#the lyrics at the beginning are from “are you bored yet

[wastingawayinmyroom]

well shit, the girl i've liked for a while just texted me and said she liked me

friendly reminder that she also ruined my life

anw, here's some percico to heal the soul (yours and mine)

...

And if you're feelin' lonely,

You should tell me,

Before this ends up as another memory.

...

"Hey." That's all Percy says. There's no need to say more, because a simple greeting is enough for Nico to know the whole story.

"Morning," he says, and suddenly, they're tangled together, a mess of limbs and clothes. Nico smiles, warmly, or maybe that's just how it makes Percy feel. "I missed you," Nico says, breathlessly, and the sight is something he wants to engrave in his brain.

He ruffles the younger boy's hair. "So did I," he says, and picks Nico up, which is a bit harder to do since the last time. He hasn't lifted anything heavier than a small backpack in a while. He hasn't felt like it, anyway, since Annabeth told him she was over it. He regrets it, because now he's out of practice and his arms are going to be aching like Tartarus tomorrow.

"Percy!" Nico says, giggling. "Put me down!"

His giddiness is infectious, and Percy finds himself smiling so much his face hurts. He hasn't smiled in a while, too. He regrets that even more. "Not yet, Neeks. I'm gonna show you something."

He carries Nico like that, all the way to the small Christmas tree he and his mom spent so much time putting up and decorating. The ornaments are a mish-mash of the ones he and Estelle made, and the ones they'd had since forever. Percy likes that a lot; it relates the past and the present, two things he always finds so different.

He sets Nico down. "That," he says, "Is what I wanted to show you."

Percy sits on the couch. Nico doesn't move, doesn't say anything, just stares at the tree in awe. He's pretty sure Nico has never had a proper Christmas (or doesn't remember having one), so maybe this is just new for him.

"Do you like it?" Percy asks, slightly worried. Nico still hasn't moved.

"It's beautiful," he says, transfixed. Percy chuckles. "Yeah," he says, and it's another time when something so simple can convey a hundred different other things, from Thank you to So are you.

This is one of the few times where Nico doesn't get all of those meanings.

This is one of the few times where Percy allows himself to wonder what they could've been, to take in the sight of Nico like it would be his last.

This is one of the few times where he forgets that Nico can never be his.

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

hey could I possibly get a scenario of reader who is not Gojo’s s/o yet. Taking a nap in his presence. They don’t plan it. They were talking with him for a bit. They just felt tired suddenly and fell asleep on the couch in the teacher’s lounge room next to Gojo in the middle of their conversation. He’s the only one in the room?

Gojo Satoru - Falling Asleep on His Shoulder Mid-Conversation

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•

. . .Hey @nesting-dreams, It's your turn today. Sorry that I took so long, college and work have been taking up most of my time so I have to squeeze these in here and there. Sorry that it's really short, for some reason I had a lot of trouble with this one. This takes place a few months before the events of Jujutsu Kaisen. Also, this is written in the third person, so I hope you don't mind it too much. The lyrics quoted in this one are from the song “Put You Head On My Shoulder” by Paul Anka. —Benny🐰

Warnings ➔  Reader is Gn, Reader is a 1st Grade Sorcerer, Reader Teaches the 3rd Year Students 

Word Count: 534 words

                                                                                                   

❝𝕻𝖚𝖙 𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝕳𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝕺𝖓 𝕸𝖞 𝕾𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉𝖊𝖗, 𝕳𝖔𝖑𝖉 𝕸𝖊 𝕴𝖓 𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝕬𝖗𝖒𝖘, 𝕭𝖆𝖇𝖞~ 𝕾𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖊𝖟𝖊 𝕸𝖊 𝕺𝖍-𝕾𝖔-𝕿𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙, 𝕾𝖍𝖔𝖜 𝕸𝖊 𝕿𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝕸𝖊 𝕿𝖔𝖔~ ❞

. . .

♾•♡•♾•♡•♾•♡•♾•♡•♾•♡•♾•♡•♾•♡•♾

“You've got to give that poor kid a break; he's got his own missions already, you know?”  

[Name] chuckles in exasperation from their place beside the strongest sorcerer, arms loosely crossed over their chest.

“Wha– Oh c'mon, it builds character. It's not like Megumi won't get harder missions when he goes up a grade. Plus, it's a bonding thing too; he's getting to know more about me by experiencing what I do for work!”

The snow-white-haired man smoothly excuses himself, glancing at the person beside him.

[Name] rolled their eyes and attempted to playfully shove Gojo aside, only to have their hand stop just an inch from the man's clothed shoulder. They huffed, giving the man an annoyed expression as he chuckled at their futile action and rested his arm behind them on the sofa's backrest.

“You and that damn infinity– quit smiling like that, you weirdo.”  

The first-grade sorcerer jokingly complained, rubbing their now sore wrist with their free hand as they lazily laid their head on the infinity that shielded Satoru’s shoulder.

Blindfolded blue eyes glance down at the top of [Name]’s head; his long arm moving from its place on the sofa's backrest to draping around their shoulder where slender fingers annoyingly pinched at their cheeks.

“Ya tired? Stay up all night doing boring paperwork again~? That's why I just make Ijichi do mine.~”  

The white-haired man blabbered as his hand continued to busy itself with poking at the other's face.

The shorter only hums quietly at first, swatting at his bothersome and intrusive appendage, before quietly muttering:

“...You always bully that poor man… you make me feel bad for ‘em.”  

Gojo lets out a quiet but amused chuckle, beginning to play with and tug at the ends of a few thin locks of [Name]’s hair. The first-grade sorcerer grunts in annoyance and swats at his hands again, shrugging their shoulders up to their ears to hide them from their fellow teacher’s nimble hands. The blindfolded man then ‘‘relents’’ and only rests his hand on their shoulder.

“I don't understand why you feel bad for that guy; he works for those damn geezers.”  

He complains, tossing his head back childishly and digging in his ear with his pinky while tracing the lines in the textured ceiling with his gaze.

A few moments of silence –with the addition of soft rhythmic breathing– pass after his words before he lifts his head and casts his gaze to the left. The sight of a close-eyed [Name] greets him; their body and expression fully relaxed, allowing him to tell that they had fallen asleep easily. After a few seconds of admiring their sleeping face, Satoru deactivates his infinity, allowing the first-grade sorcerer's soft and warm cheek to rest on the fabric of his uniform jacket. 

A soft sigh escapes his nostrils as his hand resumes playing with their messy locks of hair.

“You know you could ask Yaga to switch classes with you if those third years are giving you this much trouble… Man, you're even more hard-headed than Suguru was…”  

The white-haired man mutters quietly, his own eyes closing as he rests his head on top of his friend's.

♾•♡•♾•♡•♾•♡•♾•♡•♾•♡•♾•♡•♾•♡•♾

. . .

❝𝕻𝖚𝖙 𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝕳𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝕺𝖓 𝕸𝖞 𝕾𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉𝖊𝖗, 𝕳𝖔𝖑𝖉 𝕸𝖊 𝕴𝖓 𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝕬𝖗𝖒𝖘, 𝕭𝖆𝖇𝖞~ 𝕾𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖊𝖟𝖊 𝕸𝖊 𝕺𝖍-𝕾𝖔-𝕿𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙, 𝕾𝖍𝖔𝖜 𝕸𝖊 𝕿𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝕸𝖊 𝕿𝖔𝖔~ ❞

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•

Reblogs are appreciated ~ 𔓘

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

[teapartyprincess4two]

Candy- C. Sturniolo

pairing: influencer!reader x Chris

classification: fluff

warnings: Latina reader, use of Spanish (brief), use of y/n, mention of alcohol, suggestive content but no smut, online scandal

translations: pendeja- dumbass (feminine)

inspiration: Candy by Plan B

summary: You were sweet as candy and Chris couldn’t stop himself from taking a bite, leading to an internet scandal neither of you anticipated.

—

Influencer parties were never Chris’s thing, he usually just let himself get dragged along for appearances. Today is one of those days, he got ready and acted excited, but deep down all he wanted to do was go back home. Currently, he’s making his rounds around the event, dabbing people up and introducing himself to the strangers he hasn’t met yet.

As he walks around the crowded party with his brothers, he realizes that there’s more unfamiliar faces than he accounted for. Maybe he’s seen a video of theirs once or twice, but for the most part he has no idea who these people are.

Nick finds a friend and disappears amidst the crowd, dancing to the beat of the music as he follows his friend towards a different area of the house. Matt has started a conversation with someone he recognized, bonding with them over God knows what. Chris lingered around Matt for a while, debating whether he should insert himself in the conversation or not, but it sounded boring and there was sure to be something more interesting at this party.

So, he allows himself to wander around, grabbing a drink along the way. Candy by Plan B plays loudly over the speakers, shaking the walls with each beat. He’s never heard this song before, but he makes a mental note to add it to his playlist, bopping his head slightly to the music. Chris takes a long swig of his beer, eyes scanning the room for something or someone interesting.

The room is crowded, the music is loud, and the strobing lights don’t help him recognize anyone. He walks further into the crowd, holding his beer by the neck as he weaves past sweaty people. He’s about to give up and walk back to where he left Matt, but that’s when he sees you.

You’re in the middle of the room, dancing shamelessly to the song. You’re swaying your hips, grinding against a friend as your hair falls in front of your face. Despite the commotion surrounding him, Chris feels the world stop. He’s never seen someone so beautiful, and maybe it’s the alcohol, but he’s instantly addicted to you. In that moment he made it his mission to learn your name and get your number.

You feel Chris’s watch on you, following the burning sensation until your eyes lock with his. You don’t know who he is, but you’re immediately in awe. He was so handsome that if this was a cartoon you’d have heart eyes.

You continue dancing, looking Chris up and down with a slight smirk before finally prying your eyes away. Just because he was cute didn’t mean you weren’t going to make him work for it. He senses the challenge and mentally accepts it, ready to do whatever it takes to make you his. The song fades out, a completely different beat playing over the speakers as Rompe by Daddy Yankee plays.

You’re swiveling your hips to the song, turning towards your friends as you begin singing the lyrics to each other. Chris takes another swig of his beer, finishing it off for some liquid courage before finally walking over to you. “Look who’s coming,” your friend comments, her eyes darting behind you to signal at Chris.

Usually you’d find boldness like Chris’s obnoxious and creepy, but he had a certain charm to him that made up for it. Before you knew it, you found yourself drunkenly dancing with him, his hands on your hips and yours around his neck. The alcohol, loud music, and his ability to dance on beat is enough to convince you that you’ve found the man of your dreams.

“What’s your name?” he shouts over the music, hands holding you in place as you grind against him. Chris feels like he’s in heaven, he’s never had a girl this hot this close to him, let alone grinding on him. “Y/n,” you exclaim as he leans into you so he can hear you better. “I’m Chris!” he replies, face so close to yours that his breath is fanning across your neck.

Despite the loud music, the moment is intimate and it feels like you and Chris are the only two people in the room. He pulls away from your ear, keeping his face close enough for your noses to touch while you dance. Before he can stop himself, he’s leaning in for a sloppy, drunk kiss. His hands are all over your body and yours are tangled in his hair.

You’re making out, grinding against each other as loud reggaeton plays in the background. The alcohol running through your veins caused you to forget that this isn’t just a random party, this is an influencer party; where everyone knows everyone, and everyone knows Chris. But the room is so chaotic that neither of you notice people taking pictures, the strobing lights serving as a mask for the nosy onlookers. They sneakily snap pictures and take videos, posting them online in a matter of seconds for the world to see.

At this point, you’ve been dancing with Chris for hours, both of you becoming a sweaty, drunk mess. People kept taking pictures, all of them trying to get their 15 minutes of fame by creating a scandal. If it weren’t for your friend who managed to pull you away, you would’ve stayed clung to Chris for the whole night. You were so drunk that you would’ve surely led him to a room and created an even bigger mess for yourself.

“Girl you can’t be dancing with that dude,” she says, dragging you outside of the party and to the car. “What? Why not?” your words are slurred, your heels clacking on the pavement as you struggle to keep up. Just moments before you were dancing expertly, but now you can’t even remember which foot is left and which is right. “Because he’s famous, pendeja,” she quips back, pulling you along aggressively towards the car. Who cares if he’s famous? He’s fucking hot.

“So? I’m famous too,” you’re slurring your words, stumbling with each step.

It’s true, you had your own group of fans, but you were a fairly new content creator. So, even if you were ‘famous,’ you weren’t as popular as Chris. “Exactly my point, bitch. Everyone was taking pictures of you guys. That’s gonna look so bad on you,” she says, throwing her hands up in the air. She was still pretty sober, leaving you on the dance floor to use the restroom and getting distracted along the way, only to come back to you grinding on a stranger.

When her hands flail in the air, she lets go of you causing you to lose your balance and fall on the grass lawn. She looks down at you annoyed, “Girl, oh my God. Get up.” Her hands wrap around your arms, using all her strength to hoist you up.

Your friend explained the situation to you, going into full detail about the story and of how she obtained the information in the first place. You’re so drunk that if all sounds like jibberish to you, but you listen anyways. Apparently she heard from a friend of a friend that Chris was extremely famous, he and his brothers sharing a YouTube channel that amassed over 6 million subscribers. These numbers didn’t really matter to you, you were never the type to measure someone’s worth based on followers, but it obviously mattered to your friend.

You were tuning her out now, your mind occupied with thoughts of Chris; his lips against yours, his hands that roamed your body, his body heat while you two danced to the music.

If the internet wanted to cancel you for having fun with a hot guy that you’d probably never see again, so be it.

—

Two days have passed since that party and Chris’s phone has been going crazy because of those pictures, there’s even videos of the two of you practically undressing each other mid dance floor. He was so drunk that he hardly remembers that night at all and he didn’t even manage to get your number because your friend pulled you away before he could ask. Although he hates the negative attention the videos and photos have brought, he can’t stop watching them.

“You need to fucking fix this,” Nick says through gritted teeth, scrolling on his laptop. Their Instagram DM’s, YouTube comments, emails, Snapchat messages, all of it was full to the brim with crazed fans. There were even YouTube drama channels reacting and talking about the photos, claiming that this was the ‘downfall of the Sturniolo Triplets.’

Nick pulls up the main photo everyone is going crazy over, enlarging it so it takes up the whole laptop screen. In the photo Chris’s hands are firmly gripping your ass, fingers ending right below your dress. Your right hand is tangled in his hair, the left one holding onto his bicep for support. The two of you are locking lips, and because you were dancing, the picture is blurry, but there’s no doubt that it’s Chris in the picture. There’s even less doubt that it’s you, your outfit matching the one you posted on your Instagram just hours before the party.

“Dude you’re fucked,” Matt chuckles as he shakes his head at Chris, he found the situation slightly amusing. “It’s not funny, Matt. Read these comments,” Nick responds, tilting the laptop so Matt can do a once over. Matt’s eyes gloss over the screen, reading so many messages that all said the same thing, ‘who is she and why is she with Chris?’

“They can’t be that bad,” Chris finally says, glancing at the laptop from over Matt’s shoulder. After reading about 5 messages he realizes that they were that bad, the fans were actually going insane over these photos. They managed to find your social media and kept tagging you in posts, one of the notifications popping up on the screen as Chris reads comments. “Wait click that,” Chris instructs, pointing towards the right hand corner of the laptop.

Nick clicks the notification swiftly, managing to catch it before it was replaced by another one. The notification leads them to your Instagram account, your aesthetic and page layout immediately jogging Chris’s memory. Suddenly he remembers every detail from that night, Candy by Plan B playing in his head as images of you flash through his mind.

“Is this her?” Matt asks, shooing Nick’s hand off the mousepad so he can scroll through your account. Your account was full of photo dumps; all of them including pictures of you with friends, family, out partying, and a lot of provocative selfies. There was a sexy, mysterious edge to you that could put anyone in a trance, and it was evident in your suggestive poses and the amount of likes under each post. Matt clicks on one of the photos, you’re wearing a little black dress and holding a beer, sitting on a lounge chair outside of a bustling party.

It was the exact dress from that night, and Matt instantly recognizes the background as the same venue from the party. Your legs and chest are visible, black pumps and a gold necklace on full display; all of them being the same details from Chris’s scandalous photo. “Dude you’re so fucked!” Matt reiterates loudly with a laugh, zooming into the background of the picture.

In the background, among other drunk people, you can faintly see Chris, Matt, and Nick. Chris squints his eyes at the screen, trying to see if he was distinguishable in the photo, but he clearly was. He couldn’t lie his way out of this situation even if he tried, all the evidence pointed directly at him.

“Fuck!” He groans, running an anxious hand through his hair. What the fuck was he going to do? What if this singular night and these photos managed to ruin their career?

Matt laughs, he understands that this is stressful, but even he had to agree that you were hot, “Dude, don’t worry. I’d get cancelled for her too.” Chris sends him a warning look and Nick rolls his eyes, this was no time for jokes.

Nick takes control of the laptop again, opening up a chat with you. “Wait, what are you doing?!” Chris asks immediately, watching as Nick types up a lengthy message. “Fixing your damn mistake,” he replies, pressing send without hesitation. Chris groans, facepalming as he thinks of what that message would lead to.

“Like I said dude, you’re fuuuucked,” Matt comments in a sing song tone, chuckling as he retreats to his room. Nick shuts the laptop, standing from the table and doing the same, grumbling a “fucking dumbass” as he walks upstairs.

Chris is left to think about the situation, mind replaying that night on loop. Although he doesn’t regret it, he feels like a high schooler getting in trouble for having a girl over and locking the door.

He was a grown man, he could kiss as many strangers as he wanted, but he still couldn’t help but wonder what he was supposed to do now.

—

Despite all the comments and backlash you were receiving, you didn’t learn your lesson. Instead of hiding from the world, you dolled yourself up for another night out. Your outfit is sensual, it screams ‘I don’t care what you think about me,’ and turns heads when you walk in a room.

You were still in the infancy stage of your career as an influencer, and if you’ve learned one thing from watching your friends get involved in scandals it’s that these things come and go. Tomorrow something more exciting will entertain people and they’ll forget all about you, so why stop having fun?

The strings of your thong peak from above your low rise jeans, a fitted crop top hugging your figure perfectly. You’ve styled your hair and done your makeup, ready to get drunk and ruin it with more mistakes at yet another influencer party. Hopefully Chris would be there too, not only because you’d love to dance with him again, but because you need to talk about the elephant in the room.

Of course you didn’t really care how this affected your career, but you knew that he and his brothers would take a slight hit from this. They were more established in this field, people held high expectations of them and scandals like this only tainted their image.

You do a once over of your outfit in the mirror, making any last minute finishing touches before walking downstairs. As you’re making your way downstairs, you grab your purse and begin shoving random things in there, your phone being one of them. The phone vibrates in your hand indicating a notification, nothing out of the ordinary especially right now, and when you inspect it your eyes just gloss over your phone before turning it off.

It was a message from the ‘triplets,’ apologizing for their fans behavior and for the entire scandal, even inviting you to meet in person to discuss what comes next. If you weren’t so excited to go out, and if you would’ve clicked the message, you would’ve realized that it was from the actual triplets and not a troll account. But at this point you’ve received so many notifications just like it from a plethora of sources, so you didn’t pay it any mind.

Instead of stressing yourself out, you shove your phone in your purse and walk out the door to meet your friends. You were going to enjoy your night with or without a scandal.

—

Chris is apprehensive, not sure if he should join Matt and Nick on their night out, especially not after what happened last time. Matt and Nick are dressed and ready, waiting for Chris in the living room so they can leave. Maybe attending another influencer party so soon after the scandal wasn’t the best idea, but Matt already promised he’d go and Nick had friends texting him asking if he was coming. So, if Chris didn’t want to go that was fine, but the other two were definitely making an appearance.

Chris is torn between two choices: stay home and protect his image or attend this party in hopes of seeing you again. He chews on his cheek, mulling the decision over before mumbling a quiet, “fuck it,” and getting dressed. Everyone was already raining hell fire on him, what difference did it make if he made mistakes now?

He throws on a casual outfit, ruffling his hair in the mirror before exiting his room and jogging up the stairs. Matt and Nick look up from their phones once they sense Chris’s presence, a little shocked that he’s joining them.

“Alright, I’m ready. Let’s go,” Chris comments nonchalantly, tilting his head towards the door to encourage the other two to get up. Nick is more conscious of his actions than Chris is, and he knows that as soon as Chris enters that party all eyes are going to be on him. And, if you’re already there, the attention this’ll bring is worse. “Don’t you think you should-“ Nick begins, but Chris cuts him off because he knows where this is going and he doesn’t want to chicken out now.

“I said I’m ready. Let’s fucking go.”

Matt rolls his eyes at Chris’s tough guy act, grabbing his keys and walking past him, “Watch your fucking mouth, kid.” Chris ignores him, following closely behind him as they walk downstairs and out the door. He suddenly feels excited, he can’t wait to get drunk and lose all his inhibitions.

—

The party is like any other, full of drunk people and loud music, the smell of alcohol and weed being the only thing wafting through the air. Chris was excited on the car ride there, but as soon as he hops out of the car he can feel everyone’s eyes on him, and that’s when the anxiety kicks in. What the fuck was he thinking? That he could saunter into this party and go unnoticed?

Chris tightens his jaw, trying to keep his composure and show zero signs of weakness. People are murmuring, pointing, some of them even laughing. If Chris didn’t have Nick and Matt at his side he would surely break and let the anxiety consume him. The three of them are doing their rounds, greeting friends and grabbing drinks along the way: the usual. Chris wills the bad thoughts away, taking a swig of his beer as his eyes scan the room.

Last time he was scanning the room for anything or anyone exciting, this time he’s scanning the room for one person; you. He hasn’t been able to spot you in the crowd, and after the scandal he dragged you into, he wouldn’t blame you for not showing up. Chris takes another long swig of his beer, practically chugging the drink as he tries easing his nerves with the alcohol.

“Go slow with that shit,” Nick comments with a scoff, pointing at the beer that was already halfway finished. Chris holds his hands up in defense, he definitely had to pace himself tonight, especially with so many haters lurking around every corner. “I’m gonna go find my friend, don’t do anything stupid,” Nick continues with a warning glare, pushing past Chris and disappearing into the crowd

Chris’s eyes follow Nick, watching as his figure weaves between people until he’s no longer in view. He allows his eyes to scan the room one last time, mentally claiming that if he doesn’t find you then it wasn’t meant to be. Just as his eyes reach the far left corner, and he’s about to give up, he sees you. He swears he feels his heart skip a beat, butterflies in his stomach, and heat rise to his cheeks.

You’re sitting on the arm of the couch, legs crossed and rocking back and forth as you groove to the music. In your hands is a cold beer, you take small sips from it in between conversation with your friend. Chris is silently grateful that you’re here with a friend and not another guy because it means he stands a chance with you. Usually he wouldn’t be psyching himself out this much, but you were easily the prettiest girl in the room, he’d even go as far to say that you were the prettiest girl at the party.

“I’ll be back,” Chris says to Matt, slapping his brothers back and abandoning the group he was standing with as he walks towards you. Matt, who was previously engaged in a conversation, is now watching Chris intently. Either Chris was going to come out as the underdog who got the girl, or he was going to make an idiot of himself and become a viral sensation once again. The group Matt is standing with is watching too, ready to watch Chris fail to impress you and walk back defeated.

Chris pushes past dancing couples, apologizing to anyone he bumps into as he walks towards you. His eyes are locked on you, afraid that if he looks way you’ll disappear and become a figment of his imagination. You’re too busy talking to your friend to notice Chris approaching, one of your arms rests on the back of the couch as you lean into your friend. The music is loud, the lights are blinding, and the alcohol is beginning to muddle your senses.

When you pull away from your friend you see him, standing so dangerously close to you that if it were anyone else you’d be startled. But for some reason you feel comfortable, you feel like you’ve known Chris for forever and he’s just a friend coming to say hi. So that’s what you do.

“Oh! Hi,” a big smile grows on your face, the alcohol making you extra confident and cheery. Chris chuckles, finding your drunken state only slightly amusing. “Hi,” he replies with a goofy smile, taking a step closer to you on the couch.

He’s now standing in between your legs, gentle hands landing on your thighs before he continues, “our kiss broke the internet, huh?” You laugh, Chris had an unmatched charm to him that could make anyone fall in love.

“Tryna break it again?” you ask, feeling extra bold now that he’s standing so close. He smirks knowing that in that moment, despite all the online drama and rumors, he came out with the girl. “We can try,” he replies coyly, leaning into your touch as he allows his lips to hover over yours.

Maybe it’s the alcohol, the music, or the crowd of people watching, but Chris feels the need to claim you as his in front of everyone at this party. His lips attach to yours, both of you moulding together as Candy by Plan B plays in the background.

You were sweet as candy and Chris couldn’t help but take a bite.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n:

Latinas for Chris🚨Latinas for Chris🚨

Had this one in the drafts for a while. I just had to write something for my Latina girlies 😋

-L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

[puppyboymikeyway]

little mcr things in songs that i would drop to my knees for

THE GUITAR AT THE BEGINNING OF DISENCHANTED

ITS SO SWEET

'GET. UP. COWARD.'

'run run bunny run' in scarecrow and how it gradually gets louder until gerard is yelling

UHM?? MIKEYS LITTLE 'FUCKIN READY' IN VAMPIRE MONEY?? LIKE BBG PLEASE GIVE US MORE??

the start of kiss the ring?? like?? perfection??

the sweet little guitar part in demolition lovers at the start like go ray! play your silly little riff!

the bassline to planetary(go!)(i have never once called this song just 'planetary'. its always been planetary go to me) is super funky and i absolutely love it. and i remember mikey saying how that was the hardest bassline that hes played or stage or smt like that<3

THE SILLY LITTLE COWBOY THEME AT THE START OF HANG EM HIGH?? LIKE?? I LOVE IT BUT WHY??

that silly riff during dead! that sounds like woody the woodpecker

8 bitter years - 9 bitter years - 10 FUCKING YEARS

romance. all of it. fuck you if you dont like romance. i would die for this little thing

'dO YOU HAVE THE KEYS TO THE HOTEL-'

the peppy little drums at the start of cemetery drive

'sosendmyresignationtothebrideandthegroom'

'hair bACK, MOTHERFUCKER'

THE INTRO TO GIVE EM HELL KID WHERE ITS JUST MIKEY PLAYING AND YOU CAN REALLY HEAR THE BASSLINE. SHIVERS, BRO

also the bassline to headfirst for halos?? and the guitar at the start?? like i love this song too much??

at this point just bullets. all of it. the entire album. so underrated tbh. fuck anyone who doesnt like bullets

'YOU SHOULDVE RAISED A BABYGIRL I SHOULDVE BEEN A BETTER SON' absolute trans anthem right here, folks

the piano throughout blood is just so happy for no reason like hun, this is not the song for this-

the little 'ooooooooo's in all the angels

the howling in house of wolves??? like it fits so perfectly, guys(ive been informed its not howling??? at the beginning?? am i going crazy??)

'so shut your eyyyyess kiss me goodbyeeee and SLEEEEEEEEEEEPP' 10/10

i will never not love the guitar at the start of na na na and it sucks that the only version you can hear it alone and more isolated is the version off of mdnsy but thank god we at least have that version. i love the lil riff at the start<3

the kids from yesterday. all of it. the electro-themed start and then the sNARE- PHMYGOD GUYS. PLEASE DO NOT OVERLOOK THIS SONG

'from the earth to the morgue morgue morgue MOOOOOOOORRRRRRRGUE WELL TONIIIIGHT WILL IT EVER COOOME?'

ray and franks backing vocals during planetary!! the little wooahs! i love them!<3

the drums at the beginning of burn bright??

the way gerard sings television in boy division like 'teLAviSION'

'well it better be BLACK and it better be TIGHT and it better be JUST. MY. SIZE. - well it better be WHITE and it better be CUT and it better be JUST. MY. SIZE.'

WE DONT NEED ANOTHER SONG ABOUT CALIFORNIA. ALL OF IT. I LOVE THAT SONG AND NO ONE TALKS ABOUT IT.

'STOP AND STARE AT THE ACCIDENTS AND STARS THAT BORE YOU'

THATS MY FAVORITE MCR LYRIC GUYS

'louder than gods revolver and TWICE AS SHINY'

okay wait this list was longer than i intended but reblog with your favorite little snippets of mcr songs!!(i keep updating this i need to stop)(i updated it again help)(yet again another update for grammar)

[iloveslllycatss]

RUNAWAY

— pairing : post naruto vs sasuke fight!sasuke uchiha x fem!reader  — genre : angst , fluff — summary : sasukes always seen the worst in everything, even you. and when he realizes all the hurt he’s caused for you, his word crashes (again) — a/n : i love my man and i love kanye west. LISTEN TO RUNAWAY BY KANYE WEST! (lyrics not in order, i picked the ones that go most with what’s happening) bold + italics is lyrics NOT PROOFREAD.

SASUKES ALWAYS despised everything. but never you. 

at the beginning, he mistook his love for hate, always complaining about you to himself, yet always willing to protect you. he always pointed out your faults, always thinking about himself. but you? you always prioritized him. he was the reason of your existence, the reason you kept living. 

now that sasuke was back, he had apologized to you for his past, to everyone. his past was something he wanted to forget. he wanted to be better. for himself, for you. but after the two of you got together, it seemed like he only saw the worst in everything. it felt like he wasn’t even interested in you. but you dealt with it, your biggest fear being the possibility of him leaving. you had grown attached to him.

he knew this, of course. he knew you couldn’t leave, and that you wouldn’t even if you had the chance. he knew he was hurting you. sasuke always noticed that look on your face when he said something wrong. he noticed the way you’d look at him with those eyes, the look on your face filled with hurt and disappointment, but you’d quickly conceal your feelings when you saw him. he noticed how you’d always hide how you felt, just so you wouldn’t burden him.

he felt guilty. guilty for the fact he’d hurt you without even trying. for him, it was like a reflex. he unconsciously pushed you away all the time, always keeping that cold, emotionless look on his face, as if he didn’t even care. but he did. and he knew it was getting to you.

and i always find, yeah i always find something wrong, you’ve been putting up with my shit just way too long

he tried to hold back his cruel words, he did. but he’d always end up pushing you away. saying things like ‘you’re annoying’ or ‘shut up’, he never wanted to say those things, they just kinda came out, he’d mutter a small ‘sorry’ after he’d say it, but it still hurt. and he didn’t know how to fix it.

im so gifted at finding what i don’t like the most

you couldn’t remember the last time sasuke told you he loved you, or the last time he’s initiated affection with you. you’d always initiate affection, hugging him and kissing his cheek, he liked it. but sometimes it was a little too much, so he’d lash out, his tone would be cold, and he’d tell u to stop smothering him, or that you were being clingy. he didn’t mean it, of course. he just didn’t know how to tell you without hurting you. he saw himself as a monster, especially when you’d give him that look again. he had hurt you, and he didn’t know how to stop.

you’d grow a little distant after that happened, cutting down on how much affection you’d give him, even if you craved it. you had stopped talking to him as much too.

you always tried to be perfect for him, always willing to change yourself for him. it was always about him. you put his opinion before yours, his feelings before yours, his wants before yours. you couldn’t help it. you loved him with every cell in your body, and you didn’t want him to get bored of you one day and leave.

when sasuke would get angry and he’d come home, he didn’t bother hiding it. his eyes low and cold. his glare piercing into the back of your head, and you felt it. you could feel how pissed he was from just standing by him, the only problem? he’d take it out on you. 

he wouldn’t raise his hand at you or anything, he wouldn’t dream of it. he wouldn’t yell, either. he’d just give you that look of hatred and disgust. not because he felt that way towards you, but because his mind was going crazy at the thought of whatever had pissed him off. when he’d speak to you, he’d blame you for whatever he was mad at, but he’d do it subtly. he didn’t mean it, but he couldn’t help it. sasuke didn’t know how to control his anger without taking it out on someone or pushing them away and keeping it to himself.

and i just blame everything on you, atleast you know that’s what i’m good at

after he’d calm down, he would apologize, first thing when he saw you. his voice would be low and he’d avoid your eyes, keeping an even tone with you. his breathing would be calm, and steady. and you’d forgive him right away, like you always do.

and i always find , yeah i always find , yeah i always find something wrong.

you’ve been putting up with my shit just way too long.

i’m so gifted at finding what i don’t like the most.

so i think it’s time for us, to have a toast.

what really got to him, was when he saw you curled up on the bed at night one day when he got back from a mission. he saw you hugging yourself, under the covers in the dark bedroom. you looked peaceful yet bothered. your sleep wasn’t a good one, and it showed. he felt so guilty for how he’s been treating you. he wanted to be better. he wanted to show you he could be a good boyfriend.

he showered and got dressed, laying next to you on the bed after, he hesitated. only for a little bit, before he wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly. it startled you a little, you woke up, your vision blurred and your voice drowsy

“sasuke..?” you asked, your voice was low, almost a whisper. you were confused by the sudden affection. but not complaining though, you had wanted this the whole time. and the first words that came out of his mouth surprised you.

“…… im sorry, y/n.” he mutters, quietly. he needed this. just as much as you did.

baby i got a plan, runaway as fast as you can.

his apology made your heart melt. you shifted a little, turning around to face him as he held you. “it’s okay, sasuke. it’ll always be okay” you say, quietly but sweetly. your voice like honey to him. he couldn’t get enough of it.

“.. i don’t understand….. , why you stayed with me for so long , even though i’m always hurting you.” he mutters again, his voice faint. his tone even, and his grip on you tightens.

runaway from me, baby …… run away,

runaway from me, baby …… run away.

when it starts to get crazy,  why can't she just, run away?

baby, I got a plan, runaway as fast as you can..

you stayed quiet, his words hit close to home for you. you didn’t know why you stayed. for you, it was like you just couldnt leave. you didn’t know if you could handle living without him. especially considering all the times you thought you had lost him. you loved him. more than anything. 

you understood why he treated you like that, he’s never been with anyone else, he didn’t know how to act in a relationship. but he was gonna try to be better, for your sake. he’s never been much of a romantic, he didn’t know how or what to do to make you feel good (not sexually u dirty mf 🤓). he was scared you’d leave him. he didn’t know how he’d manage without you. you were the calm to his storm. he couldn’t imagine it. he didn’t want to be with anyone else. just you.

never was much of a romantic, i could never take the intimacy ;

and I know it did damage, cause the look in your eyes is killin me

i guess then you at an advantage, cause you could blame me for everything ;

and I don't know how I'ma manage, if one day you just up and leave.

…

“i love you, sasuke. i couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.” you murmur, engulfed in his warmth. your voice was quiet, and only truth was told. “i’m not going anywhere, ever.” you say, reassuring him. 

but when you said those words, 3 words, 8 letters. his eyes widened. he couldn’t believe it, he couldn’t believe that you loved him. even after everything he’s put you through. his grip on you only tightens. he’s scared to let you go, scared to lose you if he does. he hesitates a little,

“…….. i love you too. i’m sorry.” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper, and you just turn your head up at him and press your lips to his jawline softly, a small  show of affection to reassure him some more.

he was gonna try for you. whatever it took, he would do it.

he just wanted to be perfect. for you.

© spiderruna 2023 , no swiping guys

[wolven91]

The Artist's Eye

"Why does it look so strange?" Asked the noble, tilting his head one way, then the other.

"I believe it's wider than it should be. I have a summer home that has those buildings in the background there..." A scaled, clawed hand points at the backdrop of the portrait. "The buildings are far thinner in real life. Everything is wider than it should be." Claimed the second noble, another male whose tongue briefly flicked out from between his scaled lips and lapped at the blue liquid in his delicate glass.

The pair of them continued to observe the giant portrait painting of an ursidain general. It was unheard of, and completely novel. A painting! With oils and hand-crafted hues and paints. If one leaned in, and observed the collection from the side, one could even see the uneven strokes and application of the paints against a canvas. The subject didn't matter, the ursidain was practically unheard of, but his commissioned painted was on loan to the ssypno people for a gallery event, featuring a human artist.

His style was unknown, his methods unorthodox to the point of being unheard of outside of ancient texts that describe using chintian fur brushes.

"Wider? I would say this would be the wrong portrait to observe if we are wanting to check if the human's eye adds inches to the subjects girth!" Tittered the noble, gesturing at the rotund ursidain. Unbeknownst to them, the general had been delighted at his portrait and only at the promise he could have another done, did he relinquish possession of his painting.

The two nobles approached another painting, this one of a member of House Sa'vurn. 'The Promised Daughter', one 'Desh Sa'vurn', the people's favourite.

The two nobles joined a third, a female who was coiled directly in front of it.

"Her eyes are rather alive, don't you think?" The noble asked openly, drawing the two male's attention. It was true, Desh's eyes followed them. One of the males felt judged, as if the people's favourite Sa'vurn had found him wanting, whilst the other found them angry, as she were posed to strike him.

"If you observe each of his subjects, they are all observed in one fashion or another, but it is their eyes where he has put in more detail than other artists." The noble observed.

"Why? I would know more of the subject if her body posture made sense. Her shoulders are back, but her tail coiled? Her hood is flared yet not a dot of heat."

"Of course there's no heat, it is an oil painting." The lady sighed, pointing out the obvious. "We are observing what the human sees."

"No heat? Boring." Moaned the judged male.

"Fascinating I say. We are stripped down to our most basic parts. There is no lying when standing in in front of his easel. He ignores or is blind to our attempts to show our heat, to radiate what we want others to perceive." Extrapolated the lady noble, referencing how almost every single ssypno in the gallery was displaying as much heat as they could in their hoods, to show that they were successful and didn't need to conserve their heat. She frowned as she reached out, only to stop herself from touching the canvas.

"I do wonder why do many portions are left so dark?"

"I can answer that my lady." Came a lyrical voice from behind. The trio of ssypno turned at once and met the eye of an esquinine. He didn't flinch, or close one eyes, but met their gazes without fear in turn.

"I have been privy to the human's art from the beginning, he rented my loft when he arrived on our home world." Explained the long-faced empath.  "The portions that are dark to you, are actually a sea of different colours, but more in the hues of purples and dark blues. I'm afraid these are colours outside of your visual range."

The trio of large serpants turned back to the art and squinted, as if trying to force their vision to focus and draw forth a colour they'd never seen.

"It is one thing to know one has limited visual colours, it is another to stand before what we know is there and be unable to see it." The female noble lamented.

"Ugh, annoying. Why would he paint a ssypno with colours a ssypno can't see? Insulting."

"He paints for his own enjoyment; it just so happens that others consider this art worth money. Amazing than an artist is more creative when they aren't starving." Noted the esquinine before bowing curtly and leaving the ssypno behind. The esquinine meandered through and over the tails that trailed behind the various gallery patrons before slipping into a side down and strutting down a quiet hallway.

He came to a door, pressed his thumb to the reader then stepped inside.

The human was sat watching the screens.

"How's it going?" He asked, nervously nibbling on a nail. The esquinine stepped over and gently slapped the top of the human's hand, reminding him to stop with the nervous habit.

"Well. They still don't quite 'get' it, but then they are the upper crust. Dry and tasteless." Observed the empath, who turned to watch the screens as a crowd of ssypno tried to force their own world view onto art made by a wholly different species with a very different life to them.

"It's fun seeing ignorance get exposed over and over though..." Considered the esqunine, resting his head against a finger.

"Just because I see the world differently..." Mumbled the human, mildly frustrated.

"Galaxy, and I would be quick to point out they love to remind you, that you are smell blind. I think its rather justified to remind them that they are blind to a whole world of colours, no matter how rich they are." Pointed out the alien with a cold tone to the nobles.

"Body mods are a thing." Supplied the young man, considering how they could choose to have different eyes with their money.

"And admit they aren't perfect? They'd have an ice bath first." Came the esquinine's reply, without missing a beat, taking the human by surprise.

The human grinned and couldn't help but smile at the curt and cutting remarks of his closest ally, cheering him up immediately.

[thebrightsilverlining]

P5X and the Importance of Community

There’s something interesting about how P5X is handling confidants. Obviously, I’ll have to wait until it gets officially localized, but there seems to be a running trend in regards to community.

See, X is different from P3,4, and 5 in that the protagonist did not move before the start of the game. There’s no adjusting to some new environment and meeting a bunch of people there. Wonder has lived here all his life. So making friends isn’t about becoming a part of a new place. Instead, it’s a signifier of Wonder’s change in attitude.

Wonder’s whole deal is that he was just kinda coasting through life. As the lyrics of Ambitions and Visions points out: “Act like I don’t care. Why even bother? That’s what I though then. Just another bluffer.” He was a go with the flow guy who couldn’t be bothered to put in the effort whose bitterness and lack of ambition was the reason why things weren’t going the way he wanted in life. A fact that he didn’t really want to admit.

But that changes when he becomes a Phantom Thief and he begins to actually put effort in and start caring. The whole idea of the Phantom Idols is that Wonder’s connection to the Sea of Souls allows him to see the potential in people. To see who they could be. Meaning he’s learning to shed his previous ambivalence and see people for who they really are and who they could become.

This becomes even more impactful, because he’s not in some new place with new people. He’s in his home, with most of the people having already been living there alongside him. So it’s not a matter of the world changing. It’s his perception of it that changes. It’s him realizing that the people he’d written off are actually pretty amazing.

So one of the confidants is his next door neighbor and his mom’s friend. Someone who was always around but he never bothered to really get to know. It’s his mom’s friend and they’re both old, what could possibly be interesting about that? They probably talk about whatever it is middle aged women talk about. Boring.

Except she’s not. Once he starts paying attention he finds out that she used to be a fashion designer. And she was good at it!? Not to mention those photos of her when she was younger. Who knew that Mrs. Tomiyama was COOL?!

And hey, did you know that she also has a nephew? Yeah, he’s only like a year older than you and he wants to be an actor someday. Gonna star on tv in Featherman and make so many people smile. If you’re getting to know Mrs. Tomiyama you should probably get to know him too. Who knows? You might even become friends.

And hey, what about that girl that’s always helping her father with running the local bar? You must’ve passed her by a million times by now and you’ve never spoken a word have you? Did you know that she wants to be a nurse when she grows up? Or that she’s planning to simply stay home instead so she can take care of her father with his back problem?

Or what about Yaoling Li? Did you even know that a college student from China had moved into the neighborhood? Right next to the Fujikawa residence! You know, where Yukimi lives? She’s your age, why did you never even try to become friends? But maybe it’s time to remedy that, especially if you’re both gonna befriend Yaoling, who is still struggling with the signage at the local market.

It’s all about the community. That community that’s always been there, that you just never bothered to pay attention to. The people so unique and varied, with dreams and aspirations and lives so complex you can barely imagine. That you could get to know, so long as you were willing to put in the effort to do so. And maybe, if you did, you might just find your life is better for it.

It’s a concept I find incredibly interesting, and one I really hope is done well in P5X. Because, if so, it might just be my favorite handling of confidants/social links yet.

[girl4music]

Happy 29th anniversary to the pilot episode of XENA.

Original air date: September 4th, 1995.

Directed by Doug Lefler. Written by Robert Tapert.

Lead starring Lucy Lawless as Xena.

and Renee O’Connor as Gabrielle.

I will watch and write meta about other TV shows.

I will watch and write meta about other TV ships.

But nothing I watch or write meta about in this world will ever come close to matching my fan passion and loyalty to the TV show ‘Xena: Warrior Princess’ and the TV ship Xena and Gabrielle. They are my one true love.

What ‘Sins Of The Past’ does once you’ve seen the whole TV show and watch the episode back over is it shows you how intertwined these soulmates already are as the event of them meeting saves their lives and once you are aware of the wheres and whys of this - the show itself completely changes into something more valuable than you initially saw and understood. I recommend people go back and watch it and only view it as a love story from the very beginning because the way it hits you when you do is just mind-blowing.

They set up a beautifully complex and layered WLW love story between Xena and Gabrielle without really realizing that that’s what they were doing because it’s such a very natural and authentic queer storytelling of two strangers that find home in the soul of each other.

"There’s not a word yet, for old friends who’ve just met” is a lyric in a song written by Paul Williams and Kenny Ascher from ‘The Muppets Movie’. Writer and co-executive producer, who wrote many of the most formative episodes of ‘Xena: Warrior Princess’, Steven L. Sears affectionately ascribes that lyric to Xena and Gabrielle because he believes it perfectly describes the incredible soulmate connection that the two main characters share right from the very beginning of the TV show. And I would have to say that I agree with him on that because no matter what alternative Universe, Uber timeline, reincarnated lifetime or afterlife it is, they meet each other and they develop an attraction to and affinity for each other that seemingly goes way beyond basic friendship and romance and they have a dynamic that is so strong, so substantial and so damn profound that the studio gave up on censoring them. It’s a dynamite chemistry that can be felt so viscerally that you can watch the episodes countless times over and still pick up on fresh new things about the way these two characters are with one another and how they balance and complement each other so perfectly that they’re basically the human representation of yin and yang. And you can read my Xena and Gabrielle: Character study thesis to learn what I mean by that.

Their relationship is incredibly well-written in that it’s so carefully and conscientiously slow-burned and evolved from friends into lovers that it will make it impossible not to ship them together. Believe me - even if you’ve seen Xena before, you haven’t seen it like this. You haven’t seen it as a WLW love story from the beginning to the end. But once you do, you will be attached to it in ways that will make you just like me.

That is… Lifelong dedicated to and enamoured with it.

This is a TV show that finished airing in the year 2001 but it’s been my everything since I first discovered it at 5 years old just flicking through the UK channels bored out of my mind or so my parents have told me.

I cannot even begin to imagine of who I’d be without this TV show and TV ship in my life and I know no other will ever come close to it or them for me for the rest of my life. So all day today I am spending my time celebrating not just the TV show’s anniversary of its pilot episode but also Xena and Gabrielle’s anniversary of meeting and becoming the greatest love story ever told in TV art/entertainment history. They’re iconic and legendary in the LGBTQ community for a reason. That reason is that they’re the first and, honestly, still the best WLW/queer representation that can ever be witnessed and engaged with on the TV screen. The factors as to why that’s true are many,… but mainly… it’s because they were allowed to exist and evolve together as the only lead main female characters in such a way that no other WLW ship on TV ever would or could do so again. They may have been severely censored as an explicit romantic and fully maintext confirmed and committed couple on screen but the creators never let that prevent them from providing a depiction of an all-encompassing love that was much like a romance and still went beyond a romance. Xena and Gabrielle’s love went way beyond the boundaries of romance. I’m not ever saying it’s not that. I’m just saying that it’s more than that and that’s exactly what makes it even more romantic than anything else ever created at least in the TV format and paradigm it was.

Since then, the landscape has changed so drastically that TV WLW/queer ships are never given what they got. Which was a 6 seasons, 22-24 episodes-long epic journey of them just being each other’s absolute EVERYTHING. You can see, hear and feel every single moment of that in who Xena and Gabrielle are as both individual main characters and as a main character dynamic because they do not ever neglect any real and raw aspect about them. The only thing you do not ever get to see between them - although it is heavily implied often - is sexual intimacy. That really is not a loss because everything else that should or needs to be there is there way more than it is with any other WLW/queer TV ships in any other TV shows because they’re lead main characters. In fact… they’re the only lead main characters that are credited throughout the entire run of ‘Xena: Warrior Princess’ and, honestly, sometimes I do wish TV ships in other TV shows would censor themselves every now and again so that they would be forced to dig deeper into the nuances and details as much as they did with Xena and Gabrielle.

I know many would disagree with me here but I’m adamant that the censorship helped them more than it hindered them because what you got instead with them was such a powerful representation of true love that didn’t have to rely on sex to represent it. I know that they couldn’t be shown to be sexually intimate because it wasn’t allowed to be sexual. Nowadays it can but I find that sex is used too much now when it shouldn’t be because a real life WLW/queer ship is more than sex and that’s why Xena and Gabrielle is still better representation even in this day and age.

It’s a combination of queer censorship, unbelievably strong chemistry between the leads and the creator/cast/crew’s sincere intention with queer storytelling that gave us the truly EPIC WLW love story that we got with XENA and I wouldn’t have it any other way because, for me, that is everything I could ever want.

So if you love this TV show and TV ship, please join me in celebrating the timelessly magical experience it is by writing meta about what these things mean to you.

XENA: “You know, I’m sending you home in the morning.”

GABRIELLE: “I won’t stay home. I don’t belong there, Xena. I’m not the little girl that my parents wanted me to be. You wouldn’t understand.”

XENA: “It’s not easy proving you’re a different person.

*Gabrielle eyes her curiously, Xena throws a bundle of blankets at her, gestures to the other side of the fire*

You can sleep over there.”

XENA: “You know, where I’m headed, they’ll be trouble.”

GABRIELLE: “I know.”

XENA: “Then why would you want to go into that with me?”

GABRIELLE: “That’s what friends do. They stand by each other when there’s trouble.”

XENA: “All right, friend.”

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Hi hi babe!!!!

Ugh I'm so happy that you're request inbox is open hehe cause you know me

So I have a thot and was wondering if you could whip something up for me based on the lyrics of art deco by the one and only lana

(A little party never hurt no one

Not you and me

A little party never hurt no one

We were born to be free)

With of course Matty and some smut with it please? Love you babe 💗💗💗

my pumpkin hi!! okay so I got a little sidetracked and kinda went off course a bit, I sorta based the beginning part literally of those lyrics, and kinda did a bit of an age gap, I know im sorry!! couldn’t help myself, but suits bc it’s our queen, lana, right?? I made it a little longer than planned, but only bc I love you. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

—

friday’s

matt murdock x f!reader

word count: 1240

warnings: 18+ readers only!! mention of an age gap, cunnilingus. mdni

✧.┊ MASTERLIST

As you're a little younger than Matt - a few substantial years younger - you were in different phases of your lives, nothing drastic. You just liked to spend your weekends getting blackout drunk at the nearest club, whereas your boyfriend, Matt, enjoyed a quiet night in with a takeout dinner. 

When your free time coincides- usually weekends, you'd spend time together. You'd take turns to pick said activity, allowing for a fair game. Considering you picked last weekend, it was now Matt's turn to choose, and to no surprise, it was the same as all the other countless weekends. 

You're both sprawled out on the sofa, laying lazily against each other after your overindulgence from the local Chinese restaurant, cartons cluttering the coffee table. You peek up to look at Matt, a subtle smile on your face as you rest your chin on his chest. "Wanna go out?" 

"Out? Sweetheart, we just ate," he grins in his usual way, shaking his head in amusement. "Don't you think it's a little late?" he asks, entertaining you.

"Never too late," you perk up, an excited smile on your face. "That's not a 'no'. Come on, a little party never hurt no one."

"No, sweetheart," he chuckles, tightening his grip as if to pull you back to him. "It's my turn, remember?"

"You’re so boring," you mumble, prodding his ribs with a pointed finger.

"Aw, I'm sorry," he plays along, teasing you. "Was I too hard on you?"

You hum in agreement, trailing over his chest with a featherlight touch. "Yeah. Uncalled for." 

"That so?" he asks, his voice low and quiet, almost like he was trying to lure you. 

“Mh-hm," you nod, still playful as you sit up, slipping from his grasp. "I think I'm going to sit in the other room now."

Matt catches on instantly- well, he knew from the start, but he'd never admit that to you. He found it endearing when you thought you could trick him, how your heart jumps a few beats when you tease him or how your breathing quickens when you lie. He knew you well, and he knew these teasing mind games you loved to play- every single one.

And right now, you were playing his favourite one of all. The one where you pout and pretend to be in a mood to get what you want. It was always harmless and playful on your behalf, never any intended malice. You enjoyed how he'd hang onto what you say and anticipate what you want, like you had him around wrapped around your finger.

Though, it was often more than that. You liked to work Matt up, get him so bothered that he had to do something about it- do something to you about it. But sometimes, you forgot who Matt is. And as much as he loved to be teased by you, there was only so much he could take, especially with a rock hard cock between his legs. 

"I think you want to stay in," he smiles down at you, the corners of his pretty lips twitching with suggestive thought. 

"No, I wanna go out," you lie, protesting your non-existent ground. "I can just call my friends if you're not gonna give me what—"

A firm yet gentle tap on the ass cuts you off. "Are you telling me I don't give you what you want?" Matt faintly asks, adjusting himself so you are in his place, your back against the couch with him hovering atop. "Do I not give you what you want?" he whispers, closing the space between you, grazing your lips with his own. "Is that true, sweetheart?"

"Yeah," you pathetically oppose once more, shamelessly lying to a blind catholic. 

He tuts, lingering against your lips before pulling away, teasing you the way you do him. "Okay then." He nods, slowly lifting himself from you.

You snake your arms around Matt's neck, pulling and guiding him back to you. "No— no, okay, okay, okay," you mutter, speaking rushed. "I lied… I lied," you whisper, speaking just as whiney and pathetically as earlier. You shimmy your hips, adjusting to wrap your legs around him, your knees hugging his hips. "I'm sorry— I'm sorry I lied."

He coos, a subtle proud smile slapped on his face. "I thought so," he lowers back to you and hesitantly brushes over your lips, making you wait for it.

Matt finally encaptures them, working over them with slight vigour. One hand settles on your waist, the other around your throat, guiding you and deepening the kiss.

He parts from your swollen lips, trailing a hurried line of brash kisses along your jaw and down the base of your throat, his hand pawing at your lounge shirt, eagerly trying to rid the fabric. He succeeds, hastily removing the garment over your head, his mouth immediately attaching to your bare chest, lazily licking over your stiffened nipples.

He slides down you, trailing sloppy kisses between the valley of your tits and down your stomach, halting when he reaches the waistband of your pyjama bottoms. He lingers soft, flutter-like kisses over your abdomen- ones that mimic the feeling in your lower belly. 

His focus lowers, as does his roughened palm- fingers grazing over your hips until they snake into the band of fabric, easing the loungewear down and over your thighs, all the way off your ankles. 

"Perfect," he mutters against your warm and exposed thigh, trailing a string of kisses up to the crease, pausing when he reaches the outline of your underwear. "I think we should stop here— call it a night." He teases, speaking softly against your covered pussy, almost whispering to it. 

"Matt," you warn, fingers digging into the swole of his shoulders. "Don't do that. It's not funny."

"It is," he chuckles into the pool of sweetness between your legs, the action making you twitch. "Needy little thing, hm?"

"Shut up," you reply breathlessly, winding your hips into his face, desperately trying to refocus him. "Please," you pant, playing with his hair, guiding him back to where you want him. "Come on."

Another amused chuckle slips past his lips before he finally slips down the wet piece of fabric that is your underwear. He adjusts his weight, stomach pressed flat against the sofa as he nestles his face between your legs, his arms hooking around your thighs.

He lightly exhales over your sensitive nub, breathing over it before eventually caving in, delicately kissing around the touch-starved mound. His movements are slow and confident as he trails over your folds, briefly sucking on them before continuing lower. He knew his way around a pussy, and wanted you to soak up every single tingle he was making you feel.

He lays his tongue flat against you, slowly licking up through your slit as if to savour your flavour on his tongue. "Taste so pretty, sweetheart," he hazily praises, his words loose and sluggish as he delves deeper into you, mumbling into your folds about how good you taste, already drunk off you.

Matt leisurely swipes over you, kissing and nibbling your cunt like he had all the time in the world- and maybe he did. Maybe he wanted to work you up and make you pay for all your teasing and petty games. And maybe, just maybe, this was his idea of spending the weekend together- Chinese food and cunnilingus on the couch. 

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

this is so shit omg, I got bored reading and editing it🙃I don’t think I did your idea justice babe!?

matt taglist: @hailey-murdock @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser @redecoratestan @kpopgirlbtssvt @scarletsloveletter @princess-pebbles-things @messymissy @schneeflocky @readerhead @thegreengoop @charmedkim @queerponcho @selfryed

[pagannatural]

2.13 Houses of the Holy

- Religious plot begins in earnest. Sam is Able and Eve and original sin and also Christ dying for those sins. He is Dean’s disciple. Dean is Cain and Adam and the Holy Spirit and God. Their conflict is destiny/blood/family vs free will/choice/love, the pure vs the tainted vs the merely human. The muddy non-dichotomous nature of love and of good and evil.

So far the question of the brothers saving each other and the world has been self-contained: only Dean can save or kill Sam, and in doing so, himself. In other words only Sam can succumb to evil and damn his brother or retain his humanity and his brother. Their struggle is religious by definition. Religion in supernatural is characterized by the trinity of good, evil, and human, and the brothers are twin souls who need each other to stay human. Sam needs to overcome his shame and belief that he isn’t chosen, that he doesn’t belong; Dean needs to overcome his guilt and belief that he can never be enough. The threat of them losing their humanity and free will is literal as they will learn they’re destined to become vessels, but they don’t know that yet.

- Dean is lying on the motel bed listening to “Hair of the Dog”. Right when Sam walks in these lyrics are playing in his ears:

Heartbreaker, soul shaker/I've been told about you/Steamroller, midnight stroller/What they've been saying must be true

These lyrics pertain to Sam and his fate. This song was chosen very intentionally, it’s shown on Dean’s iPod screen. It’s foreshadowing. And Sam is Dean’s heartbreaker soul shaker.

Sam stands there next to a partition decorated with burlesque silhouettes of women, watching Dean’s body being shaken on the bed. It’s kind of a weird image. Dean looks like sleeping beauty the way the bed is lit. Or like a main course.

“You’re enjoying that way too much, it’s kind of making me uncomfortable” Sam says while looking up at the wall behind Dean exactly like he did when he was trying to avoid staring at Dean’s ass in an earlier episode. Very heaven-help-me.

His discomfort seems like attraction. I want to break down this scene because it’s played as a joke, like it’s funny that Dean is so hedonistic, but he’s essentially just using the massage function on the bed. He’s fully clothed and he’s listening to music, just chilling. He’s bored. So the joke is either that this isn’t really that intimate and yet Sam is so uncomfortable for Some Reason that he’s having a hard time looking straight at Dean, or that Sam really has walked in on an intimate moment and he responds by staring and going up to Dean all flustered and asking him to stop. Either way, Sam is watching Dean experience pleasure, and gulping because of it.

It highlights that Sam is uninterested in sex, and food, and pleasure in general, and it bothers him that Dean is. Sam later calls it Dean’s “sick habit” and tells him he’s like one of those lab rats that pushes the pleasure button instead of the food button until it dies.

I noticed recently that even in the pilot, Sam is shown kissing Jessica and acting loving with her, but the shot of them in bed has them apart and Sam facing away from her in his sleep. It’s Dean who ogles her in her underwear. Sam has been shown clinging to Dean, sleeping facing him, checking him out, and chastising him for his womanizing. The one woman he kissed was for Dean’s benefit. Sam’s relationship with his sexuality is consistently shown linked directly to Dean. Maybe exclusively to Dean at this point.

After this exchange, Sam goes into the bathroom and washes his hands for Some Reason. Because he’s feeling unclean?

-interesting how the killers’ houses shake like there’s an earthquake before what they think is an angel appears to them- the second guy is even lying on his bed when it starts shaking. Dean is on his shaking bed when Sam appears to him at the motel, like Sam is his angel.

-Dean says Sam has him on lockdown. So Sam insisted that Dean stay back for his safety. He’s looking out for him, always asking Dean to stay safe.

-Sam believes in angels and god because of the monsters they hunt, Dean doesn’t believe in angels or god because of the monsters they hunt. The difference in the way their beliefs developed is that Dean believed in angels as a small child until his mom burned to death and he learned monsters are real, whereas Sam was certainly never encouraged to believe in religion and had to find something to cling to in the chaos and uncertainty of how he was raised. Sam felt unclean or like something was wrong with him so he tried to separate himself from the monsters. Dean believed he wasn’t good enough so he chose not to believe in a god that was a disappointment and that he believed he would surely disappoint.

- Sam tells Dean he prays every day, which Dean didn’t know. He acts like this is some kind of betrayal. I think the betrayal is literally just that he didn’t know and he wants to know every single thing about Sam.

-Sam collapses after seeing what he thinks is an angel, and Dean gets on his knees to put both hands on him. He keeps touching him when they’re walking out. He hauls Sam to his feet bodily.

This frame is so good because Dean is glaring at the angel statue and Sam is looking up at Dean.

Sam wants to be chosen by an angel. He thinks that would mean he’s good. He felt left behind and second-best by his dad, and felt that Dean would choose hunting and John over him for much of his life. He realizes now that Dean chooses him.

-Dean makes sure the woman he saves is okay and has a cell phone and tells her to call 911 before he runs after her assailant. He cares more about the wellbeing of the victim than he does about catching the bad guy.

-when Sam says “you were right” Dean gives him this look that’s so full of love, it’s plain that Dean doesn’t care about being right. He just sees his little brother in pain and wants to make it better.

-Sam sits down so that he’s looking up at Dean during their conversation. He has tears in his eyes talking about wanting to be saved. Dean tells Sam “I’m watching out for you”

Sam doesn’t doubt Dean’s dedication to him and desire to protect him. But doesn’t think Dean can save him, and more importantly he’s afraid he can’t save himself. He sees Dean as fundamentally good and strong but he also harbors judgment toward Dean for needing him. It’s protective for Sam to not need anyone, which is why his arc deals with the isolation of shame. Religion can’t save him because it doesn’t make him believe he is good, and because ultimately it leaves him alone.

-Dean tells him that he witnessed “God’s will” the way that the perp was just killed in front of him. He’s letting himself hope and giving Sam hope. They’ve both seen so much chaos and evil, they need to believe there’s good and meaning in the world. Dean’s doubt challenges his beliefs about the world and himself, and it’s his words that give Sam the hope he needs.

-episode is about lost souls and purpose. A series of people who the show depicts as lost are given a sense of meaning and belonging to something bigger than themselves, but the problem is that they don’t question it—they simply obey, acting as if without free will. They’re wrong, but they’re happy and full of certainty. Sam and Dean are lost too, but they’re unable to have blind unquestioning faith. The result is that they do good: Dean protects and shows kindness to a woman who was attacked, Sam facilitates a way for a spirit to be put to rest. But they have doubt, which means they also have fear. And they’re left knowing that they have themselves and each other. It’s meant to be complicated and frightening and painful because that’s what it means to be human, and that’s where love and compassion live.

[kithlien]

Kyllikki Korhonen for @nikatyler’s Michael Fleur's BC

she/her | panromantic demisexual

20 y/o | somewhere in Finland

Traits: Absent-minded - Loves the outdoors - Childish - Friendly - Natural born performer

LTW: Vocal Legend

Kyllikki Korhonen seems like your typical Finnish girl. She drinks milk with dinner, likes sauna, salmiakki and long hikes in the forests. Her surname is among the most popular in the country and her shaggy blonde hair gleams in the never-setting Finnish summer sun. Sounds boring? Well, let's start from the beginning.

We’re in some Finnish village, somewhere near the central point of Finland. Little Kyllikki Korhonen performs in front of her family, singing her favorite song by the group Fröbelin Palikat. She already feels that the stage is her destiny, but her parents have a different task for her - in the future, as the oldest child, she is to take over a successful dairy company. Kyllikki doesn't know about it yet and is enjoying her childhood. Unfortunately, she is not doing very well at school, she has problems with concentration and excels only in artistic subjects. Her original way of singing is quickly noticed and she’s sent to singing competitions. There she always does something that makes the audience laugh. Mainly, it involves forgetting the lyrics, so she has to improvise and her performance turns into a small comedy. You say that winners get all the glory and runners-up are quickly forgotten? Not in this case *high fives with Yusuf Dikeç*. Her "blunders" mean that she may not take first place, but she is well remembered thanks to her specific style and soon she is offered regular performances in a certain music club in Helsinki. So, under the pretense of studying, she goes to the capital with her childhood friend Marja, who promises to hide her actions from her parents. They claim that Kyllikki's entire singing career is "childish nonsense" - they are quite strict and not very modern. When they discover (thanks to a "kind person") the real reason for their daughter's departure to Helsinki, they tell her to “immediately wise up”, continue her studies and then return to the farm. However, Kyllikki has no intention of rotting in the countryside for the rest of her life. She wants to go abroad to entertain more people with her performances and see more than just her hometown and Helsinki. She feels the world is calling her. At this point, Marja steps in and tells her about Michael's BC. Kyllikki is hesitant at first, after all, her love life has been almost non-existent so far (only a few flings), but when she sees Michael's photo, she discovers in him a colorful personality and a kindred spirit (music!), so she decides to take a risk and participate.

This is where the story ends for now. Will Michael help Kyllikki write the next chapters?

Some facts:

she likes her name (it’s from Kalevala, after all) and hates it when foreigners call her Kylie

Gemini; her birthday is on the 1st of June

158 cm (5’2)

ENFP

has two younger sisters, who look older than her

forever baby faced

makes the best rhubarb pie

has a soft spot for colour pink

falls asleep after drinking coffee or alcohol

constantly getting lost, thanks to her terrible sense of direction

only listens to pop/indie pop music

collects funny things (like this)

imitates animals well

speaks Finnish with a strong Oulu accent, but she also knows other Finnish dialects well (she always surprises people with this)

↪ Private download (unless she's eliminated)

[wildbluesorbit]

Wounded || JTK

…a continuation of London

18+MDNI

Paring: [drunk]asshole! Jakexreader(f)

LONDON SERIES MASTERPOST

A/N: Howdy, back with more asshole Jake today! I know the last part took a very sharp turn but I promise I am telling a story. It's darkest just before dawn and all that. might have even wrote in a little surprise This piece is inspired by this little diddy, please give it a listen as there are so many lyrical references. Everyone say thank you @tommie-gvf for editing! I hope y’all enjoy this chapter; I am very open to criticism so pretty please let me know what you think!

Summary || Time heals all wounds, yet a year’s passing begs the question if Jake and you are just too broken to ever put the pieces back together.

Content Warnings || toxic relationship, agoraphobia, haphephobia, mentions of nightmares, alcoholic consumption and inebriation, anger, brief mentions of physical aggression and bodily harm, verbal aggression, unsolicited touched, allusions to depressive episodes, allusions to sexual assault, [non-aggressive] attempted forced entry into readers bedroom

*disclaimer: I am in no way a mental health expert and google research can only get me so far*

Word Count || 4.8k+

You swear if the door could speak, it would mock you as you swarm around it. Like an impending predator ready to pounce on its victim; except that you aren’t and it isn’t. You simply stare at the ominous mass on hinges intent on boring a hole through the wood. For just maybe tonight, life would pour in through a glare-induced breach. For once, maybe the world would be kind and come to you.

You are drawn from your reverie by Jake calling your name, “It's okay, we don’t have to go.”

Already aware of the panic-induced rushing heat, you pull your insulative hair back from your flushing face.

You foolishly attempt to speak your courage-feasting fear out of existence, “Oh no, we’re going and we’re going to have a great time!” 

Jake, unconvinced, sleepily rubs his eyes and begins to slip off his well-loved vans at their perpetual displacement by the door.

“Really, it's fine, I’d rather stay in tonight anyways,” he huffs. 

You’re fidgeting alternates from your hair to the cold metal locks of the door, “Why are you taking off your shoes? Let's go!” 

He rests his tenacious hands on your shoulders as he starts to help you shimmy your coat off, “There’s no deadline, angel. It’s okay to not be ready. Don’t push.”

“I want to go out, I promise you,” childish pules make their way through your chest. 

You restrain yourself from stomping your feet like a restive toddler and blink away the unwelcome tears piercing the back of your eyes. 

“I know,” Jake’s voice echoes throughout the empty foyer as he hangs up your jacket, “but there’s no rush, I promise you too.”

It has been a year since London and Jake invited you to live in Nashville with him and Josh. At first, you had agreed only if you could help around the house just until you got back on your feet, but after a few weeks it had become prodigiously clear nothing beyond this point would be that painless. 

As soon as you made home in Nashville, you found yourself struggling to keep up with the world booming just beyond your bedroom. The look on Jake’s face when you were diagnosed with mild cases of haphephobia and agoraphobia almost made you dread you hadn’t stayed to wither away in London. On good days you managed a hug or even a car ride to the store but it was seldom, and only ever accompanied by Jake. You remained constant with your therapy and enervated yourself trying to break through life’s new barricades, but it proved a cheap fuel to get you through most days. 

You have lost count of the amount of nights you got ready for an evening out with Jake, in which he had to go on without you because you could not bring yourself to step beyond that petrifying threshold. So just like the many lost evenings before, you insist he go without you and, like always, you’d be waiting for him when he comes back.

“Fine, but not because you told me so,” you tease, “and put your shoes back on. You know the rules!”

If you couldn’t go out, you made certain you didn’t drag anyone else down with you. And if you are trapped inside, you make sure your weight is being pulled within.

As soon as it was clear you wouldn’t be leaving the house for a while you hunted for work you could perform from the comfort of your bed as a means to not sit idly with the demons trapped inside with you. Since you already had a business degree you landed on being a virtual accountant. But when you had free time you kept the Kiszka residence running smoothly.

Of course, they already had assistants and maids for domestic upkeep of the house and mostly everything was paid for, but you took initiative in commandeering any duties that slipped through those cracks. From taking care of plants and pets to ordering groceries, and even cooking some nights; responsibilities the twins claimed they wanted for themselves in an effort to stay grounded. Yet whether they accept it or not, they are rockstars with no time for such mundane tasks. 

The twins always make sure you know how much they appreciate you. You’d never admit it, but sometimes flowers or a cheesy note here and there is a small token that pulls you through the day. 

Danny and Sam also visit you when they have a chance. The boys always set aside a few minutes to catch up when they were at the house on a work call. Sometimes they’d take turns stopping by with lunch, checking in on your progress. They’d always tell you they miss you and encourage you to go out. Although, constantly being abraded by the same words can be challenging at times you never objected; you found their strategy endearing. It makes you feel like a princess; except for the days it made you sorely feel like a prisoner. 

Yet no matter what the other boys do, Jake is still the pinnacle of it all. The only one who understands the gravity of your experience, as he was there to witness it. He is the only one you feel you can talk to on the rare occasion you do want to talk about it. The only one who recognizes why you are the way you are and knows the tracks your mind runs on. The only one who truly knows how to take care of you when you don’t. Which means he is also aware you hadn’t found the mental capacity to figure out how the two of you fit into each other's lives.

Before the arrival of any real contemplation or diagnostics, you had tried a few times to rekindle the embers of your once-raging flame, but somehow everything always got put on hold or fizzled out. Some nights would consume you two. You’d imagine his pink plush pout everywhere and your touch seemed to send electricity through the man, but you always tapped out, neither of you addressing it. A few times you clung to the concept of Jake and you, charging through the strain of wanting to pull back and he was the one who would call it, consoling you when you hadn’t even registered you had started to cry or hyperventilate. That’s when you noticed Jake redirecting his time and energy into being your friend first and foremost. 

However, he never holds it against you as most nights are spent in your bed anyway. Sometimes he comes in to watch TV, read, listen to music, or just talk until he falls asleep next to you. Seldom do you pursue Jake’s touch, but there is an unbounded stillness about these nights; a safeness enabled by his giggles even breathing so close. These nights are your favorite, submitted to memory as long as fate will allow.

But more often than not, Jake’s nights start in his bed and journey to yours, pursuing his self-assigned task of soothing you back to sleep after a nasty nightmare would goad you awake.

You once asked him how he always knows; to which you immediately regretted as he responded sometimes he intuitively felt compelled to check on you. While other times you could be heard from down the hall; yet you secretly suspect he sometimes sneaks into your room to avoid nightmares of his own. Nevertheless, the last thing you ever wanted to become was Jake’s babysitting project, so you always make an effort to stay away from the phone when he is on the road. 

Days Jake was away proved bearable as many tasks around the house demanded your undivided attention. Yet evenings, when you stalled your mind long enough to fall asleep became excruciating. He’d usually check in after a show or drinks but the prowling monsters always came out of hiding as soon as he hung up. You almost always ended up sneaking into Jake’s bed, seeking comfort in the little strands of him living in his bedroom. You’d never confessed this though. 

Jake reels you from where you had been tucked away in your thoughts, “Danny’s here! Last chance to rescue me from this trainwreck and hog me all to yourself?”

He bats his long eyelashes at you and nods optimistically. 

“Have fun,” you giggle, shutting his whole pleading puppy dog act down. 

He grants you a bashful wave goodbye as you implore him to carry on his evening, as you would feel terrible if he stayed home just because you couldn’t leave. He agrees while perusing your eyes like he does every time before he parts from you. 

You had learned to read this signature appraisal as Jake’s silent survey as to whether he should actually leave or not. He never wanted to see you struggle to ask for something you needed if he found he could anticipate it. Though, It is always accompanied by one other departing look that you could never decipher.

That is until one day, compelled by your confusion that always follows, he told you he was fighting the urge to kiss you goodbye. He said it not to pressure you or coerce you into reciprocation, but just to be honest with you about what place you hold in his eyes. 

Jake whines one more time before you assure him he has no choice, “Do I have to go?!” 

You throw your hands in the air in an exaggerated dusting motion and feign a pestered grunt, “Shoo! Shoo!”

He notifies you he will be right back and his ringer is on if you need anything. You almost envy how gracefully Jake parts from you and vanishes through the door frame with no trouble at all.

— JAKE —

The music is too loud. The lights are too bright. The bar is far too crowded. The company your brothers force on you is nauseatingly obnoxious. You are decidedly miserable. You want nothing more than to crawl inside a cab that hauls you back to her bed. You’ve wanted nothing more for the past year. 

Instead, you endure it. Lead by example and don’t be an enabler. Your only comforting thought is that you don’t have to do it sober. You wash down your despair with the rest of your numbing elixir.

Reluctantly, you are pulled from your dissociation, “Jake?!”

You look up from your empty glass, flocking eyes of anticipation indicating they’ve reached a part of the conversation that requires your participation. You simply apologize and signal the waitress for a refill.

You feel your brother’s elbow gently prod against your rib cage, “What’s up?”

Josh means well, asking the question discreetly, but it still brings the pre-existing conversation to a halt. You wave him off, poorly portraying placidity. He doesn’t buy it, along with everyone else.

A girl you had met maybe a handful of times, you just can’t seem to recall her name at the moment, sat across the table from you. She had been tagging along recently and was particularly fond of Sam. You are clueless as to what purpose her next words serve or why they find you the way they do, just that she is illogically brazen as you don’t really know a thing about her and vice versa.

The nameless girl snickers unprompted, “Still couldn’t get your little puppy out of her cage, huh?”

The startling amount of intimate knowledge this stranger possesses is nearly paralyzing. Your eyes narrow in on a wide-eyed Sam.

Sam’s hands flail about as if he is looking to materialize a shield out of thin air to hide behind and panickedly begins to babble, “Wait- I didn’t tell- She wasn’t supposed to- She was eavesdropping!”

“I heard she won’t even let you pet her,” she smugly clicks her tongue.

All at once, the same raging fire that blazed within you that night in London lends itself to you once again. Painfully flickering in and out every so often, it never returns this lucid. 

That same destructive flame that scorched any and all sense of restraint to a crisp that night, roaring louder in your ears than any other voice of reason. The same seething blind red that found Hunter beaten beyond recognition, the only identifiable weapon being your hands bloodied and bruised and split. 

Like clouds catch the dancing auburn flare of a beaming bonfire, you question whether your face is a glowing ember reflecting your own raging flame. You aren’t certain you could say or do anything without completely losing your shit in this very bar.

Instead of fuming, you only finish your drink in an eerily serene manner. The only indication of rage being your knuckles wrapped white around your glass, your control alarmingly intact by a quickly unraveling thread.

You walk over to the bar to close out your tab. You refuse to give into the red haze as your brothers call after you, thoughtlessly beseeching for you to remain present and what that would mean for you. 

The bell above the door rings through your ears and the crisp chill breeze of night hits your face as you step through the exit, half extinguishing the fire lit by some loose-tongued stranger. 

You know you should go home but the last thing you want to do is further burden her in your short-fused state. You had been diligently adamant in keeping this monster carefully caged in her presence and weren’t about to let your hard work be tossed aside by some prick with a loud mouth. You can pretend to play it off, act like there is nothing wrong but that wouldn’t be fair to the both of you. She would see right through you. 

You decide you don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here. You nuzzle into the warmth of your jacket as you wait for your noble rescue, via Uber.  

— YOU —

You vacillate between consciousness and void as your phone begins buzzing. Half asleep, you let it ring until the din resumes, fully pulling you from slumber. The unnaturally bright screen pierces through the dark room and Danny’s contact photo stings your adjusting eyes.

You force your slumber-frozen vocal cords to rasp out, “Hello?”

Danny’s tender voice sounds through the line, “Hey, sorry to wake you, hun. I just wanted to make sure Jake made it home okay?”

Still groggy from sleep, the question riddles you, “What? I haven’t heard him come through. He’s not with you?”

“Shit- He’s not at the house and he’s not answering his phone,” he mutters to someone on the other end.

Panic sets in and forces you to spring upwards, “Danny? What’s going on? Where’s Jake?”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” his uneasy tone and evasion of your question do little to console you. 

“Daniel-,” you don’t get the chance to finish before you hear Jake stomping up the staircase.

“He’s right here, Danny, goodnight,” you rashly exhale the update before hanging up the phone and tossing it on the bed, of which you’ve already vacated and are headed for the stairs. 

You rush out of your room to see a sloppily inebriated Jake oozing up the steps. You swiftly plod down the incline till you reach the same level as the teetering drunk, intent on assisting him in his expedition to bed.  

You frantically begin to ramble off questions, “What happened? Where were you? Are you okay?”

You pet the frizzy hair away from his face and into a ponytail. Taking care of Jake suffocates any hesitation from his heavy touch as you throw his arm closest to you over your shoulder and place your hands around his waist for balance, eliciting a lazy giggle from him.

“They cut me’off,” he slurs, “can you b’lieve that?”

You roll your eyes and mutter under your breath, “I can actually.”

Once he makes it atop the staircase he dwells there. You keep moving forward to allude him to follow but he instead crumbles into you.

Jake plops his head heavy onto your shoulder and nuzzles into your neck. His hands follow, wrapping around the dip of your waist to keep balance. It has been nearly a year since you last felt the weight of his warm skin press into you. The pungent smell of liquor offends your nostrils as his warm, heavy, drunk breaths tickling your neck become one of irrational remorse.  

Your first instinct to peel him off of you roars throughout every nerve ending of your body, but you don’t. After all he's done, Jake needs you now. Even if it's only to help get him to bed, you don’t mind being wildly uncomfortable for a few minutes. 

“I’m sor- I’m sorry, I just- then she said- I didn’t wanna ‘pset you- I’m so sorry- I just miss you, princess,” he babbles whined apologies into your clavicle, beginning to unnerve you.

You grunt trying to pull his limbs back into motion, “What are you talking about, Jake? Are you okay? What happened?” 

He resumes staggering forward on his own accord, even wasted he is much stronger than you. 

He giggles at your question, completely amnesic to his previous mystery guilt, “Am I O-kay? I’m doing… great! It’s you- Are ya’ O-kay?”

You answer the question simply to appease Jake and keep him mobile, “I’m doing just fine, let’s get you to bed.”

Together the two of you pad down the dark hallway. You make it in front of his bedroom door just before his fluctuating footsteps cease yet again.

He yanks his arms from your grasp in indignation, “Don’t lie to me! You aren’t- I know you aren’t!”

Frustration creeps in, and you take a deep breath. You return his hands to your own and soothingly run your thumbs along his knuckles. You patiently explain that he has had too much to drink and will feel better after water, pain relievers, and sleep. All you want is to help him get some rest. Yet he still refuses to move, a swaying brick wall.

“You know the guy who put his hands on you has got nothing to do with me,” he aimlessly blurts out. 

You wince, throwing your head up to the ceiling. This is the last thing you want to discuss, especially with an intoxicated toddler of a man.

You and Jake rarely talk about what happened that night. You’ve addressed it maybe once or twice when he approached you about seeing a therapist or when you seldom tell him what happens in your nightmare.

You drop his hands to mask your face with your own, struggling to remain in place and not flee from his sight, “Jake-”

The fast manner in which Jake summons sobriety in his next words is almost unsettling, still inebriated but much less so. Enough to have a coherent conversation now. Just enough to wage war with a cleverly choreographed army of words without any real contemplation or inhibition.

He curtly hiccups, “Don’t you think you’ve carried this weight way too far?”

He speaks as if you have any say in the matter. As if you are choosing to remain prisoner to the shadows in your mind. As if choking on paralytic terror and trauma day and night is the path of least resistance. You draw back from Jake in one large clarifying step and place your hands under your arms to conceal their tremors. 

You do your very best to plant your rising tone, “I don’t know what you want from me, Jake?”

“I want you,” he begins to storm, his hands sloppily flailing about to gesture his points, “I want your laugh and I want your smile. I want to knock ‘em down like we used to, you know? I want to kiss you and touch you. God only knows how much I would love you if you’d let me!” 

You know he is only drunkenly rambling but it doesn’t dull the gashes his words leave. How could he insult you to think you couldn’t possibly feel the same? That you don’t ache for times the two of you used to parade through the night, wading through trouble and chaos, spontaneity as your only navigation. How you tear yourself apart knowing you’re the reason it's all recollection and not an existing reality?

You routinely dwell on the former enamoring parts of you. You are a phantom. A mere fragment. A poor cover of an adored original. The waste of a girl everyone antecedently loved, including you. Only a spectator stuck behind a glass, forced to look in on your life being fucked up by some imposterous variation of you. Every element you loved about yourself had been stolen from you.

You raise your defenses, “You don’t think I want that too?! I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this! It's never been this complicated, Jake.”

Your appeal to his empathy goes void as he further scrutinizes you, “So what? You’re the only one who is recovering from that night?! And I'm just supposed to be cool with you doing nothing? You want me to be okay with you neglecting yourself? Let you walk around like you’re some wounded thing?!”

He dissects you, rendering you raw and helpless. You aren’t sure how to reason with him so you remain still, renouncing the idea of a clever rebuttal. He, a hostile beast, you don't want to spook. Yet it only seems to reload his fire. 

Almost repulsed by your lack of refutation, he reboots his one-sided yelling match, “You used to speak so easy, and now it’s like you're afraid to talk to me! When are you going to stop being so apathetic towards this and face your demons?! When are you going to come around again? You used to be this surge of energy- We all miss you- I miss you!” 

His words prick tears from your eyes but you fight them, swallowing the lump of self-pity in your throat. 

You poorly return fire with volume in an attempt to conceive a sob, “You just- you don’t get it, Jake!” 

Jake thrusts his head back in a growl. The sudden shift in his weight causes him to fumble backward, your hands automatically gravitating to his rescue in fear he might trip over his own footing. But you cross your hands back into your sides as soon as he catches himself, not even aware of his staggering he proceeds in his reprimand. 

“I don’t need to get it,” he mimics your weak excuse of a defense, “I just need you to be okay! I don’t expect you to be fine right now or even the same. I just want to know that you will be okay and I have yet to see any indication. You won’t leave this house and the only people you socialize with are my brothers and I. I’m convinced you don't want to grow! I mean- as soon as you start doing well again you shut yourself in your room, is this going to be the rest of our fucking lives?”

You let your mouth hurl words without any ideation of consequence, “I’m not one of your screaming fuck-dumb fan girls, Jake. I don't owe you a thing and you don’t get to speak to me this way. And I don’t expect you to understand but don’t worry, I won’t crowd you anymore. You’ve made it clear I’ve overstayed my welcome so I’ll be out the door.”

You press into the balls of your feet now, completely committed to bolting from any further confrontation but his next words make it nearly impossible to ignore.

His impudence is a cruel dagger, “Yeah, you know you have to actually leave the house first?”

“A colossal fuck you, Jacob,” you snarl.

“Just another thing you have yet to do,” he ruthlessly twists the knife yet again.

All emotion drains from your face completely paralyzed by his venom. You're convinced all the oxygen in your lungs has deserted your body, leaving you gasping and choking for any response. Not even able to make eye contact with him, your eyes swirl around the room; half an attempt to search for some indication this is all a dream, half an attempt to roll back the oncoming tears.

You are sick and tired of crying.

The one person you have trusted with your tears is now the one pouring them back into your crying eyes. Weaponizing your drops, he now trains the blade to your throat.

You hum a tune of uncertainty to cover the lump in your throat as you subconsciously slide your feet backward against the hardwood floor, “Um- Ja- I- You’re drunk, Jake, get some rest, okay?”

You can’t possibly stomach being angry with him any longer. You’ve had enough rage and hate for a lifetime. You don’t want to vilify or associate any of it with the man in front of you.

Though he’s not perfect, you couldn’t imagine asking for more. Jake has been so good to you in a season full of so many tears, panic attacks, mood swings, outbursts, meltdowns, isolation episodes, sleepless and nightmare-ridden nights. He is always there to make sure you are eating, and getting out of bed, and showering, and taking proper care of yourself. He is the one to organize your ground on days you’ve been so numb and dissociated you nearly forgot how to speak. He’s been there to take care of you when the day is so overwhelmingly amplified and intrusive it makes you physically ill.

Jake had placed his heart in being attentive to the little things. He knows when you are holding your breath. He sees when you are avoiding your reflection. He can sense when you are fighting to complete basic tasks. He recognizes when you put effort into something you have been struggling with. Jake makes sure to nurture signs of growth as they come but is always there to gather you when you relapse. He’s always been there to remind you of who you are and how much you are loved. 

This is the first time he’s lost his patience with you and he isn’t even in his right mind.

More than earned your forgiveness, Jake is the reason you can still forgive. The reason you aren’t as bitter and angry at the world as you’re justified to be. 

Yes, you decide that he more than deserves exoneration. Because even though it feels as if it’s millennia away, when you’re one day reunited with your smile, it will be Jake who brings it back to you. A sculptor slowly chiseling away at stone until his piece is restored to the beauty that lives in his memory. 

And though you let his trespasses go you can’t save yourself from the wounds his words have reopened. You scrunch your lips to the side to conceal their quiver. 

“Goodnight, Jake, sleep well,”  your words come out a whisper in an effort to not let your voice break.

Grief commandeers your limbs, immediately puppetting you on your heels and towards your bedroom. 

“Where are you going? Wait- no- I’m sorry- I didn’t- fuck,” Jake’s aggression seems to wilt away as he is swallowed whole by his own words, still thick in the air.

Jake’s pity would be the final nail in your coffin.

The padding of your feet against the cold floor hastens as you hear Jake pursuing behind you. You gracefully gap your door open just enough to float through the sliver and lock it behind you in time to hear Jake's foot and forehead clumsily thud against the wood. You step away from the door as he jiggles the rigid knob to realize it is no use. 

“I’m sorry that was-,” you can hear him running his fingers along the ridges of the door as he is trying to compose himself, “I’m sorry- I didn’t mean it- I just- please open the door?”

You only ever want to tell Jake yes, but what you need now is space. Denial of his plea nearly shatters you across the floor. 

“Please- I’m just- I’m so sorry,” you’d never heard him sound so small.

He never begs like this so you know he is still drunk. You lazily crawl into your bed deciding it is not a good idea to open the door. More mumbled apologies beg their way through the wood and you bury your head under your blanket to drown out the temptation. 

Jake turns his back to the barricade and slides down against it till he reaches the floor, a subtle plop as he takes a seat. His prayers and repentance flicker out until you realize he’s talked himself to sleep against your door. 

You finally let your feverish tears fall till they rinse you of your consciousness.

pretty please let me know what you think <3

taglist❤️‍🩹 -

@ageofbajabule @alwaysonthemend @anythingforjtk @becinabubblegvf @carbondancingthroughtime @dannys-dream @dont-go-home-without-me @edgingthedarkness @gretasfallingsky @gretavanglimmers @gvf23 @heckingfrick @hsfallingsky @imleavingyoufornewyork @kiszkazz @klarxtr @itsafullmoon @jakesguitarsolo @jakesmustache @jakeysbuttsheeks @lipstickitty @lyndz2names @mindastreamofcolours @mountain-in-springtime @mrbrownstne @nina-23-45 @sacredjake @sirjaketkiszkasharmonica @smoking-jakelane @sparrowofthedawnsworld @styles-canvas @takenbythemadness @dancingcarbon @thewritingbeforesunrise @tommie-gvf @tripthelightfatality @vanfleeter @violet-hayes @wetkleenex-gvf @zoe-tally06

[asteracelatte]

SONG LETTER – QUARTET NIGHT (Lyrics)

Kotobuki Reiji (CV: Morikubo Showtaro)

Kurosaki Ranmaru (CV: Suzuki Tatsuhisa)

Mikaze Ai (CV: Aoi Shouta)

Camus (CV: Maeno Tomoaki)

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–

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Ra These notations coming from the seaside Ra I prayed that they’d reach me Rj Words that were recast over and over Rj I hope this love letter is written to me Ca In this freezing electronic world Ca That numbs even our hearts Ai What should I tell you and how can I convey it? Ai Could I maybe make you smile? Ra The hands of the clock tick by the minute Ca Every time we kiss, my heart aches again Rj We collect these precious memories of each other Ai And I wish we get to keep doing that “Sadness and joy, Let’s embrace them both together now” Someone once wrote that this isn’t a scenario It’s just the way things are So let’s leave a testimony that we once were “alive” With a love that pierces your soul But my words end up falling short Vanishing like the wind taking them away So please sing them with me by my side Ra Searching for paradise and hope Ra We keep pursuing this bumpy road Rj My scarred heart is still relying Rj On the tomorrow that’s bound to come Ca Why is it that people are always rushing Ca To this elusive place called “happiness”? Ai The impermanence of time makes the love grow cold Ai But I still wish we could share our tears Ra A dry rattling sound resonates in our ears Ca Denying this frozen heart that is getting colder Rj What are these limits of mine that I’ve yet to find out? Ai I set on a journey to uncover them Even though I know it’s unfair I believe in living on the edge Those unyielding feelings are still there Silently burning inside of me I set on writing my personal story But still, I’m holding the pen over it I hate being bored out of my mind So even if I’m just a clumsy dreamer I want you to say that you love me truly Ra You have to stay true to yourself to the end Ca The protagonist of your life is none other than you Rj Keep believing, believing in that dream you have Ai No matter what, don’t lose it Ra On the day we look back to the testimony that we were alive Ca On the day our lives come to an end and another journey begins Rj With you who I love, loved, and will keep loving forever Ai Let’s talk about the footprints we left behind “So for that future to come Let’s dedicate this song to our present moment” Someone once wrote that this isn’t a scenario It’s just the way things are So let’s leave a testimony that we once were “alive” With a love that pierces your soul But my words end up falling short Vanishing like the wind taking them away So please sing them with me by my side So please dream them with me by my side

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TRANSLATED BY:

Mia

LYRICS/COMPOSITION:

Agematsu Noriyasu (上松 範康) – Elements Garden

ARRANGEMENT:

Kasai Yuuta (笠井雄太) – Elements Garden

ALBUM:

LIVE EMOTION Theme Song CD -Single-

[hanasnx]

can you share some of thosr anakin-related-content-you-consumed on ur anakin fixation era cz im fixating on anakin aswell rn and i want to study him!! please, idk where to start 🙇🏻‍♀️

supercut of star wars I - III reddit link with instructions to receive them via google docs

i've seen both tpm and aotc supercuts but i have yet to finish the rots supercut because of it being so long. there are also deleted scenes on youtube that were not included in the supercuts linked here:

star wars episodes I and II extended edition - unused deleted scenes youtube video

revenge of the sith 4 hour supercut - unused deleted scenes youtube video

if you cannot get a hold of the supercuts for some reason, no sweat. the same channel listed in the above links has a bunch of videos on their channel of all "restored deleted scenes" that you can watch individually. of course, that is without the "siege of mandalore" that's included in the rots supercut. but that's just the bits you would see from season 7 of the clone wars spliced in, so you wouldn't be missing anything.

star wars: episode I - the phantom menace

if you cannot get a hold of the supercuts for whatever reason, start here. one of my favorite star wars movies. features young anakin, about nine years old, and how comes to live with the jedi, how he meets padme, and where he comes from.

star wars: episode II - attack of the clones

we follow older anakin, about nineteen years old, where he reunites with padme and they fall in love. the cracks of the dark side's influences are beginning to show.

star wars: clone wars

this is the mini-series released in 2003-2005 to depict anakin's journey throughout the beginning of the clone wars to prepare audiences for star wars: revenge of the sith coming out in 2005. it has since been de-canonized and replaced with the clone series that comes out in 2008. it is still worth the watch. anakin's voice actor is supremely talented and sounds a lot like hayden christensen. albeit he is dramatic, as it is a kid's show, i still very much enjoy his characterization. it's actually pretty funny too, it did get me to laugh a couple times. chapter 24-25 i believe is where anakin undergoes a sort of spiritual awakening, and the ending always makes me cry.

star wars: the clone wars movie

it was honestly boring to me, but i still watched it for much needed context on the show.

star wars: the clone wars

as i’ve said before, i don’t really care for tcw!anakin, but this was still a fun and enjoyable watch. it wasn’t completely worthless to me, i did learn some more things about anakin that applied to hayden’s rendition.

unreleased star wars: the clone wars arc - crystal crisis on utapau (full) youtube video

i didn’t finish it but from what i’ve seen so far it’s pretty funny.

anakin & obi-wan | let my people go youtube video edit

one of my favorite edits to one of my favorite songs from one of my favorite movies. i think about it a lot, especially during the “this was my home.” lyric. hammering in the betrayal of brothers that grew up alongside one another, and if you resonate with that song and movie it provides another layer of context. it’s deliciously painful. when anakin’s side of “you who i called brother,” cuts through and interrupts the melody, impatient to speak about his perspective using ramses’ narrative to do it, it’s acutely accurate to anakin’s character in my eyes.

clone wars: battle of the heroes - a star wars fan animation youtube video

i haven’t seen this yet but i’ve been waiting to enjoy it to its fullest. the creator worked very hard on it for a long time, so it’s worth the link.

star wars episode III: revenge of the sith novel by matthew stover

i have not read this, but i’ve seen hundreds of excerpts over the course of this hyperfixation on tumblr. it’s widely accepted even though it’s decanonized, and offers insight into anakin’s head that you can’t access with just watching the movie. i thoroughly enjoy and reblog the excerpts i come across, but since i’m not a reader i haven’t picked it up to complete it myself.

star wars: episode III - revenge of the sith

the third installment in the prequel series, and where shit goes down. twenty-three year old anakin grapples with his desires overcoming his sense of obligations, warping his own ideals to fit into selfish purposes. you see how he betrays the republic, his wife, his brother, and himself, all for power.

star wars episode III revenge of the sith (xbox) no commentary walkthrough full game [1080p60fps] youtube video

i haven’t gotten to watch this yet but i’d like to soon, i’ve seen bits and pieces and i believe there are alternate endings that prove interesting. if you like gameplay movies i think you should give it a shot, but if not, go ahead and skip this one.

star wars: episode III - revenge of the sith - making the game youtube video

it’s short and sweet. about hayden’s view of the character anakin and how he acts in combat.

star wars: tales of the jedi

s1e5 where we receive insight as to how anakin trains his padawan.

vader: complete canon comic series 1-25 in chronological order youtube video

i loved this so much. so many good moments that i ate the fuck up. we follow vader in his first year of becoming the sith lord, grappling with identity, past, and recognition. we also get insight into the very sensitive time of jedi eradication, i learned a lot. my favorite parts are when vader has to fight without a saber against clones, make his own red saber by retrieving one from a surviving jedi, and the arc that includes jocasta nu.

star wars the force unleashed- full game walkthrough gameplay no commentary youtube video

star wars the force unleashed 2 - full game walkthrough gameplay no commentary youtube video

both of these i've been meaning to watch, but i haven't been in the mood. i figured i'd link them in case you were interested in more gameplay movies.

star wars rebels

i didn't finish this, but i did watch a lot of the vader content and the scarce anakin content. i'll watch anything that mentions him tbh.

star wars jedi: fallen order - full game - no commentary youtube video

i played this game and loved it. the ending is the money shot tbh.

star wars: obi-wan kenobi

this was probably the first sw show i watched after i got back into darth vader in august 2022. reawakened a lot for me, i really enjoyed vader's part in this story. reva is also one of my favorites, and i thought her being a mirror image to anakin in this situation was clever, i thought her backstory was unique and refreshing. but what really shines for me is vader's contribution as both an extension of the emperor and a vessel for his own selfish desires. there are parts where i can see he's more machine than man. there are also some anakin parts as well! which i didn't enjoy as much, funnily enough.

rogue one: a star wars story

i haven't seen this one in years, but i do remember darth vader's appearances being both funny and badass.

star wars: episode IV - a new hope

star wars: episode V - the empire strikes back

it took me a long time to come around on this one. now it's one of my favorites. especially because we start to get the first glimpses within the original trilogy of vader's humanity, and his ability to demonstrate faint loyalty to his blood.

star wars: episode VI - return of the jedi

fave sw movie tbh since childhood. you can't get better than the ending. vader's sacrifice is everything to me.

lego star wars: the skywalker saga

i had played this game back in may 2022 when i visited my sister. she and i used to play lego games together when we were kids, and one of my first video games ever was lego star wars: the video game from 2005 which she introduced me to. it holds a special place in my heart, and i really liked playing skywalker saga even though at this point i hadn't cared about star wars in years. when i got back home i couldn't stop thinking about the saga game so i bought it myself, and then played it so obsessively i didn't do anything else. it got me back in the mood for darth vader so i watched obi-wan kenobi, and one thing leads to another now here i am with a smut blog about anakin skywalker's entire life and his every iteration. i loved the game, i think you should play it even though it's just lego versions of everything, it's still really fun.

star wars: ahsoka

you see him in this and the cinematography is breathtaking at times, but i didn't care for it. i only cared about the glimpses of anakin/vader's appearances even if they didn't contribute anything to the story for me.

anakin skywalker vs palpatine full fight scene (hd) - star wars episode IX [alternative ending] youtube video

this is a fan edit! i think about it a lot even though i haven't seen the sequels.

the life of anakin skywalker: darth vader (star wars) youtube video

i haven't finished this, but from what i've seen it's taught me things even i didn't know. i really appreciated the facts that aren't even on wookiepedia.

any books on it i've only seen the excerpts here on tumblr, i haven't read any because i'm not a big reader but i've seen some great posts that i reblog. so don't sleep on the books/comics

great ask

[ajesterwrites]

1. first day blues

summary: while grappling with secrets and the trauma of your parents' deaths, you prepare to start your junior year of high school. thankfully, bonnie is there to lend a hand.

pairings: bonnie bennett x reader (platonic), jeremy gilbert x reader (familial), jenna sommers x reader (familial)

warnings: brief mention of substance abuse and sex, nothing else because this chapter is pretty boring sorry 😭

word count: 3K

A/N: This is my first time posting on tumblr so please be kind. any feedback is greatly appreciated <3

Y/N E. GILBERT was a force to be reckoned with.

When you were one, you took your first steps despite being told that a critical injury would permanently hinder your ability to walk.

When you were two, you ate an entire bowl of broccoli without a single complaint, and your mother even managed to throw in a few brussels sprouts.

When you were three, your mother gave birth to a baby boy named Jeremy. He soon became the obstacle to your reign, but certainly not the end of it.

When you were four, you accidentally locked yourself in a storage closet. Your parents didn't find you until two hours later since they'd been tending to the child who stole your attention.

At five, you won her first participation trophy. At six, you earned second place in the school spelling bee. At seven, you befriended Bonnie Bennett and Caroline Forbes. At eight, you developed your first crush... but he purposefully rejected you in front of the entire school, so you broke his nose. That was the first time you'd been sent to the principal's office.

At nine, you stole a pair of earrings from the shopping mall because you thought they looked nice. The officers called your parents, and you were grounded for a month. That was just the beginning of what would be an extensive rap sheet.

By the time you were fourteen years old, you were acing every class in high school. When you were fifteen, you fell into the wrong crowd and was introduced to the twisted world of sex, drugs, alcohol, and peer pressure. But despite your flaws and addictions, you began to date the nice guy known as Matt Donovan. To the outside world, you two were the perfect couple. But behind closed doors, you were a hurricane of issues.

And when you were sixteen...

When you were sixteen, the life you knew was shattered to pieces.

Dear Diary,

I can't believe I still write in this thing. Today is the first day of 11th grade. Yay.

It's been about four months since the accident. Holly says that writing my thoughts and feelings may provide some sort of consolation, but all I feel is grief and guilt. I know I can never tell anyone what happened, and the secrecy is killing me inside. Maybe I deserve it.

For the first time since school ended, I'm going to see Bonnie and Caroline. I haven't spoken to either of them over the summer because I was in rehab. They don't know that. They don't know anything.

But after staying there for quite some time, I've learned to master the art of saying "I'm fine" and actually looking like I mean it.

But enough of that. Today is the day I put on yet another mask and hope no one is able to see right through it. Wish me luck.

Closing the journal, you sighed. Today was your first day of school...and even though you'd gone through this process for a decade, this year was different.

You tucked the pen and journal underneath your pillow and hopped off the edge off your bed, ready to go over your look for the hundredth time in the vanity mirror. Your hair was tied in a ponytail. Your red blouse showed enough of your chest to elicit minor bullying, but not enough to get dress-coded by a dean. To be safe, you pulled a white tank top underneath.

It wasn't until you heard your Aunt Jenna blasting Taylor Swift music did you run downstairs, just in time to belt the lyrics "And I was crying on the staircase, begging you please don't go!" in unison an off-key harmony. Jenna looked at you, her eyes glistening as you screamed the rest of the song in a manner that was sure to wake up any neighbors in a three-block radius.

When your performance was over, the two of you burst into giggles. Nostalgia hit you like a train as you reminisced the fun times you'd shared with your aunt and mother whenever Jenna would come to visit. You hadn't had fun like this in months, not since your return home.

"Turn that garbage off!" Jeremy shouted, running down the steps as Here We Go came on next. Jenna paused the song, and when Jeremy came into view, you judgmentally surveyed your brother's outfit. It seemed he was taking his job as a resident emo kid very seriously.

"Don't be a hater," You commented, walking over to the counter to pour herself a nice steaming cup of coffee. "You're just mad because Kearney's more emo than you—and he doesn't have to try so hard."

Truth be told, you didn't know anything about Mat Kearney. But you knew nothing would grate your little brother's nerves more than hearing that some random pop singer could possibly be more emo than him.

Jeremy rolled his eyes and looked at your aunt for backup. "Jenna, are you just gonna let her talk to me like that?"

Jenna scoffed. "You just insulted Mat Kearney. Of course I am."

You laughed victoriously and looked to see Jeremy roll his eyes once again like the moody teenager he was, but you could've sworn you saw him fighting back a smile—the first one you'd seen since you'd gotten back. And though it was brief, it was your first real family moment.

"I made toast!" Jenna suddenly announced.

Bing! Two slices of scorched bread popped up. Jeremy wrinkled his nose at the smell.

You tilted your head, forcing yourself not to laugh as you asked, "Is it supposed to be black?"

A disappointed crease formed in Jenna's forehead as she frowned and shook her head. "No, it is not," She replied dryly. "It's your first day of school and I'm totally unprepared."

"Hey..." You drawled, thinking of a way to make her feel better. "Extra crisp means extra flavor, right?"

Jenna smiled, even though you both knew that's not quite how cooking worked. "And this is why you're my favorite niece."

"I'm your only niece."

"Exactly, which automatically makes you my favorite," Jenna reasoned. She held up a five-dollar bill. "Lunch money?"

Jeremy looked at you, but you chuckled softly, shaking your head. "I'm good."

He took it and shoved it in his pocket. With her free hand, Jenna handed you a bottle of coffee creamer.

"Anything else?" Jenna asked, shoving her wallet into her purse. "A number two pencil?"

"Nope," You and Jeremy chimed in unison.

Jenna wasn't just your aunt—she was your legal guardian. As the sister of Miranda Gilbert, your mother, it'd been her responsibility to step up and take you in. Otherwise, you and Jeremy would've ended up in the foster system under the care of whoever fate appointed.

But Jenna wasn't exactly a parent. At best, she was a college kid at heart, relatively young and looking to have a good time, so she was struggling with her new role as an almost-mother. But she still tried the best she could, and that was all that mattered.

"By the way, you're late to your presentation," You mentioned nonchalantly as she stirred the creamer into her drink.

"No I'm-" Jenna started to say, frowning as she looked down at her wristwatch. "Crap! Will you be able to hold down the fort while I'm gone?"

"Of course." You tossed your spoon in the sink. Jenna's eyes hastily darting across the kitchen, muttering the words I'm late incessantly as if that'd somehow stop time. Her repetition of words was one of the many things she did whenever she was nervous or panicking, and lately, it happened more often than not.

You picked up a ring of keys on the counter and dangled them in front of her, not even looking up to see the relieved look on Jenna's face as she grabbed them.

"Thanks, I love you, have a good day at school!" Jenna shouted hurriedly as she dashed out, barely giving you or your brother time to process what she was saying. It seemed that since she took you in, she'd stopped prioritizing her own needs, granting her practically no time to process her grief or in this case, make it to work in good time on an important day.

"Good look with your presentation!" You yelled back just before the door slammed shut. The car screeched as Jenna peeled out of the driveway and vanished down the street.

Sighing, you brought your coffee mug to your lips and let the tv play in the background. It'd been turned on to a news channel. And normally you found the news boring because it was always about some upcoming event in Mystic Falls, but this time, the headline seized your attention.

According to the reporters, two college kids had been fatally attacked by an animal on the road. Their pictures flashed across the screen: a pretty, blonde woman and her handsome boyfriend.

"Damn," You mumbled and sipped your drink. The town of Mystic Falls wasn't an interesting place. It had an extremely low crime rate, and most misdemeanors were committed by drunk teens. Even accidental fires were a rarity. Animal attacks just didn't happen.

To avoid the disturbing thoughts that would undoubtedly resurface, you gulped the rest of your coffee down, leaving not even a drop in the ceramic mug.

But as you went to go wash it out, you noticed Jeremy at the counter, hunched over as he sipped his coffee. A troubled look burned in his baggy eyes. He hadn't slept. Of course, he hadn't slept. It was the first first day of school since your parents died. And though it didn't quite compare to the agony of holidays, it was an anniversary.

After washing it mug and leaving it to dry, you poked him in the shoulder. "Hey," You said gently. "Frank Iero wannabe, you good?"

Even though you knew the answer and how much the question annoyed him, you couldn't help but ask. Ever since your parents' deaths, he took on the appearance of a punk rock emo kid—and he had the black nail polish to prove it. However, his aesthetic wasn't the issue. In fact, you'd found his new style quite cool. What you didn't like was the attitude and the isolation. It was dangerous, especially at a time like this.

Jeremy lowered his mug and scoffed for what seemed to be the fifth time that morning. "Don't start," He snapped, reminding you why at the age of 14, he needed his morning coffee. He was usually a lot meaner than this, but now he looked too exhausted to even try to hurt your feelings. Not that he could anyways...he seemed to think you didn't have any.

You started to respond when a car honked outside. She flinched at the sudden noise and walked to the kitchen window, peering outside to see a pale blue Toyota Prius hanging in the driveway.

Frowning, you let go of the blinds and turned back around. "Jeremy, there's someone in the driveway."

"Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you," He began, though the leveled tone of his voice let you know that wasn't the case. "I called Bonnie to pick you up. Since you don't have a car and you two haven't spoken all summer."

You raised an eyebrow. You weren't mad, just...surprised. Much like her, Jeremy seemed too wrapped up in his own personal issues to give anyone else's a second thought. That's how things had been the past season, so the random act of kindness brought a smile to your lips.

Bonnie blasted her horn again. You laughed, recalling Bonnie's impatience when it came to you, and grabbed your things before ruffling Jeremy's hair just to irritate him. He scowled at you and slapped her hand away, eliciting yet another giggle from you.

"Don't leave the house too late," You instructed. Just like old times when her father had to rush to the clinic and her mother was too busy organizing some big charity event to send them off. You'd been driving him to school before you'd even gotten your permit.

Jeremy nodded, checking his reflection in the refrigerator door, and you rolled her eyes as you left, hoping that he'd lock the door behind you.

You rushed to hug your best friend, the remarkable and irreplaceable Bonnie Bennett. You'd known Bonnie since childhood but you'd lost contact over the summer. And what lost contact really meant was that while she was lifeguarding and trying to plan the best summer of their lives, you had suddenly stopped returning her calls. Then, an unexpected ghosting session soon blurred into a full-blown disappearing act with zero explanation.

But as far as bad blood went, there seemed to be none between the two of you. You were glad, although you suspected your other best friend might take a little longer to forgive you.

"So, how have you been?" You asked after she got settled inside the small car.

"Great," Bonnie replied as she pulled out of the driveway. "Caroline and I missed you."

Caroline Forbes, your other best friend who wasn't exactly the forgiving type, but was the missing third in your blissful friendship, as questionable as she could be.

"On a scale of one to ten, how mad was she?"

"Enraged. You should've seen the steam coming out of her ears—she looked like she was going to burn Godzilla to death. With her eyes."

You couldn't help but laugh at the unusually vivid picture in your mind. Caroline had a temper that could scare even the toughest of men and monsters.

"I'm sorry I didn't keep in touch over summer break," You said sincerely, knowing full well that an apology was in order. "I was sent to this place to find peace and thought it'd be easier to deal if I did it alone."

You wished Bonnie would've said something along the lines of You still could've at least had the decency to call, but instead she smiled reassuringly and the words that tumbled out of her mouth were, "Don't sweat it. I'm just glad you're okay."

You pursed her lips together, almost frustrated with her friend's understanding nature. Bonnie and Caroline had been by your side since you were seven years old...and you'd just abandoned them. No warning, no explanation. That called for some sort of repercussions.

"How's your Grams doing?" You asked coolly. You didn't want to get so sucked up in your thoughts that Bonnie realized something was wrong.

"Glad you asked," Bonnie cheerfully responded. "So Grams is telling me that I'm psychic. Our ancestors were from Salem, witches, and all that-"

"Wait, seriously?"

"Yeah!" Bonnie grinned at the surprised look on your face. "I know, crazy, but she's going on and on about it and I'm like- put this woman in a home already!"

You laughed at the pure life in Bonnie's eyes and demeanor.

"But then I started thinking," She continued. "I predicted Obama and I predicted Heath Ledger, and I still think Florida will break off and turn into little resort islands."

"Yeah, but if that happens, the parts without water are probably going to turn into a series of mental institutions."

I probably shouldn't be making jokes like that, seeing as I-

"Oh my god, you're right!" Bonnie agreed, laughing.

"So about this psychic thing. Think it could actually be true?"

"Totally."

"Let's test it," You suggested. You knew Bonnie didn't really believe she was psychic, but figured it was worth exploring. At least to you, it was.

"You want me to predict something?"

"Yep."

Bonnie chuckled. "Really? Last I checked, you scoffed at anything supernatural."

"That's not true!"

"Um, yeah, it is, Rae," Bonnie giggled. "You avoided my Grams like the plague. And you forced me and Care to play with that ouija board just to prove it wasn't real. I still have nightmares!"

Bonnie seemed to be amused, but you felt...you weren't sure what. Had you really been that much of an asshole?

You cleared her throat. "I'm not the same girl I was. What's in my future? Am I gonna die an old, lonely, psychotic cat lady, or will I find love?" Bonnie burst into laughter, struggling to keep her eyes on the road. You couldn't help but grin. "I'm serious! Come on, it'll be fun."

"Alright, fine," Bonnie said once she composed herself, but a bright smile still lingered on her face. "I see..."

A beak smashed into the windshield and zoomed past. You nearly jumped out of her skin. Bonnie instinctively slammed her foot on the brakes. The car skidded to a stop and black crow feathers drifted onto the hood of her car. Your heart palpitated...and not in a good way.

"What was that?" Bonnie gasped. You clutching her chest in an effort to tame your heartbeat. "Y/N, are you okay?"

You faced the window, closed your eyes, and quietly counted up threes.

"I'm so sorry, I think that was a bird or something, it came out of nowhere."

You looked at Bonnie and smiled. "It's okay," You replied nonchalantly. You didn't even have to turn your head to see the persisting worried frown on her face. "I'm fine, really. I mean, I can't be freaked out by cars forever, right?"

There was a slight pause. But when you looked into your friend's eyes, it wasn't pity you saw—it was silent, sparkling support and encouragement, pride even. "I predict this year is going to be kickass," Bonnie said. "And I predict all the sad and dark times will be over, and you are going to be beyond happy."

A real smile tugged at your lips. "I hope so."

Bonnie nodded with an even bigger smile. And when she returned her eyes to the road, she wasn't too quick to drive. Instead, she counted down from five to one before continuing down the busy street.

To ease the lingering tension and calm your nerves, she turned the radio on full volume. Moments later, you and Bonnie were shamelessly screaming the lyrics to Avril Lavigne's Girlfriend at the top of your lungs, even rolling down the windows so the entire town could hear your chaotic harmony.

--- --- ---

Did I just put two instances of characters singing in one chapter? Why yes I did 🙂‍↕️

Okay it won't happen again

Hope y'all enjoyed <3 Just thought I could start on a light note since it gets dark ✨️

[crumblinggothicarchitecture]

so I just listened to Florence+the machines Cassandra and ts Cassandra one after the other and like…listen I know i don’t like ts but I’m trying to give her the benefit of the doubt and judge her music without letting my dislike cloud that judgement the worst part about that experience is that it’s genuinely an ok song. Like I write poetry(cringy poetry but it’s a good outlet and over the years I’ve learned the difference between actual poetic devices and just spitting out words that rhyme) and it sounds like something I would write?? Like not in a rude or patronising way but when I need to journal or whatever and I just write out the first thoughts I have and think its an absolute masterpiece and then a few hours later I look at it and go oh so I was delusional lol but by then the emotions have passed and I don’t feel like working on that poem anymore. That’s what her lyrics make me think of😭 like it’s an ok song but the references to her life actual ruined it for me I was trying to enjoy the song but then there’s a line about filling her cell with snakes or smth and it took me out of it immediately I was like ugh this drama again?? Really?? And without the Easter eggs the song is…boring?? Like she sings a portion in the beginning then the rest of the song is lines from that portion rearranged and sang the exact same way again?? And musically like there’s nothing?? With Florence’s Cassandra the music builds and makes you feel something for yourself whereas ts is meant to make you feel smth for her. Florence’s lyrics and melody were like a breath of fresh air after listening to ts. Florence feels like she truly has something to say and embodies that character she’s created for the song idk maybe that’s my own personal bias getting in the way tho sorry for the long ask I just wanted to get your thoughts because I really enjoy your analysis of her music it helps me feel less insane lol❤️❤️

Hello dear!

Hope you are doing well, and if you are not- I hope that you will be doing well soon.

I cannot express enough how awkward the placement of Taylor Swift's "Lore" interjections has become in her music. Sometimes I truly feel like I am listening to two different songs every time she breaks the flow of the music to add so throw-back call to old drama. It's maddening- because on one hand I know that Swift wants people to think she is a great artist- yet she cannot stop acting like a preteen with a popular gossip blog by interjecting cheap-shots at her enemies at every possible turn. It's so- bad.

I am going to explain in a different post by Swift's "confessional" style of music doesn't actually live up to the precedent standard of the confessional poets from the 1960's- just because I want to clear the air in stating the literary difference between what Swift does (writing hit pieces against people she hates) and what true artists do with their confessional poetry (think Slyvia Plath, Anne Sexton, Robert Lowell- Etc.) wherein often the poets express dislike, hatred, messiness of human experience and the like. However, it's a remarkably different tone, and effectiveness, compared to Swift's rapacious, barbed insults towards her fellows in the industry or in life.

She really just can't ever let anything go, huh? It must be terribly stressful and lonely to live like that.

To the point you mention above- on how Swift's writing is so continuously self-reflexive that it no longer elicits any empathy in the audience- so that, yes, we do only feel something "for her." She does this by design. I think you are quite clever to see the rhetorical difference here. Swift is writing for herself- for her own "woe," but other writers are capable of writing from a broader perspective- one that elicits empathy in the audience- that builds on our common humanity. More detail on what I mean here will be posted in the "Cassandra" post soon. :)

Anywho, I quite enjoyed reading your perspective on the two songs. I feel a little bit more based seeing that other people key into the innate difference between the two texts- much like I do.

I enjoy much of Florence's work- though not all of it. I do, however, respect that she, unlike Swift, actually seems to understand the Cassandra archetypal pattern. All I'm really after here- is just some artists who know how to think and create!

Swift's work is just cringy self-effacing "poetry" meant to pull sympathy and pity from people. It's actually giving me second-hand embarrassment. I think everyone at some point in life seeks pity and sympathy from others- yet most people grow out of this impulse somewhere around the teen years. Because it's just dreadfully juvenile to always being seeking pity- it's like when toddlers whine to get something they want. The proper thing to do is to tell the toddler- "Hey, use your words to tell me what you want, because I cannot understand you when you whine like that."

I wish someone would tell Taylor Swift to grow up and stop whining like a toddler who never learned how to properly express themselves.

But- I think you are right. Without the odd interjection of "lore," she wouldn't be able to write a full song. She's completely dependent on her audience's juvenile interest in gossip.