaps some sense into me#like GENUINELY i don't wish death or misery on people but saying i want to hit them with a chair is funny sometimes
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Luke’s Grumpy Magazine interview by Claudia
I love them!
#benedict bridgerton#luke thompson#claudia jessie#eloise bridgerton#bridgerton#beneloise#leading man era#future leading lady#Yes I paid for the article!#Worth the money
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one orrrr
two?
#not a perfect return to posting art#but fuck if my pettiness isn't a great driving force#lol about what snack??#some ole bullshit i saw on the whassit... insta or twitter#one of those two where “FaNs” go to pretend they got no fucking manners#oOoOh you're a this that whatever artist because look you draw like this one OoOoh#fuck outa here#literally I'm gonna post going through my whole goddamn style rolodex#also?#personal art style is not as big a deal as some of these new/young artists think it is#like maybe in commercial or children's book illustration#since they look for a specific vibe#and you're doing yourself an artistic disservice by focusing so much on “creating a personal style”#and this weird fucking self-imposed boundary of like appreciating how an artist renders this or that aspect of their drawing#because they think the plagiarism police are gonna SWAT them#like... it's pretty and you like it bcoz it speaks to you so#fucking just#try it out#try out that type of line weight#try out that color palette#try out that way of lighting a person or a scene#try it#listen everyone is out here being an aesthetic frankenstein's monster#the minute you try out xyz in your art it becomes “your style” because how you interpret it replicate it will be#influenced (altered you could say) by how you draw#unless your ass getting paid to draw on model or your art lead's style or you wanna get on a show/game so you're cobbling a quick portfolio#but that's not this#also lol next mutation still got fans#my childhood nostalgia says hello#tw eyestrain
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I think Biden stopped taking the online anti-voting Left seriously (if he was ever aware of them) when the people that spent 4 years saying Obama’s drone usage made him worse than Trump in order to make their Both Sides arguments made nary a peep when Biden stopped nearly all US drone operations.
#Biden ending the drone war was on paper a massive W for the left that loved to post that one comic#about how ‘they say the next drone will be sent by a woman’#but they spent all their time bitching about how their private loans won’t get paid off#until suddenly they cared about foreign policy when it was time to say that Biden was personally leading the IDF into battle
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I think what pisses me off most about the Wednesday fandom is that so many are intentionally ignoring the fact that Tyler is MEANT to be a tragic character because he is a Hyde. We basically have it beaten over our heads that Hydes are the outcasts of outcasts, deemed too difficult to help, and therefore abandoned and left to their own devices, basically giving them no way to NOT be tortured into being someone’s slave or ultimately having something tragic or awful happen to them that forces out their Hyde and leaving them to become a monster and/or get killed.
So many people blame Tyler for every bad thing that happened in this first season when he LITERALLY had no option but to do exactly as Laurel wished. He was TOLD to go murder the people he murdered, he was TOLD to get Wednesday to trust him, he was TOLD to go after Eugene, he had no CHOICE but to obey, it’s literally in the show’s lore. And we are both told AND shown what lengths Laurel went to to literally torture this teenage boy into becoming a monster that was FORCED to obey her. Not only that, but all that “mama” talk and physical touch is gag-worthy. SHE is the true monster who wanted everyone dead, and she ruined that boy’s life to try and get what she wanted. And the show INTENTIONALLY shows AND tells you all that.
We are SHOWN how Tyler was chained, beaten, poisoned to bring the Hyde out, to become Laurel’s perfect slave. And still so many see HIM as the “true villain,” stating that if he was truly “good” he never would’ve done all he did. Meanwhile the lore has TOLD you, Hydes have no choice. But WAY too many disregard this plot point entirely simply because they see it as something to cling to for their preferred ship to happen. That’s infuriating to me, truly. Not only from a standpoint of really loving Tyler as a character, but also from a standpoint of it being apparent to ME of where the story is going, and knowing that so much of the fandom is gonna be pissed off about it because it’s Tyler-centric.
We are given so much information about “Hydes have been banned from Nevermore for 30 years,” “Faulkner was studying Hydes but he died before he could finish his research,” “nobody knows for sure if, once unlocked, Hydes are only monsters or if the person they were is still in there.” Between all this within the narrative itself and Hunter talking about how he’s excited to explore the duality of the Real Tyler versus the Hyde next season, I think it’s obvious that Wednesday and Tyler are basically going to get to the bottom of this “are Hydes all 100% bad and dangerous” problem themselves, and the result of their research will probably get Hydes accepted back into Nevermore.
Wednesday already knows how unjust the whole system is, she mentions it FREQUENTLY in the first season. Once she gets past feeling betrayed by what happened in season one, it’s likely going to weigh on her that someone she cared about deeply enough to bring her walls down for, to actually seek out to KISS, was so hurt by this system that he ended up doing all he did. And Tyler is inevitably returning, the writers have talked about how we’re going to learn more about Tyler and explore his true feelings for Wednesday. They’ll be brought back together, no doubt. And thus, the deep dive on Hydes will probably begin.
I don’t care what you ship, I don’t even care if you really LIKE Tyler as a character, but I DO care that so many have made him out to be a pure villain simply because that suits their own personal narrative better, and makes them feel like it’s more likely their preferred ship will win the “war.” Like, try and WATCH a show, actually WATCH it, and not simply cling to bits and pieces that suit the storyline you’ve made up in your head. You’re SUPPOSED to hate LAUREL, you’re supposed to, at the very least, wonder if the Real Tyler is still in there, if he can be helped, and you are SUPPOSED to feel some pity for the boy who was forced into becoming an enslaved monster.
#I’m just so exhausted by the takes I’ve been seeing#especially on Twitter#about how Tyler is pure evil#and how anybody who loves him is scum of the earth#like no?#i actually paid attention to the show#and the character development#and the narrative we were literally told#Tyler is so much more complex#and making him out to be a purely evil one-note villain drives me up a fkn wall#sorry he’s a threat to your ship I guess??#but you’re gonna be super pissed to find out his character is critical to the overarching narrative of the show#he’s literally the male lead#I feel like that’s very obvious#weyler#wyler#tyler galpin#tyler x wednesday#wednesday x tyler#wednesday addams#wednesday netflix#Wednesday#I’ll defend Tyler Galpin til the cows come home#you’ll never catch me NOT defending him
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Halenthir scenario where they get married for tax benefits (in a platonic good friends sort of way) and fall in love long distance via sending each other letters with ideas on how to best leverage their marriage for tax evasion.
#Haleth has never paid taxes before moving to brethil#And is FUMING about the idea. So she sends a letter to Caranthir who mentioned something about *evading* taxes#In this setting I guess they part on good friendship terms#She visits him for a crash course in tax evading and they get drunk and someone mentions marriage giving you tax benefits#They wake up the next day and decide “you know what. Let’s actually get married for tax evasion purposes. It would be hilarious”#Up to you whether they get married in the elven way or just in the human way#Haleth fucks off back to brethil with a bunch of gifts from Caranthir like “bye bestie” and he’s like “👍. Bye bestie.”#And they strike up a proper correspondence#Because they’re married obviously#not because they’re having fun talking about loopholes in the tax code#That would be ridiculous. Obviously they are writing each other erotica.#All of Caranthir’s brothers find out because Caranthir ticks married on his tax return#Maglor voice: YOU GOT MARRIED? AND YOU DIDNT INVITE US?#Caranthir voice: It was pretty low-key. Now tell me. Did Fingolfin cry upon seeing how I leveraged my marriage for tax concessions.#Literally all his brothers: various sounds of sudden realisation this is a tax scheme#half of them don’t even believe haleth is a real person. She might have just been made up for tax reasons#Obviously this leads to a comedy of errors and classic finwean snooping#at one point Haleth hits one of Caranthir’s (half) cousins with a shovel for snooping#claims her name isn’t haleth (despite all her people calling her Haleth) and dares them to call her out on it#they can’t btw she is terrifying#silmarillion#the silmarillion#tolkien#caranthir#morifinwe#haleth of the haladin
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frame it in the louvre
#this is EVERYTHING TO ME#he believed in his team for years when he didn’t have to#when he had other opportunities#and it has paid off#Lando Norris race winner#people saying he would never win a race#and he has won 4 this season#people said he wouldn’t lead turn one#he has lead every lap#Lando Norris#4x RACE WINNER#l4ndo#ln4#f1#formula 1#mclaren#abu dhabi gp 2024
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It is insane to me that this show wants us to believe that everyone just left Faith to rot in that motel room until the Mayor stepped in to give her a place. A) That reflects really badly on both Giles and Wesley that neither of thought to arrange for better accommodations for Faith when watching out for the Slayer is their entire job. And B) what actually would have happened is on the first night when Buffy invited Faith over to dinner, Joyce would have asked Faith where she was staying while she was in town. Faith would have told her the motel and of course, Joyce would have none of that and insist that Faith stay with them. And Faith, poor affection starved child that she is, would have ended up attaching herself to Joyce like a limpet.
#btvs#joyce summers#faith lehane#and let me tell you Buffy would *not* like that#but Joyce would just be like deal with it you have a sister now#but what I really want from this is for it to lead to Joyce questioning the whole Watcher system#leading to the discovery that Watchers get paid and slayers don’t#and Joyce to be like not on my fucking watch#Buffy & Faith are on the payroll within a week#they even get dental!
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modern alkaid | 319 roses and a date
Alkaid gets asked on a date by the girl he desperately wanted to ask out, at least before he found out who the flowers were for. You'd like to maintain that nothing you said was a lie.
2.8k, post-alkaid's florist ending [everything else happens the same way, except alkaid's first meeting with mc happens after godheim], misunderstandings + some angst, mc is reader, series: none
ALKAID STARES DOWN BLANKLY AT the bouquet of white roses in his hands. At some point during his stunned silence, he had unwittingly taken them off yours, just as you had hoped for.
All 319 of them, to be precise—which is a number that, put in a different context, can also refer to 3/19, the day of his birth. Even with the limited capacity he has at the moment to sort out the events that led up to this moment, he can't help the way his heart flutters at the knowledge that you remembered, even though so much time has passed.
"Alkaid?" A gentle tap against his shoulder robs the flowers of their spotlight. "Do you...not like the flowers?"
He looks up and sees you, still here—still dressed so beautifully he's once more in danger of succumbing to asphyxiation, with a fretful expression that makes him wonder if he's already there. When he does not respond, you close the remaining distance between them, obscuring all else from his vision.
It is a problem only because he has nowhere left to run.
"No," he croaks out finally, leaning back over the counter to accommodate you.
Obliviously, you move closer, leaving him with no choice but to avert his gaze once more. Alkaid can only hope you aren't offended—that you don't think he finds you unattractive, with how often he does so. It's only that your beaming smile reminds him of what it feels like to stare down the sun.
"They're lovely."
Satisfied with his answer, you pull back. Your hands are clasped behind your back, and your ponytail sways slightly, once more retreating behind your shoulder. There's an adorable star-shaped pin fastened onto the strap of your cross-body bag.
He sighs discretely, relieved, and pulls the bouquet up to his face as casually as he can. The petals, he hopes, will be enough to cover up the deep scarlet staining his cheeks.
"I'm glad!" You clap your hands together. "I was worried they wouldn't be to your liking. Maybe I should've asked you what your favorite flower was before I tried asking you out."
A self-deprecating laugh slips out as you scratch your cheek. An intricate design spans the length of your nail now—shades of red and green shaped into what he can clearly recognize as halves of a rose hugging the edges—against a black background.
Alkaid bites his lip, converting the interrupted gasp into a quiet exhale.
"You guessed right. I like white roses," he says, hoping desperately that his words are nothing less than reassuring. "Though they share that spot with lilies as well."
"Lilies," you repeat, a determined gleam in your lovely eyes. "I'll keep that in mind for next time."
He bites his lip harder.
THE MORNING HE'S DUE TO hand off your flowers, Alkaid finds himself contemplating the benefits of coffee behind the register.
Though his favorite concealer and his usual color corrector have done much to brighten up his undereyes, they can do little for the grogginess that comes with staying awake the whole night (Why such a specific number? Who are they for? Do you remember him at all?). And, by the time the clock strikes nine, he's already downed three cups of strongly-brewed tea.
What pushes him to finally break away from his usual preferences is a simple headache.
The store is empty, and there remains more than half an hour before you're set to arrive. A sharp twinge of pain in the side of his head as he stands up to check on your flowers draws out a careful hiss. Alkaid, with some amount of lingering hesitance, flips the sign on his door to closed, with a note explaining the rough length of absence. Then he walks out the door, his destination the artsy cafe across the street—the one that makes him think of you whenever he walks in.
Allen, the normally deadpan barista on duty, seems to shut down when Alkaid corrects him on his order. Soon, the news spreads to the rest of the employees, who take turns staring at him as he leaves with a warm thermos of coffee in his hands.
But, in the end, it proves to be an unnecessary trip.
You're already in front of his flower shop when he returns, half-crouched and studying the sign the way someone might study a work of abstract art. Today, too, you have a large, dark blue backpack slung over both your shoulders, its surface decorated with various pins and stickers—mostly of a cat, your cat, but also of a popular manga that you seem to like.
In Passing, that is.
It's about a love triangle featuring a tyrant emperor and a well-liked leader of the rebellion. Even without the reviews praising it for subverting expectations, Alkaid would've picked it up anyway.
He's on the third volume right now, and—
Hmm? His eyebrows furrow. Where did I leave it? In my bag?
All of a sudden, the sleep that had been so insistent on dragging his eyelids down vanishes. Alkaid wracks his brain desperately for the answers, stomach churning at the thought of you finding out about his latest reading material.
Unfortunately, you choose that moment to turn around.
"Oh, Alkaid!"
Your confused expression soon melts away, leaving behind only a cheerful smile. Tightening his grip on his thermos, he exhales silently, before flashing you a gentle smile.
"You're here." Time stops as you begin to approach him, your keychains singing a short jingle to accompany you. Your expression softens, as does your voice. "You didn't forget about me, right?"
Alkaid can only sputter out a half-coherent apology.
The words get drowned out by the insistent, purposeful beating of his heart. It's as if it wants to claw itself out of his chest and entrust itself to your hands, as it is, with shattered bones sticking out of it.
You laugh prettily, as always. "It's okay. I'm just joking."
Then, like a moth to a flame, his gaze falls upon your lips. A soft red, with a glossy sheen, one that matches the color of your skirt. On a plain canvas, it's all the more striking. It leaves him wondering about things he, currently a stranger, shouldn't be fretting over.
He's not sure how long he stares for, with slightly parted lips and a series of half-realized thoughts chiding at him to stop—only that it's not long enough for you to grow uncomfortable.
Alkaid clears his throat, holding up his thermos (I should've bought her something too, he thinks) as an explanation. "I apologize for the wait. I went over to the cafe across the street."
"Coffee lover?" you guess, making room for him to open the door.
"I'm usually more of a tea person." As he slips inside the store, he can't help but chuckle self-consciously, remembering all the different ways he imagined this scene playing out. Naturally, his next words are nothing more than the most blatant lie he's ever told. "I thought I'd try something else for a change."
"Is it a nice place?" Upon seeing the puzzled look he sends over his shoulder, you clarify, "The cafe. I've seen the reviews, but I think only experience can beat the testimony of someone you know."
He considers your question for a moment. "The staff is very friendly. I often stop by during lunch for their sandwiches."
"I see..." you murmur.
"I think you'd like it," Alkaid blurts out as he slips in behind the register, happy to note that his copy of Volume 3 is, in fact, in his bag. "The owner enjoys collecting art—there's a lot of different paintings all over the cafe. Um, since you're an art major."
"Well, now I have to try it out." You don't seem particularly startled that he knows about your major; instead, you take to drawing patterns across the wooden countertop. He thinks he sees the familiar curve of an A. "The cookies you recommended last time were really great too."
When he keeps his silence, the complete opposite of what the state of his mind currently is (she remembers?), you look up.
"Hmm?" You tilt your head, confusion clouding your once smiling expression. "Do I have the wrong person? You're Alkaid, right? From that time in the snow mountains?"
He forces himself to nod, but that too is enough.
A shy smile blossoms on your lips, paired with both a brief flash of relief flitting through your gaze and the slight, almost imperceptible widening of your eyes. Placing your hands above your heart, you sigh exaggeratedly.
"You had me worried for a moment," you say. Your eyelashes cast a dark shadow on your undereyes. "I thought we'd never meet again."
For a moment, he wonders if there's more to your sorrow than you let on. Does it have anything to do with the way you disappeared? Somewhere so far away that no one could reach you at all?
Alkaid shakes off his thoughts.
"But we did," he responds carefully. I never thought we'd meet again either, he does not say instead. "Whether it was destiny, whether it was just a coincidence, we did. All we can do is make the most of it."
A tinge of sadness mars your lovely smile. "I think that sounds lovely."
SOON AFTER THEIR REUNION, DONE properly this time, down to exchanging numbers, Alkaid excuses himself to go fetch your flowers. When he returns, lovesick heart brimming with curiosity over the recipient's identity once more, he finds you've returned to doodling on the counter.
"Here they are, 319 white roses," he announces.
There's a blank expression on your face when you look up. Slowly, as recognition dawns upon you, it melts away to something bitter and rough. Its jagged edges dig into his his heart, leaving a paralyzing mix of sadness and longing to wash over him.
And then—
"Thank you," you say, and take the flowers off his hand.
His hand twitches, yearning for the camera he still keeps in his backpack, for the days where he feels like memorializing something instead. Lovely is the only word he has to describe you as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ears and pull the bouquet close with a faint smile.
Then, you close your eyes, and you inhale deeply. Once more, you are somewhere else—somewhere far, somewhere he can't reach.
"Ah, sorry." You crack one eye open. Now, the bouquet is clutched against your chest, but your sadness remains. "I guess I'm a bit nervous. I don't know if he'll like the flowers."
He? From some far corner of his mind, he recalls the image of your guardian. A tall man, with long silver hair and a pleasant, but guarded expression. Cael, he thinks is the name.
"For your guardian?" Alkaid inquires.
Your smile drops entirely at the mention of your guardian. A complicated series of emotions flash in your gaze, soon averted to one of the potted plants at the display. Scratching your cheek, you offer him a polite laugh.
Today, only some of your nails are a plain black. The rest remain bare.
"No, it's not for Cael." You answer carefully. "Actually—"
Looking down at the flowers, you take a deep breath. When next you speak, your voice has reclaimed the softness it'd shown him earlier—your searching gaze as well. You leave him with the truth, imparting it onto him like a mischievous secret.
"There's someone I'd like to ask out."
His stomach drops, and you leave him with the memory of lovelorn smile, forever imprinted behind his eyelids.
"I hope he says yes."
[3:00 PM] you: Alkaid, do you have any plans tonight?
[3:17 PM] alkaid: No, I'm free
[3:21 PM] alkaid: Did something happen?
[3:22 PM] you:
[3:22 PM] you: I haven't asked him out yet. Gonna do it soon
[3:23 PM] you: All of my other friends are busy rn.
[3:24 PM] you: Is it okay if I stop by after you close up shop?
[3:24 PM] you: I'd want to talk to someone about it
[4:31 PM] alkaid: Of course
SOMEHOW, ALKAID MANAGES TO GET through the rest of the day.
His heart is held together haphazardly with duct tape and carefully-placed staples, though their efforts are thwarted constantly by a popular refrain (You hardly know him. Of course there's someone else.), and he's one stubbed toe away from being reduced to tears, but he manages. Somehow.
He swallows down his what-ifs and maybes and waits, watching the hands on his wristwatch inch ever closer to six in the evening. And eventually, the vaguely promised time arrives.
As he's stepping out from behind the register, a familiar chime echoes cuts through the silence. Alkaid looks up and sees you, dressed still in red and black, your turtleneck and skirt swapped out for a knee-length dress.
"Hi."
The bouquet of white roses—held in both hands, a stark contrast to the black leather jacket you're wearing—covers up its neckline. You smile sheepishly at him, pulling at the mesh of your bright red skirt to mimic a curtsy.
You're beautiful. Even the flowers surrounding them pale in comparison. Even the aurora they'd seen together pales in comparison. You rob him of his breath and leave gasping for a reprieve, but so long as he keeps his memory in even the smallest capacity, that's simply impossible.
The familiar knife called jealousy stabs into his heart, leaving him keenly aware of his longing. He averts his gaze, but the damage has already been done. You are beautiful, and he has waited years to see you.
"Hi." Alkaid swallows uncomfortably, as the sound of your footsteps draws closer. In a panic, his hands brace themselves against the edge of the counter. "Was something wrong with the flowers? I thought—"
A mysterious expression sits upon your features when you pull his gaze onto you, seemingly oblivious to your magnetic power.
With a deep breath, you thrust the flowers at him, knuckles brushing against his chest. You pull back for a moment, taking your flowers with you, and the soft coral of your blush makes it difficult to discern whether you find yourself a victim the of same scarlet blooming across his cheeks.
"That's—" You cough politely. There's a heart-shaped pendant dangling from your golden necklace. The dress is either strapless or your jacket has covered up the straps. "—what I'm here to find out."
Alkaid tilts his head. His confused gaze darts across his surroundings and stops at the glass window of the store's display, thinking perhaps that your mystery boy might be outside. But while the streets are not barren, there is no one outside his store.
You say his name in the same way you told him your secret. Like it's something precious. Like it's something you love. And the truth begins to settle into his bones with a finality that deafens the half-coherent puzzle pieces he's been trying to fit together—he is the only one you could possibly ask out in this empty store.
He has no choice but to look back. At you, and the bouquet you're offering him.
"Would you like to go to the movies with me?"
AND THAT IS HOW HE finds himself with the beginnings of a bruise forming on his lip. He doesn't mind, not when the sting he feels as he wets his lip reminds him that this is not, in fact, a dream (It feels like it though, he thinks), nor a fantasy.
"You...you don't have a girlfriend, do you? It's been a while since then..."
You rub your arm lightly, muttering about something he can't understand, and what else is Alkaid meant to do but take your hand? He squeezes it gently, tickled to find that he can return the favor for all the times you've stolen his breath away.
Your lips part slightly, but whatever you hoped to say does not leave the confines of your mysterious mind. Instead, you draw some of your hair from both sides over your flushed cheeks.
"Nothing like that," he reassures, smiling gently at you. "I'm just surprised. I didn't realize you were talking about me."
"That's a reli—what." In a single moment, your voice goes from girlishly breathless to an irritated flat. Releasing your hair, you blink uncomprehendingly at him. "How?"
Watching you descend into another muttered ramble, Alkaid shrugs. "If you'd still like that date..."
You whip your head in his direction. "Then it's a date!"
The first time he met you, it was when you had fished out of the snow and offered him a warm drink to fight off the cold. They had talked about miscellaneous things, from your half-hearted desire to request a camera for your birthday to who could make the better model between them both.
And back then, he had thought to himself that there was no sound more beautiful than your laugh.
Almost four years after the fact, as he watches you giggle, Alkaid can confidently say his past self had the right idea. Such a specific title leaves him with room to declare your follow-up smile to be just as breathtaking.
#fics by aya#lovebrush chronicles#lovebrush chronicles x reader#alkaid mcgrath#alkaid mcgrath x reader#lovebrush alkaid#lovebrush alkaid x reader#lbc alkaid#lbc alkaid x reader#little painter#rambles from here on ->#i feel like lars has the common sense not to act like a ceo in a manhwa but i really do think cael would think this is fine#i feel like he'd probably be like “this is the least i can do”#that said i am curious if mc paid for those flowers with her own money?? is her mom rich too#i feel like she'd still be funded by lars (because fan) LOL he also coached her on how to ask alkaid out it's the blind leading the blind#should i write mc's pov too LOL#this was just supposed to be silly little misunderstandings and now there's ANGST and BACKSTORY and MORE ANGST
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oooh the sequence of on-stage female disrobings in the oresteia, one in each play-- cassandra casting off her prophet's robe and priestly emblems in the agamemnon, clytemnestra baring her breast to orestes in the libation bearers, and the erinyes exchanging their monstrous regalia for the red robes of their new identity as the eumenides... it's not explicit in the text of the eumenides that they take anything off but they are discarding one identity in order to assume a new one that they put on as a garment, and even if they don't take off any part of their fury-costume it's still such a way to reverse and resolve the two disrobings in the earlier plays
#watch this post turn into a dissertation chapter#i have not paid nearly enough attention to the choephoroi breast-baring scene#both cassandra's and clytemnestra's disrobings precede their deaths#(bc to take off one's costume is to take off one's identity ie for the actor to take off the character and be done w/ them)#(and to disconnect identity/self and body in the same way as death disconnects soul/self and body)#but the (re)robing of the eumenides is about continued life and avoiding the cycle that leads to more death#bodycostume#mine#oresteiablogging#see how many thoughts i have when i do my reading in daylight hours
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"Have you ever seen [Barkov] fall? Has he ever fallen? He's never fallen his entire career!" "Uh—It's, uh, funny and I don't know if he'll care that I say this, but he's got those—he doesn't like the blades that you can snap in and out quickly. So when he needs to get his skates done in the middle of a game, he's gotta fully take off his skates, get 'em sharpened and retie them up—which is like one of the few guys in the league, I think, that still do that. So sometimes he'll have absolutely no edge, and he'll just find a way to, like, compensate and get through it—which is incredible." "That kind-of sucks though 'cuz that's like a bad dream to have. You're waiting on something else, like—even if the trainers just like snapped it back in or whatever, like maybe they had something different they can put in there. He probably wouldn't even know!" "[...] this guy's particular. He knows his game and he's goddamn good at it! And we don't say a word so!" "'Barky, we need you out there for the face off! There's two seconds left!'" "That's what I mean! He'll compensate and he'll still look better than all of us! Like if any of us had no edge like that, we'd be screwed, right? And he goes out there and does the Barky things that he does. We're all grateful for it! He's been getting me paid for 10 years now, so."
The Cam & Strick Podcast | 7.30.24 (x)
loving my captain face... absolutely smitten with the man hes spent a decade with despite still not being invited to his house... thats love babey oh hes absolutely swinging and kicking his feet
THE LITTLE SMILE HE MAKES AFTER HE GOES "hes been getting me paid for 10 years now so 😃"
#aaron ekblad#aleksander barkov#florida panthers#“one of the few guys in the league that still do that” the way i blurted out SIBNEY like i was on jeopardy and i if i didnt buzz in id die#everything leads back to him...#the amount of shifts hes missed because of his skates lmao and it just gets more egregious as time passes on#because everyones switched to interchangeable blades so yeah old man i love ya but this season i did go AGAIN. AGAIN?? AFUCKINGGAIN???#anyways congrats to these 2 princesses refusing to change with the times#may their indomitable presence forever remain untouched by father clock#ekky praising sasha. fork found in kitchen#sasha being “particular” oh im sure he is have you seen him#everytime the finns bring up his anything relating to his intense hockeyisms...#yeah particular is a word for it#not to use my friends codeword but is he you know a virgo#“he goes out there and does the barky things that he does” to be so in love with sasha its a beautiful thing#“hes been getting me paid for 10 years now so” OH SHUT IT YOU#YOU ARE ALSO GOOD AT HOCKEY I DONT WANNA FUCKIN HEAR IT RN#ekkys face in a permanent half smirk talking about sasha...okay#bless whatever these two have#to many more years and counting 🍻 (bill zito i will hunt you for sport if you dont extend this man this season)
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are there any fics about the existential/body horror and everyday idiosyncrasies of being wolverine — indestructible heavy metal skeleton, knife hands, healing factor, amnesia, and eternally chained to this mortal plane cursed to watch everyone around you age and die except this one really weird guy you can’t fucking stand who also happens to be from canada — with maybe a dash of homoeroticism? or at least just minimal heterosexuality? is that too tall an order?
#x men#wolverine#x men origins: wolverine#you wake up in a destroyed wasteland. you have to look at the dog tags around your neck for a name to call yourself (not even a proper one)#but you know and use the word fuck with perfect accuracy#some guy rushes over and says the kids are safe (what kids?) and you need to go (to where? from where?)#you ask who he is. he says he’s a friend. you ask him your name. he gives you the name on your tags and no more.#(if you go with him‚ hoping to find some answers about the big blank spot in your memory past five minutes ago‚#you’ll learn he’s known you for less than twelve hours and you’re a taciturn motherfucker who told him next to nothing)#(but he’s the only person you’ve seen since you opened your eyes that’s not dead or trying to kill you — which you suspect is rare for you)#he could be the godfather of your children for all you know#five minutes or hours or days or weeks later‚ somebody gets on your bad side and suddenly. there are knives coming out of your hands#you fall off your stupid motorcycle and flay the skin off your hands because you’re too cool for protective gear#and in the scant moments before the flesh fucking knits itself back together like it’s getting paid for it#you can see the glint of metal where it should be bone white#you’re 100lbs heavier than you logically should be#and you realize this is why#you’re 33% metal#kenny posts#kenny rants#you look in the mirror and estimate you have [insert hugh jackson’s age here] years of memories to recover give or take#but every trail you follow leads you further and further back until you realize just how many lifetimes have been taken from you
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you ever realize you never properly learned how to say a character's name, so by the time you finally HEAR it, you have no idea who they're talking about? cause I feel like I keep doing this and it's very confusing to keep being corrected like that
#I have this habit of only reading the first few letters and then completely skimming over the rest of a name#which leads me to just. totally making it up#ko-she-key (koschei from doctor who) and tin-tall-gia (tintaglia from the rain wild chronicles) are my favorite names that I've fucked up#the funniest part is I only sometimes chose to recognize the mistake and fix it#I do not think those two will ever be pronounced correctly. I just. can't. that's who they are to me#plus soz but you're a liar if you're gonna tell me the way I say “ko-she-key” isn't an infinitely more fun way to pronounce it#even if it is... y'know... just not even the same name FFVJVFJ#I'm not tagging either media cause I mean whatever if you find it good for you but I NEEDED to show off how egregious those examples are#I'm being so fucking serious when I said I SKIM over these names. I didn't even know how to spell them I had to look it up#in fact I was so shocked about tintaglia I had to rewrite hers three separate times#I have never in my life paid any closer attention to these names and after this I will continue not doing so#they are “kosheci-said-with-a-hard-c-for-some-reason” and “tintalgia” to me thank you and goodnight#—:*after these messages we'll be righttttt back*:—
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in the name of all other black people, especially in light of everything, I hope mike tyson beats the brakes off that bitch
#real life with risa#the culture needs it#I'm begging the universe please don't let it be a paid match#we've earned the catharsis at this point#seeing a punkass white boy youtuber that helped lead us into this mess get his shit rocked would be fix me I think#especially when the little whiny white baby fans start crying about how mike went too far and oh nooo little jake is bweeding he's hurt =(#bonus if they start being gojo racist about it to excuse the loss#MWAH#DELICIOUS#PLEASE GODS LET ME HAVE THIS ONE THING#set the tone for the rest of the four years#“punch that bitch”#if I don't see that man on a stretcher
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