#and all that falls away in face of the sheer love and genuine care and admiration kana has for ruby as a friend and idol
Note
I think about your timewarp Dutch au every day since you posted it can I pretty please get more detail on Hosea seeing Dutch again for the first time *holding my hands out like a Victorian boy begging for food*
hosea tries to ignore it for so long. dutch is back and that doesn't need to affect him. he can carry on with his life knowing dutch is tucked away somewhere they did ensure was nice and he'll be fine. dutch being back doesn't mean they didn't go seperate ways years ago, and should have years before that again. hell, he spends most of his days thinking about how little he needs to be thinking about dutch
bessie only asking how dutch is going because she knows her husband is listening. she knows him too well, she's always known he loves dutch and almost has to inexplicitly tell him it's okay. she fell in love with him knowing he was always going to love dutch too (frankly all they'd needed was a label on what was happening between them and she would've been undeniably a homewrecker)
annabelle having to pause, and think about it. how do you explain he's dutch? he's just… dutch - again. he speaks with the same obnoxious conviction of someone who always thinks he's right. he's almost calm, constant calm, that self-assuredness that things will turn out his way is back. not quick to anger like the stories she'd heard after blackwater. she's fully aware of all the awful things he's done but he seems so much more like the dutch she knew than that monster. no one's explained the timewarp to him, he just knows annabelle is there in whatever strange new world he's in but he still talks about the gang, the old days of the gang, fondly.
hosea knew he was going to have to see him eventually. probably wouldn't have been able to physically stop himself from seeing him, eventually.
it isn't a hotel he can't just walk in. he's having to listen to staff echo things he knew. things he'd doubted he knew. dutch is smart, so many of his criticisms of society are valid just too grand for a single action to challenge. there are absolutely moments where he's only pretending to care about something better than a shakespearean actor but he also has so much genuine empathy for the people he does cares about. dutch is forming meaningful relationships with people and hosea still being in denial. there's no way not after how much he changed not after everything he's done.
but there's dutch. hair growing out again, not the hacked short mess of his 1911 mugshot, long streaks of silver slicked back all the same in what now seems like a horrendously outdated style. when he sees hosea, looks at him, that sparkle is still in his eyes but it's tired. he's tired, it's all over dutch's face how tiresome the last 12 years have been. but dutch knows it's him, instantaneously, grin spreading over his face with the same confident strides of his younger years gone.
pulls him into a hug so tight still with typical bloke slaps on the back as he laughs in sheer joy
you haven't changed a bit, old girl
how dreadful of you to suggest i've always looked like this
nonsense. though i suspect my days of looking good are long over, too
hug doesn't release. hosea hears the single, shaky breath in his ear and knows all those arguments he's imagined screaming at dutch for what happened back in canon aren't going to happen. at least not today, not when he's finally just getting to hug dutch again and hear the almost broken tone in his voice as he says 'i missed you, hosea.'
it's almost frustrating how quickly they can fall back into that comfort with one another, old men older than they ever got to be bickering like a married couple. offering to go for a drive just to get out for a bit and dutch making some tasteless joke about it not ending so well last time he was in a car. least not for the driver. hosea trying so hard not to laugh because you really shouldn't joke about murdering people for christ's sake but dutch knows damn well he was going to.
catching dutch up on how the gang are doing because dutch always did care about them, he just lost himself somewhere and hearing dutch acknowledge that he went too far. hosea knowing that so much of the gang are still holding onto and processing that grief, and might not ever be ready or willing to see him. dutch accepting that too, acknowledging aloud how grateful he is hosea even gave him a chance.
still getting annoyed at him in that almost endearing way. he has always gotten annoyed with dutch sometimes. the correct response to young jack marston grew up to kill edgar ross was not 'good for him!'
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kana and ruby are both characters who have been abandoned, whether it was unintentional or intentional, so kana deciding to take this heartbreaking step all to help ruby by appearing to abandon her knowing the devastation she is about to wreak because she's experienced it herself but doing it anyway because kana arima has never been more important than other peoples dreams and goals has always been the one to be sacrifice she does it again because she will be fine she always has been shes always been alone (right?)
(maybe a part of her is finally happy to say it all to let it all out but she buries that part because its shameful, isnt it? why should she take catharsis when shes caused her friend pain?)
and ruby who has been left behind being suddenly blindsided by this betrayal from kana, the one whos always supported her, on top of every other betrayal she has experienced left doubting every relationship she has wondering why why why why do people keep leaving?
#incoherent ramble because i love these two and this chapter is driving me up the walls#and kana isnt nino! shes a wonderful parallel of hers because even though#shes saying the same words but the intention behind them is completely different#yes kana has felt the same things that nino did that same cocktail of jealousy and bitterness and hate and she has accepted it!#and all that falls away in face of the sheer love and genuine care and admiration kana has for ruby as a friend and idol#(that nino did not have for ai because she didnt allow herself to)#to the point she was willing to play the role of all the those who hurt her out of care (and also sacrifice) for ruby because she recognise#how much this role meant to ruby and because kana has always always done the most she could to help those she loved#even at detriment to herself#kana arima!!!!#arima kana#hoshino ruby#oshi no ko#when they are both characters whove been left behind and the other chooses to do so to help and a twisted sense of sacrifice!!! fuck!!!#kana arima#ruby hoshino#oshi no ko manga spoilers#oshi no ko 133#its an hour to midnight here i need to sleep#the horrible guilt kana must feel and the devastation ruby is experiencing rn
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8 | The Fangs Between Us
summary. You try to swat him away, but his thumb swipes the droplets of blood to the side of your face, staring down at you with eyes that resemble rubies. You’ve always loved them, describing them as the gems you’ve stumbled across in such dire times, but now all you want to do is look away. They’re too harsh. They’re too cold. They’re too him.
You swallow the lump in your throat as he licks your blood off the pad of his thumb.
“It would’ve been better if one of us died that day.”
warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, tav reader is a bard, italics are flashbacks
pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader
parts. TFBU masterlist
a/n. a little peek at what this guy is thinking before i move onto act 2 of this fic!! <3 also this specific flashback is not the usual pre breakup flashback it's right after the blushing mermaid incident !!
His nightmares have long stopped making him sick.
The same dreams where Cazador would have shackles around his neck and wrists, laughing maniacally while he carves runes into Astarion’s flesh, no longer bring him the same dread the morning after. Instead, he feels a kind of numbness that spreads past his physical being into the mindless stare he bores into the ceiling. Even before the birds awaken outside the city, it's quiet in the morning. This eerie sense of stillness used to be his favorite time of day.
Because when there’s nobody outside, there’s nobody to bring to Cazador.
Now, it feels too empty. Too alone. As if he’s the only person left in Faerun.
With nobody but his own mind, he begins to replay the events of the last few months. No matter how many times he does it, it doesn’t seem quite real. The nautiloid, the grove, the underdark—all of it. From the second he first bathed in the sun’s glory to the second he lost it all anyway, it doesn’t seem real.
It doesn’t seem real that he once had someone to care for him.
But he supposes he’s mistaken. He’s had plenty of affection throughout his centuries lurking on the city's streets, albeit rare for something genuine. Regardless, it did happen. Like Sebastian or other fleeting victims of Cazador who weren’t as crude as his usual prey. Genuine people whose biggest crime was falling for Astarion’s charms at the wrong time and place.
He doesn’t remember most of their faces anymore. He’s given up on trying to.
And like clockwork, his mind fades to the moment he first tasted humanoid blood as he begins to zone out from a particular part of the ceiling. A proper meal, rather than those disgusting rats on cellar floors he’s been allowed for most of his vampiric life. He remembers the liquid gold sliding down his throat and the sheer energy that came with it—some of which he hadn’t even known he had. He recalls the heavenly metallic taste of your lifeline. How, despite all the blood, all he could smell was your soap. How hot you’d felt against his own cold and unforgiving husk of a body.
Astarion swallows, forcing himself to focus on the chipped wood on one part of the ceiling.
While on any other occasion, he’d remind himself that he’d never have a taste of you again, you had given it to him. Even though he swore all the gods above were against his odds, you’d offered him your blood as he lay pathetically against the walls of the Blushing Mermaid.
But it had been different this time. Instead of that soft smile you’d give him when he’d drink from you in the past, all that remained was a stern frown. You hadn’t run your fingers through his curls and instead chose to grit your teeth, forcing your eyes away from where he bit into your wrist. Your generosity hadn’t been one stemming from affection but one of necessity.
You had flinched away from his touch.
He’s not surprised. In fact, he should’ve expected you to shove him away the second his mouth neared your skin, and he did expect it. But instead, all you’d done was brace yourself—as if you hated his touch—and forced yourself to stay still for his sake. It was akin to watching himself endure the skin of so many strangers in hopes of convincing them into Cazador’s dungeon all those years ago. He knows it’s not the same. He knows this, but hells, did he hate how dry his throat felt after, despite feeling satiated.
He would’ve preferred if you’d just left him there to bleed.
He hates that you hadn’t done so.
He hates that you hadn’t let him ascend.
He hates that he’s forced to live alongside you.
He hates you.
Before he can tell what he’s doing, he’s standing in front of your bed. How he got here is a blur, but he has a dagger in one hand and a fist in the other. You lie blissfully asleep, unaware of the blood-red eyes that stare down at you in a daze, illuminated by nothing but the moonlight peering through the windows. He takes a moment to take in the state of your room–and though he’s not shocked at the mess scattered around the ground and desks, he’s not pleased by it either.
“Gods, how do you even live like this?” he asks, as if you can hear him.
He glances at the glint of his blade and then at your sleeping face. The same face once peppered at least a hundred kisses against his cheek, laughing loudly when he’d feign annoyance at the marks left behind. You’d only snickered then, tackling him into an embrace and allowing him to return the sentiments. Those same lips of yours are now chewed raw, almost a bloody red.
“I could finish this endless fight right now,” he whispers, his grip tightening around the handle of your blade. “I could wake you with this knife at your throat, and you’d have no choice but to kill me. I’d return the violence, of course, but only one of us would live. There would be no use fighting any longer.”
Your chest only rises and falls steadily, and he notices he hasn’t seen you at such peace since he last slept beside you all those months ago. He doesn’t see the same expression anymore because when you look at him now, it’s always accompanied by furrowed brows or a downward quirk of your lips.
He wishes you would respond.
“Ha,” he scoffs pitifully, dropping his hand. He places the blade in its rightful place on your bedside table again and sighs. “This is much too pathetic of a death for either of us. If we were to kill one another, it should be done properly—not in this mess of a room.”
With one last pathetic scan at the details of your face, he turns to leave. But before he can even reach the door, he hears a soft gasp from your bed.
For a moment, he thinks he’s been caught.
When he whips around, all he sees is your clearly asleep form, yet this time, there is no peace in your expression. Instead, it’s scrunched up into a painful grimace as your fingers grasp at your sheets and your mouth falls open to take in breaths of air that don’t come to you. He thinks you might be choking on god knows what until one of your hands flies to your throat. Your nails claw at a collar he can’t see.
He glances at his own hands.
Oh.
Astarion slowly paces back to his spot beside your bed, watching as you writhe against nothing but the air. He realizes you’re not suffocating, but it sure looks that way. He doesn’t know what to do besides watch blankly with wide eyes, but fortunately for him, the moment doesn’t last long. In seconds, your hand falls from your throat, and you continue to grimace painfully. Still, you’re no longer choking.
The bruises have faded, but only physically.
The vampire feels his hand inching toward you but freezes, unable to bring himself within a foot of your restless body without doing something he’d regret. His mind flashes back to how you’d flinched away from his touch, and it’s enough to make him drop your hand again. And being unable to decipher what he’s supposed to feel, he just stares at the wetness of your lashes, his jaw tight.
His voice is rough as he speaks.
“You foolish bard.”
“You’re one of the Gur children.”
“So what if I am,” the small child, too frail for her age despite the fangs protruding from her gums, crosses her arms, huffing. It’s been mere minutes since you managed to sit her down on the forest grounds, bent down on one knee to reach her eye level, but she remains positively stubborn, glaring at the other vampire spawn who stands idly by your side while twirling a comb in his fingers. “That doesn’t change anything.”
“It’s important. You were turned recently, then, weren’t you?” you frown, and a flicker of recognition passes her before it vanishes again. “Why are you alone? Where are the other kids?”
“That’s what you want to ask?” Astarion hisses from your side, his hands stopping. “Stop indulging such trivial questions and demand to know whether the little brat was the one to kill that poor husband. The clock is ticking, and I still have to hunt.”
You snap in his direction. “Will you stop it? She’s a child.”
“A spawn—she’s a spawn. Get it right, darling, she’s no child.”
“You’re acting like a nine-year-old yourself.”
“Ha! As cute as it is that you’re attempting to insult me, let’s leave the lines to me, hm? Your delivery couldn’t be less enthusiastic if you tried.”
“This isn’t a joke, Astarion.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
You glare at him, and he glares straight back. The smallest of snorts, stifled by a hand, comes from Berry, and you both turn to look at her in an instant. By the time you do, she’s already back to huffing, her brows furrowed.
With an exhausted sigh, your shoulders slump. “So, did you kill Roger Highberry? Was everything an act?”
She hesitates, and though you dare to believe that what you see is sorrow, she wipes it away with a blink of an eye, gaze glued to the ground before her. “I didn’t kill him. I didn’t lie.”
“Do you think we’re idiots?” You nearly roll your eyes at his voice. “You’re telling me a spawn—one that’s been newly turned, might I add—wouldn’t go ballistic at the sight of fresh blood sleeping soundly just a room over each night?”
“I didn’t!” she spits, baring her teeth. “And I’m not talking to you! I don’t want to talk to you, you—you—asshat!”
It’s apparent that it’s her first time using the word, but you don’t bother mentioning it.
“You wretched little–!”
“Berry,” you sigh for the umpteenth time, ignoring the fuming elf behind you. “I want to believe you, but I need you to be honest. And when I say honest, I mean absolutely everything. Including why you followed me out here and tried to attack me earlier.”
She falters. And almost shamefully, she looks down at her hands again. “...I ran away from the other spawns. I didn’t want to be with them anymore, and I pretended to be an orphan to stay with Cora and Roger.”
“What?” you blink. “Why would you do that?”
“Ulma taught us vampires are evil for the blood they take from people,” she mumbles. “I didn’t want to be evil too. Even if it means leaving my friends.”
As she speaks, her face dawns with a wave of solemnness–one too familiar to yourself.
“If you’re not with the others, why did you send me to the Blushing Mermaid knowing that there’d be an ambush?” you finally ask, gentler than you should be with how Astarion impatiently taps his foot behind you, but you couldn’t care less. “It could’ve killed us.”
“I wasn’t trying to kill you,” she blurts, searing eyes darting to your silver-haired companion. “I was trying to kill him. He tried to perform a ritual and kill the rest of us with the power he’d get…I might not be with my friends, but I don’t want them to die either. I don’t want to die.”
You feel your breath still. Astarion does the same, now unmoving from his spot. However, his shock stems more from offense. “Cazador would have rid of you anyway. You were doomed from the start.”
You glare at him, still maintaining a soft tone toward the girl. “He can’t harm you anymore, Berry. Nobody can.”
She points a finger at Astarion. “I can’t be sure until he’s gone!”
“Berry–” You reach toward her hand.
“I let you see Dalyria so you’d turn him in! Not to keep him!” she hisses, slapping you away with a snarl. “And the worst of all, you let him drink from you! You let someone who wants to kill the rest of us drink from you while the rest of us have to pay greatly just to survive! If you’re his friend, then I have to hate you too!”
Eyes going wide, you find yourself standing again, cheeks tinging red. “I—that was just–”
Astarion’s attention still seems elsewhere. “I don’t want to kill you, as appealing as it sounds at the moment. Even I don’t indulge in harming children, despite how annoying I find brats like you.”
“Stop lying!” she shrieks. “Petras said you’d kill us all! That the second you finish the ritual, you’d kill the rest of us to make sure you have no competitors. That there isn’t another person like you who’d go against the will of their very master—”
“Though it sounds positively delightful, I wouldn’t be the one doing all that bloodshed,” he snaps in return, fangs visible through the grit of his teeth. “It seems my dear brother has misinformed you. The ritual itself would’ve wiped you all—which would’ve been far better for the city, clearly—but I would only be making a choice. A sacrifice.”
While the two are too caught up in the wrath of their distaste for one another, realization quickly flashes across your eyes. Suddenly, you’re standing between the two, one hand inches from Astarion’s chest as a warning, while you keep Berry shielded behind your free arm. The act catches him off guard, and you think the downward curl of his lips should scare you. “And what do you think you’re doing?”
“Go hunt—or whatever it is that you do,” you demand, fingers inching closer to your weapon. It feels too dramatic, but you decide you can never be too safe. “I need to talk to her without you here to bicker and argue with a child.”
He scoffs. “Talk about what exactly? What more is there to know? You do realize that if I were to leave now, the brat would take another attempt at your life.”
“She’s a kid. I can take care of myself.”
“When you cowered behind me just minutes ago over a damn squirrel?”
Hells. You should drive a stake through his heart just for that.
Your eyes narrow. You might’ve entertained this quip on another occasion, but that moment is not now. “Go.”
His gaze flits from you back to the child, his expression indecipherable. You want to look away from his harsh stare, but your pride doesn’t dare allow you. And you’re thankful for it. “20 minutes then. 20 minutes only, and then I shall return.”
You nod.
With one last fleeting glance and a hesitant footstep, he turns on his heel, stalking to disappear into the darkness of the woods. It doesn’t take long because, after only a few dark strides and the rustling of leaves, he’s gone, leaving only you and the blazing vampire spawn behind you.
“Is that what Petras told you?” your brows furrow at Berry. “Is that what he told everyone else? That Astarion would’ve killed you once, he became an ascendant?”
She stares up at you, gaze blazing with rage. But there’s more to it. Loneliness, longing, and the most prominent: grief. Grief for the life that’s been taken away from her and reciprocated her payment in the form of fangs. She adjusts uncomfortably in her cloak, her tiny fists clenched at either of her sides.
Her silence is the answer you need.
This must be why the other spawn isn’t against the ascension. They can’t be against it because they don’t know how it works in the first place. Just as Astarion’s siblings believed the ascension would’ve rebirthed them alongside Cazador, the remaining 7000 spawns believe the same—almost ironic, in an endless cycle that repeats itself no matter what. They aren’t even aware of the ticking clock attached to their lifelines.
“Astarion wasn’t lying,” you say softly. “He wouldn’t have killed you after becoming an ascendant. He would’ve killed you becoming the ascendant. It’s the price of the ritual.”
She releases a frustrated grasp of her nails digging into her palm. “No, you’re just saying that because you’re his friend!”
“I’m not his friend,” you admit.
And despite expecting a pang of regret pulling at the strings of your heart as you say the words. No tightness in your chest, no dryness in your throat, and no shame for the lies pouring so effortlessly out of your lips. It makes you think that perhaps it’s not a lie. You dearly hope that’s the case.
“Then what are you?”
"I'm like you,” you say. "He tried to kill me too."
She frowns. “You let him drink from you. Nobody does that. Not for something like us.”
Your heart cracks a bit at her words, but you shake your head. “It was to keep him alive. To save him, as I intend to do for you.”
“You? You’ll save us?” she scoffs, clearly unconvinced, as she picks at the makeshift bandages wrapped around the wound on her arm. It’s a flimsy piece of cloth you tore from your cloak, but it’s better than risking it against whatever natural elements the forest offers. You gently pry her fingers away, preventing her from agitating the split skin.
“I did last time,” you remind her. “I’m the one that stopped Astarion from ascending—did Petras tell you that too?”
She falters. And while there’s an apparent hesitance in her eyes, there’s something behind all the rough exterior she’s built up from an undeniably traumatic experience of becoming a spawn. She looks up at you when you squeeze her tiny hand, almost hopeful. Because despite what irreparable damage the past few months have done to her, she remains a child. An innocent caught in a war of bloodshed. And what more can you gather from a child but hope?
“You want to stay with Cora, right?”
She nods sheepishly.
“Then you’ll stay with her,” you smile. “I’ll lend you my trust if you lend me yours, and you don’t run off anyway.”
“Promise?” You hold out a pinkie. She stares at it, but when she meets your eyes, she lifts her own hand to interlink with yours. For a moment, she almost looks like she's forgotten about the reality of her situation. That even if she were to live, she wouldn't be able to stay with Cora for long, given her inevitable nature.
How childish. Innocent. And you’d do anything to keep it from becoming more sinister.
“You let the girl go?” After ensuring Berry returns to her room, Astarion repeats the question for the third time as you turn away from the Highberry household in utter disbelief. The cold night air sends chills down your skin, and you wrap your torn cloak tightly around yourself, walking straight past him. Despite your apparent intentions of ignoring him, he trails after you urgently, following no matter how quickly your steps take you through the dead stillness of the city. “And what if she decides to kill the wife?”
“She won’t.”
“You don’t know that,” he hisses. “What makes you so sure she can go against her very nature to kill just so she can stay in a bedroom she shares with four other kids? All of which are very appetizing meals to her, by the way.”
You shoot him a glare. “I’m sure you would know.”
“I do. Which is all the more reason for me to step in so we don’t have to deal with yet another dead body on our hands.”
“I don’t need advice from someone who wouldn’t hesitate to use a comb as a weapon.” You rub the side of your head to soothe your headache.
“Seeing as you set a spawn free into the city, I’d argue differently.”
“Will you just shut up?”
“I didn’t accompany you to be a pretty toy piece at your side, darling. With the foolish choices you’re making, I have no other choice but to nag,” he rolls his eyes. The snarkiness in his voice is enough to snap what remains of your already worn patience.
“And you think you’re allowed to give me advice?” you spin around to face him, stopping dead in your tracks. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re basically a hostage! You don’t get to make decisions on what we do!”
“Well, who else will you get advice from now that all your little friends seem to have lost all respect for you?”
Your jaw unhinges. He stands firm, arms crossed, and it’s enough to make your blood boil. “Gods, you’re—you’re such an asshole.”
Astarion laughs bitterly. “Care to tell me anything new?”
“About your personality? We’d be here all night. You’re also forgetting that I fought with the others for your sake, you bastard,” You step closer, teeth gnashing together. “I saved your life.”
“I would’ve survived with or without your help, darling.”
“You only got this far because our friends helped you!”
“Would you like me to be grateful?” he guffaws, and your chest tightens at how condescending it sounds. “Because must I remind you that you also stole the only chance of me escaping this filthy life where I rot away on the streets and feed on lowly criminals? You’ve forced me to be what I am, and now you think I’m indebted to you?”
Why does he keep saying that? You fight the urge to just punch him.
“I’m not saying you owe me anything, you fool!” your eyes meet his in a blaze of fire. Your heart beats rapidly, and you sincerely hope it’s gone unnoticed. “How many times do I have to tell you that I never forced you to do anything—I was stopping you from becoming like Cazador!”
He’s suddenly looming over you, his gaze sharper than before in a frenzied manner. Just mentioning his old master’s name is enough to push him on the offensive. “I never would’ve become like him…not after what that bastard did to me. I would’ve become stronger and been able to help you. Us. So why in the bloody hells you ever stopped me–”
The words pour out like a mountain of sand held by a twig, and you reach to grab the collar of his shirt. “I didn’t need help! Neither of us did, Astarion. It would’ve been hard, but we would’ve made it out like we always do if we just tried!”
You’re unsure you’ll make it out this time, but does it matter anymore?
His frown creases as if none of your pleas are getting through his thick skull. And while you have half a heart to keep blurting out whatever comes to your mind, his sudden silence and the smallest of steps he takes away from you make you seal your mouth shut. Like he’s closing the door again. Like he’s leaving you all alone again.
Your voice drops, and you bring your hand back to your side.
“You’re not being fair, Astarion.”
“Darling, I’ve followed all your stupid rules and remained on my best behavior till now, even when I could’ve caused more than a few casualties. Hells, I even watched that girl go back to the orphanage alive,” he says, quieter. “I’ve been more than fair.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.”
“What is it, then?”
“It feels like you know everything I’m constantly thinking of, whether it be you or something else,” you mumble. “But you won’t let me know what you’re thinking. I’m not asking you to tell me your deepest secret…I just need to know what I’ve done to deserve the bullshit I have to put up with. I took away the ascension from you; I get that, but is that really it? Is that really why you hate me this much? What’s worse, is that very time it feels like we can finally talk, you just—you tell me that you hate me again and then leave it there to fester even more anger on both sides.”
Astarion stares at you, his expression impossible to read. Horrified but unrelenting of the mountain of unsaid words, you continue. “Just talk to me.”
Why, you want to ask. He knows you only did what you thought was best at the time, so what have you done to deserve such cruelty?
Why do you hate me so much?
He gives you a long, hard look. It was surely only a few split seconds, but it seems like hours as you don’t even dare to breathe, rooted in place as you await his answer. It’s infuriating that you can’t tell what he’s thinking even now. He’s always been far too good at masking his feelings, and while he’d used it against you once, you never thought he’d have to again. And finally, when he moves, he doesn’t move to speak.
He shuts his eyes, and when they open again, he’s grinning. That fake, beautiful grin that brings you so much anguish and conflict simultaneously that it makes the sides of your head pound with the beating of your heart. “Fine, darling. Let’s talk if you want to so badly.”
It's so artificial that it leaves a bad taste in your mouth.
You wish he’d just tell you he hates you again.
He’s blocking you out again. Again and again, no matter how many times you take a step forward, he takes a few back, and the distance between the two of you grows larger. It’s just so exhausting and repetitive. You’re sick of it.
“Why do I hate you? Where should I start?” he hums. “Ah, perhaps when you took it upon yourself to be the one to stab a knife through Cazador’s heart. I’m rather curious myself, darling, how did it feel? Could you feel his screams through your dagger, or were you too occupied watching the life drain from his face? Was it hard to reach his heart? Did he struggle? Oh, do tell, I’d love to know how that bastard suffered.”
The words feel like a knife to your own chest.
“To think that could have been me if I hadn’t seduced you when we met…You could’ve pierced a stake through my heart when you first caught me longing for your blood. Can you believe it? If you’d just killed me then, you wouldn’t be standing here now. You wouldn’t have let me bed you in that dirty forest clearing, and you would have never felt my lips upon yours. I could have chosen anyone else---anyone in the camp---and we wouldn't be standing here, but Gods was it easy to seduce you."
He stops, and his next words make the blood drain from your face.
"Just like the thousand other victims I brought to Cazador. You're no different from them...all you want from me are my weaknesses. You kept me this way to keep me fragile, and pathetic."
Has listening to someone's voice always been so difficult?
“I didn't—”
“But I suppose you’re the victor in another sense, my dear,” he sneers, his face impossibly close to yours, but he’s never felt so far away. “You should count yourself lucky. Few can say they’ve managed to bed me and survive to tell the tale. You even managed to make me fall for you! You, a simple naive bard, managed to seduce me! And Gods, did you put up a glorious show, darling, betraying me like you did. It was an ingenious move on your part, preventing me from reaching my full potential—the hero of Baldur’s Gate wouldn’t want anything tainting their beloved city with blood, after all–”
No, this is all wrong. This does nothing but make things worse. You wish he'd just stop.
In the blink of an eye, Astarion stops speaking. With expecting eyes, his attention flickers to the knife now pointed at his pale throat. You practically gnaw on the inside of your cheek as you inch the knife just a few centimeters from breaking skin. “Shut up.”
Astarion’s glare narrows on your hand. “Enough talking for you?”
You see that whatever man you fell in love with in what feels like another lifetime was a mask. Deep down, you’ve known that the face he wears is nothing but a facade ever since this entire fiasco started and he’d situated himself into your home. Yet, the cruelty still hurts. It hurts how much he detests you with the very same face that once worshipped your very breath. Gods, you’d been so foolish, thinking a damn vampire spawn could feel anything other than hunger….much less love.
He’d likely prefer to eat out your heart than hold it in his cold, dead hands. He’d watch you with those sultry eyes as he sinks his teeth into what remains of your heart and feels nothing but his own thirst being satiated.
So you won’t give him the opportunity. You won’t give him your heart again, even as the sky falls and the ground dissipates.
You’ve done it once, and you’ve never regretted anything more.
“You’re turn, my dear,” he says. “If you wish to say something, feel free to do so.”
He steps closer, and the tip of your blade draws a small bead of blood. He doesn’t seem to care.
Red, red, red. Your vision is growing blurry.
You inhale sharply. Breathe. You can still breathe. Words that had been bottled up inside dissipate the longer you watch him, as you understand that no matter what you say or do, he will remain as he is. While you want to tell yourself it’s because time itself has ceased for him, you know he doesn’t want to change in the first place.
“I should kill once this is over,” you mutter calmly. His blood now falls down the side of your knife. “But I’m not like you. I’m not as pathetic or petty as you are, even though I’ve been through less than you probably have. I don’t attempt murder just because things don’t go my way.”
His smile twitches.
“If you like being alone so much, then I won’t stop you. Once this is all over, I never want to see you again. I don’t care what you do, but I just want you to disappear. I want you gone, forever, in whatever shadows you hide in during the day.”
It only seems like yesterday when you begged the moon to see him one last time.
Even though he’s speaking through his teeth, he nods as you bring your knife back to your side. “I’m glad we have something to agree on.”
You want to laugh, but you fear it’ll come out as cracked.
“And you’re right,” you wipe his blood off the dagger on your sleeve, not bothering to spare him a glance. “I should have let the others behead you when we met.”
If he wants to sabotage the little good left in his life, let him. If he wants to be miserable for the rest of his undying days over what’s already been done, let him. You don’t care anymore.
Amusement drips from his voice. “A shame.”
His finger tilts your chin upward, his thumb rubbing at the side of your cheek. It’s then that you realize there’s a whiff of blood coming from a wound on your skin—a result of the forest, you’d guess. You try to swat him away, but his thumb swipes the droplets of blood to the side of your face, staring down at you with eyes that resemble rubies. You’ve always loved them, describing them as the gems you’ve stumbled across in such dire times, but now all you want to do is look away. They’re too harsh. They’re too cold. They’re too him.
You swallow the lump in your throat as he licks your blood off the pad of his thumb.
“It would’ve been better if one of us died that day.”
He takes his time to respond.
“I know.”
Tags:@ayselluna@littleenglishfangirl@bg3obsessedsideblog@iwillpissyourpants@cyberpr1m3@ukeia-uchiha@snowlotr@road-riot@spacekidnova@madislayyy@lordfishflakes@nicalysm@djarinsway@tinystarfishgalaxy@brainz00@hopeful-n-sad@ohdeerieme@madisban@chrismarium@chonkercatto@fanfic-share@bitterrenegade@sleepyred1703@miskouly@ravenswritingroom@iamlowkeycrying@deezus-roy@spiritraves@mariposakitten@dinobae-replyacc@whisperingwillowxox@bdudette@misscrissfemmefatale@atropapurpurea@cosywinterevenings@phoenixgurl030 @generalstephkenobi @shadowsmusical @himesuedi @girlygmer-blog @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @deezus-roy @hyperfixationwhore @teardropcup @marina-and-the-memes @kiwi-mansanas @woosaaghh @cminr @everybodystaycalm@divineknightmare@bangtanbecks@carolinelec@bitterbeanren @aelieknox @bluelovesleep @catching-fire-in-the-wind @moonlight-stay @thatbeanieboss Please let me know if I didn't add you to the list or if you'd like to be added! I needed to redo the entire taglist because it wasn't functioning, so please let me know if I missed you :)
#astarion ancunin#baldur's gate 3#baldur's gate astarion#astarion x tav#astarion x reader#bg3 astarion#astarion#bg3 x reader#bg3#fluff#astarion x oc#baldurs gate 3 x reader
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Turn ons (BOFURIN + SHISHITOREN)
a/n: this is a repost from my wattpad, take this for now as i struggle for my exams…
Haruka Sakura
•Girls that fight back.
He's not so much of a romantic person so many of his turn ons do not have any correlation to anything that falls deeper into the aspects of romance.
But he does get off to the sight whenever you talk back to someone you refuse to let disrespect you. Even if you fight back with him, as much as he may seem he's annoyed, he's actually intrigued in the way you snap back making him grin at your remarks.
Some say he's sadistic for that (Suo).
Hajime Umemiya
•When you smell good.
He doesn't find it weird to openly go up to you and take a wiff of your scent. It was a complete accident the first time he smelt your aroma. You and him met up outside of school for the first time alone and because of that, he was able to smell your perfume.
He doesn't know why it gets him riled up, it's even come to a point when you two finally started dating, he wouldn't remove his head away from your neck whenever you were laying on his bed with him.
•Eye contact.
He absolutely digs the way whenever you two stare at each other. Something about the way your eyelashes bat at him as he falls into a deep gaze into yours makes him lose all sanity. He may seem like he's doing fine on the outside but on the inside, his itching to shove you to a wall and ask what you're doing to him.
Toma Hiragi
•When you're submissive.
This isn't put in a way to come off as sexual, it's whenever you simply comply to anything he says. It may sound toxic but he enjoys it when you listen to his orders, regardless if it stops you from doing something you really wanted to do, making you put on a jacket because it was too cold, ensuring you'll text him as soon as you get home, or when he tells you to help him with something.
Taiga Tsugeura
•Wearing his clothes
His wardrobe is quite boring to say the least; plain colours, bland shirts, and mostly shorts. But even so, he enjoys it whenever he walks by you and notices you're wearing one of his shirts.
He'll know right away that it's his due to the sheer size of it and the way it drapes on your body. It makes him go all giddy and smiley when he sees you. He has to look away or else you'll notice the blush dusting on his cheeks.
Mitsuki Kiryu
•When you're embarrassed.
There's a difference between being shy and embarrassed. If you so happen to get shy, he knows he shouldn't be finding interest in that because that's when you are genuinely nervous.
However, if you do get embarrassed, stuttering all over the place, blush creeping up on your face, eyes darting everywhere but his, a little alter ego of himself takes over in his head watching you melt into a puddle of ice cream.
He finds it so entertaining at the way you can't look him in the eye. He'll accuse you of going red and instigate your fumbling even further just for the fun of it.
Hayato Suo
•Accidental touches.
He tries to maintain being respectful but as soon as your hand brushes over his, his chest accidentally touching the back of your shoulder blade, the way youre faces get too close if he's helping you clean something off your cheek, it drives him nuts at the way you look at him.
He may seem calm and collected on the outside, but with how he's flickering his eyes to your lips and your eyes, you can tell if he wasn't holding himself back he probably would have smashed his lips onto yours by now.
Jo Togame
•When you make the first move.
He knows he's tacky for this but he can't help but to love the feeling of being chased by someone he likes.
He's all up for the way you two basically bicker with each other when he knows deep down you want him just as much as he does too.
He loves acting like he doesn't care till at the very last moment he'll say something so breathless that you'll be thinking about it for the next few days.
•Putting your hair up.
He also thinks he has a type for sporty girls due to the fact he just purely doesn't know what his exact type of women is.
If you're getting annoyed at the way your hair continues to fly in your face, need to focus, or simply just want to tie it, he loves watching the process of you tying it up for whatever reason.
Tomiyama Choji
•Fun to be with.
He has trouble being romantic and when he does, it's usually the worst thing you've ever experienced.
So if you two date, you have to expect most of your time with him to be more like fun play dates.
He likes the way you're able to make him laugh and want to do more menacing things with you, even if it ends up with one of you being in trouble.
•PDA.
You can argue this one to him but no matter what, he loves it when you publicly show others that your his.
If you hold his hand, take pictures with him in public, hold his arm, he thinks it's one of the best things you could do to show off your significant other.
It gives him the sense that you're possessive over him. As bad as that sounds, he loves it when you're willing to be aggressive to other people that try talking to him.
#wind breaker#windbreaker#windbreakerxreader#hajime umemiya#hajime umemiya x reader#haruka sakura#haruka sakura x reader#taiga tsugeura#jo togame#mitsuki kiryu#toma hiragi x reader#toma hiragi#hayato suo x reader#hayato suo#taiga tsugeura x reader#mitsuki kiryu x reader#wind breaker x reader#wind breaker manga#tomiyama choji x reader#tomiyama choji#jo togame x reader
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𝐖𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐞
Tags: bakugou x gn!reader, angst, death
There are three two things you need to know about Katsuki Bakugou:
1. He loves winning.
2. He hates losing.
3. He has you, the most incredible person he never wants to lose.
Bakugou hates losing.
He simply despised the feeling of helplessness, of not being the best. It makes him feel strangely vulnerable inside. It's one that lingers at the back of his mind like a taunting ghost, threatening him.
Bakugou loves to win.
It's that certain thrill that runs down his spine. The cheers from everyone around him, his family or friends or other extras gasping in awe at his utter brilliance and sheer, raw talents.
Yeah, he liked this feeling. He was going to keep it.
But nothing could prepare him for the sheer joy, contentment and fulfilment when Bakugou won you.
He didn't like you at first. He only noticed you when you stole the top marks for a test, even besting Yaoyorozu. It was a huge wake-up call.
Oi, don't mess with me, he remembered thinking, it's probably just a fluke.
And among that pissed-off feeling of not being the best...
blossoms a curiosity that festers and gnaws at his thoughts.
Someone's better than him? You?
He doesn't believe it. Next thing he knows, you steal his marks and battle your way to his precious first place in the practical fights.
What?
Now that has to be a fluke. No way someone like you could best him in a fight! He won't fucking allow it!
He's defeated again, due to the power of teamwork and the lack of communication on his end with his teammates.
He's so caught up with his attention on you, all the anger but respect that builds each day as he observes just how amazing you are under those modest glasses and bright, shy smile.
Fuck, you'd look great with or without glasses, he remembers thinking absentmindedly while watching you study furiously with the flames of determination in your eyes.
When he gets paired up with you, he starts talking to you more. He pushes you and you pull him higher up, draw him to you like a fucking magnet with the attraction dialled to the max.
You stole the top marks in academics, you stole his position in the practical fights at midterms, and before he knows it...
...you steal his heart.
You sly, gorgeous, oblivious, heart-rollercostering asshole.
It took a while before Bakugou finally won you over. With sneaky bentos and his own stumbling actions of care, he wins you over. Those 3 years were the best ones in his entire life. You were his greatest victory. Those sweet smiles and genuine words of care that spew from your lips were all he could ever need in his life. Those times you'd kiss him right before he left.
The "see you later" kisses and the "welcome home" ones.
He couldn't ask for more.
If he still had you.
He wants to grab the universe's clock and rewind those wrenched, fucking hands because no, no this can't be how he spends the rest of his life. He can't imagine it without you by his side.
It's plastered all over the news.
"Hero/n saved thousands!"
"Hero/n died like a true hero! Will forever be remembered!"
"Crowd mourns for Hero/n's death-"
Bakugou punches the power off button on his TV remote.
This can't be it. This can't be your end. Knowing you, you'd pop out of his closet like a heart-attacking jack in the box and laugh at him for taking this too seriously. You will.
You have to.
Bakugou feels tears threaten to spill from his eyes for the billionth time, and wipes them away hastily as he shoots a glance at your urn. A picture of you, just you, sits in front of it, stone cold.
All this talk about Hero/n makes Bakugou want to pulp the paparazzi.
What about his Y/n? The one that would greet him whenever he came home? The one that had terribly cute bed hair, awful morning breath, and wore those stupid, fluffy socks during winter? His girlfriend was gone.
Bakugou feels droplets of water fall from his face. Tears.
Again.
"You just had to outdo me," He rasps softly under his breath. You're the only person who could break him like this. "Goin' off with a bang like that, huh?" He's met with icy silence.
You were his greatest win, the person that made him feel whole, the person he loved unconditionally with every fibre in his entire being.
But he never thought he would lose you.
#bakugo x you#bakugou x y/n#katsuki bakugō#bakugou katuski x reader#my hero academia#bakugou katsuki#mha fanfiction#mha#bakugou angst#angst
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I envision p!noah being like little buddy from the splatoon series
Owen throws him at people and he will bite them until they shake him off or go unconscious whichever is first
Will also probably dig stuff out of the ground that he can just detect for whatever reason
Apologies, I got splatoon brainrot really hard and all I think of when I hear “little buddy” is that little bastard salmon
I really need to play Splatoon 3. I love that series but I just haven't had the time or energy to get into the newest game.
And you're spot on there about p!Noah being Owen's little buddy, especially post "reveal".
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In Greece, these two would make a killer duo for the wrestling challenge since Owen could and would just scoop up Noah and throw him at the opposing team, encouraging him to run wild. And, oh boy, can p!Noah go wild.
Now, both Courtney and Sierra are pretty overconfident in their assured win for this challenge, since Courtney assumes that Noah and Owen are both relatively harmless (since she didn't witness the bus scene) and Sierra's too hyped up on Defending Cody Juice to really care about who she's facing off against - her main priority here is taking our Courtney for disrespecting Cody. Which is their downfall, since when Noah's launched towards the pair like a missile by Owen, neither of them anticipate the sheer carnage he wreaks upon landing. The two of them come out of the challenge with cuts and bruises aplenty, scattered bite and scratch marks still bleeding sluggishly as they scamper out of the ring tailed by a manic bookworm hot on their heels.
Courtney especially never would've thought the little guy had it in him; the wildness of his eyes and the shine of blood against razor-sharp teeth really painted a picture of a feral beast, as opposed to the generally well-kept and mild cynic she'd come to know. She finds herself genuinely fearing for her wellbeing, at least for a moment.
Then, as the girls exit the ring, Noah stops suddenly. He comes to a standstill at the edge of the ring, centimetres away from disqualifying himself, and all signs of his unhinged mania vanish like smoke. Noah lifts himself from the near four-limbed scampering he'd been doing into his usual nonchalant crouch, brushing the dust from his vest, patting down his hair and (reluctantly) wiping the speckles of blood from his nails and teeth. Regaining his usual composure. Then he turns on his heels to saunter across the ring back over to Owen, who at this point is used to Noah's scarily quick code-switching and greets his carnage-wreaking little buddy with a smile, a thumbs up and a big ol' hug! They won the challenge, after all, that's means for celebration!
(When Gwen comes back from her challenge, she asks Courtney what savage animal she was attacked by - as both Courtney and Sierra look about as worse off as Duncan, who was mauled by a bear - and Courtney promptly answers that she doesn't want to talk about it.)
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I imagine Owen and Noah's dynamic post-London would essentially be the two of them acting like a dog owner and their overzealous puppy, but they switch roles so often the lines get super blurred. One moment Noah's trying to bribe Owen into taking the fall for him with the sweet treats from first class (it works every time), the next Owen's daring Noah to do something dumb and stupid and just dangerous enough to pique his thrill-seeking interest. They share a braincell and neither of them use it.
#listen... i love and cherish all forms of nowen. romantic platonic idc so long as these two have a dynamic. Do Not Seperate Them.#Owen has scary dog privileges thanks to p!Noah but the dog in question is just a really unhinged shih tzu.#adding to the p!Noah “lore” here my mentioning his ability to switch between “normal noah” and “insane noah” at a whim.#just shifting himself from one end of the sanity spectrum to the other like a groan tube. very unnatural and jarring. he's silly like that.#total drama#psycho!noah au#silly ideas#others' ideas#replies#kinda drafty in here (posts from the drafts)#👈 back at it again with the month old drafts. i'm a tumblr professional guys#also splatoon mention twice in a row???? happy mermay guys.
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My favourite part's of Baz Luhrman's Elvis 2022:
1. The trippy ass opening sequence that felt like it should be part of a 3d rollercoaster ride with the billboards and zooms round Las Vegas.
2. Just the way Tom Parker says "He's white" is fucking hilarious. And really says it all.
3. The buildup of the Elvis reveal with the fly fly away flashbacks before he goes on for the first time, that build up hella pays off.
4. The moment he transforms into Elvis like Clark Kent becoming Superman in his pink suit, the burst of electric guitar and the shots bouncing round on the beats is incredible.
5. Him dissapearing into the curtains with sheer disbelief on his face after the crowd went wild.
6. The radio presenter introducing Beale street, make's me laugh everytime.
7. The fairground scene where Parker being a creepy ass villain talks to Elvis in the Mirror Hall, him popping into frame is genuinely terrifying.
8. The way Elvis says and just the way the looks into the distance as he describes the Rock of Eternity.
9. The tension and sheer manipulation at play when Elvis parent's sign a deal with devil.. Parker I mean.. That zoom in on Elvis pressing his mom's hand down is magnifique.
10. Tutti. Fricken. Fruitti.
11. B.B. King telling some hard truths about how Elvis is safe cause he's a white boy people are making money off.
12. The cuts to the rally just before Elvis' preformance and the look he gets in his eye just as he thinks "fuck. that".
13. Wiggling. The. Finger.
14. Trouble. The whole song and scene.
15. Parkers utter bafflement in the line "He didn't listen to me." Truly not grasping how his puppet could possibly disobey.
16. The shot of him in the car looking up at fireworks, looking so so lost is haunting and beautiful.
17. The modern cover of Can't help falling in Love is perfecto.
18. The first shot of the Viva Las Vegas montage where during the freeze frame Butler genuinely looked the spit of Elvis.
19. The spinning shot of Elvis as we go into the trippy mess of Edge Of Reality and the look on his face with the water dripping as it all takes it's toll is so real.
20. The Hollywood sign scene. The way he sit's staring out, the shades, his boot propped up. Hell even the brief mention of the sign as a reflection of his career could easily be cheesey but he sounds so goddamn honest.
21. The way he laughs hearing his careers in the toilet completely self aware.
22. Rebellion uno 2, him not giving a damn what the Colonel thinks!!
23. Everytime Parker says Here Comes Goddamn Santy Clause. Tom Hanks has always been a comedic actor in leading man disguise.
24. The leather suit. The guitar he wears for no discernable reason as he doesn't play it at frist and then hands it off to somone but who cares!
25. The bloody look on Parkers face when the Whorehouse dancers and Kung Fu comes in.
26. The huh huh huh noise made as the song builds.
27. Bobby Kennedy getting shot and the frustration and pain as he says "It has everything to do with us."
28. When Parker threatens he'll have to leave him should he disobey and the absolutely glorious, "Hmm." .... "Um Hm." The man didn't even have to use actual works and spoke sooo much with those sounds and look alone.
29. Honestly the haunting way he plays "Here Comes Santa Clause" alone is hella beautiful.
30. That spin of the camera as we see the hugh red Elvis sign and his beautiful white suit.
31. The sheer emotion in the original song and Butler's preformance during "If I Can Dream" is a Goddamn masterpiece.
32. The headlines proclaiming his comeback!
33. Parker trying to claim credit as the special was his idea is just so narcissistic and sooo him I just can't even.
34. The score of the whole thing but during the hospital scene where Elvis tries to leave Parker a creepy slot machine type writer background song plays and just chills.
35. The utter horror I feel when told about the International Elvis says "The Snowman strikes again" and I scream internally every. Single. Time. NOOOOO
36. FUCK ME. My favourite scene in the entire film is him redoing That's Alright Mama Vegas style. The Ba ba Buuum "Raise the octave". BA BA BUUUUM. The silk shirt. The belt. The exhilaration in his eye's and acting. The drum part when he's just "Hah hah hah hah". Fuckkkkk.
37. The journey of song told as he preforms it and the three way cut shot of how it lead to this moment!
38. The punch in the gut of Suspicious minds, the lyrical metaphor and his entrapment plays out real time. The way the Colnel says "Now how are going to pay me." With a horrifying giggle. The fast cuts as the writing gets laid out. 5 Years.
39. The Vegas style I Will Always Love You. The best version of that song👌
40. Backstage as everyone rejoices completely oblivious to what has happened and the way the Colonely llaughs then cries as he witnesses Elvis joy. Is he actually a touch remorseful? Is it just relief his debts are cleared? A mix of both? Who knows but my God it's awful.
41. The montage of the tours, the icnoic outfits, Hunk a burning love one of my fave Elvis songs and those bloody capes, my God it was helluva look!
42. The callback to the beginning as Elvis collapses hearing from Jerry and the utter repulsion on his face as he stares at the Colonel as he's covered with water, says it all. His face acting is genuinely incredible in this movie.
43. The Apollo 11 style split screen and music as he gets injected just one of those touches that makes me think you creative guy you Baz!
44. The way he says and preforms the whole angry scene on stage, the way he says Colonel's an alien, the way his anger escalates, the screaming of fired and the quiet final "You're fired." Before LITERAL mic drop and walk away.
45. The heartbreak we feel as we see him about to leave the hotel only for Parker to be sat waiting for him sinking his fangs back into him again.
46. The insults Elvis throws at Parker is so raw and real and clearly he's so so tired and he is just trapped.
47. The way the Colonel says "The thing about the rock of Eternity my boy is that it's forever just beyond our reach." And that fucking hurts.
48. The face acting of Austin in that scene as he reacts to what the Colonel says is beyond words. The lighting is fabulous.
49. The chilling instrumental as Elvis gives in closing his blinds and telling his dad to send up Doctor Nick and the utter helplessness as he leans on the couch.
50. The way Elvis sits in the car in his jumpsuit with Priscilla the exhaustion in his body language and voice as he says he's out of dreams. How he never made anything lasting. How he thinks no one will remember him. And how horrifying it is the Elvis probably really didn't know how huge and lasting hims impact would actually be.
51. Him mouthing I will always love you.
52. The shot of him looking up as the plane flys and quiet subdued story of the bird that would die if it stopped flying.
53. Parker saying how it wasn't his heart or the pills or himself that killed Elvis but love. Because in a twisted way that's one of truest things he's said in the entire movie.
54. How Parker recalls he saw his last peformance, that he could barely walk but when he sang that song..
55. "Unchained melody from the album Unchained melody.. makes sense.." God Elvis could be funny.
56. The real Elvis during Unchained melody. That voice reverberates with so much feeling and strength despite him being weeks away from his death. He sang with his entire soul and he had a loootta soul.
57. The flatlining noise as Parker fades from the shot and we're left with the back of Elvis spreading his cape like wings reminded of how he couldn't fly away but left the only other way he could.
58. Elvis has left the building.
59. The plain white font for the lines about Parker and Elvis having his in glorious, glorious gold.
60. The credits starting with the utterly bedazzled BAZ LUHRMAN. And I say thank you to that man! Thank you so so much. I love. This. Movie.
I know it's pretty much the whole movie buuut what can I say 🤷♀️
#elvis presley#rant#movie#movie rant#elvis#elvis 2022#baz luhrmann#cinema#movie list#list#favourite moments#top 10#top 60#best of#austin butler#tom hanks
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⭐
Gonna talk about a deep cut: in that very moment when i love him (i destroy him), a Peter & Otto fic I wrote after playing the first Spider-Man Insomniac game!
Peter & Otto is such a special relationship to me, I love it so much. The friendship, camaraderie...and the betrayal! They really make you hope that Otto can somehow avoid his fate, they get you attached to him, and that’s a remarkable thing. But you can’t...because not only is he doomed to become Doc Ock, but also...he's already tumbling down that path before he puts on the neural interface. Even before the game begins.
This is something that this video essay brings up, something I hadn’t even considered before (and really, that video essay is the main inspiration for this fic). Because of course, the most common mainstream telling of Otto’s story is in Spider-Man 2, when he is indeed a good man corrupted by the neural interface. But here...the sheer scope of his plans by the time Peter finds them means he's been orchestrating things from the very beginning. He was falling down the path before we even knew it—and of course, it’s because of his grudge against Norman Osborn that began when they experimented on Martin Li, a grudge that burst into bloom when Norman cut Otto’s lab funding.
So that’s key point #1.
The same video essay linked above brings up the idea of short-term vs long-term consequences, and how Peter will always make the choice that has benefits in the short-term (minimizes short-term consequences), and then take on all the blame for any negative consequences (as someone who falls into this trap a lot in my own life, that hit hard). Even with Otto, he says, “how did I let this happen?” Maybe if he got to the lab earlier, checked the machines better, paid more attention...
But a) he’s focused on the short-term (for the sake his own peace of mind, he has to be, but this is a flawed approach, his fatal flaw), which just keeps coming, and b) as mentioned before, Peter couldn’t save Otto, because he mistakenly assumes the trouble started with the neural interface. It didn’t—it started before, though ofc when exactly it started is unclear. It’s not something Peter could’ve saved him from, in any case. He realizes that here:
“Please, Peter,” Otto begged, “that wasn’t me!”
But it was. Peter knew it was. He wanted to throw it in Otto’s face: the files, the plans, all the stuff he’d found. That anger…it wasn’t simply occasional experimental frustration like Peter had initially thought. It was genuine rage and impatience…and Peter had been too naive to see it.
(Though ofc he still blames himself 🥺)
And that’s the focus of this fic, really: the scene where Peter walks away from Otto, but expanded. What’s Peter thinking during that scene? How does he reconcile it with May “when you help someone, you help everyone” Parker? Well...this is how:
When you help someone, you help everyone, May often said. But she also always stressed the importance of self-care, first and foremost. It was worth putting in the effort to try, she said, but you had to know when the effort was futile. When it was time to cut your losses.
Peter had never thought he’d encounter someone like that. Someone he was so desperate to help, who rejected all attempts for him to do so but fooled him into thinking he had a chance. Someone who wormed his way into his heart and shattered it bit by bit, until all he had left was a hole in his chest filled with shards.
Peter hates cutting his losses. But here...after trying throughout this fight scene and subsequent conversation to save Otto...he has to. Even as Otto begs him to come back and help him…Peter walks away. Though of course...he’s still Spider-Man. So what does he promise Otto?
“I’ll do everything I can,” he choked out, “to make sure you get the best care.” That, at least, he could promise. He did it for his Rogues, he could do it for Otto too.
Even now, he shows Otto compassion. He promises Otto will have the best care. Because that’s who Spider-Man is…even to the enemies that stab him in the back so viciously. Especially when, in their lowest moments, those villains still fall back on their bad habits and prove how little remorse they truly feel:
“And of course,” Otto continued, seeming relieved suddenly—probably something in Peter’s face, Otto had always been able to read him so, so easily, “you’ll rest easy, knowing your secret is safe with me.”
Because Peter lives by a creed. And most importantly, he and Otto have some key differences:
He lived by that philosophy of responsibility, by his uncle’s last words: with great power comes great responsibility. And for a time, he’d thought Otto believed the same. And maybe he did.
But Peter would never ever make the mistake of thinking the people of New York were in any way beneath him. Him having superpowers, saving them…it wasn’t out of any sort of arrogance or superiority. It wasn’t because he believed himself to be more than them.
It was because he believed them to be capable of more. Because, where most people looked around the city and saw lost causes and corruption and fear, he saw potential and hope and life.
What sort of hero would he be if he didn’t protect that life?
Otto believes in “doing what’s best for those beneath [him].” Peter believes in helping everyone, no matter what.
So this fic really ended up being part-Peter & Otto exploration, part-Peter/Spidey character study, based on some of the ideas presented in a stunning, moving video essay (linked in the 3rd paragraph). And I love it to pieces 💞
director’s cut ask game!
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miscellaneous adam headcanons
adam is left-handed naturally, but has learned to be ambidextrous.
adam's longest standing long-term relationship is with eve. he's had a lot of trouble holding relationships that aren't wholly casual.
speaking of his relationship with eve: he LOVED that woman. still does. he and lilith were made for each other, yes -- but it felt. different. with eve. adam doesn't really know how to describe it. he knows he loved lilith from the beginning because he was MADE to do just that ;; but he actually had the time to fall for eve. he doesn't know that he'll ever be able to get over lilith, but by all means, eve was the love of his life. not that he'll ever SAY any of that.
he has a guitar collection! the one that doubles as a holy weapon is his pride and joy ( he loves that thing more than he does most people ) but he takes very good care of all of them.
i've talked about this before but he HATES people seeing his face. if ever you want to piss him off, trying to take off his helmet without his permission is the easiest way to do so. the mask stays ON during sex.
he is SO cold, all the time. his robes are made of thicker material -- but even outside of that, he usually wears warmer clothing. he likes to cover up.
even so, his fashion sense ( outside of work ) consists of leather jackets decorated with spikes, ripped jeans ( usually with leggings on underneath, ) big combat boots, and things of the like. he also has ear piercings and owns quite a bit of jewelry, though he doesn't often wear it.
for a soul as ancient as his, adam is SHOCKINGLY up-to-date with modern technology, slang, etc. he's not TOTALLY caught up with it all, but he's close enough.
he goes on dates and goes in and out of relationships and sleeps around, but lute is genuinely, genuinely the only person adam's actually connected with in SUCH a long time. their whole situationship is strange and adam is in no rush to start putting labels on it, but she is his #1.
adam is somewhere around 9ft tall, and has a crazy wingspan to match. aside from warmth and general comfort, the sheer size of his wings is why he usually keeps them tucked away at his sides rather than exposed at his back.
he has a weirdly high pain tolerance for someone that hasn't actually FELT pain in millenia.
though the guitar is his instrument of choice, he can play a large variety of instruments! generally, he has an affinity for those of the stringed variety.
adam has dyscalculia. that's it that's the headcanon.
adam is bisexual ( and has a preference for women/fem presenting people, ) but he's been in denial about it for literally as long as he's existed. he's slept with men, he's dated men, etc etc, but if asked, all you'll get from him is yeah obviously i'm straight wdym. i was just curious. mind your business.
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Angstober 1: Honorbound
Well, I've had my short break—let's start catching up on another month-long journey!
I may or may not use the Angstober prompt to explore this new-ish plot bunny in multiple directions. We shall see.
Coming back home from the rain, I expect a tranquil evening with my nieces: dinner by the crackling fire, an hour or two playing chess with Alita afterward while Norra entertains us with run-on commentary on whatever book has captured her attention last. Instead, I am greeted by half of the manor’s stuff huddled in the entrance hall, pale-faced and wide-eyed.
The sight transports me right back to the big fire from a decade ago. Yet this time, no flames dance on the walls. Nobody’s dying.
Gods, I hope nobody is dying.
“What happened?” I ask, tugging off my gloves. Hopefully, whatever the problem is, magic can solve it. My skills are undeniably rusty, but stress has always been my best motivator. Especially if it affects the people under my care.
The servants look helplessly at me, at each other, at the floor that, now that I think of it, has been polished a little too well. I never thought it should be a necessity to see my reflection in the parquetry.
Finally, the butler steps forward. “My lord, there’s— Um, that is— Well—” I will my eyebrows to stay down. Khosh has always been the most eloquent person in this house. My father used to despise him for it. “You have a—a visitor.”
“In the library,” one of the maids blurts, and immediately covers her mouth with both hands.
I want to frown, to tell them they’re all acting ridiculous, to demand explanations. That’s what my father would do.
I am not my father.
I shrug off my wet cloak and hand it to Khosh when I pass him. “I shall see to it.” Whatever it is.
My footsteps echo on the slippery floor, and I grimace when I realize I’m trudging dirt over the impeccable surface. Outside, the rain intensifies, pounding against the windows like it wants to break in. Thunder rumbles in the distance. The last hour of sunlight we were supposed to get is clearly lost to the storm.
This is turning into a scene from one of those novels Norra especially loves to mock. The ones about destitute young ladies finding shelter in crumbling manors and experiencing the promptly falling in love with the cursed lord who harbors too many dark secrets.
But this is my manor. I am not cursed, nothing here is crumbling, and I certainly have no dark secrets that might threaten me.
Or so I believe, until I swing open the doors of the library and a man with the warmest brown eyes rises from my chair by the fireplace.
I stop in my tracks. My heart follows suit before it bursts into a frenzied gallop. I fear that he can hear it, that throbbing, painful beat in my ribcage.
For a long moment, we stare at each other. He’s smiling; I should, too, but the best I can hope for is keeping half my astonishment off my face. He shouldn’t be here. There is no logical reason for his presence. No ruler comes chasing the recluse that got away, not after ten long years. Moreover, in his own words, he never held that much regard for me.
A crack of lightning cuts open the gloomy sky outside. They say the sky's electricity has the power to reanimate the dead. Something about it certainly jolts my mind back into action.
“Your Majesty.” My back protests against the courtly bow—likely out of sheer spite. It’s been months since my injuries last bothered me, even in rainy weather. “I must confess the shock of your presence is nothing short of staggering.”
“It surprises me you’re surprised.” He takes a step closer. “You haven’t been responding to my letters. I had to come.”
The statement makes no sense. No matter my personal feelings, I always respond to any correspondence received from the capital and crown. I’m bitter, not suicidal.
“I’m afraid I genuinely don’t know what letters you speak of, Your Majesty.”
I search his face for signs of mistrust or anger, but he merely nods, pursing his lips tight. I notice that his golden hair is damp; he must have been caught in the rain, too. This should put us on equal footing, but I only grow more conscious of all the water dripping down from my soaked clothes.
“You haven’t received them, then. Things are worse than I thought.” The King’s eyes light up again. “Oh, well. We’ve always been good at tackling impossible challenges together, haven’t we, Rythan?” The distance between us shrinks when he takes another step; I fight the urge to flinch back. “I hope there are no pressing matters in your province, for I expect you to accompany me back to the court. We can take your girls with us if you wish, provided you’ve been passing your talents onto them.”
His order—for that’s what it is, regardless of his amiable tone—sinks in slowly. I want to refuse, of course. His very presence steers up the kind of emotions I viscerally detest. This province here needs me more than he ever did. His court is a vicious viper nest I should never like to set foot in again.
But he’s not just a shard of my past; he’s my king, and I am a lord of his kingdom, honorbound to serve in whatever capacity he determines.
I can’t fully swallow my pride, though. I’m entirely too out of practice.
“Of course, Your Majesty. I hope you’re going to give me a little more information than that, though.”
His smile is brighter than the next lightning flash. “Most certainly. Come. Let’s sit.” He gestures toward the fireplace, as if he were the master of this place and I a mere guest; the worst thing is, in so many ways that’s precisely the truth. “And stop acting like you’ve forgotten my given name.”
As if I could ever.
#warden's random scribbles#writeblr#original fiction#snippet#angstober2023#day 01#my writing#flash fiction#writers on tumblr#fantasy
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Who needs therapy when you can write your issues through a Stardew Valley polycule with a vague self-insert?
(This is the first of, hopefully, many installments involving Harvey, Elliott, Shane, Sebastian and the farmer 'Hero'.)
This story's premise(which I'll write later) is that Harvey and the (enby)farmer are happily married and after a clear, healthy discussion, agree to open their relationship for Hero(the farmer) to date other men in the valley. Slowly, Harvey gets to know more about the bachelors in town and starts to fall in love with them, too.
Basically, my love letter to the men of Stardew Valley.
Enjoy.
Hero rambles on for hours. An endless stream of information and opinions on farming or decorating or sea urchins. Harvey could listen to them talk until the sun goes down, probably even beyond that. He'd no doubt be content to listen wordlessly. Even if he never gets a chance to rant himself, as often is the case, he can like to listen.
"Anyway, tell me about your planes." Hero rests their head in the propped-up palm and turns his way. Harvey's brain stalls.
"My planes?" He asks in a quiet voice, in near-awe at the question. No one's ever asked about his planes before. When he first started to get to know the people in the valley, he always tried to bring planes and pilots and flying into conversation. It's a big part of him that he wanted people to know, so he tried. He would try so casually, practiced and careful in how often he brought it up and how.
Harvey gave others time to talk about themselves first because surely if he had something so dear to him he wanted to say, it'd only be fair if they had a chance to share their dearest things, too. Only, he stopped getting his chance to talk. People were tired of hearing about aircrafts and radio signals. But he never stopped listening. Maybe people just needed more time to get out what they wanted to say. He'd get his turn, they just needed more time. He doesn't remember when he stopped talking about himself. About his beloved planes.
Harvey feels like he has the most pitiful look on face as he looks down at Hero, all genuine smiles and curious eyes, sharp understanding disguised with casual posture. They're open. They are listening.
"I, um," He feels close to crying which is silly for a man his age when all that's happening is someone paying him attention. Harvey glances away from Hero, even as he feels words bubble up. They threaten to clog his throat with the sheer amount of them wanting to float out, but despite that he can taste how free they feel once they've been set loose.
"So, yesterday, there was this signal, you know the plane..."
#writers#fanfiction writer#stardew valley#stardew fanfic#stardew harvey#stardew sebastian#stardew shane#stardew elliott
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It had been days since the Last time he heard from Ravyn; Lily would live him a letter.
Dearest,
I wish I could have said this in person. But I fear that my own lips couldn't say this outload. This is harder knowing that I will be gone for some time now and I can't disclose were I will be next. When all I can think about is how your lips belong on mine. Gods, you should be mine and mine alone. But that's selfish of me to wish. TO hope that you would wake up one day and want to be the one at my side for the rest of our lives.
The way you look at me when we see each other breaks my heart knowing that you only feel for me in the way of a friend. Someone close to you that you can share a moment with. A kiss with but those kisses mean more to me. Those nights sneaking away with the intent of being close under the sheets, they are memories I hope to keep but this will be the last time you hear from me if I can help myself.
I have been in love with you for a long time. Our last little fight made this harder to do. All I ever want to do is to come back to you. To join your guild and continue to be your partner in all things. But this is becoming harder to face. You are becoming harder to face you.
I love you
I adore you.
You make everything better. I'm safe with you but my heart can't take not knowing where we are going anymore. This will hurt me every day. I will regret this moment for the rest of my life but you are safer when I'm away.. and you deserve to find your forever person.
Farewell, please take care of yourself.
With love ( & yours forever),
Ravyn Hollows.
P.S. I didn't tell Lily where I was going either. So don't bother.
Random Shit @ironshadcw
His eyes read through the letter, his expression changing from the smile he'd had on moments before to anger, and then finally sadness. He could feel the tears stinging at the corners of his eyes and before long they'd begin falling. Some of them hit the paper, causing it to grow wet. He'd grip it in a hand before angerly shoving it into a box. Before Lily could even say anything to the Dragon, the man was gone. Leaving in his wake the sound of cloth tearing, and the scent of blood.
He'd even foregone pulling his coat or boots on, because he'd been home. He'd known he'd fucked up when he confessed to her. She'd thought he'd been joking but he'd been serious. Which was SOMETHING Lily had tried to tell her. That the Dragon did, indeed feel for her. He wasn't someone who would just fool around. He picked on her because that was how he showed affection.
Lily would send her device a message saying simply 'He took the message as expected but I do not know where he went.'
Meanwhile, the Dragon would be fully transformed, an ANGRY cry of pain emanating from him. Anyone nearby would probably get a chill from the sheer anguish heard in the Dragon's sound.
Lily would send her a second message letting her know 'He is finding himself now so do not worry about him seeking you out at this moment. I am not sure he would recognize you in his state.'
He was in so much PAIN. Not only from the transformation but from the fact that he felt his heart breaking. He'd been genuinely in love with her and he'd TRIED to tell her. He'd tried but she'd not believed him and they'd fought. The only way he'd be able to return to himself at some point after getting all the anger out of his system would likely be locking his heart again.
He didn't want to face the pain of LOSS again.
--
Hours would pass, maybe even a day as he flew around aimlessly just trying to calm down. Eventually he'd grow fatigued from the transformation and crash into the ground. He'd be bleeding pretty heavily but not enough to be in danger of dying, when Lily found him and brought his limp body back to the house to clean and patch him up.
Lily would then send Ravyn one more message. 'I found him. He is back home now recovering. Stay safe. I will contact you later.'
#ironshadcw#Verse. Fairy Tail#Guest Muse Panther Lily#Ravyn Hollows - ironshadcw#Ow this hurt to write lol but here you go Rav#blood mention#injury mention
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[ matchmaking... ]
@ anon (Alchemi) : [ match report ready ]
your match is...
✦ Idia Shroud
The sunshine to his gloom! There’s something about you being so positive, optimistic, and caring that makes you an interesting contrast to Idia. You’d very likely be a good influence on him, though he may be a bit hard for you to get along with when you two first meet, since he is reclusive and pessimistic to the point where it’s a bit frustrating. But the more you two get used to each other, and the more Idia lets his guard down and lets himself get close to you, the more you get to see him come out of his shell! It will take some time, but you will get to see that caring and attentive side he hides away from everyone. You’re much more outgoing than he is, so you’ll need to initiate interactions with him at first.
Initially, Idia is very wary of you. He doesn’t understand extraverts, he can’t relate to them, and honestly they kind of scare him. He doesn’t think that an outgoing, friendly person like that would really want to deal with a shut-in like him anyway. The ESFP type in particular is known for being highly social and deeply valuing friendships and relationships; on top of that, you’ve identified that you’re good at reading how other people are feeling and you’re more than willing to cheer others up when they feel down. That is completely out of Idia’s ballpark, and being around such a sociable person drains his own social battery pretty quickly (though it gets much better once you two get closer). Still, he has to admit that it’s really nice that you genuinely care about him and his wellbeing, and you’re not afraid to show and voice your support. It’s something he hasn’t experienced too much of, especially with his peers, so it’s a very pleasant change for him!
Idia might get overwhelmed with the sheer amount that you chatter on and talk, but he’s not exactly the type to get annoyed - okay, maybe he’d get annoyed when he doesn’t really know you, but as soon as he considers you a friend (or something more!) he is unlikely to consider you annoying. Actually, he gets pretty fond of you rambling about your interests and passions! He thinks it’s cute seeing your face light up and for your tone to get all excited. But he also thinks you’re way too nice if you listen without complaint when he gets way too eager about talking about one of his interests. If you actively participate in his conversation (as opposed to just listening) he almost feels like he wants to cry, LOL.
Sometimes, if you fall too heavily into people-pleasing behavior, Idia may get a bit frustrated. He’s self-conscious and overly concerned with what people think of him, yes, but he also doesn’t go out of his way to make people like him. In his eyes, he knows who he is and people will need to just take it or leave it (and he honestly just expects them to leave it; leave him). So, Idia thinks it’s ridiculous to do things for the sole purpose of pleasing others and endearing yourself to them, and he knows that the type of external validation you get from that type of behavior often tends to be shallow or fragile. When he really cares about someone, he would much rather see them be content with themselves; after all, he loves them for who they are, and not because they say things or act in a way that would get him to like them. He absolutely relates to struggling with self-worth and low self-confidence, but he knows that desperate people-pleasing is not the way to fix it!
Idia seems the type to really have difficulty bonding with someone unless he has at least a few shared interests with them. Thankfully, you’re also into gaming! Regardless if your love for games is or is not as deep as his, it still opens up a lot of opportunities with him! If he finds out that you’ve played some of his all-time favorites, he will absolutely gush about the gameplay, characters, and worldbuilding with you - even better if you match his energy and have stuff to contribute to the conversation! He’ll suggest playing co-op on any multiplayer games you two both play, or he’ll help you get started if you show interest in playing one with him. Idia is much more open and social when it comes to playing games with people, so sharing this hobby with him really allows him to take the lead early in your relationship.
He will take an interest in your drawings! He has some skill in it himself, so he easily appreciates the skill and creativity needed to make art. However, Idia isn’t the type to ask if he can see your works in progress or even your finished pieces. He would love to see what you’re working on and what you’ve made, but he feels like he’s overstepping if he asks you if he can see your work. So, if you want him to see your work, please take the initiative and show him! If you happen to draw anything for him or one of his favorite characters, he will geek out and cherish it. On the other hand, if you happen to draw him, he will get so flustered! He appreciates it, he really does, but it makes him feel so shy and embarrassed.
You collect plushies, but you will not hear a single complaint or snide comment from Idia. He gets it; he has a lot of merch and items relating to his interests, too. In fact, knowing that you collect such things makes him feel that much more comfortable sharing his own collection with you! Also, it provides him with some decent insight on potential gifts for you. He has a good memory, and money isn’t an issue for him, so it’s not difficult for him to find and purchase gifts that would suit your tastes. Idia’s not the type to get gifts for you all the time, but he will get you gifts (both plushies and other types of gifts) from time to time either for important events or “just because.”
And, of course, considering how happy you make Idia, Ortho is overjoyed to have you be a part of their lives!
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Elise now presents:
Laying everybody low with a love song that he made
Warnings: swearing, fake spider
Starring: Connor Stoll and daughter of Athena!reader
Soundtrack: Romeo and Juliet - Dire Straits, R U Mine - Arctic Monkeys, Two Ghosts - Harry Styles
Enjoy the movie! 🎬
What the fuck.
Currently, to catch you up, there is a cardboard box on the steps of the Athena cabin and it’s shifting ever so slightly to the left. Which leads you to think what the fuck.
Annabeth nudges you as you try to make out the words at the top of the box after a few seconds of focus you get it to what it actually says: Handel with care. You furrow your eyebrows before turning to Annabeth and Malcolm who is also trying to find out why the box is moving before he gives up and just goes to rip the box open, willing to be a possible prank victim.
Then a mass of black, eight legged creatures crawl out the box and all three of you scream, almost falling down the rest of the steps at the sheer amount of spiders crawling out the small box. The panic lasts about a minute before you hear laughter coming from behind the trees next to the cabin, laughter that sounds suspiciously like your boyfriend and his almost twin brother.
“God, Malcolm, you should see your faces.” Travis says between laughs, wide smiles on the two boys’ faces as they watch the trio of smartest Athena children, stumbling over a box of fake spiders.
“Fuck you Travis.” Malcolm huffs out in response, walking down the steps and away from the now obviously fake insects, Connor running up the few steps to turn off all the spiders before they get too far.
Annabeth huffs when the brothers go to apologise and ends up just turning around with a roll of her eyes and walks away from cabin 6, muttering some colourful complaints all the way that you and Malcolm fully agree with. Travis goes and apologises to Malcolm, an arm round his shoulder as your brother tries to completely ignore him despite the older Stoll brother showing no signs of giving up.
You watch them both walk off and go to do the same thing before you feel familiar arms wrap around your waist from behind, a soft kiss placed on your jaw that makes your face heat up on its own accord.
“Look, ‘m sorry, baby.” Connor says, a teasing smile on his face despite him genuinely apologising. “Y’know I didn’t want you to be mad at me.” He adds, trying to act all innocent.
“Get off, Connor, that was mean.” You grumble, pushing his arms but he tightens his grip, pulling you closer to your cabin walls so you aren’t in plain sight.
“I know, baby, but it was kinda funny, you gotta admit-“ he’s cut off with a slap to the shoulder and he just laughs, moving so he’s standing in-front of you, the smirk gone as he looks into your eyes.
“I’m sorry, really.” He repeats, his hands on your upper arms, trying to keep you still as you glance back at the box.
“You spelt handle wrong.” You respond simply, a small smile on your face as you place a small kiss on his cheek before walking up the steps and into your cabin.
(Connor definitely wasn’t following until you got to the box and he picked it up, analysing his spelling)
Director’s note: really shitty, short fic just because I wanted to write something for Connor *cough* my boyfriend, love of my life *cough* oh my god who said that 😱
#enjoy the movie ׂׂૢ: ̗̀➛✧.*#connor stoll#Connor stoll x reader#percy jackson#connor stoll x you#riordenverse#camp half blood
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'Andrew Haigh’s new film is a stunning exploration of loss and the complications of connection.
I walked into All of Us Strangers with the expectation that I would cry several times and be mesmerized by Andrew Scott’s performance. Both of these came true. But I also walked out with a renewed sense of gratitude for everyone in my life I love and have loved, especially those who are gone.
With thoughtful, concise pacing and beautifully vulnerable lead performances, All of Us Strangers tells the story of Adam (Andrew Scott), a screenwriter, who meets and falls in love with Harry (Paul Mescal). As their relationship develops, Adam finds himself drawn back to his childhood home to gather inspiration for his screenplay. There he encounters his parents (Claire Foy and Jamie Bell), just as they were when they died 30 years ago, and starts to visit them regularly. The film is set almost entirely in these two enclosed spaces—Adam’s apartment and his childhood home—as it unravels the connections between his past and present self. This is a simple, quiet story, with much to say about the complications of loving in the face of grief.
Andrew Scott is authentic and intentional, his expressions often swaying between open and closed, emotional and repressed, as his character learns to connect with others again. But I was surprised and extremely impressed with how Paul Mescal matched his talent. This is the first project I’ve seen him in, and I’ll certainly be seeking out more—he brought a raw desperation to Harry that felt genuine and heartbreaking. Claire Foy and Jamie Bell are equally fantastic in their roles as Adam’s parents. They carefully balance the mindsets of being parents in the 80s with acknowledging the mistakes they’ve made and moving toward something like closure with Adam.
I was equally impressed by the film’s script, music, and cinematography. In an era of 2.5 hour movies, I was pleasantly surprised by a story that doesn’t draw itself out too long. Each scene is intentional and adds to our understanding of the characters and the story unfolding before us. With “You Were Always on My Mind” used in the trailer, I was awaiting its appearance in the film and was startlingly touched when it’s used as a point of connection between Adam and his mom. The rest of the soundtrack felt equally deliberate and well-placed. This is also a beautiful film, making careful use of expansive shots to emphasize the loneliness of London versus the smaller, more contained movement of the camera in Adam’s childhood home.
The best films teach us something about the characters, but also about ourselves. The crux of this story is Adam meeting his parents as an adult, something he never got to do with their premature death. Often, losing someone is a complicated thing—grief mingles with the guilt of anger for the ways someone has hurt us. Here, Adam not only gets to address his past but look toward his future, revealing to his parents that he’s gay and showing them who he is now. In turn, they remind him where he came from and the love that he was once open to, before the fear of loss took hold. As a queer person who also lost a parent at a young age, I felt like this film was looking me in the eyes and telling me: that love mattered. Just because it wasn’t forever doesn’t mean it meant less.
While this film will most likely be overlooked this Oscars season due to the sheer volume of contenders, it’s far and away my favorite not just of this year, but probably of the last five. If you can, go see All of Us Strangers. And bring tissues.'
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Vintage Romance
Gone are the days
when love was a modest display
In this world of modern romance
Old fashioned love is what I crave
When love was pure and well expressed
People were immersed in selflessness
Take me back to the vintage days
when men wrote letters
with pure intentions
When lust didn't attract lovers
but the soul made connections
When people portrayed their feelings
by slow dancing in the dark
And waiting for the rain or moonlight
to swing in each other's arms
when gestures were as simple
as bringing each other fresh flowers
when no grudge or opinion
could tear two souls apart
When lovers could share words
while lying in the middle of grass
when lovers could have heartfelt conversations
and spend the night by counting stars
When men would open
car doors for their women
and the women would stay
with their men till the end
When lovers could spontaneously start dancing
in the middle of the street
When reading books was a love language
and they didn't mind a date in the library
When bonds were founded by loyalty
And eyes spoke of nothing but affection
When lovers locked eyes that reflected sincerity
and falling in love was not interrupted by imperfections
From sharing an umbrella as it downpours
to showing how much one cares
When people lived and let people live in peace
No evil eye would ever disrupt an affair
When relationships were defined
and people could die
for the love of their lives
When men would fight
in wars with all their might
and send letters to their lady loves
Through pigeons in disguise
When people would love
without an expectation of reciprocation
when they would not fear one sided love
but admire their beloved with sheer dedication
They knew how to let people go
in the name of true love
when people remembered to be understanding
to establish an authentic connection
When men would keep
photographs of their ladies
in their wallets
just to feel their presence
even when miles away
as a symbol of their love
and its soulful display
When those in love
would treasure their sweethearts
when both ladies and gentlemen
would make the first move without hesitation
When she would smile
and he would see his world light up
When he would stare in her soul
and she would see the whole universe
When she would sleep
and he would stare
as if he had seen
a jewel extremely rare
When a strand of hair
would cover her face
and he'd lightly use his hands
to sweep it away
When such little gestures
would mean the world
When such subtle pleasures
were pleasing enough
When people could connect
in a single sight
the way long lost lovers project
an urge to reunite
When expensive luxuries
didn't intrigue people
even a coffee date
or a view of city lights worked just fine
when every gesture came
from the depth of the heart
from an inharmonious song
to a poem that didn't rhyme
when lovers brought out
the best in each other
and glaring at the moon
was the best romance
when company was
the only thing that mattered
and they stayed across borders
playing songs on an antique stereo
in the memory of a reunion
When holding hands would give butterflies
The time when love was innocent
yet full of intensity and life
The time when men would dress nicely for a date
and bother to be polite and ask for permission
when love songs genuinely made sense
when lovers cared to become best friends
when going for walks was as romantic
as going for movies or being intimate
when making each other feel safe and homely
was much more heartwarming and important
When people would see the world together
and go for dinner dates
They'd laugh wholeheartedly
in ecstatic moments
and cry over each other's shoulders
at times of heartbreak
When they'd hold onto a single soul
Till the end of time
When soulmates would stay bounded
Till their knees would age
and sights would weaken
When they'd stay together
until death would part them
When people would express love
by playing musical instruments
Oh to be an old soul
with a dream to grow old
with a twin soul
in this era of modern love
I wonder if I'll ever find someone
That comes as destiny
and stays as the fate of the stars
All I wish for
is a vintage romance
All I dream of
is a vintage romance
~sk
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