#that loves the earth more than anything else

[fannishcodex]

im insane im crazy i have to end it all i saw a singular dialogue in sonadow gens that made me go so fucking crazy dude im in tears

i dont subscribe to the sonic as reincarnated maria theory but how beautiful is it that shadow always had somebody in his life 

that loves the earth more than anything else 

somebody who wants him to see its beauty no matter what 

that will never give up on him 

he has never been without that 

despite all his pain 

sonic x shadow generations 

sxs generations

to lose you

[hotvintagepoll]

Una O'Connor (The Adventures of Robin Hood, The Invisible Man, The Bride of Frankenstein)—One of my favorite character actresses! While many people know her as the shrieking innkeeper's wife in The Invisible Man, I've always loved when she played a character who was a little more grounded (though that scream of hers is pretty iconic.) Her character of Bess is warm and loving towards Marian, but also tough and takes no prisoners. When they are captured in the forest, she comes forward to protect Marian with so much ferocity that Sir Guy (the villain) moves out of the way so quickly because even he doesn't want to feel Bess' wrath. She could switch from hilariously over-the-top to gently and sweet in the blink of an eye and she deserves a little more recognition! Also her hats in Robin Hood are ridiculous and I love them.

Zero Mostel (A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, The Producers)—Archetypal. Comedian of all time. The worst combover in cinematic history, probably. Could make more laughter with one muscle in a singular eyebrow than 98% of all men across the face of the earth. Hardcore Committer to the Bit. Man of all time, and also told HUAC directly where they could shove it, which is a primally appealing and scrungly quality.

This is round 2 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you’re confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Una O'Connor:

she eats this:

The things this woman does with her face when she sees Frankenstein's creature. Your fave could never.

Zero Mostel:

"The chase scene in FORUM is just. it's fucking iconic. It's one of the funniest pieces of cinema I've ever seen in any context, everything about it is genius, and the heart and soul of it is Zero Mostel as Pseudolus. Casting him alongside a young Michael Crawford (of later Phantom of the Opera fame) really highlights the differences between the young romantic lead and the older, sensible, and yet entirely scrungly middle aged man (Mostel was 55 at the time) somehow manages to come off as even more desirable. He has no shit together, not very good plans, is panicked for most of the story, and the charisma of a champ. His flailing, helpless attempts at fighting the gladiator is so... he's so scrungly. "

"He's not fancy, he's not pretty, he's not good at much of anything, but he is Genius despite that."

"There is a magic to Zero Mostel that he manages to bring to roles where he is simultaneously the worst person ever, and also, compelling in every possible way. He had his biggest period of fame in middle age after he got taken off the Hollywood blacklist, and being a fat middle aged man with thinning hair is what gives every single bit of his characters power. As the original Max Bialystock he would eat the entirety of The Producers except that Gene Wilder as Leo Bloom is a genius casting decision, as Mostel's intensity against Wilder's deep discomfort ends up being the right chemistry. In many ways he reminds me of Buster Keaton, the pinnacle of hot scrungly little guy—a unique and expressive face, an instinctive understanding of comedy, active at the same time, and also they were both in FORUM together. Mostel came from an Orthodox Jewish family, was a trained painter with a degree in art, spoke four languages, and when he was blacklisted during the Red Scare and brought before the HUAC, he didn't just refuse to name names, he made fun of the senators. He was disabled after an accident, and still did dancing in movies and things like stunts in FORUM. He did a ton of work on Broadway too, including originating Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof, making the musical more Jewish as he did so. Frankly, I don't think any of those roles (or the eventual later film versions of Fiddler/musical version of the Producers) would work with anyone else. It had to be a fat balding middle aged leftist Jew from Brooklyn. The scrungly is essential.

"the scrungle factor of max in every version of the producers is through the roof but nathan lane does it as suave scrungle. zero mostel does not do suave scrungle. he does old jewish man getting into an argument with the rabbi at the full synagogue passover seder about how much wine has to be in the glass for it to count as "one cup" scrungle; he does old jewish man whose entire fridge is full of pickled herring scrungle. it's offputting in all the ways that make it genius."

[tired-truffle]

Even the Gods Cry For Us

A Viktorxfem!reader fic

Chapter Word Count: 3.9k

Part 15/17

Tag list: @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @potatointhedirt (if anyone else would like to be tagged with future updates let me know!)

"It's dark now and I am very tired. I love you, always. Time is nothing." - Audrey Niffenegger

Masterlist

Wind whistled through your hair, its gentle tune the only sound that filled your ears. It was soothing, in a way, like a lullaby sung by the earth itself. Only, you weren’t sure if you were on Runeterra anymore. 

A vast darkness spread out around you, galaxies and star clusters the only source of light. You felt weightless like a feather floating along a spring breeze. Each breath was a struggle, your lungs fighting against the choked sobs and screams that had long since subsided. Numbness spread through your limbs, your cheeks itching with your dried tears. 

It didn’t matter where you were. Viktor was gone, you’d felt him fade through your fingers. You’d lost him, and you lost yourself. It seemed fitting. Time slipped away like grains of sand in an hourglass, and you fell through nothingness. 

A warmth pulsed dimly in your chest. Pleasant, and familiar in a way you couldn’t describe, you curled around it, tucking it away protectively. The scent of blooming flowers and the bitterness of ink filled your senses, a gentle hug wrapped itself around you, the sounds of laughter echoing in your ear. You’d known that laugh once, light and shy in its joy until coaxed out - a comfort on a long day. Innocent, kind, and intelligent, it felt like sleepovers and whispered confessions hidden in shared giggles.

It had resided in your chest for some time. Subconsciously, you’d been aware of its presence, but you hadn’t acknowledged it - too afraid to hope that it was real and not just another cruel trick.

“You’re not alone,” it said in a soothing tone, one that plucked a dull ache on your heartstrings like a mournful violin. “There are others. Reach out, they are waiting for you.”

But what if you hurt the others, failed to protect them? You couldn’t be trusted with their safety. You couldn’t even ensure the survival of the man you loved more than anything.

The warmth pulsed around you, holding you close. “I have always trusted you, Mila. You did the best you could, but even you can’t save everyone.” 

Why have all these powers if you couldn’t fix everything? Wasn’t that what Soraka had told you to do? 

“Come on,” the warmth tugged at your ribs, unfurling your limbs. “The Mila I know doesn’t give up, not on me, not on Viktor, not on the souls who need you. Search for a spark of your magic and you will find them.” 

You hesitated, torn between the comfort of oblivion and the call to action. But the warmth in your chest pulsed insistently, urging you onward. With a deep breath, you stretched out your awareness, tendrils of consciousness probing the dark expanse around you.

At first, there was nothing but emptiness. Then, like distant stars twinkling into existence, you felt them. Two souls, an echo of your magic encasing their energies, beckoned to you across the void.

The first soul radiated a steady, comforting glow. It felt like tight hugs and bedtime stories, like scraped knees kissed better and proud smiles at your accomplishments. Fatherly love wrapped around you like a well-worn blanket, and you instinctively reached out to embrace it.

The second soul sparkled with an effervescent energy that made you want to laugh and cry at the same time. It bubbled with questions and wonder. Childlike curiosity danced at the edges of your consciousness, tugging at you with an infectious enthusiasm that was impossible to resist.

You pulled the souls towards you and they came willingly, eagerly even, as if they had been waiting for your summons. As they nestled into your chest alongside the familiar warmth, a new realization took hold.

The stars were not stars at all, but souls, all lost and floating in the void of nothingness.

No sooner had you come to this realization than gravity reasserted its hold on you. You plummeted through the soul-studded oblivion, picking up speed as you fell. The darkness gave way to streaks of light, then swirling iridescent mists, then the solid ground rushing up to meet you.

You hit the earth with the force of a falling comet - your magic creating a shield to take the brunt of the impact as it sent tremors through the ground and kicked up a cloud of dust and debris. Sparks skittered across the floor around you, crackling with residual energy from your descent.

Cool tile seeped through your clothes and into your back, the smell of chemicals, grease, and lemony cleaning products jarring you into alertness. 

You sat up quickly, heart hammering as you registered exactly where you were. Your clothes were rumpled and torn, and there was a wild, haunted look in your vibrant Shimmer-infused eyes.

The lab materialized around you in a dizzying rush of familiar sights, sounds, and smells. Beakers and test tubes clinked softly as they settled from the tremors of your arrival. The air hummed with the low drone of machinery, punctuated by the occasional crackle of electricity. Dust danced in shafts of sunlight that streamed through high windows, catching on the edges of half-finished inventions and carefully labelled jars.

Your gaze swept across the room, taking in the organized chaos of Viktor's workspace. His Hextech designs still adorned the walls, intricate blueprints and diagrams that spoke of dreams yet unrealized - and they would forever stay that way in his absence.

How does one return home, completely and irrevocably changed, only to find everything else has stayed the same? You were still you, but you were not the Mila who had spent most of her time locked up in this lab, desperately trying to figure out her magic to save her friends. 

In the end, you’d let them down. 

As you stood, swiping your fingers along desks entirely to clean, the memories rushed back like a roaring river, flooding your mind with bittersweet longing. 

"Mom, Dad, this is where the magic happens!" Sky exclaimed, spreading her arms wide as she ushered them into the room. Her parents, a kind-faced couple with matching graying hair, looked around with awe and bewilderment in the wide set of their eyes.

You'd been hunched over a workbench, trying to pull apart two pieces of tech that Jayce had sat on, squashing them together - it was salvageable, or at least you hoped so - but had perked up upon Sky’s unexpected visitors. She’d told you they were coming, but in your infinite wisdom, you’d forgotten that they were coming today.

"And this is my friend, Mila!" She grabbed your arm, pulling you up and forward with surprising strength for someone with such a distinct lack of muscle.

You stumbled, nearly knocking over a rack of test tubes, your cheeks flushing as you found yourself suddenly the center of attention. "Um, hello," you managed, awkwardly wiping your hands on your pants and smearing grease from your palms. Perfect. You were thankful that neither Jayce nor Viktor were present to see your embarrassment.

Sky's mother smiled kindly, reaching out to clasp your hand, not at all bothered by how dirty it was. "So you're the famous Mila we've heard so much about! Sky talks about you constantly."

"Mom!" Sky protested, her cheeks turning pink.

Her father chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "It's true. We were beginning to think you were some sort of magical creature she'd invented."

You laughed then, a bit too forced - little did they know how true that was. "No, I'm quite real. Though sometimes I wonder if Sky isn't the magical one, the way she makes machines come to life."

Sky beamed at the compliment, launching into an enthusiastic explanation of her latest project. You watched, a fond smile on your face, as she darted around the lab, pointing out various inventions and experiments.

Her parents listened attentively, nodding along even when it was clear they didn't understand half of what she was saying. But their pride was evident in every glance, every encouraging word.

As the tour wound down, Sky's mother turned to you. "Thank you," she said quietly, while Sky was distracted showing her father a particularly complex diagram. "For being her friend. For understanding her. We worry, you know, with her being from the Undercity."

You shook your head, your gaze drawn to Sky's animated face as she gestured wildly, explaining some more intricate details. "How could I not? She's brilliant. And kind. And…" you paused, searching for the right words. "She makes the world brighter, just by being in it."

Sky's mother squeezed your hand, her eyes glistening. "I'm so glad she has you," she whispered.

And some friend you’d been. Would Sky’s parents be grateful that she had disappeared without a trace, reduced to ashes because you couldn’t stop it in time?

The memory shifted, colours swirling and reforming in new shapes and patterns.

You were perched on the edge of a workbench, legs swinging freely as you gesticulated wildly, your voice rising and falling with enthusiasm. Sky sat on a stool in front of you, chin propped on her hands, her bright eyes fixed on you with rapt attention.

"I'm telling you, Sky, that Poro understands everything! Have you seen the way he looks at Heimerdinger when he's explaining his theories? Those beady little eyes are practically glowing with comprehension!"

Sky shook her head, her curls bouncing with the movement. "Poros are adorable, sure, but they're just animals. Clever animals, maybe, but not capable of understanding complex scientific concepts."

You leaned forward, nearly toppling off the workbench in your eagerness. "But what if they are? What if Poros are actually hyper-intelligent beings from another dimension, just pretending to be cute and fluffy to study us?"

Sky burst into laughter, the sound echoing off the lab's high ceilings. "Now you're just being ridiculous," she giggled, wiping tears from her eyes.

You grinned, about to launch into another wild theory when movement across the room caught your eye. Viktor stood by his workstation, a half-assembled device forgotten in his hands as he watched your animated discussion. His face was softer than you'd ever seen it, the usual sharp lines of concentration smoothed away. A small, almost imperceptible smile played at the corners of his mouth, his eyes warm with an emotion you couldn't quite name.

As your gaze met his, his smile widened just a fraction, a silent acknowledgment passing between you. Surrounded by the familiar disarray of the lab, with Sky's laughter still ringing in your ears and Viktor's gentle gaze upon you, you felt a sense of belonging so profound it made your chest ache.

You'd opened your mouth, about to call Viktor over to settle the debate, when a loud crash from the other side of the lab shattered the moment. Jayce's voice rang out, a string of colourful curses following the sound of breaking glass.

Viktor's demeanour shifted instantly, the softness replaced by a look of stern concentration. He strode towards the source of the commotion, already calling out instructions and admonishments.

You and Sky exchanged a glance, barely containing your laughter as you hopped off the bench to help clean up whatever mess had been made.

Jayce, oh how you hated him now, yearned to tear him to shreds like he had done to your heart, put a hole in his chest like he’d done to Viktor. Yet even still, as another memory washed over you, seeing him smiling with perfectly white teeth, laughing as he clapped Viktor a little too hard on the shoulder and made him stumble - revenge for an earlier teasing remark - had a bone-deep longing rattling through your ribcage. 

You blinked, and the scene had changed again.

Viktor stood beside Jayce's workstation, the end of his cane hovering just an inch away from Jayce's leg. A mischievous glint sparkled in Viktor's eyes, and you watched with thinly veiled interest.

"It's not touching you," Viktor insisted, his voice deadpan, always committed to the bit.

Jayce, hunched over a delicate piece of Hextech machinery, glared up at Viktor. "Yes, it is," he grumbled, trying to focus on the intricate wiring before him.

"No, it's not," Viktor countered. "There's a clear inch of space between my cane and your leg. I fail to see how that constitutes touching."

Jayce's hands stilled, and he straightened up, fixing Viktor with an exasperated glower. "I can feel the energy from your cane, Viktor. It's disrupting my work."

"Ah, but feeling energy is not the same as physical contact," Viktor replied, his voice taking on the lecturing tone he often used when explaining, well, anything. "If we were to consider every instance of energy transfer as 'touching,' we'd never stop touching anything or anyone. The implications for personal space would be quite alarming."

Before you could contain it, you snorted in an entirely undignified manner, clapping your hands over your nose and mouth much too late. Jayce’s scowl turned on you. "Mila, please tell Viktor to stop being a pest and let me work in peace."

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence even as you grinned. "I don't know, Jayce. Viktor makes a compelling argument about the nature of touch and energy transfer. Perhaps we should conduct a series of experiments to determine the exact parameters of-"

"Oh, not you too," Jayce groaned, but there was no real annoyance in his voice. He turned back to Viktor, gesturing dramatically with a tiny screwdriver. "Fine, you win this round. But I swear, if that cane comes any closer, you’ll find your fridge empty of sweet milk."

Viktor's eyes widened in mock horror. "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me," Jayce challenged, a competitive gleam in his eye.

You missed your friends, your family, the good times you’d shared and taken for granted. You’d fought so damn hard, but you’d lost it all. 

The memories came quicker. 

Your fingers brushed Viktor’s as he passed you a pen, a static shock passing between you making you jump back and blush. 

Sky’s shy smile as she invited you to have a sleepover at her apartment that night, a girl’s night, she’d called it. 

Jayce, sound asleep, his head propped up by his forearm, and mouth agape. Wads of balled-up paper littered the desk and floor around him as you and Viktor took turns trying to get them in his mouth. You both held back your snickers when a perfectly aimed shot hit him in the middle of the forehead and he snorted, disgruntled in his rest. And Sky’s exasperated huff when she’d caught you. 

Hands held in yours - thinner than ever before but no less beautiful, always so beautiful. Curls at the nape of his neck that he wound around his finger as he concentrated. The beauty mark on his upper lip quirking up as he suppressed a grin. 

Tears flowed freely down your cheeks, your chest hiccupping with sobs. As the images faded, so too did the last remnants of hope and happiness. Alone, you were alone in a place that had once felt like home but was now a tomb to the lives you’d lost. 

Your knees cracked against the floor, echoing across the empty lab. You didn’t feel it beneath the weight of your anguish, pressing down on you like an anvil. Hadn’t you cried enough, hurt enough? When would the world deem your suffering enough? When would it stop stealing the people you loved? 

Viktor, fuck, you couldn’t breathe. He was gone and you were here. Left behind like a broken doll at the bottom of the bin. Not beautifully broken, but shattered like a porcelain figurine thrown onto sharpened rocks. Your lungs expanded rapidly, but no air reached them. 

Why did he leave you? He’d promised to stay, had you not been what he wanted? Too much and too little at the same time. 

No, you had been, he’d loved you, you’d felt it in every touch, saw it in every glance. He hadn’t wanted to go. Why did that make it so much worse? To have had such devotion, such tender love, only to have it cruelly ripped away. 

“Viktor,” you sobbed his name, the heels of your palms pressed against your eyes until you saw stars. “Please, come back.”

But he didn’t answer. 

It was only you. 

And the pulsing warmth inside your chest. But even they did little to soothe you. 

The sparks, your magical vessels, glowed and faded in time with the warmth, vibrating their anguish as crystalline shards fell like tears from their tiny forms. 

Lost in your own grief, the creak of the door and soft padding footsteps went unnoticed. Until a familiar voice pierced through your thoughts with a startled, "Mila?" And with an animalistic instinct, you lunged. 

In a blur of motion, you launched yourself at the intruder, slamming his back against the cold, unforgiving wall. Your limbs rippled with power as you held him in place, your feral snarl echoing in the emptiness of the room.

“Jayce,” you spat with pure hatred, your nostalgia for your friendship fracturing under the force of your rage. “You killed him.”

You were a mess, hair frazzled, red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks, but your magic was strengthened by your grief, your wild emotions fuelling it like gasoline on a bonfire. Even with all his strength, Jayce wouldn’t be able to break your hold. 

Yet, he didn’t try. He simply stared at you with wide, glassy eyes, and his lips parted. “I thought…” he exhaled shakily, “I thought you were dead.”

All at once, your rage, your anger and need to inflict your pain upon him died. He looked at you with such pure relief - despite the threat you posed - that against your will, your hold on him loosened. 

Gritting your teeth, you shook your head.

“Why?” you sobbed, your voice cracking as tears spilled down your cheeks anew. “Why did you do it?”

His face fell, horror and grief pressing down on him like the weight of the world itself. “It’s complicated,” he said quietly, not meeting your eyes. 

You scoffed, and suddenly the feel of him made your skin crawl and burn. With a rough shove, you pushed him to the side. He stumbled, barely catching himself on a nearby desk, arms slamming down to stop himself from falling. 

“That’s not good enough,” you growled, magic swirling around you. “You will tell me why, or I will make you.” 

His eyes darted towards the door, and following his gaze you were affronted by his unnatural-looking hammer. Spiralled webbing covered the warped surface, crawling up the handle like a poisonous vine. It reeked of depravity and degeneration. A bastardized purpose. A weapon that should never have been made in the first place. 

You gave him a glare of warning, fingers twitching. He had the good sense to look ashamed. 

“Sorry. Instinct. It’s been a crazy few months.” 

You took him in, his healed facial scars, shaggy hair and scruffy beard, the leg brace. 

“Explain.” 

With a heavy sigh, he did. He kept it short, but the more he spoke, the more you realized exactly how big the stakes were. 

“So you…” you pursed your lips, a pang echoing in your heart. “You killed him because a future version of himself told you that you couldn’t allow that future to happen? You didn’t even try to talk to him first?” 

Jayce winced. “He was already corrupted by the Hexcore, and I made a promise to him that I’d destroy it. Besides, I wasn’t exactly thinking straight. You try eating only corrupted newts for a few months and see what it does to your sanity.”

You tapped your foot impatiently on the tile floor, arms crossed over your chest. It still wasn’t a good enough answer. Jayce hadn’t even tried to figure something out, just shot him in the chest like he was putting down a rabid dog. You had half a mind to do the same to him.

Sensing your growing fury, Jayce reluctantly added, “It didn’t work, okay? He’s not entirely dead, though he’s not the Viktor we knew anymore.”

Blood rushed from your face, your mouth falling open as your breath caught in your throat. Your head felt light and dizziness overtook you as the room spun, throwing off your equilibrium. You gripped the edge of a workbench, warping the metal, as you steadied yourself. 

Surely, you hadn’t heard him correctly. “What did you just say?”

His jaw clenched and he stared at the ground as those it had insulted his mother. “It’s not him, Mila. Whatever’s left isn’t what made him our friend.” 

“But there’s something left.” 

“Nothing good.” 

You didn’t care. If there was even a sliver of Viktor left then there was hope. 

“I swear to God Jayce, if you’re lying to me in some pathetic attempt to save your own skin—“

“I’m not.” He cut you off. “I wouldn’t do that to you. We were friends once, weren’t we?” 

“You were Viktor’s friend too, but friends don’t typically try to murder each other so I wouldn’t put a lot of stock in your understanding of friendship. You tried to kill your best friend. He would have done anything for you. You’re here and he’s not,” your voice cracked and you cleared your throat. “Your excuse isn’t good enough and that you’d just give up on him…how could you, Jayce?”

Jayce's shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of him. He ran a hand through his hair. "You're right," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t have any good excuses other than it needed to be done. The Hexcore cannot continue to exist. It will destroy everything."

“That was Viktor, not the Hexcore.”

“He was both.”

And you had been the one to merge him with the Hexcore. You watched Jayce, your anger still simmering beneath the surface, but tempered now by the weariness in every line of his face. The familiar hum of machinery provided a low, constant backdrop to your ragged breathing.

Your gaze wandered over the cluttered workbenches. Half-finished inventions lay scattered about, a delicate framework of gears and wires catching your eye, reminding you of when Viktor had spent hours explaining his latest breakthrough, his eyes alight with passion.

The memory sent a fresh wave of despair crashing over you, and you gripped the edge of the desk tighter, your knuckles turning white. The metal groaned under your enhanced strength, warping slightly.

Jayce flinched at the sound, his eyes darting nervously between you and the door. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again, words failing him.

“Where is he?” You broke the silence, the magic receded for your fingers, but it remained beneath the surface, ready to be used at a moment's notice. 

“Going after him isn’t going to end well.” The bags beneath his eyes seemed more pronounced in the shadows that hung in the dim light of the lab. 

“Maybe not,” you conceded, “but it is going to end.” 

His eyes scanned yours, darting and calculating like you were an equation he could solve. Whatever he found there was enough for him to straighten and set his shoulders. 

“He’ll be coming with the Noxians, they’re trying to reach the Hexgates. If Viktor gets a hold of them, this entire world is doomed. If you think you can persuade him otherwise then I won’t stop you, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

You nodded, scanning the lab. “I think I know something that can help. How many gemstones do you have in here?” 

“A few dozen, probably. Why?”

You grinned, and Jayce blanched. What more did you have to lose?

Next Chapter

A/N: I did emotional damage to myself with the quote for this chapter :'(

Only two more left! I'm very excited for the next chapter, lots of things happening for these two!

I would love to know what you guys think of the warmth and two other souls Mila found!

[defiledtomb]

How did it go ? 👁👁

I FEEL ALIVE

[xoxochb]

the unbreakable bond between a depressed teenage girl and the ocean

[memoirs-of-a-sapphic]

11-18-23

Such a wonderful life it could be, If I was ever truly free From the confines of this place Where life is somehow a race.

I just want a small place to be Myself, a cat, maybe you with me. A place that I could  call my own; A place to go when I say 'home'.

An entry where I'd hang my coat, And leave my shoes by the door As I step across the floor, and Perhaps I'd greet you, when I walk in through the door Of the place I'd call home.

Or perhaps it's the other way, Maybe I'd be in the kitchen that day, And you'd walk in, and I'd Light up and say 'hi' And I'd walk over and greet you, Smile, hug you and kiss you.

And we'd both be much better than We were five minutes ago, or ten. And maybe we'd sit on the sofa, Watch a show until it's over, And eat dinner together, and Leave the dishes 'til morning.

And, too tired to want to get up, We'd fall asleep on the sofa. Tv in the background, quietly Playing as we fall asleep

And in the morning, as we lay In the early sunshine of the day Perhaps I'd whisper into your ear: 'Good morning- how are you, my dear?'

And then we'd start our day again. It doesn't matter where and when- We'd be alright, I'm sure; We've been alright before.

And there's so much I want to do; A simple life, perhaps with you. But all that seems so far away As I look at it today.

But I'm sure that future me Will be looking back to see This lonely evening reverie; Me, wishing I could be more free.

What a wonderful life it could be.

-OvV-

ok I haven't posted original poetry in a while, and I know I said I'd post the follow-up that references 11-17-23 and 12-21-23, but I've been thinking of moving out of my homophobic house lately and we're getting married, so here's the poem I wrote about us moving in together. For reference, we officially started dating on 11-13-23, so this poem was,,,,, 5 days into our relationship :D Can you tell I already knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her?

[winepresswrath]

Cannot believe at this late stage of my life I'm becoming a Gabriel fucker. Local mean jock doesn't want to be evil now, he wants to be loved. I'm slightly annoyed they didn't make Beelzebub more unhinged because the "plot" should have been at least half about them fucking up shit on an absolute rampage trying to find Gabriel, a thing everyone assumes they are doing to fry him with hellfire so they can kick off the war in a way that's advantageous to hell, BUT ACTUALLY!!! true love.

[doomordestiny]

how do you casually tell your friends you’d do anything for them. casually explain the lengths you’d go. how do you explain how much you love them when there is not enough words in any language to explain the all consuming devotion you hold. how can you put it into words for anyone to understand. how do you express that without sounding like a weirdo. idk.

[gruesome-beauty]

the “real truth about it is no one gets it right…real truth about it is we’re all supposed to try” bit from farewell transmission that she sang in tape runs out….do you think when i die i’ll get a second try to do everything right i couldn’t the first time….

[dgaftilwedie]

@debbeh because u asked so nicely :3 (dis is about thomas thorne btw HEHEHEH(

favorite thing about them: there's literally so much?? i love his hair and his silly little outfit and the way he gets like super duper scottish out of nowhere :3

least favorite thing about them: the fact that he's not real obviously..........

favorite line:

brOTP: i love him and pat together :3 but also there is something about him and julian that makes me giggle LIKE THE SCENE WITH THE TOASTER!!!! I LOVE THE TOASTER SCENE

OTP: ME!!!!!!!!!! yes him and isabelle are very sweet but ME!!!!!!!!

nOTP: him and alison........ i love their friendship but yknow.........

random headcanon: he smells really good... like warm freshly clean linens, black coffee, and freshly cut roses... there's a faint smell of hazelnut and cocoa and old parchment and pen ink that follows wherever he goes. it's the kind of scent that you inhale and immediately want to bury your face in the source.

unpopular opinion: if he pulled the whole "divorce him, kill yourself, marry me" thing on ME??? i would've agreed without a second thought

song i associate with them: i feel like he would really like adrianne lenker :3

favorite picture of them: he looks so cutie patootie :(( i wanna hold him in my arms and protect him from the terrors of the world

[this-should-do]

venting dont mind me xp ✌

[jonathanbiers]

the damage is fading, the deed is done

STATIC DRESS, "for the attention of..."

[tathrin]

📽 action!: rank all six of the films (or three if you're a hater)

Answers for this LotR ask-game.

Ahh okay so at this point I have to confess something terrible: I still have not seen the third Hobbit movie. I'm sorry! I just couldn't do it. The fuckery of it all, especially in the second movie with Mirkwood and Thranduil and Legolas ("a lowly Silvan elf" what the FUCK what the fuck PJ WHAT THE FUCK), was just too much for me. Character-assassination is one thing, and I thought after Denethor I knew what I was going to be getting with Thranduil but NOPE! It was literal world building assassination and I just CANNOT.

Don't get me wrong, Lee Pace did an amazing job and actually seeing Mirkwood was amazing and it was genuinely delightful to see Orlando put those ears on again; but the OuTrAgE that filled my heart at the yeet-ing of what minimal canon we even have for the Mirkwood elves was just intolerable, and while I did mean to go see it, really I did, I just...couldn't actually get the motivation to go before it was out of theatres. I've heard the EE are better (less studio fuckery) so I'll watch them someday! Honest! I just...haven't. yet.

And as to the Lord of the Rings trilogy...man, I don't even know how to do this. In terms of which is the best film, or in terms of which one I enjoy watching most, or in terms of which on hits me in the heart hardest or...? I don't know if I can objectively rank my feelings about these movies even in my own brain because RotK ends with Into the West and I have FeelingsTM about the Undying Lands and Sea Longing okay. So the last scene of RotK at the Grey Havens is a fucking spear through the heart every time and I can't even describe the knot of feelings it engenders, and I think overall TTT may be my favorite but also it has Plot Issues that piss me off even more than the Plot Issues in RotK I think,...yeah, we're going to do this in terms of Film Crafting rather than personal favorites because I'm having too many feelings lmao. So! In order of most-well-done-movie to least:

Fellowship of the Ring

The Two Towers

Return Of The King

The Desolation of Smaug

An Unexpected Journey

[baravaggio]

cool video for you jojokers out there

[boypussydilf]

probably my favorite part of when everyones talking about what they put in their time capsules and what they hope to be doing in the future is like. fuyuki is worried keroro (and the other aliens he knows) won’t be in his life long term and tamama gets worried too that he won’t get to be part of the nishizawa family forever. koyuki and dororo? it does not occur to them even for a second to question whether or not they’re still going to know each other in 20 years. it is a given

[draculacunt]

not bad for just my fingernails