#woe plague be upon you

[lilpomfriend]

woe, plague be upon ye, kupo.

[your-fave-is-being-blended]

Woe. Blender be upon you.

He's gone now.

[libr-0-cubicularist]

Sunny? Why do you look so scared?

[mmmairon]

Бажаю Щасливого Різдва!🌻🎁

[superbeans89]

[hello-worldshitposting]

[soupy-sez]

Al Pacino on set of The Godfather, 1972

[skrunksthatwunk]

me when i simply must have him

[aleksiej]

tumblr might be the only place where i can actually read and engage with talks on superhero comics and ninja turtles and all that types of media with a specific following of angry dudes screaming how "it should have been dark and gritty!" and "this show is too silly for the source material!" and all that.

like, i was looking at some reviews of tmnt mutant mayhem on imdb (big mistake on my part) and stumbled upon not one, but a couple of reviews like that and threw me for such a loop. maybe it's because, even having watched every piss sad batman movie since the first dark knight, when i think of batman, i picture brucie wayne from shitpost and superbat content.

i guess i just forget that the sad, "oh, everything is too happy for the literal guy dressed up as a bat to fight crime" type of people exists lol

anyway, i blame the silver age and the killing joke for that. to my knowledge, they were the first to swerve into the dark side of batman and superhero comics in general, but i might be wrong. and even the og turtles aren't as bad as some people say they should be, so it seems like the brainrot infected them from a different fandom, so yea. blame the killing joke for that too.

[centracks]

I love this man

saw this photo and thought it was really funny so. here's a present for the Dan Aykroyd likers

[papiliotao]

・❥・BEAUTY AMIDST AN ENDLESS NIGHT

♡ — Reader: GN

♡ — Characters: Albedo, Alhaitham, Kazuha, Scaramouche, Thoma, Tighnari, Venti, Xiao, Zhongli

♡ — Synopsis: on days where you feel as though the world is against you, your lover is there to cheer you up.

♡ — Content: fluff, modern AU, established relationship, generally soft

♡ — Word Count: around 200 per a character

♡ — A/N: the fact that I wrote this solely because I get sad for no reason sometimes. I'm sure there are people out there who can relate though. For anyone going through tough times, stay strong and keep going! I hope this fic will be able to cheer you up a little. (P.S. the parts for each character are arranged in alphabetical order if you're looking for anyone specific)

As your boyfriend, it is both ALBEDO’s duty and pleasure to remind you how much you mean to him whenever melancholic feelings of dread weigh your heart down. You watch as he flips through the pages of a worn sketchbook sitting in his small art studio within your shared home. It is filled with the most wondrous portraits of landscapes, wildfires, and even people. However, Albedo completely disregards those works. Instead, he opts to point out particularly detailed drawings strewn throughout the sketchbook. Intersecting lines form picturesque depictions of the memories you share with Albedo. On one page, your first date. On another, your first night together. But it is the final page he shows you that causes you to raise an eyebrow at him. It seems to resemble a rather average day in your life. In the sketch, you and Albedo are conversing in a mundane setting; there’s really nothing special to be seen. When you ask your boyfriend about it, he allows a gentle laugh to escape the confines of his lips. Then, he points out all the finer complexities of the work. From the lovestruck expression on his face to the way he flawlessly replicated your every feature, you begin to realize how much Albedo thinks about you on a daily basis. Upon reaching this epiphany, the feelings of insecurity and bitter frustration that have been permeating every inch of your mind dissipate ever so slightly, and it’s all thanks to Albedo’s love.

On days where it feels as though you’re drowning in a sea of your own sadness, you are thankful for your lover’s relaxed demeanour. ALHAITHAM’s voice is the only sound that cuts through the tangible silence permeating the air of your living room. He recites complicated words adorning the pages of one of his rather verbose books as you sit beside him, leaning against his muscular figure. Although you can’t understand half the phrases that leave his lips, you feel at ease. His calm voice lulls you into a dreamlike trance, acting as a temporary ailment to the negative emotions that threaten to overwhelm you. So instead of paying heed to the disturbing feelings of deep melancholy that plague your fragile heart, you direct all your attention to the alluring sound of your loving speaking and the feeling of his body pressed against your own, allowing yourself to get lost in every single intricacy of his mannerisms — the very subtleties that you love him for.

Everything about today has felt rather off. Happiness eludes you, avoiding you like an ancient plague, causing feelings of unadulterated sorrow to bubble up within the depths of your soul. Although you’re trying to conceal all your woes behind a carefully-crafted mask of smiles and feigned lighthearted laughter, your facade is akin to porcelain — delicate and fragile, cracking under the slightest pressure. And to no one’s surprise, KAZUHA is able to see through your meticulously-designed illusion of exuberance instantaneously. The subtle sighs and breaks in your expression prompt him to drag you to bed as soon as you’re finished with your daily tasks under the guise that he wants to cuddle. In reality, he knows that you’re having a rather difficult time, and he wants nothing more than to hold you and kiss the pain away, so as of now, you are wrapped in his warm embrace as he continuously presses his soft lips to the back of your neck. His snowy hair tickles your skin as he comforts you, and between each chaste kiss, he whispers sweet nothings into your ear, assuring you that tomorrow, the sun will rise again, giving way to a brighter day full of ecstasy and warmth.

Some days you can’t help but feel as though the world has been obscured by veils of endless blue. Everything feels mundane, and you just can’t bring yourself to smile. Thankfully, even in moments as perturbed as these, you are able to seek a small bit of solace by confiding in SCARAMOUCHE. To others, he seems brash and insensitive, but when it comes to you, he is attentive beyond measure. So when signs of melancholy begin to show through the cracks in your demeanour, your lover drops what he is doing and turns his focus to you. He insists on taking you out to a mysterious location, and although skepticism floods your thoughts, you eventually give in, agreeing to trust Scaramouche despite his enigmatic musings. Your boyfriend drives you to a quaint location situated in the middle of nowhere by the light of the setting sun. As you exit his car, you are greeted by the scent of the evening air, refreshing and cool, just what you need after a long day of feeling down. Scaramouche intertwines his fingers with yours, grasping onto you like a lifeline. He pulls you through a sparse line of trees, and although the darkness of the night obscures your vision, you trust your lover to guide you. When you clear the grove of vegetation, you are met with a sight that causes your breath to catch in your throat. Scaramouche has brought you to a cliff in a secluded area overlooking the city. Millions of stars adorn the velvety royal blue of the night sky, illuminating the world below, and the lights that glitter from the distant urban area fill you with a sensation of nostalgic ease. As you sit down on the soft grass beside Scaramouche, a sense of calm washes over you. Here, beside your lover and under the watchful gaze of the luminous celestial bodies up above, you finally feel at peace.

Amidst restless hours filled with uncertainty and unwanted negativity, THOMA is like an effulgent light piercing through the darkness that clouds your mind. He caters to your every need, doing anything your heart desires in order to remedy your pain even the slightest bit. Right now, he is standing in front of the stove, his back to you as he attentively prepares a meal. A mouthwatering fragrance drifts through the air as he cooks, and the warmth that fills the kitchen from the stove melts the icy cage of sadness surrounding your heart ever-so-slightly. When Thoma finally finishes, he plates the food in a meticulous manner and then shifts all his attention to you. The steam from the fresh meal caresses your cold cheeks as your lover peers deep into your eyes, displaying to you a wondrous sea full of olive green lights as you lock gazes. Before you can thank him for making dinner, Thoma leans over the table and presses a tender kiss against your cheek — one filled with all the gentleness and comfort of the sun on hazy winter days, making even the harshest of stinging winds just a little more bearable.

Whenever the world seems grey, shrouded in the gloominess plaguing your heart, TIGHNARI never fails to restore the beauty of the vibrant hues around you by bringing you bright bouquets of delicate flowers. Vivacious translucent petals tickle your nose as you breathe in the floral scent of the blossoms you are holding in your hands. The perfumed aroma that fills the air causes the tension in your shoulders to relieve slightly. A sigh of contentment escapes your lips as Tighnari takes the flowers from you and places them in a vase. His fingertips brush against your hands, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. In a hushed voice, he begins to explain the symbolism behind each plant in the bouquet. From blush pink azaleas to the fragile and pure lily of the valley, your lover knows of the meanings behind each floret, listing them off one by one. You know that the only reason he’s rambling on and on is to distract you from the thoughts that wrack your restless mind, and for that, you are beyond thankful.

When VENTI first proposes the idea of going on a picnic, hesitance overtakes you. You know he’s just trying to cheer you up, but you’re not quite sure if you’re in the mood to go out. Nonetheless, he manages to convince you that leaving the confines of your house to breathe in the crisp, late spring air and surround yourself with the viridescent foliage of the outdoors will work wonders for your mood, so you allow him to drag you to the park, albeit somewhat begrudgingly. When you arrive at your destination, Venti sets a blanket down on the lush grass, and atop the checkered quilt, he places a weaved basket. Upon opening the basket, you discover that it is filled with all your favourite delectable treats, so despite the bitterness of the day, a small smile settles on your face. As you begin to grin, Venti sings you a song, imbuing each lyric with softness and tenderness, conveying to you that even in the darkest of hours, he will always be by your side. The wind tousles your hair as the sound of leaves rustling in a gentle zephyr rings out like a backing track to Venti’s angelic voice. For the first time that day, you feel a sense of ease settle over you.

XIAO isn’t great at comforting people, but each time he sees your empty expression, he feels his heart shattering into countless fractured crystal shards. Despite knowing that he’s not the most qualified to help you deal with your worries, you still decide to go to him to seek consolation, so in spite of the fact that he is rather inexperienced, Xiao tries his best. He tells you to rest and immediately tucks you into bed with a sweet yet endearingly shy kiss on the forehead. Before he leaves the room, he whispers a few honeyed words in a voice that somehow feels softer than usual, reassuring you that everything will be alright, and when he finally exits, he sets himself to work on all the unfinished chores around the house. He works diligently while you relax under the silky covers of your bed, and although it takes a while, when Xiao finishes with your trivial tasks, he joins you in bed, wrapping an arm around you and allowing you to bury your head in his chest, breathing in his comforting scent as you feel yourself drifting off into a blissful realm of alluring slumber.

On days where joy evades you, ZHONGLI never fails to find a way to comfort you. His presence alone is calming, but when coupled with his actions, you feel as though you can almost continue with your daily routine as usual. At the moment, you are sitting with Zhongli in your living room as your hands are wrapped around a teacup. Condensation graces your palms, and it would be unpleasant if not for the warmth seeping into your body through the delicate porcelain of the cup. As you take a sip of the drink, you allow an airy sigh of contentment to slip through your lips. It’s absolutely divine, reminiscent of the finest ambrosia, something straight out of the tales your lover is currently recounting. Your mind feels as though it is clinging onto his voice, hanging onto his every syllable to regain a sense of stability despite the fog that clouds your thoughts. He spins stories of downfalls and triumphs, some tales downcast while others inspirational, and in the midst of his narration, you find yourself transported to a different world full of fantasies — an oasis of reprieve hidden away from the monotonous and lamentable reality facing you.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this, then reblogs and comments would be appreciated!

[hunny-beann]

Desiderium I

Loki Laufeyson x f!Reader

-> Part II

Note: This fic absolutely breaks cannon in multiple ways, but I felt the urge to write this and created it thus lol, so I hope you enjoy regardless (and for my own sanity, we'll just call this an avenger!Loki au).

Synopsis:

Loki is plagued by a dream thrust upon him as punishment during his imprisonment, and finds that even once he regains his freedom, he still can't move past the vision of the life he could have had with you. And when those around him struggle to understand his sorrows, he decides to show them firsthand what he endured while asleep that night, and all that he lost both by waking up, and by making all of the wrong choices for far too long.

Oh, but it's never truly over, is it?

And your sudden reappearance proves that.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of pregnancy

Word Count: 5,057

"Does he ever stop sulking?"

Tony muttered under his breath after sparing a quick glance toward the aesir God of Mischief that sat in the corner of the room, staring into a cloud of green created by his own hand with a type of longing he had worn almost constantly for months now.

At first, many had thought his sullen nature to be a result of his capture and subsequent imprisonment, but even now that he was far more free to roam and do what he pleased (within reason), his somber attitude still had yet to let up.

In fact, some would even swear that it had gotten worse.

The God of Thunder included, and also in particular.

From the beginning, Thor had perhaps been the biggest defender of his younger brother, and of course he had, how could he not be?

But even still, when it came to the questioning of Loki's less than enthusiastic (and at times, borderline concerning) behavior, Thor somehow managed to become even more defensive of his confusing family member and all of the quirks that he seemed to have.

This occasion included.

He turned toward Anthony Edward Stark with a slight frown, a sigh that seemed reserved purely for situations concerning Loki passing his lips,

"All of this has been rather... difficult for him. There is much that he misses about our realm, and even more that he has lost."

Tony rose a brow at that, fighting back a groan at the seemingly constant dramatics of the "Odinson" siblings.

Who would have thought that two gods could be so annoyingly theatrical?

"A lot of people have lost a lot of things, Point Break. Some of them at his hand, in case you need a reminder."

Tony muttered, struggling to find sympathy for the green themed deity sitting across the room, a look of deep longing and sorrow in his gaze as he continued staring into the cloud of his own creation.

Thor sighed again.

"I do not, Stark, nor does my brother. He had a multitude of things revealed to him in dreams delivered by the gods whilst locked away. He is... Not the same."

Tony sighed, shrugging his shoulders as he tried to return his focus toward what he'd been doing before he'd made the mistake of mentioning Loki to his older brother.

"Whatever you say, big guy. Just do me a favor though and ask him if he can practice his daily sulking rituals somewhere else. His whole 'woe is me' vibe makes it a little hard to focus."

Thor sighed again at his comrade's obvious lack of compassion toward his clearly suffering sibling, but he nodded nonetheless.

"I will see what I can do, Stark."

And with that, he was taking familiarly heavy steps toward Loki, each growing more hesitant than the last as he took in the full sight of him.

It was no wonder that Tony found his presence to be so distracting, because in truth, you could all but feel his angst rolling off of him in waves, strong and undeniably present in a manner that almost made the god himself shiver.

It was not easy for the god of mischief, what he was going through, but perhaps even Thor himself had managed to underestimate it.

Perhaps he should have been even more concerned than he already was.

"Loki."

He said stiffly upon his approach, watching as the god in question briefly glanced in his direction in acknowledgement before returning his gaze back to his seidr.

"I sympathize greatly with your sorrows, and I wish truly that I could do away with them for you, but a request has been made for you to better contain your bereavements, if possible, and I think it would be best for you to try."

Thor said calmly, though he could see as plain as day that his words had done no good, a fact made evident by the way that his brother turned to look at him, as if both wounded and infuriated at the very same time.

What a familiar look that was for the mischief god to wear these days.

He stood, green cloud disappearing as he did so, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides.

"Do you believe somehow that I have not already done all that I can to contain my grief, you blithering fool?"

He all but hissed, anger controlling his words but a deep and pervasive sadness evident in his eyes, allowing the god of thunder to see far beyond the ruse his sibling was attempting to put up.

Loki was hurting, perhaps beyond anything that he had endured before, and Thor was unsure if that could have been made any more clear.

The god of mischief took a step closer, slowly, threateningly, as if he might frighten the being standing before him, the only one present that had ever truly seen the good in him, the angel before the fall.

A trickster to be sure, but the villain that he so desperately tried to make himself out to be? Thor could not see such a thing, not in the eyes of one he had grown up alongside of.

Not in his brother, regardless of blood.

Regardless of what was said or done.

"You haven't the slightest clue what I have endured, and yet you have the gall to request that I reign in my pain, as if it is not all that has been left of me? All that has not been so crudely taken?"

He snarled, coming closer, ignoring the heavy gaze of Anthony Stark as it landed upon him, and choosing to pay no mind to the fact that he had undoubtedly called the others in, a fact made clear by the large number of footfalls that grew nearer and nearer by the second.

Maybe Tony was simply a fool made cautious by what he had seen the god do in the past, or maybe he just wished to not be the only audience for this particular spat.

Either way, it mattered not to Loki.

The god in question was far too tired, far too angry, and far too confused to let such a disrespect as this pass.

If they did not understand, then he would make them, and maybe then they could comprehend the realness, the immense depth and crushing weight of his pain.

The burden he bore.

The reaping of what he had sowed long ago, without even realizing it.

The universe had never been fair, not to him, and it was apparent now that such a truth had persevered from the very start.

Back before his title had meant more than a whisper to him, before he had felt the need to prove he was more.

When there had been so much more kindness in his heart and light in his life.

When there had been hope,

When there had been you.

Thor put his hands up defensively, though how secure he truly felt in spite of this almost entirely symbolic and pleading gesture was made clear by his tone, which was pitying in every sense of the word.

"Calm down, brother, I meant no disrespect. I simply feel a deep worry for you, I do not want to watch you suffer any longer. It is a heavy weight upon me to know that you are so burdened."

He said appealingly, eyes full of a type of plea and concern that, once upon a time, might have caused the god of mischief to think for a moment, and perhaps even halt his actions altogether.

But now was not then, and after all that he had seen, all that was now and could have been, he found that his brother's words only served to make him angrier.

"You feel a heavy weight, do you?"

He said darkly, stalking ever forward, even as Thor backed away slowly with each step, not wishing to see his family member trapped in a cage once again as a result of some petty fight.

There was rage in Loki's eyes now, though it did nothing to cancel out the sadness there.

It was clear what was driving him, but even more evident was how upset the god was about that fact.

He did not like being so controlled by his emotions, resented the way that everyone could tell how he was feeling in spite of how hard he tried to hide it.

He had done his best to conceal his sorrows and this was what he had gotten? A request for more, as if he would not have hidden them away entirely in favor of allowing those who were once his enemies to see his weaknesses? The way that truth had changed him?

It infuriated him to no end.

"Can you even begin to imagine then,"

He started, voice low, but just loud enough so that every avenger who had now entered the room could hear it from where they stood together in silence, watching as Loki stalked ever closer to his brother, hands still clenched at his sides, jaw unfathomably tense, and muscles twitching with a quiet kind of rage.

"What I am feeling?"

He finished viciously.

Thor frowned, voice still full of pity and something akin to longing as he replied, tone still entirely bereft of fear,

"I know only what you have told me, dear brother."

He said, watching as Loki all but scoffed at his words,

"So in that way, yes, I suppose I am capable of imagining what you must feel."

The god of mischief laughed in response to this, a humorless and cold sound that was choked by some long abided pain, some endless suffering that only a god could understand, and that no mere mortal could ever endure and survive.

"I think not."

He snapped angrily, watching as Thor's brow creased in response, not understanding what about his reply had been so terribly wrong that it had brought about such a strong reaction from his sibling.

Loki continued,

"I think that if you could even begin to comprehend what I have seen, what I have lost, you would never even think to make an attempt at consoling or correcting me, nor could you ever deign to imagine believing that the small amounts of my grief witnessed through my behavior could be decreased any further. If you could truly understand, you would know the weight that I carry, and you would see that it could never be lessened, because there is truly no greater grief than that which I am suffering from!"

Thor stood there for a moment, dumbfounded, before finally he spoke up once more, voice slightly smaller, though still not lacking in compassion or empathy.

"Brother, I beg you to help me understand better so I may communicate this suffering of yours to those around us who do not know you as well as I. We are guests here on Midgard, and I cannot allow for you to push this pain of yours onto our hosts so endlessly without solution or a shared understanding in mind. How can you expect anyone to have faith or sympathy for you if you will not tell us what has happened?"

Thor's pleas caused yet another round of laughter to burst forth from the god of mischief, though this one was less pained and a bit more angry, a twinge of eagerness to it that did not spell out anything good, not for Thor nor any of the unwelcome audience present within the room alongside them.

"You wish for me to let them see? For me to grant you understanding?"

Loki hissed out, a familiar and volatile energy filling the room as he began to use his seidr to do just that.

"Loki-"

Thor warned, moving to take a step forward when suddenly, the entire room seemed to disappear beneath his feet, and without warning, he found himself in a place entirely unfamiliar to him, standing amongst his peers in a small crowd that occupied some unseen corner of whatever space this was.

He watched as Tony turned to look at him, frustration and confusion etched into his features and mouth opening to speak just as a familiar voice cut through the silence.

It was Loki, but not the one that those watching had come to know.

No, this was a Loki long forgotten by time and entirely unknown by the avengers present to witness this dream that the god of mischief had once so vaguely described to his brother while in the thralls of his pain.

This was the vision that the gods had shown to the adopted son of Odin during his imprisonment within the Avenger's tower months prior.

This was where his sadness, his grief, and his longing had stemmed from.

And it was clear, as they all watched on, why that may have been.

It was beautiful here, wherever here was.

The sun shone through every window, and this place, clearly a home, was adorned with stunning textiles and masonry, each detail obviously considered and brought to life with such care and intention that it could bring one to tears if they focused on it long enough.

Thankfully for the onlookers though, this would not be necessary, because the Loki in question who stood before them made for quite a distracting sight.

He looked younger here somehow, features untouched by some pervasive strain or anger that had long since gotten to the man that was so well known to them now.

His expression was peaceful, happy, so devoid of the angst or maliciousness that many were used to seeing.

This version of Loki, whoever he was, and whenever he had existed, was one that did not yet know the things that he did now, one that had found something that his truest self had not.

Happiness.

And it was clear, as this version of the god of mischief spoke, where that came from.

"Dearest Starlight, have you the faintest idea of how much I've missed you?"

He muttered into the hair of the woman standing before him, one arm wrapped around her while the other cupped the back of her head gently, lovingly, and with such fondness that it almost hurt to watch

This was a man overcome with, and undoubtedly changed by love.

They could see it in his eyes and the way that they lit up when the woman, whoever she was, moved away slightly to look up at him, and in the way that he pressed his forehead to hers with such love and clearly intentional gentleness.

He adored this person standing before him, and judging by the tears brimming in Thor's blue eyes, she was far more than a simple dream, or someone made up by the mind to have and to hold.

No, this was someone that they had known, perhaps long ago, perhaps yesterday, for the timing itself mattered ever so little.

What mattered instead, was that this individual, whoever she was, meant the world and more to the very person that the onlooking crowd had once believed to be devoid of the organ capable of love and affection.

She was important, and she was special, and above all else, she was seemingly a vast source of grief for the two son's of Odin, though one in particular far more than the other, the latter of which stood amongst them with a sadness that was almost assuredly not for himself evident within his gaze.

Thor may have known this girl, whoever she may be or have been, but his tears were not for his own loss of her, no, they were instead for Loki's. He watched the two of them with such rapt and sad fondness that it was all but impossible to deny that fact.

He adored what the two of them shared, and mourned its absence.

And in truth, the unwelcome onlookers could not help but feel similarly.

This woman was beautiful to be sure, with shining hair and twinkling eyes, and a gentle touch that she laid upon the deity standing before her with such care and devotion.

She smiled up at him lovingly, mouth still curved upward even as she spoke, her reply teasing, but far from mockery, mischievous in a way that was befitting of any love of Loki Laufeyson.

"Just me?"

She asked amusedly, carting her fingers through the god's soft black locks and watching with gentle laughter as he simply rolled his eyes in response before he leaned down to kiss her sweetly without a single word, the arm that was still wrapped around her waist tugging her closer before he finally pulled away a few seconds later, joy obvious within his expression, in spite of her ardent teasing.

"Do not ask me such foolish questions, my dear, or I may just be required to seal your lips against mine for all eternity to keep you quiet."

He murmured with his forehead pressed against hers, his nose brushing against her cheek for a few moments until he pulled back with a sigh,

"I suppose I should change before I make myself at home again, hmm?"

He asked with mock exasperation, tucking a few strands of the woman's hair behind her ear as she laughed in reply, nodding almost immediately.

"That would most certainly make me a happy wife, indeed."

She said, pulling further away from him before walking over to the kitchen area and removing something from the oven,

"Now hurry up and change before dinner gets too cold, foolish prince, or you may just find Thor helping himself to your portion again."

Loki gave an amused glare in response to this, but said nothing more, wandering swiftly down a long and dark hallway until he faded from view entirely.

After this, there was silence for a minute or two, a peaceful and joyous one that was occasionally interrupted by the sound of the woman's gentle humming, or one of a few a small noises from further down the hall, none of which seemed important enough to capture the woman in question's attention.

That being said, as Loki returned, something else did, though it notably grabbed hold of that of the audience as well, who stared on together in shock, though Thor was clearly the most baffled of them all.

For there was Loki Laufeyson, adopted son of Odin, Prince of Asgard, and god of mischief, with a child on his hip, one with hair the very color of his, and eyes that were an exact copy of his own.

The woman standing in the kitchen crossed her arms upon her husband's entrance into the room, raising a brow at him as she sighed and approached the two beings who had just graced her with their presence.

"And what business do you believe our daughter has with being up so late, Mr. Laufeyson?"

She questioned teasingly as she pressed a gentle kiss to the head of the little girl who was being held so affectionately within her father's arms, a sweet burble of laughter escaping her as the woman's lips tickled her skin.

The audience watched on in utter shock as Loki smiled softly at the sight, his shoulders shrugging slightly as he bounced the child, who appeared to be around a year old, upon his hip, arms keeping her steady with a well practiced and easy grace found only within a parent that had been present and involved enough to know their child like the back of their hand.

"I believe she has business with welcoming her dear father home regardless of the hour. Would you disagree, Mrs. Laufeyson?"

He murmured gently as he leaned forward to press a lingering kiss against his wife's lips, smirking at the sight of her reddened cheeks as he pulled away.

The wife in question sputtered for a brief moment before finally responding, glaring slightly up at the god of mischief for his antics, though they were no doubt familiar to her by now, judging by the ring wrapped around her finger and the child she had so plainly bore that sat now upon her husband's hip.

"I suppose not."

She replied gently, watching as Loki placed the child into her high chair, offering a toy of his very own creation to distract her with as he approached his spouse with a rather eager grin.

"No?"

He asked softly as he moved to stand behind her, his hands finding her shoulders and massaging the tense muscles there gently, his smile only growing as she sighed at the feeling and leaned into him with a practiced ease borne clearly of a long nurtured trust.

"How kind of you to see things my way for once, dear wife."

He murmured against the shell of the woman's ear, sending a shiver down her spine even as she rolled her eyes in response to his overly teasing tone and his seemingly ceaseless need to make an attempt at pushing her buttons.

"I wouldn't go as far as to say that, my prince."

She sighed out, still clearly pleased with the feeling of his hands rubbing practiced and efficient circles into her skin,

"I am simply allowing you this one small victory while you may still have it."

The god of mischief smirked upon hearing this, his brow raised and his voice low as he replied,

"Allowing me, hmm? What a benevolent ruler you are, starlight."

He all but purred out, and the woman nodded absently, still clearly wrapped up in the feeling of his hands on her body.

"Aren't I?"

She asked, a smile growing upon her face as she spoke,

"Allowing you to wake up our one year old daughter upon your return before you're forced to cease such childish behaviors once your son arrives in a few months time. How generous of me."

Loki hummed and replaced one of his hands that had been resting upon her shoulder with his chin, allowing his now free hand to travel down to her stomach, pressing against it and providing the opportunity for the onlookers to note for the very first time the way that it was rounded out slightly with child, yet another piece of evidence of the love that they shared.

A love that the Loki Laufeyson that they knew, the one that had been captured, imprisoned, and seemingly rehabilitated, had never known.

A love that he perhaps could have had, if only things had been different.

Slowly, faintly, at the sounds of softening laughter and contented discussions, the scene before everyone faded, and the harsh light of the tower persisted once more, blinding them all sharply in a way that the softness of the vision had not managed.

And there, before all of them, stood Loki, looking more than a little haggard with his hair out of place and his eyes brimming with tears.

It was Thor who spoke first.

"It was that which you saw, brother?"

He asked sympathetically, only for Loki to shake his head in response, tone far less angry and much more despondent as he spoke.

The sight of that vision, that memory of a dream delivered unto him one harsh evening to teach him some horrible lesson, had clearly hurt him far more than he wished to let on, and perhaps even more than he had thought it would.

"No."

He said,

"What I saw was far worse, I'm afraid."

Thor's eyebrows creased with both concern and confusion,

"Worse? Brother, I do not-"

"I had entire life with her, Thor."

Loki murmured gently, staring down at his own two shaking hands as if in disbelief that they belonged to him at all,

"I-I had thought truly that everything, all of this suffering and self-hatred had been the real dream all along, and that my time with her, beginning from back when we were all just children again, was reality."

He looked into his brother's eyes then, and allowed him to see the pain there, the sadness and longing for a life he had once believed himself to have lived, a life where he had chosen differently, and found better.

"I did everything the very same as in this lifetime, except instead of choosing power, or some poorly perceived form of acceptance at the hands of our father, I chose her every single time. I married her, brother, stood at the altar and watched her come to me, watched her be granted her rightful immortality at my side, built a house with her, for her, gave her a daughter, and a son, and many other children who I cannot bear to think about because I am in ruin over the fact that they were never real."

He paused, chest heaving, eyes never leaving those of his brother before finally, he continued,

"I know their names, Thor."

He choked out,

"The names of my children, every son and daughter born with some combination of my eyes and her smile, or her hair and my nose. I know their favorite foods, the toy they prefer over all of the rest, and the song that their mother would sing to put them to sleep the fastest."

His tears were beginning to run now, though if Loki noticed, he did not move to wipe them away or to hide them.

"I know everything about them, and yet they are not here, never were, and never will be, and it feels like I have lost all that I ever deigned to love. My wife, my children, a version of myself that I did not loathe, they are all lost to me, and I have died a thousand deaths for every waking moment spent without them by my side."

Thor's own eyes had grown teary now, and he stepped forward slowly, his arm outstretched, as if hoping to reach into his brother and take this pain away with his bare hands alone.

"Dear brother, forgive me."

He said softly, voice shaky in a way that was so very uncharacteristic of him,

"I did not know, I swear it."

Loki shook his head, some shadow of a smile, pained and without any semblance of joy finding his face,

"I know, Thor."

He said quietly,

"But do not waste your apologies on me. It is not your fault for not truly knowing, but mine for believing I could have her back again. She is gone, and I should have known that I could only ever have her in dreams."

Thor opened his mouth to speak, his expression flooded with sorrow, only to find that there was nothing that he could say.

The bridge to you was one that his brother had burned a long time ago, which had been lying in embers since.

Was he not right that you were largely gone from him? A memory of perhaps undeserved yet so very innocent love that he had shut out in order to keep moving forward until the gods had thrust what the two of you could have been upon him so cruelly?

It had been ages now, since Loki had seen or heard of you, and Thor was ashamed to admit that he too had locked you away in memory in favor of moving forward.

A childhood playmate, a most loyal friend far past adulthood, the once almost-lover of his mischievous younger brother, you were a great many things to him, and yet he could scarcely bear to think of you now.

Betrayal was what he had once thought of whenever you came to mind, but now, so many years later, he could see that you had never been the one to betray.

It had been him all along, him and Loki, albeit for two differing reasons.

Either way, the little witch they had once both known so fondly had been long dead to them for many moons now, until the very sight of you so happy, so alive, in spite of the fact that such a vision was a dream brought on by some vengeful deity, sent you careening back into their minds once more.

Where were you now? How had you fared without them, and possibly without your family as well? Were you even alive at all, after all of this time with only a witchling's feeble immortality to keep you alive rather than the godly kind that Loki had helped to bestow upon you within his dream?

Thor shook off these thoughts almost as quickly as they came, and watched on helplessly as Loki began to make his way toward the exit, eyes glued to the ground to avoid making eye contact with the small group of Avengers who had continued to watch on in surprise.

And perhaps, one of them may have piped up to say something, anything to provide comfort to the once so pesky god, had it not been for the sudden shift in the air, followed shortly thereafter by the very shredding of reality itself, as a tear opened up on the far wall, revealing a dark shimmering swirl of colors and lights that soon spat out a figure adorned in clothing that may have appeared foreign to any Midgardian, but was so very familiar to the one aesir god who stared on in utter shock.

Loki, on the other hand, seemed either entirely unaware of the strange circumstance occurring behind him, or uncaring of it, as he continued on his quest to leave the room entirely.

That is, until a voice so familiar that it all but snapped his heart in two called out to him.

"L-Loki?"

It asked weakly, strained and soft, but just barely loud enough to reach him where he stood.

The average man may have froze up entirely, disbelieving their own ears and blaming their minds for playing such cruel tricks on them, but Loki was no average man, and he did not believe his mind capable of making such a mistake.

He knew what he had heard.

He turned around instantly, already wide eyes growing wider when he found you on the floor there, an old cloak of his wrapped tightly around your shoulders.

"Starlight?"

He breathed out in utter disbelief, making his way over in just a few long and intentional strides before he all but collapsed to his knees in front of you.

[leggerefiore]

Vampire villains? 👀

.... time to go insane....

uhh couldn't do Archie (I think he'd die if he couldn't be outside during the day) so sadly Maxie isn't here because they are besties.

cw: vampires, blood mentions, kinda evil moments (well, it's villains),

characters: Lysandre, Cyrus, Volo, Guzma

🔥Lysandre🍷

☕️ The Flare Boss hails from a family of vampires with both royal and regal lineage. The eldest among their line having lived over three thousand years, even. He was well-equipped and educated upon how to blend in with humans, finding a way to act among them and start a company of his own alongside another organisation. It was little wonder how, with his resources and the sheer length of time, he had to do basically anything. He befriended a certain professor with ease, finding his sense of humanity unfamiliar and almost pleasing for a change. The black-haired man's discussions with the vampire over a cup of coffee brought forth strange feelings.

☕️ Lysandre had developed a disinterest and detachment from humanity, seeing them as a blight on this otherwise pristine planet. He even grew convinced that they would rot what beauty remained on his earth, and his fascination with preserving it was born. It was odd to form a group of either fellow wealthy vampires or humans and convince them to his side. His café was the best place to do so. Many of these sorts seemed entranced by his otherworldly beauty and the passion he exhumed. The humans in their midst were more than ready to give up the sun to join his cause.

☕️ His family's benefit was how few traits they expressed commonly. While fangs were a given, it was rare that anyone outside a dentist would truly notice. His pale eyes did almost seem a touch too far from a natural colour, and they did catch the light much like an animal's would. No one would comment on it to him, however. His skin was a more comfortable colour than a sickly paleness commonly associated with his kind. The only things that ever appeared to attract unwanted attention was his inability to eat food. While he could engage in a drink of whatever he pleased, food simply would make him violently ill. It proved an issue on many business outings.

☕️ That red café of his also brought him a rare person. The professor sat with someone speaking with them over a cup of coffee. Lysandre had heard legends of vampires finding a strange capability in specific humans, but he never expected to experience such a thing for himself. Yet, you sat in his line of sight, and he found himself unable to ignore you. Something about your very essence called him to you. That eldest ancestor had mentioned losing such a person in his time. Apparently, the pain was like no other to part from them. Foolishly, that supposed king had respected their wishes to live a human life and perish from this earth. Lysandre would do no such thing. He was going to remake this earth as a place without humanity's woes.

☕️ It was easy to charm. He was talented in that regard, and felt truly grateful as he worked to woo you. The entire relationship felt like a whirlwind of romance as fast as he could. Terror plagued him more and more as you grew closer to him. The idea of losing you simply was too much. You did not recoil in fear when he confessed his true nature, clearly having developed your own suspicions from time spent with him. Even more surprising was when you had bared your wrist for him to drink from, simply curious to experience something so unknown. It was only natural for him to oblige a simple request. The taste of your blood only finalised his thoughts.

☕️ Lysandre knew that he needed to turn you before his plans were fully set into action, but you appeared distressed whenever his words about making a beautiful world were spoken. It was becoming clearer and clearer that you held no interest in his beautiful world. This unfortunate thing left him lost as to what to do. You must have understood how this world was being defiled more and more… He could feel the tension it brought into your relationship, too. It was dropped as he instead focused on the more important matter of turning you. Perhaps you would understand when you joined him properly…

Whether you accept or deny his request is truly only your decision.

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ The stoic man was born from a family that simply took its heritage and societal standing too seriously. While he recalled positive memories towards a few of the eldest vampires in his family, his parents directly seemed to only view him as a way to boost their own place among their kin. Enough of it was simply so painful that he felt nothing but relief when he finally separated from them to be on his own. Wealth was abound by his family's connections and history to the very formation of modern Sinnoh, so he easily found a place elsewhere in the region to be far off from where his parents had once been. This self-imposed isolation had caused a few issues on its own, but it had given him that ability to build up his own company.

☄️ He felt entirely detached from this world and uninterested in playing along in whatever role felt forced onto him. Vampirism irritated him, forcing him to have a diet that endlessly caused him problems. Emotions were useless. It was what had caused him such great pain in the first place. Emotions drew from spirit, which in turn made all living things act foolishly, human or not. A group naturally came around the young vampire, and they dedicated themselves to this so called perfect world that he sought to make. At least with the adoring underlings that surrounded him, meals were easier to obtain. Focusing on his work had never been easier.

☄️ His traits felt much noticeable than he would have liked. A gaunt form felt like a dead giveaway for his true nature, but his piercing eyes that shined through the darkest of areas also unfortunately made it apparent. His paleness also did not help, yet most assumed it was due to his work being almost entirely indoors. Few really dared accuse him of being a vampire, at least. Those who did were either ones themselves or hunters and fanatics that simply knew. Though, Cyrus did hear rumours of him having a form of anaemia due to his blood consumption.

☄️ His forced isolation of sorts was not a truly proper one, however. Somewhere in the period in which he first left his home and between fully establishing himself, he had stumbled upon someone as he explored the world of humans. A rainy day was a perfect time to get out and try to understand them more. It was an important part of his facade that had always come just too short. Yet, a single person who had bumped into him changed his life completely. The talks of people that had blood that almost called specifically to specific vampires was always mystical nonsense to him. Though, he was presented with that exact scenario.

☄️ At first, he resisted. It was simply too much to bear when mixed with everything else that he had been through in his life. A romantic relationship… No, even just a friendship felt too difficult for him. But, if there was such a thing as fate, it mocked him. You seemed to find him and relish in his company. Even trying to chase you off by revealing what he was simply failed. You were clearly entranced by him in your own way, too. Everything only forced you both to grow closer and even romantic to his horror. He felt between wanting to reject everything and bury himself in comfort that only you could provide. You even allowed him to drink from you, which he tried to limit as much as he could. Your taste was truly irresistible to him.

☄️ Though his plans may have involved remaking this world without spirit… and likely without vampirism, as well, he felt desperate to keep you at his side. The thought of you perishing from simple human dregs was haunting. Whatever madness had already clouded his mind would only worsen. It began to distract him from his work within Galactic, even. You did not need to know of those plans, but… Cyrus would have to push aside whatever reservations he held about his own existence and invite you to join him in this odd state of existence.

He truly would understand should you reject the offer, but if you agree, relief would only fill me… And, perhaps then, you could convince him against his insane ideals.

💫Volo📜

⭐️ The merchant originated from a distinct clan of vampires that laid original claim to the wild lands of Hisui. They were proud of their connection to the creator pokemon and their long-lived lives and powerful natures. Yet, something happened when he was almost too young to remember. Something that left only him and another member around. She had raised him and taught him well on how to blend in among humans. Someone as well-travelled as her clearly knew everything on how to both hide and protect one's true nature. These skills suited him perfectly as he began to work around the humans who had moved into the region.

⭐️ Something inside him loathes humans, desperately wanting to blame them for the events of his past, yet even he knows that they face similar things. Everyone meets things that are painful and heartbreaking… There had to be a better way of managing such things. Volo found himself buried within the many ruins and artefacts laid around the region. His madness truly began to take hold when he recalled the stories Cogita would tell him when he was younger. Myths and legends passed around by his people… Almost nearly lost, had they not both survived. He found himself formulating a plan while going towards a certain cave near a coastline.

⭐️ His traits are noticeable, yet well concealed. Only one eye and a brimmed hat makes it challenging to see slit pupils when exposed to light. Though, anyone who saw his eyes properly likely would not be able to tell the tale. His fangs were disguised carefully and something that he actively had to be mindful of. Thankfully, he at least had a skin tone that was not the sickly shade that tended to make people suspicious and worry. Yet, he had heard some people describe him as an ethereal beauty. That Galaxy Team professor even remarked him as appearing almost like a porcelain doll. It always made him chuckle. Of course, no one was aware of his true nature to his knowledge.

⭐️ Though, when a stranger fell from the sky to apparently stand solely in the way of his plans. They unfortunately caught his interest in three varying ways. At first, he was curious… Another person pulled through space and time to Hisui was something his brain simply could not resist observing. The second was how badly their blood seemed to attract him. Cogita had mentioned this to him, but he truly never expected to encounter it… Well, at least not before he had recreated this world. Still, that had not been it all. You proceeded to frustrate him by unintentionally beginning to foil his plans more and more. Despite his feelings being complicated, he still found it impossible to do anything to actually stop you.

⭐️ Volo opted against the path of rejection. After all, that would be him fighting against his nature. He was more than aware that it would be a pointless endeavour. Instead, he focused entirely on befriending you and having you at his side. It felt all too simple with how distrusting those around you were. His amicable personality could draw just about anyone. You seemed more than happy to fall for his charms. Slowly, he built up something close with you. His kindness being something to break through the overall bleakness you faced. You had even accepted his silent reveal of what he truly was, apparently not even surprised and having had your own suspicions. The blond was also allowed to feed on you, which truly helped him comprehend how strongly blood calling was. There was not a chance he was letting you go.

⭐️ The blond became fixated on how to go about his plans again after you had mitigated his original ones. It became clear that somewhere towards the end that you would likely need to become like him. Though, he struggled to find a good point to convert you while also calling upon Arceus. You could not know his plans until the end… The risk of you turning on him was a haunting one. Losing you would truly be another painful thing he could not bear, either. It became a point of concern after he had to save you from a particularly hostile wild alpha pokemon. He felt as if there was no reason to even give an option after that.

You probably would be caught off-guard. Both by his betrayal and manipulation of you, and how he sunk his teeth into your neck with the full intentions of turning you.

💀Guzma🕶

□ The Skull Boss was a recent turning and certainly was not born as one. That Aether woman had offered him it, and he had dumbly accepted, not remembering he lives in a place known for its sunshine and being outside. He had been scolding himself endlessly for agreeing to that, and then his grunts and even Plumeria wanted to be turned to. Something about being even closer as a group. His stomach honestly churned at the thought. Guzma did not want any of them to experience all the difficulties he had been since his stupid act had happened. He had no struggles blending into human society since he had originally been one, but his struggles came with actually doing things related to his vampirism.

□ He often debates why he said yes to her. While he was more than used to staying up late and not waking up until noon the next day, it grew to be unbearably frustrating to do anything outside of Po Town when it was still daylight out. The endless rain in the abandoned town kept him safe there, but the rest of Alola did not offer any such respite. Then next to nothing was open at night… He wanted to just revert back to being a human before he went mad. Lusamine insisted that it would get easier the longer he lived like this, but Guzma swore it only got more annoying. Feeding on blood was not a fun thing, even if the other party consented, and he missed eating normal food. Nanu had also been giving him some strange looks lately, too.

□ He was a bit freaked out to see how much his body and had changed. His eyes eerily glowed in the dark while his pupils seemed to become almost like straight lines. Generally, his whole body felt more aware and light, which disturbed at first. Hearing people approaching from far away was something distressing when he could not tell just how far off they were. Then, his fangs dug into his mouth at first, which hurt. He did like the aesthetic of them, though. It was one of the few things he enjoyed. His strength also increased… which made a situation when he hit a malfunctioning radio, and it broke into pieces. A decision to stop whacking things was made following that.

□ Then, he just had to meet you as some lost tourist trying to navigate back to Malie near Tapu Village. And something about you just made him want to stick to your side, despite how little sense it made. Guzma had never seen you before and literally and just met you, but he felt like he needed to be around you. It was beyond words and at some point, he gave up. Fine. He was now attached to you and determined to make something happen between you both. Being just friends or maybe more was fine, but anything to make his stupid brain get weird when you were not around.

□ It was not difficult to be charmed by him. Sure, he was clumsy and a bit intimidating, but he was also genuine, and his goofiness was a fun change. Whatever warnings about Team Skull you had heard were gone as you simply enjoyed its leader's presence. He was more than happy to oblige and entertain you. Sticking with you seemed to soothe whatever annoyances he found with being as he was. Your relationship definitely had even become a romantic one to his surprise. You did not even seemed turned away about finding out that he was a vampire, just a little bewildered how someone like him ended up as one. An answer to what about you made him so frenzied was given when you let him try your blood, too. He was confused by why your blood in particular tasted so delicious to him.

□ When he had told the Aether Foundation President about what had happened, she seemed amazed. Apparently, that was a known thing among vampires, but she did not really see it as something he needed to know. She did congratulate him and told him that he should probably turn you, too. Guzma froze. That was not at all on his mind. He hated living like this and could not imagine making you join him. Though, losing you certainly was not a thought that made him too happy either. He felt a bit lost on what to do. At some point, he would have to ask you.

If you said yes, he would make it abundantly clear to what you were agreeing to so that you did not end up feeling like he did. If you refused, he would perfectly understand. Honestly, he would prefer the latter just for his conscious not to beat him up about it.

[introtocacophony]

(Never thought of you as the type to post selfies! I guess even logic itself isn't immune to a little bit of vanity. If that's what we're doing, here's me!)

(I have,, cropped out the rest of the picture.)

[Took a selfie.]

[Was feeling intimidating.

[Might delete later.]

[spidey-strange]

Romeo, Romeo...

I am now living in a post Romeo & Juliet world. It might well be the only time I get to see it, but honestly what I saw on Saturday is going to stay with me forever. I wanted to put it down into words - my review of this play.

The first part of the experience is the music. We were in the bar and this repetitive rumble sound played over the tannoy, signalling that we were being called to Verona. We took our seats and we waited, all while more and more haze appeared across the sparsely-set stage and the music bore deep into my soul, gnarling and industrial, giving a sense of dystopian doom and foreboding. By the time the lights went out and the video screen showed 1597 in bright red lettering, I was already feeling a nervous nausea and an elevated heart rate.

This play is asking you to pretend, as much as they are. There is no set. There are no props. The actors stand like statues, dotted around, sometimes deep into the back of the stage as if ghostly apparitions. Sometimes the actors talk freely, other times they take their place behind mic stands as if part of a debating society. What happens on stage is coupled with video footage of other actors scattered around the bowels of the theatre, in the narrow backstage corridors, or even the theatre bar (and, of course, the roof). The fourth-wall breaks that often punctuate the end of these short video pieces eally pierce into your soul, looming over you, much like the mood of this whole production.

An example - as Mercutio lay dying, the camera is right in his face so you get the full pain and rage of him as he screams "a plague upon both your houses" and takes his final breaths. All the while, Romeo stands metres away, covered in blood, seething with unbridled rage, tears mixing with the blood of his friend.

The interval moment that follows literally made everyone gasp, a jumpscare that absolutely warrants the gravity of the moment. I won't say more because if there's even a 0.1% chance of you seeing it I don't want it ruined.

The second act of this play is decidedly quieter than the first. Clandestine conversations, whispers between characters, the comedy, gone. The deaths of Thibault and Mercutio loom large as the reality of the consequences kick in. Juliet remains defiant to the last - this is a Juliet who really knows what she wants (supported by Nurse, who is more like an older sister character full of kindness and friendly age-appropriate advice). As the end draws near, and the inevitability of what's about to happen (let's face it, we've all studied it at school, we know what happens!) becomes apparent, the silence in the theatre speaks volumes.

This production challenges you to see the traditional story through a far darker lens, and the blank spaces leave room for the oppressive mood and music to thrive and grow. It asks you to find answers in the quiet as much as the loud. It might be the best known love story of all time but the added weight of the staging proves everything hangs on the final line: "For never was a story of more woe, than this of Juliet and her Romeo."

Now. Acting. And oh boy was there acting. I'm going to start with Mercutio (Joshua-Alexander Williams) and Paris (Daniel Quinn-Toye) - two actors who are in their first professional production. What pressure, and how they dealt with it. Particularly Joshua-Alexander! I thought Tomiwa Edun, who played Capulet, Juliet's father, was immense - so sinister in his delivery, he had me convinced he was head of a family and of a gang empire. And Freema Agyeman as Nurse was wonderful, as I said earlier, giving this big sister energy and providing delighful lighter moments against the shade. HUGE mention to Nima Taleghani who not only was an excellent Benvolio but also edited the original text to make it a 1hr 45 version that was powerful and punchy.

Now, our main stars. Francesca Amewudah-Rivers as Juliet was incredible. She was headstrong, she was poised, she was dynamic and still at the same time. She portrayed a Juliet desperate to be free from the confines of her family, but clear that she knew what she wanted from the love (and escape) she sought. The second act belonged to her, her stillness lingering.

And the reason I fought for a ticket, Tom Holland. I've seen him at film premieres and press events, and twice playing golf, but the opportunity to see him do what (as fans) we all know to be his true calling, was irresistible. And oh my God. Honestly I was blown away by his portrayal. Brooding, emotional, at times so quiet you had to strain to hear his lament. And then rage, euphoria, shyness, a fumbling lovesick idiot. Throughout the production he provides so much range, but also so much depth, it's impossible not to feel everything he does.

To see him, clearly in his element, providing a soul to Romeo that I've never felt before - I couldn't be prouder as a fan. For too long he has been tarred with the brush that he is not a "serious actor". As fans we know that The Devil all the Time, Cherry, and The Crowded Room are proof otherwise. This should be the moment the world realises he is INCREDIBLE, to be taken seriously, to be given the respect he is long overdue.

I wish beyond words that I get to see this play again. I hope at the very least it gets an NT live screening so that fans around the world get to witness this amazing, unique, innovative production.

Violent delights indeed have violent ends.

[julia4today]

hiii!!!

Can I request Hobbie w/ a gyaru gf, I can imagine it working with gyaru starting off as a rebellion against japan's beuty/ social standard <3

落ち着く？(calm down?)

(hobie x gyaru!gf)

warning: really bad translations!! i don’t speak japanese #sorry

a/n: technically, no gender is named in this. but it is DEFINITELY a fem fic. anyway: be who you want because at the end of the day, you're opinion is the only one that truly matters. #reqsopen #messageme #sorry this took so long my dad had surgery and i was stuck taking care of him but he's all good

ill provide translations dw

the stares weren’t unfamiliar, in fact, you embraced it. it came with having some semblance of a personality that these people clearly feared admired. you just wish yours, and hobie’s, appearance alike weren’t so abstract to the general public.

it's as if you were committing a war crime by having a tan. in japan, any difference from the norm is seen as an insult to those who surround you. truthfully though, that was why you began dressing gyaru in the first place.

conforming had never been your thing, especially when it came to how you dressed. you were always one to disobey even when you got a nagging grandmother in your ear.

"おじさんたちの前に姿をさらすことになる、" (cover up, you're exposing yourself to your uncles.)

a common phrase that plagues the minds of all young teens in japan. the idea that you need to cover up, instead of your uncles needing not to stare. she means well truly but it's just a showcase of how plagued the mind is of those who grew up and reside in japan.

"looking lovely as always my dear," his thick english accent coats your mind. a hand wraps around your shoulder.

hobie. at least you had one person that you could voice your woes to.

"hungry?" he asks as he stretches slightly. the two of you met in the heart of kawaramachi. a charming street that over looks a dazzling river. although you couldn't bring yourself to care in this moment.

you turn to look up at him, covering in diy piercings and tattered clothes that, even in london, are seen as trashy. although, he didn't seem nearly as bothered by the situation at hand. how people now adays sneer and turn away from any expression of a sense of self.

"いいえ, ぼくのおばあちゃん practically shoved fruit down my throat this morning," you say with a slightly exasperated tone. (no, my grandma practically shoved fruit down my throat this morning)

"wha's up, luv?" he say in a cool tone, but lying underneath holds a bit of concern for your, clearly annoyed, timbre.

"don't you think this is a bit bullshit?" you say looking forward as you walk side by side down the streets of kyoto. "like even a little," you say referencing the people who can' t seem to take their eyes off the two of you. like you're some zoo animal.

"wha? them people? don' pay attention to them. they're bloody barmy." he says, you're suprised he's missing the point.

you grumble at his words. "why do i have to be the one to ignore it. why can't they just not stare in the first place. we've got a myriad of tourist attractions and yet my makeup and clothes are the only things they can keep their fucking eyes on."

ordinarily, you'd wait to voice your opinions until you reach a more secluded area. especially since foul language is a more frowned upon subject. but today you felt like pointing out the issues with society. with the standards for women.

thin, fair skin, straight hair, minimal makeup.

pray tell you experiment with makeup. maybe wear a short skirt and vibrant colors. god forbid you wear anything revealing in public. may as well give your obaasan a heart attack the second you put any jewelry with color on yourself. (a commonly used name for grandmother, in japanese)

hobie hums and looks down at you. "you're really chuffed 'bout this aren't you dove?"

"you aren't?"

"im formulatin'" responds non chalantly. you take a deep breath. you knew you couldn't change the who world over night but if one person wouldn't gawk at you as you walked down the street that would be mighty nice. you lean into his side. "how 'bout we think how daft this is over a cuppa,"

you nod softly, almost undetectable to those who aren't paying attention to your every move. "do you get bothered by the stares?"

hobie looks up. considering his height, he practically towers over you and the rest of japan. his eyes scan the crowd, catching all the eyes that fall over him and you. he sighs.

"no' anymore," he says

"anymore?" you half expected hobie to just say no. to have always been as unbothered as he is now. to never have needed to learn the skill of ignoring the whispers and distraught stares that befall him.

he nods silently and leads you into a small restaurant. it smells of herbs and soup. a mix between sweet and salty. the scent of a tea immediately calms your nervous system. hobie slots the two of you into a corner.

"luv, i wasn't always li' this,"

"well i know, i just, you always seems so confident. like nothing gets on your nerves besides capitalism and those white dogs that are always barking." you say it semi sincerely but you smile when your joke earns a chuckle from hobie.

"you are a sight," he says glancing over you. it's a comforting feeling as he takes in your unique appearance. the tan you sport, even though it's nearing winter, and the colors too. almost completely neon, sans the animal print that you don on your boots.

he scans over your face. your eccentric makeup, all perfectly practiced and executed on your face. he grins.

"you 'on't need anybody else to tell you tha'," he says. "sure they might stare, but their opinion is rubbish."

you smile. it's rare you get hobie in such a state where he truly speaks from his heart. but you can't get enough. it's just you and hobie. at the end of the day, that's all you truly need.