#you capture the moments that matter and you bring emphasis

[stripedstarsblueflags]

i didn't win the wheel: episode 3 (bonus!)

Alex, shifting back in his seat: "I lost. Unfortunately..."

Logan: "You lost. So I get the privilege..."

okay, so i know fuck-all about cinematography. that's a lie, i know probably 1% more than fuck-all about cinematography, but what i do know is how to very smoothly direct the viewer's eye. a basic wide shot– parallel lines, flat background– means that the most obvious thing that's going to draw attention is motion. like if someone waved their hand in front of that window. so you let the viewer's eye come naturally to whatever's moving, and then you change angles and swoop along with the shot to follow that motion– whether it's a ball flying across the room or a cup falling over or someone turning to their right. that makes the viewer suddenly feel more than drawn in, they feel like they're there. because they're moving too. readjusting the focal point (main subject blurry to focused) is almost like adding a little bit of suspense, which draws the viewer in even more because now they're deliberately refocusing and locking in on something. this is a pretty good technique if you're filming, like, a movie. something with a script. something that's supposed to be a story.

it is completely unnecessary for little media snippets like this. if anything it's actually counterproductive, because the main focus is supposed to be the game/event as a whole (including the table, the photos, the wheel icon).

so the camera angle going from: alex's sheepish expression, talking to the camera and logan just beginning to turn his head to : first focusing on alex as he smiles and admits defeat and looks down with his cap over his eyes and then sharpening to logan– right as he shifts his shoulder in alex's direction and tilts his head at him and half-smiles and is literally taunting him for losing–

i'm just saying there was no reason to frame it like that and yet here we are

[00127am]

signed with love and forever yours, mark

postage. lee mark & gn! reader, mentions of death in the context of greek mythos cost to ship. 712 words

growing up, i never understood the tragedy of orpheus and eurydice. how, upon achieving the opportunity to bring back his beloved, orpheus squandered it all with a single look. it frustrated me, that after all that effort--every song he had written and preformed, compositions which moved all, even gods-- he abandoned all success with a single glimpse backwards. a second of a stare that only captured the whisper of eurydice's figure before she was dragged back to the depths of the underworld. i never understood why he looked back, why he had to fail when he was so close to the edge of triumph.

though i suppose that after meeting you, if i took the place of poor orpheus and you, my eurydice, i'm afraid that i would also lose you for a second time. that i would risk everything i had worked towards, everything that i had done just to see your face in that fraction of a second. to look at you, no matter the consequences. no matter what what i had sacrificed to get to you, no matter if i too would be punished for this singular stare. i would do so, even so close to escape, so close to having you in my arms again without a moment of hesitation. i, not only as orpheus but as mark--your mark--would do anything to spare even the slightest of glances in your direction. even if they would only forfeit half of a second of being captured in the reflection of your eyes and nothing more. for that half of a second, that split sliver in time, would be worth more to me than any hours of gazing upon anything else.

i find us to be more likened to paris and helen of troy. a story i've always understood, at any and all basic fundamentals of its core, though doubted. for how could anyone be so beautiful that others would begin wars over them? that their beauty would be more fair, more compelling than that of the gods? that men would be reduced to nothing more than spurned infatuation, fighting battles--killing-- for any brief moment spent within helen's gaze.

i wasn't sure that any such person could exist. but with you, i find myself to be playing the part of poor paris--destined, perhaps, to starting wars over the mere thought of you.

about mark's love letters.

mark's handwriting is rough and scribbled. oftentimes jotted down with whatever pen he has lying around, series of swirls and scratches at the top margins of the page where he attempts to get the ink to flow. his words, in a stark difference to the somewhat chaotic state of his slanted, all-caps writing, are carefully chosen. hand-picked with the utmost care, the upmost emphasis to ensure the quickening of your heartbeat. though short, his letters are poetic and always very true to himself. you can almost picture the look on his face when he writes them, a fantasy that does nothing but conjure heat into the full of your cheeks.

he first writes these down in his notes app of all places. thumbs frantically typing with every out of the blue strike of inspiration (something that happens rather often, both for songs and for you, though mark could argue that these two things are nearly synonymous). and when he does get the time (something he seems to be always running out of) he transfers these pretty proses to the whitened canvas of card stock. a firm choice, made to last. each one of his letters are signed with less-than-perfect stars and a drawing of whichever thing has recently caught of your fancy (usually him).

mark often sends them in the mail to you but prefers to give his letters to you in person. something he often finds himself regretting when you choose to read them outloud, burying his face in his hands as he begs you to stop. you don't and mark often finds himself begrudgingly thinking that you're much too like haechan for your own good (or his). it's not all bad though, not when the reward for withstanding such utter humiliation on his part is all of your affection. and mark would take anything in the world if it met just receiving one shred of your heart.

your mailbox

taglist. @evilsailorsenshi @222brainrot @chriscentric @trourevaille @firstdonutllamafarm @jenaisnte thank you for supporting me! ♡

🧾 © 00127am 2024

[deathsmallcaps]

Mirror Snow White for the WIP game, please!!

I’ve bolded the part you encouraged me to add onto! Thanks! :)

I met my true love while I was limping along an empty road cutting through the grey wintry plains of Sasriu. I had heard of a king with a mystery: the hand of one of his daughters and a title if solved, and three nights of hot meals, a warm bed and a quick death if not. Having no skills beyond war - for I had been sold quite young to become a soldier - and now possessing a pair of boots but only one leg, I despaired at the life I saw ahead of myself.

‘Retired’ soldiers rarely live long. It was the start of winter and already the nights dipped well below freezing. No forests stood for me to take shelter, and the little villages around I wouldn’t dare approach - this kingdom had been staunchly neutral in the nearby wars and many small towns chased out soldiers, for fear of involvement. There was no denying my past; I had been captured specifically because it would be difficult to confuse and lose me in the ranks of the local peoples, and the war raged still.

One kind, lonely farmhouse had offered me warm soup and a haystack to sleep in, but I saw the thin faces of each child and knew I couldn’t stay long. Thus, I headed for the city - I would hopefully find shelter and stability, and perhaps even an ambassador with knowledge of my homeland. And if my plans didn’t pan out, at least it would be a swift death - not ending up as a frozen stranger on the side of the muddy road or a penniless veteran on the cobbles of some dank alley.

So I hobbled toward the city. Being a plains kingdom, they didn’t build especially high buildings for fear of windstorms, but it stood out all the same against the flat earth surrounding it. Still, despite having such a clear goal, it seemingly didn’t get much closer, with night and what I hoped was merely a big cloud fast outrunning me. Knowing from my luck and the change in humidity, I knew it was rain. I tried moving faster, but the wraps around my crutch pads had worn away so it was even more painful than usual, so I soon had to return to my usual pace.

A small bump interrupted the tedium, coming from a side road I hadn’t noticed before. It moved slowly, but it was clear it was also heading towards the city, so with a slightly lighter heart I continued forward. A talking companion for the road would likely make the trip easier, and may even offer information on the king’s mystery. All I really knew at the time was that his daughters apparently had a problem with sneaking out at night.

Once I got close enough, it took me a moment to recall the local greeting, but then “All things must end!”

The shuffling figure, adorned in many ragged scarves, quickly flashed a look to me, too fast to make out any features. “But some begin now.” She replied in a raspy voice.

“What brings you to Wocosm this fine evening?” I inquired politely. I was desperate for conversation, but would drop it if she showed disinterest.

She laughed, a disused rattle that seemed to surprise her. She flashed her eyes at me once again. “You must be very hopeful indeed if you believe we will reach the gates before sundown. Still, it is no matter. I am looking for shards.”

“A shard? My good woman, I believe you are headed the wrong way! While I would not recommend any to enter a battlefield, there are broken bits abound back the way I came. I know my leader even pays people to go over the fields for arrows and other reusable things. As long as you do not have an apparatus that would impede your travel through the churned, bloody earth,” I gestured to my crutches for emphasis, “you could make a decent living doing as such.”

She shook her head. “I have seen that terrible place, and while it contains an evil most profound, it is human and mundane. The shard I seek is magical in origin, and to put it plainly, induces heinous thoughts and situations among even the most peaceable peoples.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that, but before a true response could form I saw a terrible sight. “Holy waters, you do not have shoes!”

“Hm? Oh, that.” She seemed unbothered, but I knew the importance of proper footwear.

Unable to think of a particularly witty rebuttal, I merely said, “But it’s cold!”

She stared at me blankly. Finally, I could see her eyes - black like mine, but shaped in an uncommonly beautiful fashion and ringed with near translucent blond lashes. Her face seemed much more youthful than her posture and manner seemed to suggest, yet her eyes held an age unknowable. The woman quickly hid her eyes again once she noticed my returned gaze.

Unable to do nothing, I carefully stopped and leaned one crutch against my body while I pulled my pack around. “Here. I have no use for it.” I handed her my extra boot, my other sock, and then the same crutch. “If we both are to make it to our destination, we need to avoid frostbite.” I had practiced walking with one crutch, and showed her how. “Pull your naked foot into your wraps, and use the crutch to move forward. It’s better than wearing off your soles before you find those wicked shards!”

Her mouth twisted, but she took my offerings all the same, and we walked on as the darkness overtook us both. I told her my name was Walt, short for Walter Johnschild, and she did not proffer hers, but instead told me things about the castle.

“Do you know much about the king’s mystery?” she asked. When I told her no, aside from the reward, she continued, “No matter. It is thus: The king of Susriu has twelve daughters, and every winter’s night for the last decade, their dancing shoes are dashed to pieces, despite never leaving their rooms and the guards stationed outside reportedly merely hearing the occasional snore. The princesses tell their father nothing, and he apparently needs to start marrying them off soon. However, if they are sneaking out, he cannot guarantee their virtue,” we both scoffed, “and has become desperate. So, he will reward any man who can solve this matter within the three nights he is allowed to stay in their rooms.”

“How can h-” I broke off when the city walls’ bells started tolling, signifying that the gates were about to close. Coincidentally, the sky broke open a quarter mile behind us.

The woman turned to me and placed the coldest kiss I’d ever felt aware upon my forehead. “Now go!” And she puffed up her cheeks, blew out, and a great wind, cold and sharp, carried me to the gates, billowing a cloak that had not been on my shoulders a moment before. The guards did not seem startled by my sudden arrival, and I swung quickly past the gates and into town.

The castle was on the other end of the city, which was unfortunate. I did my best to make my way over, but the cobblestones were not kind to me or my crutches. The rain caught up to me before I was even approved to go through the castle portcullis, and I nearly slipped. A young guard sniggered, but an older fellow smacked his helmet in irritation, causing it to spin and cover his face somewhat.

We nodded at each other. The elder seemed hale, but not all marks of war are visible to the naked eye. The youth, grumbling as he set his helmet right, was ordered to escort me to the dinner hall. He slouched and side-eyed the entire walk, and when he opened the door and announced me, he tapped the crutch closer to him with his foot. I stumbled into the surprised feasting hall.

[akshaysansare]

 Capture Your Special Day with the Best Wedding Photographers in Mumbai

Planning a wedding involves countless details, and one of the most important is finding the right photographer to capture those unforgettable moments. Mumbai offers a plethora of talented photographers, but finding the best fit for your big day can be a challenge. If you’re looking to preserve the beauty, joy, and emotions of your wedding, choosing from the Best Wedding Photographers in Mumbai will ensure your memories are artfully documented. With an emphasis on creativity, professionalism, and experience, Mumbai’s top photographers specialize in transforming every smile, tear, and dance into a timeless piece of art.

Why You Need the Best Wedding Photography in Mumbai

Weddings are a blend of emotions, intricate rituals, and precious interactions between loved ones. It’s essential to hire a photographer who can capture these moments in their full glory. Opting for the Best Wedding Photography in Mumbai means trusting professionals who understand the nuances of Indian weddings and have the skills to tell your story through their lens. Here’s why choosing the right photographer matters:

 Preserving Memories in High Quality

Photographs are the keepsakes that will remind you of your wedding day for years to come. With the best wedding photographers, you’re guaranteed high-quality images that not only look beautiful but also stand the test of time. They use top-notch equipment, advanced techniques, and an eye for detail to deliver photos that feel just as vibrant as the day they were taken.

Capturing Candid and Authentic Moments

The best wedding photographers have a knack for capturing those spontaneous moments that convey genuine emotion. Whether it’s a quiet smile between the couple, joyful family gatherings, or the excitement on the dance floor, a skilled photographer brings these moments to life in your album, showcasing authentic interactions and natural expressions.

 Attention to Cultural Traditions

Indian weddings are filled with rich traditions and rituals. The best photographers in Mumbai are familiar with these customs and understand the importance of each moment. From the sangeet and mehendi to the wedding ceremony itself, they ensure every ritual is captured with respect and precision, creating a complete visual story of your wedding journey.

 Artistic Vision and Creativity

The best wedding photographers bring an artistic perspective that enhances the beauty of each shot. By combining innovative angles, unique compositions, and creative lighting, they create images that stand out. When you choose Best Wedding Photography in Mumbai, you’re investing in professionals who add an artistic touch to every frame, ensuring each image is visually captivating.

Top Services Offered by the Best Wedding Photographers in Mumbai

Choosing the best wedding photographer means gaining access to a range of services that cover every aspect of your wedding day. Here are some of the highlights offered by top photographers in Mumbai:

 Pre-Wedding Shoots

Pre-wedding photography has become a popular way for couples to capture their love story before the wedding day. From romantic getaways to casual in-city photoshoots, a pre-wedding shoot provides a beautiful narrative that leads up to the big day.

 Wedding Day Photography

The wedding day itself is the main event, and top photographers ensure no detail is overlooked. From getting-ready shots and capturing the decor to documenting the emotions and celebrations, these photographers work tirelessly to create a comprehensive visual record of your wedding.

 Candid Photography

Candid photography allows the essence of the celebration to shine through, with images that feel unposed and natural. The best photographers in Mumbai are experts in candid photography, creating images that reflect the true spirit and joy of your wedding.

 Traditional Photography and Videography

Along with candid shots, traditional photography and videography play a crucial role in covering key moments. With their knowledge of traditional Indian weddings, Mumbai’s best wedding photographers ensure all the important rituals are captured with finesse.

 Cinematic Wedding Films

Wedding videography has evolved to include cinematic storytelling, and many of the top photographers in Mumbai offer this service. Using advanced techniques and creative vision, they create wedding films that feel like a movie, capturing the romance and drama of your wedding day.

Why Choose Akshay Sansare for Your Wedding Photography?

When looking for the best wedding photographers, Akshay Sansare stands out for his commitment to creating beautiful, emotive wedding stories. Known for his exceptional skills and artistry, Akshay brings a personalized touch to every wedding he photographs. Here’s why Akshay is one of the best choices for wedding photography in Mumbai:

Experience and Expertise: Akshay Sansare has years of experience capturing weddings and a deep understanding of both candid and traditional photography styles.

Artistic Style: With a keen eye for aesthetics, Akshay’s photography brings out the beauty and emotion in every shot, ensuring that your wedding album is as unique as your love story.

Professionalism and Commitment: Akshay is dedicated to providing the best experience, from the initial consultation to the final delivery of photos, ensuring that every aspect of your wedding photography is handled seamlessly.

High-Quality Equipment and Techniques: Using top-of-the-line equipment and advanced post-processing techniques, Akshay delivers photos that are polished, high-quality, and ready to be cherished for years.

Conclusion

Choosing the Best Wedding Photographers in Mumbai is crucial for preserving the memories of your wedding day. By opting for Akshay Sansare, you’re entrusting your moments to a skilled professional who understands the value of each shot. Whether you’re looking for Best Wedding Photography in Mumbai to capture candid moments or cinematic wedding films, Akshay and his team will ensure your love story is documented with creativity, passion, and professionalism. Start your wedding journey with confidence, knowing you’ll have beautiful images to look back on for a lifetime.

[liluslifestyle]

For this assignment, I have chosen the song "Come So Far" by Carmen Bradford and Sully Burton is a beautiful piece of music that profoundly resonates with my sensibilities, values, tastes, and style. The song's lyrics and melody beautifully capture themes of having someone there for you, staying calm, and letting go of the bad moments to focus on the ones that bring happiness. These themes resonate deeply with my serenity, reflection, and mindfulness values.

The song begins with a gentle reminder to “Forget all about the noise and pay no attention to the voices," the song urges listeners to focus on the positive memories and experiences that truly matter. This resonates deeply with me as it reflects my belief in the importance of mindfulness and living in the present moment. The lyrics discuss remembering your happy days, evoking nostalgia and appreciation. These details appeal to me because they show the significance of cherishing the present and finding joy in simple things.

The chorus highlights true friendship's enduring nature and gratitude's importance. This message resonates with me because it aligns with my values of empathy, gratitude, and maintaining meaningful relationships. It reminds me of how essential it is to cherish the special moments and connections we have with others and always appreciate true friends' support and companionship. The song's emphasis on supporting one another through tough times reflects my belief in compassion and the strength of being there for others.

Moreover, I have a profound love for slow music, which enables me to pause and experience tranquility in the present. These songs' soothing tunes and introspective lyrics help me remain centered and mindful. This genre of music harmonizes perfectly with my values of calmness and contemplation, offering a comforting backdrop to navigate life’s fluctuations. In these serene moments, I find the most profound clarity and a heartfelt appreciation for the people who have consistently supported me.

In conclusion, the song's message of lasting friendship and gratitude and my love for slow, reflective music capture what I value most in life. It reminds me to treasure calm moments and meaningful relationships. I find peace and fulfillment by appreciating the beauty in music and the support of friends. This blend of music and connections truly reflects my values and style.

[katieshumanitiesblog]

A Manifesto of Passion

Our world is one where the expression of passion translates to dramatics and extremism. I stand to praise encouragement to all to feel the emotions of life with emphasis and confidence. We shall have freedom to follow our hearts and reject the limitations imposed by society. I imagine a future where people are true to themselves and chase their ambitions without fear or hesitation, all because they are passionate about what they do. Our unconscious mind drives us to do things through a sense of meaning, whether we know it or not, and everyday is an opportunity to reveal our thoughts and devotions. 

When you drink from the well of passion, life takes on a new dimension, full of purpose and infinite vitality.  Our passion lights the way, driving us onward with boundless fire and determined purpose in a world where routine and doubt are ordinary. 

I wrote about my mother, a poem that reminded me of her and the love she grew into me. The emotion I embodied in “This poem” written on my blog, gives purpose to an already important relationship. You can see my thoughts through this post, the weight of where this topic lies upon me, and the revelations I've made growing into my own heart.

My photo collection combines my love for the humans in my life and the act of capturing a moment forever. Through words I express the importance of these relationships, through pictures you see the words come to life, through analysis you feel the feelings I am expressing. 

Music is most notably accepted in regards to the passions people have as both artists and listeners. My music theme is a collection of artists differing opinions on America. A theme filled with controversy on both ends. You experience what it’s like to undergo oppression and the fulfillment of patriotism in a single post. The controversy lies much deeper, questioning how much you can feel and how far you can go with them. Many dismiss passion as an individual “doing too much” or overreacting to their interest. Whether that be a positive interest they chose to speak on or a negative topic, the pushback we see towards expressionists leaves a bad taste in my mouth. One might find the song “Courtesy of the red, white, and blue” written by Toby Keith as a classic embark into American culture while others resonate much more with the song “The Bigger Picture” by Lil Baby. Both of these pieces reflect much different experiences in America, as I wrote in my blog post, yet express the same passionate energy towards a common factor. Without the efforts made by artists of all kinds, there would be no tangible demonstration of feelings and experiences many have lived through. 

Desire is what drives development and new ideas. Fundamental changes, game-changing innovations, and ground-breaking discoveries all stem from this one factor. When we have deep personal investment in a cause or concept, we are more likely to take risks, try new things, and question established norms; as a result, we may find ourselves paving the way for revolutionary change. Through my passions I have learned so much more when acting on the impulses I feel. The direction our minds head towards when you put feelings into action lead to remarkable finds, things we did not know existed. On top of that, following our hearts brings us happiness and contentment. The ordinary becomes extraordinary when it gives meaning and thrill to even the most routine activities. Loving life to the fullest means savoring every moment, no matter how big or little, and marveling at the simple things around us.

Finally, I say, listen up: the call to make passion our essence is loud and clear. The ability to overcome obstacles, discover underlying abilities, and carve out a unique route to happiness is contained in its passionate embark. Join me in kindling the fires of inspiration in one another and in the world at large, so that our shared dreams may shine brightly. Being passionate about something not only helps us find our true selves, but it also reveals our limitless potential.

[ornabinderweddingcelebrant]

The Role of a Celebrant for Weddings: Elevating Your Special Day with Personalized Touches

Your wedding day is one of the most important days of your life, a celebration of love and commitment. To make it truly special and unique, many couples are turning to celebrants for weddings. These skilled professionals bring a wealth of benefits to your big day, ensuring it reflects your personality, values, and love story. Let's delve into why choosing a celebrant can elevate your wedding experience.

Flexibility in Venue and Timing: One of the significant advantages of hiring a Celebrant for weddings is the flexibility it offers in choosing your wedding venue and timing. Celebrant-led weddings can take place anywhere and at any time. Whether you dream of exchanging vows on a mountaintop at sunrise or in the comfort of your backyard under the stars, a celebrant can accommodate your wishes.

Inclusive of Diverse Beliefs and Cultures: Celebrants are adept at honoring diverse beliefs and cultural traditions, making them ideal for couples from mixed backgrounds or those seeking non-traditional ceremonies. Whether you want to blend cultural rituals, incorporate religious elements, or craft a completely secular ceremony, a celebrant will work with you to create a meaningful and inclusive experience for all involved.

Professional Guidance and Support: Planning a wedding can be overwhelming, but a celebrant serves as a guiding light throughout the process. From the initial consultation to the rehearsal and the ceremony itself, they offer support, advice, and expertise every step of the way. Their experience and insights can help alleviate stress and ensure that your wedding day unfolds seamlessly, allowing you to focus on what truly matters—celebrating your love.

Emphasis on Connection and Meaning: At the heart of every celebrant-led wedding is a deep emphasis on connection and meaning. A professional Celebrant for weddings takes the time to get to know you as a couple, understanding your unique bond, values, and vision for your future together. This personal connection shines through in the ceremony, creating an authentic and heartfelt experience that resonates with both you and your guests.

A Lasting Memento of Your Love Story: Your wedding ceremony is not just a moment in time; it's a reflection of your love story and the commitment you share. With a celebrant, you have the opportunity to create a ceremony that becomes a cherished memento of your journey together. Whether it's through personalized vows, symbolic rituals, or heartfelt readings, your celebrant will help you craft a ceremony that captures the essence of your relationship and leaves a lasting impression on everyone present.

Choosing a celebrant for your wedding offers a myriad of benefits that can elevate your special day to new heights. From personalization and flexibility to inclusivity and professional support, celebrants bring a wealth of expertise and creativity to the table, ensuring that your ceremony is a true reflection of your love and commitment.

[zoetropia]

Zoetropia’s Top 10 Albums of 2022

I listened to 124 records released in 2022. Here are my favorite. First, an unordered list of albums I really liked that didn't make the top 10:

The Beths - Expert in a Dying Field Widowspeak - The Jacket Margo Cilker - Pohorylle Kevin Morby - This Is A Photograph The Smile - A Light for Attracting Attention Spoon - Lucifer On The Sofa Pinegrove - 11:11 Jim Bryson - Country Wifi Porridge Radio - Waterslide, Diving Board, Ladder to the Sky Destroyer - Labyrinthitis Color Green - Color Green Night Shop - Forever Night Special Interest - Endure MJ Lenderman - Boat Songs caroline - caroline Jake Xerxes Fussell - Good and Green Again

And now for the top 10:

10. Beach House - Once Twice Melody: Beach House always seemed to be a band itching to put out a double album. They even put out two albums back to back in 2015, so just seems like they saved us the two month wait this time around. If you like Beach House, you know what you're getting into here: their full, expansive sound polished into a glittering diamond. And fans will find much here to treasure and rediscover over repeated listens. Some of their finest ever songs are "buried" deep in here. Thus the pleasure of a double LP. And while they're not the type of band to explore a bunch of different ideas across an hour and a half, if you're looking to get lost in their vibe, this is the perfect record to do it in.

9. Deserta - Every Moment, Everything You Need: No matter how popular music trends shift and change, I will always have a soft spot for shoegaze. The more sweeping, dreamy, and cinematic, the better, and I'm instantly transported to late nights lying in bed, headphones on, adrift in a sea of sound. This album brings me exactly that. Tidal waves of reverbed guitar, walls of synths, whispered vocals, you've heard it all before, but it's hard to do it without sounding like a parody or too much of an overt homage. I'm not quite sure what the formula is to avoid all that, but this record does it. And I'm more than happy to be swept away.

8. black midi - Hellfire: There's something about this band's ability to rein in their careening noise with such precise control that really speaks to me, and this record captures the excitement of never really being sure what lies around the next turn. Sometimes this approach can backfire, but here, every choice works for me. It's dizzying but in a good way, less like a tornado and more like a thrill ride. But either way, I'm still paying attention.

7. Witch Fever - Congregation: Nice to have a new band that still makes me feel like I can put these weary bones back in to the pit were I to see them live. This is exactly what I look for in punk music: heavy, angry, and cathartic. Sour might very well be my favorite track of the year, and the rest of the record doesn't lag far behind in making me want to scream along and toss a few people around in a pit. Every year needs a good "fuck yeah/you/everything" record and this is mine for 2022.

6. Horsegirl - Versions of Modern Performance: What do you get when you have a young group that listens to way too much 90s indie (with a heavy emphasis on Yo La Tengo), plenty of music family bonafides, and the quietly revolutionary spirit of being a low-to-the-ground guitar band in the age of poptimism? A band much like this, I would guess. Their balance of tuneful and noisy is always something I always dig, and hell, if you get the cred of Yo La Tengo having you open for them at one of their Hanukkah shows, you are aces in my book. The kids are alright, after all.

5. Camp Cope - Running with the Hurricane: Well if this is going to be it for Camp Cope, they picked a good one to go out on. It's a bit of a shame, sure, as this record feels like they have finally found a sound they could call their own. Georgia Maq's vocals soar as ever and the relaxed instruments let these heartfelt songs speak for themselves. They contain big feelings in a small space, like a lonely teenager in their bedroom. And who wasn't ever one of those? This is music that makes my heart swell to bursting. It hurts but it feels so good.

4. Big Thief - Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe In You: I was not as quick to crown Big Thief as the best thing to happen to American indie as a bunch of other people were, and my distaste for hyperbole still prevents me from doing so, but I can not deny the strength of the song catalog they have built up over the years. And more importantly (to me, at least), they have started learning how to put together proper albums. And here is the ever important double album, crucial to every rock band's trajectory. Rare for a double album, there's a hardly a bum track here, and easily some of their best. It's hard to hold a listener's interest for almost an hour and a half but Big Thief bounces across tempos and styles enough to keep things interesting throughout and there's nary the stink of filler. This is the work of a band that is clicking on all cylinders and letting themselves stretch out a bit. The looseness suits them.

3. Black Country, New Road - Ants From Up There: A band that figured out how to put it together just to have their lead singer up and quit on them. It may be one of the great "what could have been" stories but that is yet to be determined. At least we have this, an intricate, incisive, lush collections of songs that finds this collective all working at their absolute peak, delivering on the promise of their debut and then some. The songs are just a bit more accessible but still just as maximal, and they crest and crash with a lovely sweeping catharsis. This is big music made for and by people with big hearts, and boy do I love to be caught up in it.

2. Plains - I Walked With You a Ways: The indie country revival (and its continuing to request to reclaim a rich genre from the bros and corporations that have dominated its image for decades) couldn't have much better representation than this record. Jess Williamson and Katie Crutchfield both grew up with and among country music and here, they put their considerable songwriting powers to work carrying the tradition forward while putting plenty of their individual personality into each song. It's a lovely, rich listen, and I do hope it's not the only thing we get of these two working together.

1. Gilla Band - Most Normal: Why do I love this band that sounds like someone having a nervous breakdown in the midst of an agonizing bout of tinnitus? It's not something I can quite put into words. I guess that's why the music is there. It's certainly not for everybody, and Gilla Band is probably my favorite band that I can't recommend to most people I know. But if you ever need a pounding sledgehammer of noise to flood your ears to maybe cancel out the noise that's coming from your brain, this band is here for you. May they always be.

[buyofficialpainting]

Mary Cassatt: Celebrating Intimacy and Feminine Perspective

Mary Cassatt, an American Impressionist painter, made a significant impact on the art world by capturing the beauty of everyday life and intimate moments, particularly from a feminine perspective. Her stunning artworks, characterized by their delicate brushwork and heartfelt subject matter, have left a lasting impression. In this blog post, we delve into the world of Mary Cassatt's art and explore the profound influence of her work. Join us as we discover the power of her depictions of women, mothers, and the tender bonds of human connection.

A Celebration of Intimacy:

Mary Cassatt's paintings are known for their intimate portrayals of women engaged in everyday activities. Her subjects often include mothers and children, friends conversing, and women in quiet contemplation. Cassatt sought to capture the essence of these intimate moments and reveal the emotional depth and richness within them. Through her masterful use of light, color, and composition, she elevates the ordinary to the extraordinary, inviting viewers to appreciate the beauty in the simplicity of human connection.

The Feminine Perspective:

As a female artist in a predominantly male-dominated art world, Cassatt offered a unique perspective that celebrated the experiences and emotions of women. Her paintings challenged societal norms and highlighted the strength, tenderness, and complexities of women's lives. Through her sensitive portrayals, Cassatt brought the often-overlooked aspects of the female experience to the forefront, providing a voice for women in the art world and paving the way for future generations of female artists.

Impressionistic Style and Technique:

Cassatt's artistic style is deeply rooted in Impressionism, with its emphasis on capturing the fleeting effects of light and color. Her brushwork, characterized by loose and lively strokes, conveys a sense of movement and immediacy. Cassatt's ability to depict the play of light on surfaces and her mastery of capturing subtle facial expressions and gestures contribute to the overall charm and allure of her works. Through her unique blend of technique and subject matter, Cassatt created a distinct visual language that continues to captivate audiences today.

A Poster Celebrating Mary Cassatt's Artistry:

Owning a Mary Cassatt poster allows you to bring the beauty and elegance of her art into your personal space. Whether you choose a painting depicting a mother and child, friends engaged in conversation, or a moment of quiet introspection, a Cassatt poster can add a touch of grace and intimacy to any room. Her works serve as a visual reminder to appreciate the significance of human connections and to find beauty in the simple moments of life.

Cassatt's Enduring Legacy:

Mary Cassatt's contribution to the art world extends far beyond her own lifetime. Her innovative approach, heartfelt subject matter, and feminine perspective continue to inspire and resonate with audiences worldwide. Cassatt's ability to capture the nuances of human relationships and emotions paved the way for subsequent generations of artists, particularly women, to explore and celebrate their own unique perspectives. Her legacy stands as a testament to the power of art to challenge conventions, evoke emotions, and provoke thought.

[legendaryoikawa]

haikyuu boys in your typical romance cliche 

warnings: mention of alcohol and language

note: female reader insert

oikawa tooru — as the typical popular frat boy that you happen to stumble into because you were so damn wasted of alcohol or vodka. you happen to be invited in the biggest frat party ever and you didn’t know whether you should be thankful or ashamed that you gained freedom and liveliness for a short period of time or squashing your face on the chest of the gorgeous oikawa tooru? perhaps the latter. oikawa know you because you were one of those university girl that never gave a damn about him and in instant he grew fond and interested with you. he actually finds it cute to see you all puffy and red because of alcohol but other than that he isn’t gonna let you go this time, never, especially in this state of yours. he’s that typical cliche where he’ll pull your hair up while you throw out in the bathroom while caressing your back gently and wiping off your temples with his handkerchief. 

akaashi keiji — is the classmate that is really intimidating yet hot at the same time? you think you were quite lucky that you were assigned to seat beside him but the moment you gathered your things to move beside him, you can almost feel the weight of the piercing gaze of your classmates. anyways, you got assigned in a school project with him and he offers you his place since the school is bound to close at six and your place is not that appealing much either. so you both walked to his house and you can see the little things he does for you like pressing his body closer to your side when a creepy guy walks across or the ghost of his touch from your back when you both crossed the pedestrian or the way his hands slightly raises your bag cause he knows it’s heavy judging by your slouching. and when the young night passes away, he starts talking about his life and you too, until one moment he confesses that he really admires you, so much.

yamaguchi tadashi — you know yamaguchi and you’re good friends with him since you both live in the quiet neighborhood of sendai. you really love his freckles and usually compare them to constellations that makes him go flustered with his flyaway hair sticking up. he likes you but he’s just so meek and decides to never voice out his feelings. so yamaguchi is part of the photography club and is assigned to take a picture of a subject that is dear to them. and when he walked in the corridors all he could think off was just you. and so he did. you asked him while laughing, as to why he keeps on taking your pictures when you’re not a celebrity yourself, jokingly. but his answer left you off guard especially when he said, “my adviser told me to capture something so beautiful and i think it’s you.”

kageyama tobio  — he’s that boy that no matter how much he wanted to go home and rest, he’ll always wait for you patiently at your lockers despite you asking him to head first because you still have committee work after school. then one moment after the adviser has finished the meeting, you’re shocked to see him leaning against your locker while drinking in from his milk. the moonlight is already shining through the window panels; making his skin glimmer marvelously. you’ll just stare at him dubiously; not knowing what to say. and you feel yourself falling down crazily for him; heart’s erratic. because he waited for two hours at the lockers just to walk you home, even though you told him not to. and you know he’s impatient as fuck but there he is, waiting and snatching you bag away from you. he’ll give you a stare and flickers your forehead while saying, ‘idiot, you think I’ll let you walk home, alone?’ and you’ll just pull his blazer down to capture his lips and he’ll blush so hard lmaoo

kuroo tetsurou  — that transferee student everyone is talking about. with his dark hair, tall frame, and noted muscles— every girl is crazy about him. he is assigned to seat behind you; at the back by the window. and everything just spiralled down to complete euphoria, even you didn’t see it coming. he doesn’t talk much to your classmates. often dismissing a budding interaction from some girls. and it took you by surprise when he asked you for a pen because he left his pencil case in his friend (you heard him tell you his friend’s name, kenma it is?) and it just happen so quickly. everyday he’ll leave you sticky notes in your table with his messy handwriting saying how beautiful you are than the sun, or go out with me? with a little smile on the side. sometimes, you can feel him playing with your hair or reaching out to hold your hand underneath the table while the teacher is writing on the blackboard. 

hinata shoyo  — hinata will be that cliche where he will buy a cupcake because he could remember that it is one of your favorites. often running to your place because he missed the bus and will arrive at your place; his hair all messy and fluffy, panting, with his skin slightly flushed and glimmering with perspiration. or will let you cry on his shirt and won’t mind you soiling it despite the shirt being all new and crispy. he couldn’t bring himself to care to be honest, because his only concern is to make you feel better despite having his shirt all wrinkled and damp from your tears. 

bokuto kotaru  — is that typical boyfriend that would literally walk you down to your room despite his room being two buildings away from yours. he’s that dedicated. that every vacant period, he’ll fetch you off and lead you down to his department’s botanical garden. or will eat lunch with you in your room. or spending together in the library. he’s as fresh as lilies. young as the night. no matter how hard you cajole that you can walk yourself and he shouldn’t bother, he wouldn’t allow you. and will always carry your bag for you even though you can manage to carry it for yourself. he is also that kind of cliche where he’ll ask his professor is he needs something from your building and volunteers to get it for them just to visit you in you room. excusing you from your class and won’t say anything but just steal a peck from you a make a dash towards the faculty room with a proud smirk painting his face cause he rendered you speechless and flustered, again.

tsukishima kei  — is that typical cold guy in campus that everyone is lowkey scared of. you were asked by your biology teacher to borrow the books for the class’s current lesson from the library on the spot you took a beeline for the shelves as fast as you could. but for fuck’s sake all the books were placed at the topmost part of the science shelves. you stood there for a good minute while glaring at the books overhead. you know you were damned for good since there are no chairs nearby that are available and the librarian is nowhere to be seen. you stomped you feet in annoyance until you felt a looming presence behind you. a tall one. and the person smells of fresh vanillas as well. when you turned around, you saw tsukishima grabbing the books at ease and handing it to you and stalked away. you thanked him quietly but it was enough for kei to hear and he wasn’t wrong when he thinks you we’re cute while struggling to get those books on top of you. 

iwaizumi hajime  — that boy you hated to the core. you didn’t know why but he just goes right after your nerve. pressing of your buttons. iwaizumi is the bugbear of your life. yet for him, you’re the fucking cutest person he ever met in his life. and he doesn’t know why you’re so annoyed with his whole existence. but one time, he decided to play it off and decided to push your buttons more. there’s a debate in your class and he stood up to contradict your claims. and basically everyone could feel the sexual tension arising in the air, yet they didn’t utter a word. iwaizumi thinks you’re so hot when your mad and whenever you put an emphasis to him name. or the cliche where he yanked your arm when you’re about to leave the room just to playfully lean in your face, while whispering, ‘you’re so difficult, yet you’re making me want you more’ e2l, pls.

kozume kenma  — kenma is that typical boy that doesn’t allow people to play his console or his psp because it is something dear and precious to him. not even kuroo. no matter how his teammates beg to ask him for just one game, he’ll never allow except for you ;) to the point you don’t have to ask him, sometimes he’ll be the one to offer and let you play the recent game he just purchased lol

— part two will be posted soon! hope you guys like this,, i just started this yesterday with my love, @fratboyjae while we were casually throwing out cute blurbs to each other LOL HAHA. requests are currently open, send them in! love lots!

[fanfic-chan]

Ooh how about;

“Kid, stop being so hard on yourself, you did great out there!”

With Ler Fatgum and Lee Tamaki? 🥺💕

Ahhh! I loved this prompt so much! I'm really sorry it took so long to finish, but this one gave me the perfect opportunity to bring up the importance of setting boundaries as well as talk about the struggle of insecurities, which I relate to a lot sometimes, and I wanted to make it as perfect as possible. Anyways, I really hope you like it!^^

Cheer Up Suneater!

Ler: Dadgum

Lee: Amajiki

"Kid, stop being so hard on yourself, you did great out there!"

Taishiro sighed in fond exasperation when the teen just shrugged in response, shoulders hunched and face hidden beneath the hood of his costume.

The two of them had just made their way back to the agency after patrol after he and his shy intern had stopped a small group of villains from robbing a local convenience store. Tamaki had managed to capture two of the thugs all by himself while Fatgum had been busy with the leader, but one of them had managed to escape him, and the boy had been beating himself up over it ever since, even though the criminal had been recaptured again only fifteen minutes later anyway. He'd been trying to cheer the kid up ever since with little luck so far.

"Come on kiddo, I'm serious! It could have happened to anyone, and no one got hurt, so it's fine alright? You did your best and in the end that's all that matters. You still caught one of them, so give yourself some credit, okay?" He insisted, poking him in the side for emphasis when he didn't get a response.

"Eheheep! O-Okay!" The boy squeeked out, jolting a little. The BMI hero paused for a moment before grinning mischievously, an idea suddenly popping into his mind of how he could convince the kid to listen to him and get him to cheer up at the same time. "Tamaki? What was that?" He asked, almost casually, but with a slight undertone of playfulness that he knew the kid would pick up on.

Tamaki froze at his mentor's change in tone, hood slipping down to his shoulders as he whipped his head around to face him. Oh no. He knew that tone. "Uh, um, n-nohohothing?" He tried, taking a cautious step backwards, a wobbly nervous grin already beginning to take form on his face.

"Are you suuure~?" The pro continued his act, tapping his chin as if in deep thought, "Because it certainly didn't sound like nothing. In fact, I think that might have been a laugh, so tell me Suneater, what's so funny?" He asked, feigning ignorance even as he slowly brought his hands up to form two claws. Tamaki took this as his signal to run, and immediately booked it in the opposite direction of the hallway, his mentor in hot pursuit.

See, every so often, whenever he got into one of his 'moods' as Fatgum liked to call them, sometimes they would end up playing some sort of game together to help him out of his funk. One of these games was a slightly altered version of tag that Fatgum had come up with when they were discussing ways to help him with his anxiety. At the time, Tamaki had bashfully admitted that tickling was one the things he found to be affective, and that Mirio had started the technique back when they were little kids, so, after a long talk about boundaries and setting up safewords, tickle tag was born. It was pretty much just normal tag really, the only real difference being that instead of being made the dreaded 'It' when Fat eventually caught him, instead he would-

"AIEEEEHEHE! W-Wait! Fat! Nohoho!" He cried out in surprise when he was suddenly scooped up around his middle and held against the man's chest, already giggling in anticipation of what he knew to be the inevitable.

"Gotcha kiddo!" Taishiro stated triumphantly, unable to suppress a few of his own chuckles at the kid's frankly adorable attempts to curl into a ball. "Now, you still haven't answered my question, so tell me. What's. So. Funny?" With each word, he poked the kid lightly in the stomach, delighted in the joyful squeal that his usually quiet intern let out when he did so, and the young hero immediately started scrambling for an answer, stuttering perfusely and clearly flustered.

"You're gonna tic- t-tic-"

Now, Tamaki would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy this. He did. After all, being tickled was one of the few things that worked when it came to overriding his often crippling self depreciation spells. He knew that, Fat knew that, and he knew that Fat knew that. He also knew that he trusted his mentor to respect his boundaries, he wouldn't have told him about the technique in the first place if he didn't.

Even so, it didn't make it any less embarrassing when he was giggling like a little kid in his mentor's arms from something so childish, which is why he was currently struggling so much to spit it out already. But Fat was patient with him, as always, and eventually he did manage to answer, albeit very quietly.

"You're gonna… t-tickle me.."

"Hmm? What was that last part now? Speak up please Tamaki! I'm gonna what?"

Oh for the love of-

"TICKLE ME!"

"Oh! You want me to tickle you? Well ok then! If that's what you want!"

"What?! No wait! Fat! T-that's not what I- pfftahahaha! Eeep! Oh nohohohohoho!" Tamaki immediately burst into frantic giggles when the hero finally stopped teasing him and started to tickle him for real, skittering his fingertips up and down his sides lightly but effectively, while simultaneously keeping him in place by encompassing him in a firm yet gentle hug. The technique seemed to be working pretty well, and it didn't take long at all for the young hero to break.

"AHAhahahahah! Plehehease! STAHAHA- Stohohop it!" He begged frantically despite knowing it was pointless. He knew what he had to do to make him stop. The deal was that instead of using a codeword like 'red' or something similar to signal that he was really done, instead he had to say something nice about himself. Every. Single. Time. He hated it, but that was the agreement they'd come up with, and he had to admit it was pretty affective for the most part. He always came out of these little cheer up sessions feeling just a bit more positive about himself than before. He didn't admit this though, obviously.

"OKAY! OKAHAHAY! I- Ihihi dihihid a goohood johohob!! I dihihihid! YOUHOU'RE RIGHT! I WAS WROHOHONG! NOW PLEHEHEASE!!" He relented after a few more minutes, gulping in mouthfuls of sweet, sweet oxygen as it all came to a stop, just like that.

"You good kiddo?" He heard Fatgum ask from behind him, arms still wrapped around his waist while he calmed down just to make sure he wouldn't collapse to the floor while he recovered. Tamaki nodded through his excess giggles, feeling much better now even though his face hurt from laughing and the embarrassing realization that he was no doubt blushing bright red. He pulled his hood back over his head at the thought, and his mentor chuckled as he carefully set him back on his feet.

"Alright alright! Let's go get something to eat and drink now yeah? I'm sure you're probably hungry after all that. And no more saying mean things to yourself, or else. Sound good?"

"Hehe, y-yeah. Sounds good."

His mentor really was the best.

[jonahlovescoffee]

“sleep tight, darling” | J.M.

a/n: i swear i don’t write smut on purpose :/ blame @slytherinked for always giving me smutty prompts ToT anyways happy reading <3 (and yes this is also slightly inspired by the inn scene in acomaf)

summary: jonah has a special way of putting his insomniac girlfriend to sleep.

warnings: smut again without coitus bc dingdongs are scary to write-

word count: 1970

It was once again one of those nights where you couldn’t sleep for no reason whatsoever. It wasn’t that you weren’t tired, as a matter of fact, you had a long day and were incredibly exhausted yet the moment your head hit the pillow, every ounce of tiredness magically disappeared like it was never there in the first place. So there you laid on the bed staring at the ceiling mindlessly at the dead of night whereas Jonah was already sound asleep beside you, completely unaware of you struggling to sleep.

After a while, you heaved a sigh, before sliding out of his arms and sitting up on the edge of the bed, keeping your movements as light and slow as possible in order to not wake him up. You planned to head downstairs to make some tea for yourself but before you could go anywhere, a hand grabbed your wrist. You turned around to find him already half-awake, gaze hooded as he looked up at you.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, voice still groggy from just waking up.

You nodded. “Yeah. I was just about to make some tea—”

“No, you don't have to. I have a better idea,” he interrupted, making you confused. You suffering from insomnia at night was considered a rare occurrence but it happened frequently enough for Jonah to find and learn the most effective method to solve your problem.

“And what is your idea, exactly?” You asked curiously, extremely doubtful about his statement since nothing you tried had worked. A lazy devilish grin formed on his face and you gulped nervously for he only wore that expression when he had a mischievous plan in mind.

“I’ll tell you but first, I want you back here next to me,” he said and with an eye roll that he probably couldn’t see because of the dark, you laid back down on the bed, sliding under the covers. His arms immediately snaked under and over you and he placed a hand flat on the bare skin of your stomach under his jumper that you wore to tug you closer against the hard warmth of him while the other banded tightly around your chest, pressing his front into you.

“Better,” he sighed, inhaling the faded sweet scent of the shampoo you always used. He made no further elaboration afterwards so you spoke, breaking the brief silence.

“Now may I know about your idea?” You were impatient. You desperately needed sleep and this wasn’t the right time to be fooling around.

“Remember the last time this happened?” His fingers that were splayed out on your stomach started to make idle strokes, goosebumps blooming wherever his calloused fingers touched. Your breathing hitched, not only because of the wonderful sensation of his cold fingers tracing your skin, but also because of the memory of a similar night months ago when you couldn’t sleep while he’s away.

Your cheeks heated and no words escaped your mouth, which was how he knew that you indeed remembered every detail of that lonely night, including the shameful part where you heeded to his suggestion and let your hands roam your body — a poor substitute for his larger ones that usually were the ones that did the job every night when he’s with you — as you followed the instructions that he gave through the phone until you were screaming his name as released barrelled into you, followed by immense exhaustion that managed to make you finally sleep not long afterwards.

“But this time,” his breath caressed the shell of your ear, sending shivers down your spine as his hand around your chest travelled southward, down the slope of your breasts before diving clean under your jumper and sliding back up to the same spot, teasingly brushing a knuckle against your breast. You could already feel your breasts tightening, becoming full and heavy, aching like what was now pooling at your core.

“This time I’m gonna do it for you,” he squeezed one of your breasts in his palm for emphasis, earning a shocked gasp from you. Under his grasp, your nipple hardened as he began to toy with your skin, massaging it as he pressed soft, sensual kisses on your exposed neck. “Is that okay, baby?” He grazed his nose against the exposed bit of neck that you arched habitually for him.

“Uh huh,” you were instantly liquid under him, his every touch setting your skin on fire.

“Thought so,” his teeth scraped your neck in a lazy caress as he took your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it between his digits languidly with no sense of urgency. “Love this so, so much.”

His other hand, however, headed toward the low band of your pants and the building ache beneath it. The second his fingers came into contact with your clothed core between your thighs had your mouth falling open in a silent moan. “And this?” He ran a finger along your slit and let out a satisfied hum when he found your panties utterly soaked with your arousal. “Love this even more. So nice and wet for me,” he cooed, pushing your panties down so he had full access to your cunt.

You whimpered when his fingers went to the place where you wanted them most, ghosting over your lower lips, gathering your juices and bringing them up to swirl around your swollen clit that was constantly throbbing at the eager paced touches to the point where you were biting lightly on your bottom lip and grinding slightly back onto his hand. The movement caused your backside to brush against the front of his sweatpants, to find him already as hard as granite behind you.

“Keep still,” he hissed and he exerted more pressure on your clit for emphasis as his grip around you tightened to stop you from rocking your hips against him. You moaned at the sensation and the words that followed. “Or you’ll be up all night long.”

“I wouldn’t mind that one bit,” you replied cheekily, twisting your head so that you were facing him. He laughed, a deep sound that reverberated through his chest. He leaned in to put his lips on yours and you nearly whined when he pulled away before you could savor the kiss.

“I know you wouldn’t, baby, but I would,” he moved his lips to your neck, sucking and nipping at the smooth skin, until your cheeky smile faded and you were mewling his name softly, wrapping an arm around his neck habitually to keep him close. “Now allow me to make you sleep, okay?”

You nodded and the pace of his fingers increased a little as he sank his teeth into your sweet spot with just enough force for it to leave a bite mark, the perfect combination to turn you into a moaning mess in his arms. After deciding that he had already given enough attention to your neck, his lips made their way to your ear, leaving a trail of soft kisses as it went, making your skin tingle at the sweet sensation.

“Good girl,” he praised darkly, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke, before sliding a finger into you, the extreme slickness making it incredibly easy for him to do so. You gasped at the sudden intrusion while he groaned at the intoxicating feeling of your pussy gripping his finger ever so tightly and he hadn’t even added the second one yet. “So good for me.”

Starting slowly, he plunged his finger in and out of you at a relaxed pace to stretch you out until you became comfortable before he started to speed up. He continued thumbing your clit through it all, circling it expertly in just the right way he knew would make you see stars.

And just like that, the sounds you were making got so much louder that he had no choice but to capture your lips with his in a heated kiss to drown out your moans that would probably wake his roommates. Your mouth moved in perfect sync as his and before you knew it his tongue was in your mouth, exploring every single part of your wet cavern.

Yet all of this pleasure Jonah had given wasn’t enough. You wanted more.

In other words, you wanted him to forget fingering and fuck you senseless with his considerable length.

“Want you inside me now,” you whined, breaking the kiss.

He grinned and gave an apologetic kiss, this time on the tip of your nose. “I’m sorry, princess, no means no.”

Jonah did, however, slid another finger into you and massaged your velveteen walls, wiping away the frown on your face and enjoying the way you rolled your hips, trying to bury the two fingers further inside of you. “See? This isn’t too bad either, isn’t it?” He pulled his hand back, twirling your clit with his thumb, before he slid back in enjoying the wet squelch of your juices against his fingers.

“Feels so much better than your own fingers, hmm?” He said as he plunged his fingers into you with more vigor, hitting hard and deep and changing his angle so that each time his fingers disappeared inside you, the palm of his hand kissed your clit. Your pleasurable moans were the perfect answer he was searching for.

He simply adored the sight of you writhing in his arms and the sounds of your blissful moans made the pain in his sweatpants nearly unbearable as his member pushed against the soft material, wanting to break free. He tried to cling onto the last bit of self-control that he had but you weren’t making the task any easier.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chanted breathlessly as you neared your peak with your head thrown back into the crook of his neck and your eyes screwed shut as you focused on the overwhelming pleasure. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to give into your request of wanting his member.

Suddenly he felt your walls clenching tighter around his fingers.

“Almost there?” He asked, and you nodded.

“Yeah, I...Jonah,” you breathed shakily when he curled his fingers and started doing patting motions inside you.

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” he coaxed in a gentle tone.

Almost immediately, you tumbled over the edge into ecstasy, panting and your legs trembling with release while Jonah praised you softly and gave you featherlight kisses, fingers proceeding to move in and out of you slowly to help you ride out your high. “Feels good baby?”

You turned around so your entire body was facing him and gave him a tired smile. “So much better than just ‘good’.”

His eyes held yours, gaze completely innocent as he withdrew his fingers and brought them to his mouth to suck on the taste of you. “Same can be said about your cum.”

You were going to eat him alive.

You rolled on top of him to pin him down on the bed but before you could do anything else, he grabbed your wrist. “Tomorrow,” he brought your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “I’ll let you have it your way tomorrow, I promise,” he wrapped his arms around your waist before placing you back down on the bed beside him.

“But your…” you gestured towards the bulge in his pants.

“Which is why you should sleep now so that you’ll have enough energy to make up to me in the morning.”

“Now, sleep tight, darling,” Jonah pressed his lips onto your head when you yawned, giving you a light peck. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

“I’ll only let you bite me, my love,” you replied and his soft chuckle was the last thing you heard before you drifted into a peaceful slumber.

taglist: @spicy-seavey @neralondon @mia-marais @randomlimelightxxx @hopinglimelight @kvd963 @cutiebandlover202 @savspersonalproperty @slowdownatthelotusinn @angelmarais @freakshows199 @my-fangirling-outlet @the-girl-who-cried-wolf

[flowermist7432]

I like to think Lonnie's personality is one of more favorite ocs i get to write a draw becauss its my favorite character type. LONG Ramblings below,, beware!!!

Lonnie is, to say...He's blunt, everything he says is exactly what he means! He'll happily say "nope!" To your face if he doesnt like what you are saying and keep doing whatever it is he's doing. However he isnt MEAN. He's just honest, although a bit long winded and choppy. Such as

"Im so TERRIBLY sorry my dear man, But i am in dire need your help to find my whereabouts of my location! Im verrrry lost! 8]c"

"Wowie, thats awwwfully rude! Bye bye!"

"Can I see your video playing device, of which i can use for photography means! This small insect on the table, and i wish to capture this brief moment!"

Like, sir you could have said that so much easier!!! But you didnt and thats perhaps very cool if you..

He doesnt facially emote that well and he knows it! All he does is a smiley look so he relys on the things he says and expressive tone or maybe even a crooked brow or squint. Drawing out certain words to bring emphasis on them! Sorta like Emmet, where he too repeats phrases..

If he doesnt like you he'll just say "i do not like you!" And walk away because he..does not like you!!! Being mean isnt his game!

But while people are guided by heart over mind or mind over heart, Lonnie leads with both mind and heart, because logically in his mind he deals with facts and rules he understands and then that alows his heart to do as it pleases!

Theres a point in my story where some very beat up, ripped apart scribbled on doll mocks him asking if he thinks he can just call her pretty and beautiful. She's clearly been scarred and hurt by the loss of her conventional attractiveness and now she's so tied to her own looks she's lost herself in such anger and pettyness! To which he says he doesnt think she's pretty, no. Because he doesnt think she is, but to him thats not insulting.

"No. I do not think you are pretty...!" And followed by a swift "But i do not think that matters. You deserve love and respect regardless of your looks, not in despite of them or because of them! Telling you that you are beautiful will not make you feel better, no... I think you want to hear that but its not what you need!"

People respecting their body regardless of their looks to him are more important than slapping on a simple "you are pretty" over a obviously deeper issue that needs to be confronted. And he sees that! He could easily say "noooo *i* think your pretty!" But it wouldnt have made her any happier since thats not the thing thats needs fixing!

Most of all, Lonnie cares, he isnt stupid. His dopey exterior makes him seem either sarcastic or aloof and dumb. But the truth is, he's incredibly observant and sweet. And logically goes about a situation and leads with his heart! Because in his mind, whats the point of being cynical and mean? It doesnt benefit anyone! He loves learning things, learning is half the fun of living! Lonnie doesnt understand smart people who blame smarts on their reasons for being rude and uppity. For him, he sees knowledge as a reason even more for him to be polite and accepting!And therefore i cant see myself writing him as anything but a relaxed, chilled joyus man with a fondness for discovery.

He reminds me of the lyric from play rehearsal "Most humans do one thing for all of their livesz the thought of that gives me hives!"

Lonnie is terrible at baking, they are edible and probably still tastey but not that presentable i suppose, but he learned it and hes having fun! All cosmetics doesnt matter much. He's a walking wikipedia, ask him about jars..he'll explain the ins and outs of a jar! What about a jar of pickles!!! Bugs! Chairs! How pencils are made now thats a good one! He'll go on and on! He'll happily read you a book the man has nothing better to do!!! He's my special boy and i love writing him dearly,,

[nik-the-bik]

Henriel Week Day 4: Fireside

“Perhaps It’s the Wine”

Summary: Jekyll is super attracted to Gabriel and Gabriel is oblivious

CW: Alcohol, sex mention, and enough sexual tension to take out a priest, but nothing that veers too NSFW.

Gotta thank @corvidayyy for the awesome prompt because I'm surprisingly proud of this one?

****

It was a bitterly windy evening in January, but the guests at Dr. Jekyll’s home were none the wiser. That night he hosted an extravagant dinner for many of his friends and colleagues, sparing no expense for the endless array of hors d’oeuvres, hearty meats, and assortment of rare wines and spirits. Most everyone left the dinner party warmed with a good meal and head fuzzy from drink. As the evening crawled on into the deepest hours of the night, all that remained in Dr. Jekyll’s parlor were himself and his two oldest friends, Dr. Lanyon and Mr. Utterson.

The three sat around a roaring fire reminiscing about their boyhood follies, having animated discussions as they corrected each other’s memories and laughed at long forgotten stories. Some of the last of the wine was passing from hand to hand as they all sank comfortably into its stupor.

Henry opened the final bottle he had bought for the occasion and poured himself and Utterson another glass as Lanyon finally rose from his chair and stretched.

“What’s the matter, Hastie? We’ve got just a bit more wine left! Surely you can stay for one more drink?” Henry asked.

“As tempting an offer as that is, I’ve had more than my fair share,” said Lanyon, straightening his appearance as he prepared to bid his goodbyes. “I feel that any more would be too dangerous—I’m not as avid a drinker as I used to be, and I’ll lose my head entirely.”

“Suit yourself,” Henry chuckled. He and Gabriel Utterson shook his hand goodnight as Lanyon made his way out the door, but not without a few more jabs at his friends. The three were left with laughter ringing in their ears as he left them, Henry and Gabriel relaxing into the plush armchairs closest to the warm fireplace.

The two sat in silence for some time, feeling quite at ease with each other. The situation was not new to either of them—many a dinner party had ended with these two being left alone at the end of the night, softly whispering philosophy with each other or simply dwelling on memories while nursing one last drink before turning in for the night. These quiet, intimate moments were perhaps the ones that Henry Jekyll looked forward to most out of these evenings. Jekyll put down his empty glass and turned himself to face his best friend.

Gabriel Utterson looked beautifully relaxed. He had sunken into his own armchair, one arm around the back while the other lazily twirled the little remaining wine in his glass. He had one leg up on the ottoman, and a rare, small smile of sheer contentment rested on his face, as his eyes hungrily watched the roaring fire before them, cheeks rosy from the wine. Jekyll was captivated – warmed both by the glow of the fire and the soft glow of hedonistic bliss radiating from this man before him, a man who had always lingered in the back of his mind as the example of moral perfection. Yes, Gabriel Utterson was beautiful, and finding him in this tiny moment of domestic pleasure, Jekyll felt that old secret yearning ignite within him once more.

His attraction to Utterson was not something Jekyll let himself dwell on frequently, but on instances where the pangs of desire struck, they often were crippling in their intensity. Tonight was no exception.

Henry suddenly regretted that he never learned to be a painter, wishing that he had the talent needed to capture Gabriel Utterson in this moment. When he felt brave enough to confess as much out loud, Utterson let out a soft chuckle, and his eyes twinkled as his smile became broader across his face.

“Whatever would you want to paint ME for?” he asked, turning his attention away from the fire for the first time, and looking directly into Jekyll’s eyes. Jekyll’s heart stopped for the briefest of moments before his insides turned to butter under Gabriel’s warm, affectionate gaze.

“Well,” Henry started, averting his own eyes as he felt the heat rise to his face. “I guess it’s because you look so…effortlessly happy. It certainly suits you.”

Gabriel laughed again, a cozy, inviting laugh. “Perhaps it’s all of the wine.”

Henry Jekyll couldn’t help but grin himself and bring his eyes back to Utterson’s. He reached for the wine bottle that they had started just before Lanyon had left them and decided to refill his glass. “It certainly is good wine,” he said, scooting his chair a bit closer to Utterson’s in order to top off his glass as well.

“It is good wine,” Utterson reaffirmed, clinking their glasses together and giving him a jovial wink. Henry Jekyll nearly choked on his own drink—why was everything that Gabriel did suddenly so captivating, so…seductive? He was grateful that Utterson had turned his attention back to the fire as he dried his lips with a handkerchief, heart beating loudly in his ears. He had been secretly attracted by Utterson plenty of times before, but somehow tonight, somehow this was more than Henry Jekyll was able to take, and perhaps most maddening of all was how the seduction seemed entirely unintentional on Gabriel’s part.

Yes, this entire evening had been near perfect. Great food, plenty of alcohol, engaging conversation—the pièce de resistance for the night would be great sex, and the primal part of Henry Jekyll was suddenly roaring for it.

Another sip of wine as he stared into the open flame of the fireplace, and suddenly his heart was braced and tongue was loosened just enough to do something a bit foolish.

“You should stay the night, Gabriel.”

“Mmm?” Gabriel lazily hummed, turning his attention back to Henry. God was he gorgeous.

“It’s so late, and the weather tonight…I would prefer to know you were here, safe.”

“Thank you, Harry, but I couldn’t possibly intrude for much longer,” Gabriel said, suddenly shifting in his seat.

Jekyll leaned forward, putting a hand on Gabriel’s knee to stop him. “But I insist! It’s no intrusion, none at all, not when I have so many empty beds—”

“I still have my carriage waiting…”

“Send them home for tonight, and tomorrow you can take mine.”

Gabriel was quiet, only just now noticing that Henry’s hand was still resting on his knee.

“Henry, it would be lovely, but I really shouldn’t stay much later, not when I have so much work waiting for me tomorrow,” he said, turning his face back to the fire.

Jekyll brought the last of his glass of wine to his lips and downed it in one swallow, setting the glass aside and leaning still closer to his companion.

“I am requesting the honor of being hospitable to my dearest friend,” Henry said, voice lilting. He decided to give him the most sultry stare that he could muster. “I do so enjoy the pleasure of your company.”

Gabriel turned his bright, beaming face back to Henry’s, a sweet, naïve giggle escaping him. “I have really enjoyed our visit too.”

Beautiful, innocent, oblivious Gabriel! He had no idea what Henry was getting at!

This wouldn’t do, this wouldn’t do at all. The primal monster inside Henry was hungry, demanding he be sated. He bit down on his lower lip as he pictured himself losing control and yanking Gabriel’s face forward into a deep, passionate kiss, arms encircling his waist, Gabriel’s fingers trailing along his spine... But no, as tempting as the fantasy was, that couldn’t happen either. Not yet.

“It would certainly break my heart to have to spend tonight alone,” Henry said, slowly moving the hand from Gabriel’s knee upwards, rubbing up and down his thigh. “If you were here, well, I could imagine we could make it worth both of our trouble…” he trailed off, delighting in the feeling of Gabriel’s warm, firm thigh in his hand, unconsciously tightening his grip, tongue just starting to touch his lip as he continued rubbing, letting his hand wander ever closer to--

Gabriel’s hand snatched Henry’s away. Henry looked up at Gabriel, who was blushing furiously.

Oh. Gabriel finally understood.

Oh God, he finally understood that Henry--!!

“We shouldn’t,” was all he said.

Henry Jekyll’s heart was racing faster than it ever had before, his face hot with shame, or was it just the fire? Why had he allowed himself to indulge in this secret want of his?

But the foolish, drunken part of Henry’s brain began to chime in. He said WE shouldn’t! Emphasis on the WE!

He didn’t seem offended or angry or ashamed, did he? Just…flustered? Could that possibly mean…?

Jekyll realized that Utterson was still holding his hand. Casting off any sense of caution, he drew Gabriel’s hand towards him, clasped in both of his, desperate to salvage the moment.

“Forgive me, Gabriel, I sometimes forget myself and…”

“It’s alright,” Gabriel said, unable to meet his eyes. His breathing seemed a bit more shallow than usual.

“I'm so sorry if I was inappropriate--I want you to know,” Henry continued, drawing Gabriel’s hand towards his own heart. “That you mean the world to me, and that I would hate to completely jeopardize—”

“It’s alright,” Gabriel insisted again. “You don’t need to apologize. You haven’t done anything.”

“I’m a weak man,” Henry said. “A slave to my most base, sensual urges, many of which, I must humbly confess, center around you.” With that, Henry drew Gabriel’s hand towards his lips, kissing it tenderly. When Gabriel didn’t pull away, Henry continued to plant kisses all over his hand, losing all sense of hesitation as he began to dip into the frenzy of his own desire.

Gabriel finally retracted his hand from Henry’s greedy lips, his whole face red. “Perhaps it’s just the wine making you feel this way,” Gabriel said, pulling his own chair a little further away from Jekyll. “I know I can definitely feel it enacting a certain…influence…”

Henry straightened himself up, running a hand through his hair as he tried to regain his composure after his brief slip into blind ecstasy. “Perhaps it is the wine,” he confessed. He grabbed the bottle, nearly empty now, and decided to pour one small, final glass for himself.

“It’s very, very good wine,” Gabriel said, offering his glass for the remainder. He had his hand half covering his face, still brilliantly pink, eyes sparkling slightly as they peered at him between his fingers.

Henry smiled as he raised a silent toast to his companion, a thrill in his heart as it foolishly began to harbor the belief that maybe, just maybe, this overwhelming desire wasn’t entirely his alone.

[wolvesandpetals]

Playing House: Part 2: Loki x Sylvie Fanfiction (Rated: T, Humor/Romance).

Part 1 here. Masterlist of Sylki fanfictions here. This chapter mostly fills in the gaps and acts as a backstory, providing some answers. Sylki hijinks in next chapter!

---

Sylvie wakes up the next morning with the sunrays lighting up the room through the windows. It's so different from the life she has always known- hiding in the shadows, endlessly on the run.

She has spent her entire life waking up in unfamiliar places. Yet, this feels different. This feels familiar, almost mundane. Even though some unknown dangerous entity has trapped them here, it feels... safe.

[[MORE]]

And she swears it has nothing to do with the fact that his arm is wrapped around her waist, and how it makes her feel protected. Nothing at all.

This is what her dreams were made of- a home, a person to wake up next to every day, a sense of serenity instead of the ever present death and despair. And now she has it all.

She shifts a little, earning groans of protest from him, and it makes her smile. The warmth radiating from his body makes her long to stay like this forever. Slowly and reluctantly, she pulls his arm off her body and places it on his chest, her smile widening as she watches him sleep. "Loki?"

He groans. "Please, mother. Can you awaken Thor first?"

She touches his shoulder gently. "Loki, it's morning."

"No, mother, princes do not wake up so early", he mumbles in his sleep.

She just cannot bring herself to force him awake. Not when he looks so happy.

---

His morning starts at 10 am. He picks up the newspaper that the delivery boy left on the porch. Apparently, it's 2021, there's a new president, and a new iPhone, whatever that is.

She makes breakfast. It's just milk and cereals, but it's the first meal they have both had at a kitchen table with someone akin to a loved one in a long, long time, and it feels good.

He picks up his phone, hoping to learn how to properly operate it, and goes through his contacts list. There are a lot of people that he does not remember meeting, mixed with people that he never wishes to meet again, but one name in particular makes him pause. "Thor's number is programmed in my phone."

Sylvie looks up in confusion, clueless why this is significant. "Alright?"

"I didn't know he even had a number." Loki explains. Maybe it's recent? Maybe that is the reason he did not know, and it's not because they have been at odds lately?

"Maybe it's not Thor?" Sylvie suggests. It is a different reality, after all. Everything may be just an illusion.

Loki takes in a deep breath, bracing himself for what he knows he has to do. There is only one way to find out.

---

There are exactly four rings before he hears the familiar voice on the other side of the line. "Hello, brother."

"Hello, brother." He clears his throat, trying to push down the emotions swelling in his chest. In reality, he last saw Thor the day he was captured by the TVA. Yet, it feels like a lifetime ago. "How have you been?"

"I've been well", Thor answers. There's noisy chatter in the background, like a restaurant or a bar, and what sounds like old 60s music. "How are you?"

"I am well too." Loki lies. "It is so good to speak to you. Umm, how are the Avengers?"

There's a brief pause on the other end. "The Avengers? You are enquiring about my friends? Are you not going to ask about mother and father?"

Loki forgets how to breathe. "M-mother and father?"

"Yes?" Loki can picture Thor rolling his eyes as he speaks. "Our mother and father? The people who have loved and adored us our entire lives? Rings a bell?"

The last time Loki met his parents, they were furious and disappointed with him for his betrayal of Asgard. Then New York happened, and he is sure those emotions were heightened.

The rest of it, he has only watched on the projector screen at the TVA and not experienced himself, but he heard his parents express how much he means to them, right before watching them die. After spending the last few months angry at them, and craving power that makes him superior to Thor, he realised in that one moment that none of it mattered. All he wanted was the life he once knew, the life back at Asgard, the one he can never return to.

It's a truly cunning being that has trapped him in a reality where these cruel events may not have happened. Trap a man in hell, and he will burn it to the ground, trying to find his way out. Trap him in his heaven, and he is forever imprisoned. This is an eternal prison indeed, because why would he ever want to leave?

"Mother and father?" Loki repeats, still in disbelief, and a little optimistic. "They are not dead?"

"What kind of sick question is that, brother?" There's the familiar irritation in Thor's voice. "Why would you even ask that?"

"I'm... I'm sorry. I just feel a little... disoriented."

"Is everything alright with you?" Thor pauses, hesitating before he asks the next question. "Are you having marital troubles? Is Sylvie alright?"

"You know Sylvie?"

"Of course I know your wife." There's genuine concern now. "You are scaring me, brother. Is this a trick?"

"No, no." Loki shakes his head for emphasis, even though Thor cannot see it. "Not a trick, brother. I am just happy to hear your voice."

The line goes dead. There's a flash of thunder, a loud bang in the backyard, and then a thunderous voice. "Loki?"

Loki rushes to the backyard. Sylvie follows him, ready to fight the intruder, if necessary. She finds a blonde man in 60s clothes, wielding the hammer that she knows too well.

Sylvie goes pale. She hasn't seen her brother in ages, and this isn't her brother. She has never met this man, never played with him, never turned him into a toad, and definitely never missed him. Yet, her heart aches at the sight of this stranger who is another version of him.

"Oh, hi, Sylvie." Thor smiles warmly at her, before it turns apologetic. He tugs at an ear. "Sorry about your flowerpots." He glances at the mess he has made- again- vowing to land on the street next time. He spots Loki standing in the background and gives him a slight nod. "Brother."

"Brother." Loki takes a step forward, resisting the urge to rush to his brother and embrace him tightly. Not long back, they were on opposite sides of the battle. All he wanted back then was to be equal to Thor.

All he wants now is to be brothers again.

"Thor?" Sylvie says his name carefully, like it's a word that can break this spell. "Is that really you?"

Thor feels the panic coming back. "Alright, what is the matter with you two? Are you on drugs?"

"Me? Drugs?" Loki scoffs indignantly. "You are the one who looks like you just spent a week at Woodstock."

Thor takes a brief moment to glance down at his outfit- courtesy of StarJerk- before returning his undivided attention to the couple that is acting extremely strange.

"Prove that you are not on drugs." He places the hammer on the ground, next to Loki's feet. "Here."

"You want me to lift Mjojonir?" Loki stares in confusion. "Are you insulting me?"

"You can't lift it, can you?"

His irritation grows. "Of course I can't lift it. I've never been able to lift it."

"Loki... You... We've... Do you not remember the time we..." Thor stares at him, dumbfounded. "Do you really not remember that you too can wield Mjojonir?" Then another thought occurs to him, one which seems more likely. "Wait, is this another elaborate scheme of yours to steal Mjojonir?"

Sylvie takes in a deep breath, pushing down all the complicated emotions that have found their way into the spotlight since she met the mirror image of her brother. Right now, she is trapped in a reality that is not of her choosing, by an entity that is not known to her, and she cannot allow herself to get lost in the illusion. The man in front of her is merely an opportunity, one which she has to seize. "Alright, then. Come in already, brother." She tilts her head towards the door, gesturing at the brothers to come inside.

"Brother?" Loki mumbles under his breath.

Sylvie shrugs. "Well, he is your brother, and I am your wife, right?"

---

Thor walks through the kitchen and into the living room like he knows the place extremely well. He sits down on the couch- in the spot that Loki already considers his own spot, Loki notes with annoyance - and examines a cushion. "I see you replaced these after the mishap with the gun."

Loki and Sylvie exchange a look. They have no idea what he is talking about, but if they know themselves at all, they were definitely the ones responsible for the incident.

"Here, have a drink." Sylvie offers him a coffee mug filled with whiskey on the rocks. When Thor reaches for it, she covers his hand with hers.

Loki feels that ever familiar feeling that he has felt anytime something he wanted has gone to Thor instead. It's not like Sylvie is his actual wife, and he has any right to be jealous. But the mere sight of Sylvie's hand covering Thor's is a source of extreme irritation for him. "What are you doing?"

Sylvie places the finger of her free hand on her lips, asking him to be quiet. She returns her attention to Thor. There's a flash of green, travelling from her hand, to Thor's, and rising up his arm, to his heart. "Oh, the gun. That was something. Remember the day we met?"

Loki finally realizes what is happening. "Are you enchanting my brother?" He whispers.

Sylvie rolls her eyes, whispering back at him. "Obviously."

"You can't enchant my brother!" He hisses. "He's my brother!"

"And you've done worse to him." She points out. "We need to know what he knows."

Loki sighs, finally giving in semi-reluctantly.

"You know how we met." Thor answers, confused, and oblivious to the conversation between his brother and his wife.

"I know. But let's reminisce." Sylvie keeps her tone calm and cheerful. "Tell me about the good old times."

"It wasn't good." Thor reminds her. "You broke Jane's telescope."

"Right. Good ol' Jane." She fakes a laugh, before turning to Loki. "Jane?"

"The human he's dating." He supplies.

"Human?"

He gives her a sad nod.

"And what is my name, my full name?"

"Sylvie Lushton, from Broxton, Oklahoma. You took my brother's name only to escape the internet fame under yours. Clever." It is clear from the way he speaks that he thinks highly of her.

Loki and Sylvie exchange another look. A few days back, this is when he would have asked about Mjojonir, what the deal is with him apparently being able to wield it. But now, he can think of only one thing, because there is only one thing that actually matters. "Ask him about my parents."

"And your parents? Where are they now?"

"At New Asgard, of course." Thor tells her like it's obvious. "The same place they were the last time you visited."

Sylvie lets go of his hands abruptly. The thought that she probably has a set of parents at Oklahoma, and a version of Odin and Frigga at New Asgard is too overwhelming. She leans back against the sofa, trying to catch her breath.

Thor blinks, trying to adjust to the fact that he is back at Sylvie and Loki's living room instead of his bed chamber at Asgard. "Did you just-?" Realizing what happened, he stares at Sylvie in shock. "All the years, and you have never once tried to enchant me, not even when Loki begged you. You have always been a loyal friend to me." His voice grows resolute, like that of a man on a mission. "Tell me this instant what is going on with you two. I demand answers."

"I'm sorry." Sylvie tells him sincerely. She knows now that this man is not the one responsible for the illusion. His memories are real, at least to him. He is not a danger to them

Loki smiles sadly. "You wouldn't believe us even if we told you."

Thor crosses his arms in front of his chest and leans back against the cushions, making it clear that he is not going anywhere until he is satisfied. "I travel through space with a talking racoon and a grunting hormonal tree. Try me."

"Okay. We are from a different reality. Two different realities actually." Loki begins his Loki lesson. "I was supposed to be immortalized in the hearts of Asgardians after meeting a heroic end in glorious battle with Thanos. Sylvie was taken from Asgard when she was merely a child. There is this evil organization called the TVA. Time variance authority. We weren't supposed to exist, yet we existed. So these pathetic, low-life bureaucrats arrested us. We were trying to find the man in charge. We were so close. Then we found ourselves here abruptly."

Thor just stares at them, utterly confused.

"You're rubbish at this." Sylvie comments, before taking over the storytelling duty. "Loki and I are not who you think we are. We are from a different reality. Your memories are not real to us. They never happened to us. I have never met you. And we are most definitely not married."

"Ouch." Loki places a heart over his chest to express his hurt. Sylvie grins at him.

Thor tries his best to process this wild tale. "Let me get this straight. You're telling me that my brother, my only brother-"

"Adopted." Loki interrupts with the quip. He can't stop himself.

"- My annoying brother", Thor continues, "is supposed to be dead? And you? You're from Asgard?"

"I'm him, actually." Sylve explains. "Well, not him, another version of him, the superior one. I'm Sylvie Laufeydottir." She half smiles at Thor.

Thor stares at Sylvie, then at Loki, then back at Sylvie again. "Are you sure you're not under the influence of any narcotics?"

"Yes!" Loki reaffirms, more exasperated by the minute.

"Are you sure I'm not under the influence of any narcotics?" Thor wonders.

"Not really." Loki admits.

"But I assure you, what we are saying is the truth." Sylvie looks him in the eyes, hoping he can see the honesty in hers. "This life, this house, we have only known it for a day."

Thor is quiet for a long while. When he speaks again, his voice is more sympathetic, and less skeptical. "Would you like to know more? About your past, I mean? The one I know?"

"Of course." Sylvie answers immediately. Part of it is to gather information so that they can decide how to get out.

There's another part of her that really wants to know what a happy life looks like for her. She can't resist the temptation to sneak a peak down the rabbit hole.

Thor takes a sip from the mug. The ice has melted by now, but the drink is cold enough. Taking in a deep breath, he begins. "I met you six years back at London. You were filming something for YouTube, and you accidentally broke Jane's telescope. You were gracious enough to offer to buy her a new one. But she wanted nothing to do with you." He adds, as an afterthought, to lessen the blow. "It's nothing personal, Jane just doesn't really like influencers. You gave me your number, in case she changed her mind."

"A while later, Loki stole my jacket. Well, borrowed, in his words, but I haven't seen it since that day, so you be the judge. Where is it, by the way?"

Loki rolls his eyes. "Isn't it clear that I do not know?"

"Right." Thor nods. All of this is still bizzare to him, but he's willing to be open to the possibility. "Anyways, Loki found the little card with your number in the pocket, and he called you up. You hung up on him within a minute. That's your version of the story, anyway. Loki swears you talked to him before you hung up."

"And then my brother, ever so proud of himself, took that personally. He called you back to tell you off." He puts on his best Loki imitation. "I'm Loki, the prince of Asgard, the God of mischief, and you must treat me with respect, or I will use my hairgel to slick your hair back too. Bla bla bla." He grins when he notices Loki glaring at him, and his grin grows wider at the next part. He looks at Sylvie with a smile that conveys how proud he is of her. "You hung up on him again."

"He Googled you up and showed up at your doorstep the next week, ready to turn your clothes into snakes and show you your place. But the moment you opened the door, my brother was putty in your hands. Seriously, he wouldn't shut up about you for weeks."

"Instead of snakes, he gave you flowers. He serenaded you, actually. What was the song, brother? When she sleeps- no, wait." Thor hums the tune, trying to remember the words. "That's it! When she sings, she sings come home." He laughs, like he always does when he imagines Loki acting like a lovestruck fool. "I can't believe you didn't get a restraining order on him. He kept sending you flowers every day. Until you finally decided to go out with him. You guys hit it off right away. Your parents liked him. I don't know why." This earns him another glare from Loki and results in another grin. "Our parents liked you. It was all surprisingly easy."

"Loki proposed during the Convergence. He was so nervous about it. It was fun to watch him squirm."

"You had a June wedding. You moved here after a few months. And you've been happily married since."

It's almost impossible for either of them to imagine a world where they have sworn to spend eternity with another person.

But it's not impossible at all, not anymore, not when they have found each other. Sylvie tries not to dwell on this for long.

Another thought occupies her instead. If she is not an Asgardian princess in this reality... "How do I have my powers?"

Thor shrugs. "How does anyone have their powers? How do the Avengers have their powers?"

They still do not know who did this, but now they have an idea about what was done to them.

If he's being honest with himself, a reality where he and Sylvie both exist together, where his parents are alive, and Thor doesn't hate him, is not the worst thing in the world. It is almost like a scene from his dreams, depicting his heart's desires.

"Thank you." Sylvie sincerely tells Thor. "Now we need to find a way out."

[samwisethewitch]

Neopagans, reconstructionists, and revivalists, oh my!

As we’ve discussed before, “pagan” is an umbrella term that actually encompasses a wide range of traditions. Not all pagans believe the same things, worship the same gods, or conceptualize those gods the same way.

Within the bigger pagan umbrella, there are three smaller umbrellas that can be useful for classifying pagan worship: neopagan, reconstructionist, and revivalist. These labels describe different approaches to ancient pagan religion and different ways of incorporating paganism into daily life. It’s important to remember that words like “neopagan” or “reconstructionist” refer to someone’s practice and not necessarily to their beliefs.

A neopagan is someone who takes inspiration from ancient pagan religions, but does not try to recreate those religions in their practice. For example, a neopagan might feel a strong connection to the Roman gods, but they don’t necessarily observe all the intricacies of Roman ritual (and believe me, there’s a lot — Roman polytheism is where Catholicism gets a lot of its formal structure) in their practice. They’re comfortable making things up as they go along, combining concepts from different historical sources, and practicing a thoroughly modern type of paganism. You could say that neopagans strive to capture the spirit of ancient paganism, but do so in a very 21st-century way.

Neopagans are more likely to be monists than hard polytheists, and may even use pagan-style ritual as a means to connect to a single divine Source rather than a specific deity. Neopagan groups often place a great emphasis on reverence for nature and strive to live in harmony with the natural world. Neopagans are sometimes described as practicing “Earth-centered religion.”

The most famous neopagan faith is Wicca. Rather than being a recreation of an ancient religion, Wicca combines concepts from these religions (particularly Celtic and Germanic paganism) with elements of ceremonial magic and Western occultism. Wiccans worship the God and Goddess, personifications of the masculine and feminine sides of the divine Source, and many covens have their own unique mythology to describe the interactions between the God and Goddess through the cycle of the seasons. Wiccans tend to play fast and loose with historical sources, or may not include any historical elements in their practice at all. This is a good example of what a neopagan practice might look like.

On the exact opposite end of the spectrum are reconstructionists, who strive to recreate or “reconstruct” ancient religion. If you can’t do anything without reading three books about it first, you might be a reconstructionist. Jokes aside, reconstructionists seek to emulate a historical religion as closely as possible. Reconstructive practice is very research-heavy, and revolves around recreations of ancient rituals based on historical sources. There is a great emphasis on connecting to and honoring the ancient culture being reconstructed. Some reconstructionists may even learn ancient languages for use in ritual.

Reconstructionists may be monists, hard polytheists, or somewhere in between depending on the religion they are reconstructing. Their values, beliefs, and practices also depend on the culture being reconstructed. A Hellenic reconstructionist will have very different beliefs and practices from an Irish reconstructionist, for example.

Nova Roma is an example of a reconstructionist faith. According to their website, “Founded 2,750 years after the Eternal City itself, Nova Roma seeks to bring back those golden times, not through the sword and the legions, however, but through the spread of knowledge and through our own virtuous example… The modern practice of the Roman religion, the Cultus Deorum Romanorum is our attempt to reconstruct the religion of the ancient Romans as closely as possible.” Members of Nova Roma choose a Roman name for use in ritual — and those rituals are as close as possible to the rites of Imperial Rome. They even have communal religious spaces built to resemble Roman temples!

One important note about reconstruction: it’s impossible to do it perfectly. No matter which historical culture you’re reconstructing, there will likely be some gaps (possibly very large gaps) in our knowledge of their religion. No matter how much research you do, you will sometimes have to use your best guess.

While reconstruction seeks to recreate ancient religion, it is not all about looking backwards. No matter how closely you recreate Egyptian religion, you can never have the same thoughts, experiences, or worldview as an ancient Egyptian peasant. Even the most hardcore reconstructionist has to adapt their religion to fit a modern lifestyle. As author Morgan Daimler points out, “reconstruction is understanding the old pagan religion so that we can envision what it would have been like if it had never been interrupted by foreign influences and had continued to exist until today.”

I like to think of revivalists as the halfway point between neopagans and reconstructionists. Revivalists seek to recreate the spirit of a specific ancient religion, but they may not necessarily reconstruct all of the practices associated with that religion. Revivalists are much more concerned with theology and upholding ancient cultural/religious values than they are with dogma or practice.

Like reconstructionists, revivalists’ beliefs depend on the ancient culture they are seeking to revive. Also like reconstructionists, revivalists do a lot of research — however, their research acts more as inspiration or general guidelines than as something that has to be followed to the letter. Like neopagans, revivalists are very much practicing a modern religion.

Going back to our example of Roman paganism, a Roman revivalist will strive to uphold Roman values in their daily life, like xenia (roughly translated as “hospitality,” though that is an oversimplification). They likely worship the Roman gods, but may do so in a more informal way than Nova Roma or other reconstructionists. They may include some historic elements in their rituals, like wearing a head covering and making burnt offerings — but the ritual will likely be performed in their native language. Revivalists are all about taking the big ideas of ancient religion and adapting them for modern life.

The line between revival and reconstruction is not always clearly defined. Many revivalists use reconstruction in some areas of their faith, and every reconstructionist is a revivalist when they have to fill in gaps in historical knowledge of their religion. The distinction really lies in how closely you want to follow ancient traditions.

Each of these approaches to paganism has its benefits and its drawbacks. Different approaches work better for different people — a lot of it comes down to personality and preference. Here’s a quick rundown of some of the obvious pros and cons of each approach.

PROS of neopaganism:

Because this is by far the most widely practiced type of paganism, there is an abundance of beginner-friendly literature available for new neopagans.

Because of its popularity and flexibility, it’s usually fairly easy to find a neopagan group to worship with, either in person or online.

Neopaganism allows for a lot of experimentation and personal exploration. You are free to incorporate whatever elements work for you.

CONS of neopaganism

Ironically, an abundance of literature also means there are a lot of bad neopagan resources floating around. Newcomers should take care in choosing the books they read on the subject.

Some people become frustrated with the lack of structure in many neopagan traditions.

It can sometimes feel like there are no “real” right answers, since neopaganism relies heavily on personal truth.

PROS of reconstruction

Reconstructing an ancient religion provides a sense of structure.

Choosing to focus on a specific religion/culture can lead to a deep feeling of connection to that culture. This can be especially powerful for pagans who feel disconnected from their cultural heritage.

Because reconstruction seeks to recreate ancient religion, it’s easy to find other people who practice the same way you do, at least online.

CONS of reconstruction

Reconstruction is largely based on primary sources, so reconstructionists will likely have to read dense, academic, and/or archaic literature at some point.

Unless you live in a big city, it may be hard to find an in-person community that shares your beliefs and practices.

Focus on a single culture means there is less room for experimentation. You can still incorporate elements from other traditions, but only if they don’t contradict your existing beliefs.

PROS of revival

Revival allows pagans to feel a close connection to an ancient culture, while also allowing them freedom to customize their path.

Allows practitioners to be their own priest/priestess and make their own decisions regarding their practice.

Provides a middle ground between the fluidity of neopaganism and the stricture of reconstruction.

CONS of revival

Because every revivalist practices differently, it can be very hard to find a group to worship with, online or in person, without having to make compromises.

Like reconstructionists, revivalists will occasionally have to do some difficult reading.

Because this path is so often solitary, it can be hard to stick with it if you aren’t good at keeping yourself motivated.

If you are considering becoming pagan, take a moment to think about which of these approaches appeals most to you. Are you most attracted to neopaganism, reconstruction, or revival?

Don’t just think about which approach sounds the best, but think about which one is most practical for you. Do you need the external motivation of a group to keep you on the right track, or are you very internally motivated? Do you like following instructions, or do you prefer to make things up as you go? Do you feel a strong connection to a specific ancient culture, or do you feel more connected to nature itself? All of these questions can help guide you towards the right approach for your practice.

Resources:

Wicca: A Guide for the Solitary Practitioner by Scott Cunningham

Nova Roma’s website, novaroma.org

Irish Paganism: Reconstructing Irish Polytheism by Morgan Daimler

The Way of Fire and Ice by Ryan Smith