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duskamethyst · 3 years

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TW dark content but imagine the reader being trained by Nanami like Itadori is and one day the two are fighting a curse that happens to attack the reader leaving them just horny as fuck and all they can do is plead to Nanami about how they feel weird and need to be fucked and poor Nanami is so conflicted cause he’s supposed to be looking out for you but now he’s spreading your legs open as you’re crying little thank yous and it all feels so wrong but oh so right and I need Jesus

a/n: let me give a big fat kiss for u. u are very seggsy. i wanted to use sensei, but nanami wouldn't want to be referred as such. tagging @noritoshiikamo cus she was so excited for this.

warnings: dubcon, aphrodisiac, reader is in third year.

physical injuries are usually expected when you have to go head-to-head against a curse. nanami ended up unharmed but unfortunately, you received the final blow. yet what makes it peculiar is that there are no apparent wounds or marks left on your body.

both of you thought it's nothing too critical, seeing that you look and feel perfectly fine at the time but nanami urges that you should get medical care immediately just in case.

and all is well until you get inside the elevator of the eerie building.

the feeling is rather familiar, to be honest. yet, is odd for how overwhelming it is. you glance at nanami with your heart pounding in your ears, don't know whether to voice it out or not because it just feels too embarrassing.

the feeling surges through you quickly, becoming worse and unbearable as time passes– making you weak in the knees as sweat breaks out in a thin sheen across your body. much to your dismay, you can feel it immensely between your legs, causing you to uncomfortably rub your thighs together to relieve the ache.

nanami notices this and with concern in his voice, he asks you if you're alright.

"no.. i feel weird." you mutter, hands balling into tight fists as you try your hardest to fight against it.

nanami puts his hand across your forehead, eyes widening over how extremely warm you feel. "hold on. we'll get to the infirmary quickly. does it hurt anywhere?"

all inhibitions fly out the door as you want nothing more than feel better again. you know the exact remedy and you take his hand from your forehead and guide it down underneath your skirt. "here."

nanami looks startled and flushed and tries to pull his hand away but you tug him back by the wrist and begin to grind against his palm that's cupping your pussy.

"please, nanami– i really need you right now." you mewl, looking up at him with desperate tears prickling in your eyes.

nanami gulps, feeling your slick through the damp patch on your panties from beneath his skin. "i– don't think.. it's the curse earlier wasn't it?"

"mmh– yeah– no, i don't know." you sob. "b-but you're making it feel a little better."

you shift his hand slightly, forcing him to rub your clit as you grind harder on his fingers. his throat runs dry as he gazes at the hand being used to pleasure you, only snapping back to look at you when you start to whine.

"'s not enough."

all words abandon him as he watches you hoist up your skirt and reveal your sodden panties. before he can try to ask you to stop, you're already grabbing his fingers again and pulling your panties to the side before bringing two of them inside your sopping cunt.

"fuck– ah– nami, p-please." you moan as you seek for alleviation from his thick fingers.

nanami lets out a sharp breath. your warm and tight walls sucking him in cause his feelings and moral to waver. he knows that this isn't entirely considered as him taking advantage of his student, but he can't help but to feel ashamed for doing this with you, much more over the fact that his cock is throbbing inside his pants.

but you're now clutching onto him for dear life, panting heavily as you hide your face in his chest.

"we're not supposed to do this, you know? i'm your mentor." he whispers.

"but.. you're the only one who can help me now."

there's a hint of reluctance in his pace as he first pump his fingers in and out until your whines and the squelching noises begin to spur him on, causing him to fuck you with his fingers even more fervently.

"yesyesyes– that feels so good– faster."

nanami complies, the dense air making him light headed and before he even realizes it, he's already grabbing your jaw and pressing his lips onto yours, swallowing your moans as his tongue clashes with yours.

the thumb stroking your clit while his fingers curl and drag against your sensitive walls have you keening his name. the work of his fingers alone has your legs trembling and almost pushes you over the edge.

almost.

"need more." you whimper against his lips.

"w-what?"

you bring your hand down to his erection, rubbing it with your palm. "please."

"no, we shouldn't." he attempts to coax you through bated breaths. this kind of thing shouldn't happen between a mentor and his student. it's all so wrong. whatever you've inflicted with doesn't change that fact. "i think that's.. too much."

"need it, nanami." you place a gentle kiss on his lips and look at him pleadingly. "need you to fuck me."

nanami doesn't say anything as you fumble with his belt and his pants. even when he's certain he doesn't want this to happen, deep inside he knows that he's lying and the way you're just rubbing and palming his cock leads him to overlook his conscience.

"fuck." he sighs, loosening his tie and takes off his blazer.

you let out a yelp when nanami lifts you up and wraps your legs around his waist before leaning your back against the wall.

"just this time."

you nod your head profusely, eager to get filled as he rubs his tip against your wet slit, gathering slick before slowly sliding his cock inside you.

"mmh, nami– thank you–" you moan, hands finding purchase on the back of his dress shirt as he sinks deeper. "thank you, thank you, thank you–"

you pull him towards you as close as you can, as if in fear that you might lose him by any amount of distance while nanami bounces you on his cock.

the air in your surrounding becomes thicker– the only sounds entering your ears are your moans and his heavy grunts, coupled with the obscene noises coming from where your bodies are joined.

"ah– f-feels good– harder. please–"

nanami buries his face on the crook of your neck, hot plumes of breath tickling your skin as he fucks you harder. the walls sucking him in and clamping down on him have his own cock twitching.

"nanami– 'm gonna cum–" you sob, feeling each thrust brushing against your cervix threatens to tip you off the edge.

"cum with me." his grip on the back of your thighs tighten, forming a deep shape of his nails on your skin as his hips rut into your cunt. "now."

your vision blacks out under your eyelids as your eyes roll back, the wave of pleasure washes over you as you gush around his cock while he releases a thick load into you.

the both of you stay pressed against each other as you catch your breath before he pulls out his spent cock inside his pants again and carefully puts you down so you can fix your skirt.

"you okay?" he asks through shallow breaths, holding you up on your wobbly legs.

you shake your head, feeling like the world is spinning as you hold onto nanami for leverage. he grabs his blazer and puts it around you before lifting you in his arms and presses the door open. god knows how long since the elevator stopped.

"it's okay. just sleep. maybe.. we'll forget about this too."

he knows he won't.

#r; asks.#r; anon.#nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #tw; dubcon #robin – writes. 🔮

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

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Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 9)

(chapter 1) (chapter 2) (chapter 3) (chapter 4) (chapter 5) (chapter 6) (chapter 7) (chapter 8)

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind. you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: smut (semi-public fingering, specifically), angst... I think that's it

After your impromptu motorcycle drive you stayed out all night; exploring the empty city, ducking into dive bars if they were still open, dancing in the streets to music only the two of you could hear.

The city was so eerily empty at night, nothing like a metropolitan complex like London. But it was less creepy and more peaceful, especially when you were walking with Sebastian hand-in-hand along the cobblestone path. He started to swing your hand as you walked and it made you laugh.

“Teach me more Romanian words, please,” you requested, looking at him and struggling to fight your smile. “Română?”

“Eu voi,” he nodded, looking around and pointing to the ground. “Stradă.”

“Stradă... we call it the street,” you answered. “Or road. Road?” you prompted.

“Road,” he repeated.

“Good! Your pronunciation isn’t too bad either,” you grinned.

“Copac,” he announced as he pointed to a tree.

“Copac,” you repeated. “In English, it’s tree.”

“Tree,” he smiled. “Engleza este o prostie.”

He suddenly pulled you into him and spun you around in a twirl, making you laugh. “Dans,” he said as he stepped his feet in time with yours. “A dansa.”

“Yeah, dancing,” you smiled. “I haven’t danced in years, you know, except for tonight.”

He surprised you with a sudden kiss that was unexpectedly chaste, just a press of his lips on yours that either lasted longer than it normally would or just slowed time for a moment. “Sărut,” he whispered when he pulled back.

”Sărut,” you repeated.

“Aș putea să te sărut ore în șir. Ai cele mai perfecte buze,” he breathed, running his thumb over your bottom lip which had gone slack just from listening to him talk.

Your fingers trailed down over the portion of his chest exposed by his unbuttoned collar. “I didn’t know I could feel this way about somebody,” you admitted aloud to yourself. “I wish I could stay…”

His hands lifted your face to look up at him. “Nu face asta. Nu te mai ascunde în gândurile tale. Fi cu mine.”

“Sărut?” you requested, making him grin.

“Da, iubirea mea,” he cooed as he leaned in and kissed you again, smiling into it.

You really hadn't even liked kissing all that much before you met him… you just hadn't seen the appeal beyond warming up to more exciting activities, but now? This was all the excitement you needed; you could kiss him for hours and never get bored.

That said, apparently Sebastian had exciting plans of his own, because you found yourself being backed up against a brick wall, his hands exploring your body— subtle at first, just rubbing your arms and gripping your waist, but then it got less ambiguous as you felt his fingers toying with the hem of your shirt, just barely grazing over your stomach.

His touch trailed higher, nearly reaching your breast but stopping just before: you didn't mean to whine impatiently, but you heard it muffled against his lips and felt him chuckle lightly, breaking the kiss and leaning in to whisper in your ear.

"Atât de nevoiași," he hummed, nibbling on your earlobe as your thighs clenched together much too strongly when he'd barely touched you.

You clutched at his shirt, watching as his hand moved down to the top of your pants, the tips of his fingers just barely breaching past the fabric and starting to slide down.

"Here?" you gasped, finally remembering you were in public though you hadn't seen another person out here since you left the bar.

His hand moved lower down and your stomach fluttered with the forbidden nature of it all, feeling like a rebellious high schooler fooling around behind the movie theater when you both had curfew in ten minutes. But then he found your clit right away and it was nothing like high school.

"Oh fuck," you whimpered, shuddering and pushing your hips up to silently beg for more. He rubbed circles over your bud and smiled against your neck, already making it a struggle for you to stay quiet.

“Un alt cuvânt pe care ar trebui să-l știi,” he whispered, the pitch of his voice making it clear he was saying something beautifully filthy, “este dracu. Vreau să te dracu.”

“Seba, please,” you sighed.

"Dar nu cred că o pot face aici," he added with a soft laugh.

Two fingers suddenly pushed into you and didn't seem to struggle with it at all since he already had you soaked, curling into a tender spot inside you right away.

“Yes,” you whined.

“Yes?” he repeated with a smirk.

“Yes,” you said it again, “fuck yes.”

“Fuck,” he laughed, the word that was so familiar to you almost sounding foreign when he said it. “Spui asta mult. Cred că asta înseamnă că vei veni.”

“Your fingers feel so good,” you moaned, barely enough air in your lungs to get the words out. "Please… please don't stop…"

He kissed you again, open-mouthed and desperate as you both breathed heavily, his tongue sliding against yours as if to taste your moans. Hoping to stay upright now that your knees felt a little wobbly, you slipped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer. That, in turn, led to you feeling the hard outline of his cock pressing against your thigh and you nearly melted right there, wishing you could feel him inside you now but figuring it probably wasn't worth the risk of being arrested for indecent exposure.

By now he knew you like the back of his hand, it seemed, because you were already throttling full speed ahead toward the edge, shocks of heat jumping up your spine each time he curled his fingers inside you.

"I— I'm gonna—" you stammered through your warning. He nodded, moving his fingers faster as you bit your lip a little too hard.

Just when you thought you couldn't help but cry out he kissed you one more time, rough and hungry, and muffled the sounds of you reaching your peak literally by his hand.

Everything that had twisted and snapped all at once began to soothe as you sighed and pushed his hand away slowly, feeling your walls spasm one more time when he slipped his fingers out and slid them right over your clit.

He pulled his hand out of your pants and brought his fingers to your lips; you dutifully cleaned them off for him, watching his lips twitch into a brief snarl when you took his fingers down your throat.

"Vom termina asta mai târziu," he promised darkly as he pulled you off of the wall and spun you around, and you wanted to return the favor but he stopped your hand from sliding up his thigh. "Mai târziu," he insisted, instead guiding you around the block and back to where his bike was parked.

Hopping on the back again as he started it up, you relished the change to cling onto his back tightly. He drove you through the empty streets, over sprawling hills and through stone archways, but just as you noticed this wasn’t the way to get back to the farmhouse, he slowed down and turned into a place to park.

“Why are you pulling over?” you asked, furrowing your brow as he parked the bike and motioned for you to get off with him. “Where are we going?”

“Ai incredere in mine,” he smiled as he took your helmet off for you and kissed you again, quickly, taking your hand and guiding you down a secluded path. You followed him down a few strange alleys, under clotheslines and sconces that started to dim with the oncoming morning light. Finally, he navigated you around a turn, through a tight gap, and out of nowhere you were on an overlook; one that gave you the perfect view of the sun beginning to rise over the city. “Wow,” you whispered, watching enraptured as soft yellow light overtook everything, the village and the woods in the distance beginning to come to life.

“Vremuri de genul ăsta mă fac să-mi fie dor de casă,” he sighed, before looking at you again from where he leaned on his elbows over the stone railing. “Îți faci mai ușor. Nu mai sunt singur.”

“This place is so beautiful, I’ve never lived anywhere like this before,” you admitted. “Maybe it’s just that it’s different that makes me like it so much… I guess I could say the same about you.”

Your eyes met his again, and the way he looked at you… it was like he saw right through you. Honestly, it was a bit terrifying. You'd never been so vulnerable to someone. You liked it more than you expected.

But it still scared you.

"Haide, hai să mergem acasă," he smiled as he stood upright again and took your hand.

"Let's get back to the house," you decided, but he was already leading you back to the bike where you rode through the countryside one more time, doing your best to memorize it all while you still had the chance.

You found tears in your eyes, though you didn’t remember crying, as you typed the final page of your manuscript.

It was a first draft, nothing close to a completed novel, but you were on your way to jumpstarting your career again. The only problem? You couldn’t have a career here. You couldn’t be published while living here, you couldn’t even edit this thing properly without a computer and you didn’t even have one here.

You needed to go home.

It killed you to realize that this was not a sustainable system: you living here— Hungary or Mrs. Alberti’s lakehouse— and falling in love with a near-stranger.

Sure, it was good for what it needed to be; he reminded you what it was like to be cherished and cared for, maybe you helped him break some dry spell (although you couldn’t imagine that this guy was anything but drowning in pussy all the time, but whatever). Regardless, it couldn’t last. It wasn’t meant to be anything other than… whatever it was meant to be.

You flipped through the pages of what you’d written already, admiring the journey that you saw on the paper— not just that of the characters, but your own as well. You could feel the weakness in your own voice in that first chapter, as if your hurt was right there painted on the page with the ink-pressed letters. You could remember shakily typing these words, hoping they would distract you from the fears and memories that plagued your mind.

A few chapters in, you could see the hope and optimism that built with the action of the story. You could feel your own love mirrored in the way you wrote your story, it was painfully powerful.

It brought a sense of closure, in a way; it gave you a chance to appreciate everything you’d learned from this, even if you knew you couldn’t take it with you into the next chapter. But this love didn’t feel like a subplot, it didn’t feel like a stepping stone onto the next adventure— it felt like what you’d been looking for your whole life. Maybe that’s just how it feels to be in the ‘honeymoon phase’ or whatever it’s called; maybe it’ll fade soon, with time and distance.

That was what you silently prayed for as you packed everything, folded your clothes, checked the nightstand drawers for those random trinkets they seemed to accrue. Funny how packing to leave this place took you longer than it did to throw your stuff together when you left Michael, and you’d been living there for years.

Then again, you'd known Michael so much longer than you'd known Sebastian, and yet it was Seba that meant so much to you now.

You weren’t sure what would be more difficult: leaving him, or knowing that you could never hope to explain everything in a way he would understand. You considered writing a letter and hoping that he would come upon a Romanian to English dictionary— but with everything you wanted to say, that would take him hours. After all that, would he find your words worth it? Or would he see it all as one last chore from a peculiar fling?

You were pretty sure he didn’t see it as a fling. But maybe he would understand that it was best left as a very unique rebound.

You left your room just to go get some coffee (or maybe something a little stronger, if it was available) and jumped when you saw Sebastian in the hall, causing you to quickly close the door behind you. “I didn’t expect to see you upstairs,” you greeted.

“Obținerea cearșafurilor curate,” he explained as he opened the door to the linen closet and pulled out some bedsheets.

“Oh, yeah, those could probably use a change,” you mumbled as you realized he may not have washed them since the last time you stayed in his bed.

“Vrei și tu câteva?” he asked, pointing towards your door and holding up the sheets.

“Oh, uh, I don’t need any more sheets,” you shook your head, “but thank you…”

His face curled into a mischievous grin. “Poate că trebuie să murdărim acele foi,” he purred as he set the linens down and stepped closer to you, wrapping you in his arms.

“Seba,” you mumbled, but he must not have heard the hesitance in your voice as he leaned in and kissed your neck, making you sigh a little. He hummed contentedly and lightly bit your ear, and you were almost ready to just let him do it and procrastinate this conversation a little longer, but you had to sigh and push him back.

“Esti bine?” he asked, voice heavy with concern, as he straightened up and examined your face.

“Sebastian…” you started with a sigh, the words you’d been anxiously mulling over all night suddenly abandoning you. “What happened between us meant so much to me,” you continued slowly, “but the fact of the matter is, my first marriage isn’t even over yet. I mean, it’s over, but… I’m not really in a place where I can… start a new relationship…”

He looked back at you, that same blankness of incomprehension you were so used to painting his expression, and yet it was somber; he seemed to sense the tone, even if he was losing out on the specific ideas.

“It’s not fair to either of us, really,” you sighed. “I’m still mourning my marriage— and you were a really important part of that for me. So, thank you.”

You realized you needed to express your gratitude more thoroughly. Thinking quickly, you reached for his hand and opened it, placing his palm to your chest. He looked at you, a little confused.

“Thank you,” you repeated, looking him right in the eye.

He nodded slightly.

“Someday, somebody is gonna love you the way you need— the way you deserve,” you told him, stopping briefly to bite your lip in hopes it would stop quivering. “God, I wish it could be me. But it can’t.”

He held your face and kissed you, and much to your dismay it didn’t feel like a goodbye kiss. It didn’t feel like he knew this was the end. “Nu plânge,” he whispered. “Te iubesc.”

He kissed you again and you let yourself get lost in it like a complete fucking idiot, melting into his arms as he opened your bedroom door and pulled you inside with him. For a moment, it was like any other time, like any other perfect kiss with him, but then he pulled back and looked around and you had to watch his eyes as he realized. You had to watch his face as his smile fell away and his hope turned to despondence.

The whole room was packed. Heavy trunks on the bed, the sheets already stripped so Mrs. Alberti could wash them. Everything that made it feel like your room was gone, and it was just a guest room again, feeling bigger and emptier than ever.

All that was left was the typewriter on the table, because you still couldn't lift it.

“O să pleci,” he gasped, stepping back and releasing you from his embrace. “Chiar mă părăsești.”

You knew that look he was wearing on his face; beyond heartbreak— betrayal. You were all too familiar with it. “I’m so sorry,” you whimpered, “I would stay if I could, but I can’t, can I?”

A car horn honked outside, making you wince.

“That’s my ride,” you mumbled. “I have to go…”

You started to reach for your trunks and for a moment you thought that was really it. “Nu te duce,” he interjected suddenly, grabbing at your wrist and turning you to face him.

“I’m sorry— I have to leave—” you rushed, trying to grab your bags again.

“Nu te duce,” he repeated again desperately, pulling you close, cradling your face in his hands.

“Don’t make this any harder than it already is,” you pleaded as your eyes began to water.

“Stay,” he begged, and you didn’t know that he knew that word. A tear fell; you wished he didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” you shook your head, “I can’t.”

You stood up on your tiptoes to try to kiss him one last time, but he grimaced and pushed you away.

“Să trăieşti,” he said quickly, bitterly, as he stormed out of the room.

“Sebastian, wait—!”

But he was already running down the stairs; you heard the sound of the back door slamming a moment after he was out of sight, and another honk of the horn outside reminded you that you didn’t have time to chase after him. This wasn’t how you wanted it to end— really, you didn’t want it to end at all, and maybe if it had to (which it did) then this was as good a way as any. But you hated to leave like this when the last thing you wanted was to hurt him.

Defiantly wiping the tears from your face, you lifted the first of your trunks and made your way down the stairs, bringing them to the front door where the driver of the cab was waiting to carry them the rest of the way for you.

“Could you go upstairs and get my typewriter for me?” you asked him. “I can’t carry it well myself.”

He nodded and did as he was told, another small but painful reminder of your first day here. Mrs. Alberti came around the bend wearing a knitted shawl and a bittersweet smile.

“I hope you didn’t plan to go without saying goodbye,” she teased you.

“Of course not,” you smiled, “goodbye Mrs. Alberti.”

“I didn’t mean to me, dear,” she explained, making your heart twist.

“I don’t think he wants to hear it from me,” you admitted awkwardly. “I don’t think he can, literally.”

She just sighed and looked away, just as the driver loaded the last of your things into the trunk.

“So, this is it then,” you shrugged as you turned to face her.

“I doubt that,” she smiled. “It’s not a goodbye, sweetheart, just a ‘see you later.’”

“Sure,” you agreed, knowing she was wrong. You couldn’t come back here; you couldn’t leave him twice.

The driver shut the trunk and got back into the driver’s seat, leaving you to stare up at the house and take one last moment to soak it all in.

“You be sure to call me when your book is a big hit!” Mrs. Alberti instructed with a grin.

You were too choked up to say anything back, so you just waved and nodded as you got in the car and took a deep breath. “To the train station, please,” you mumbled to the driver, covering your eyes with your hand as you felt the car reverse and turn onto the road. You couldn't open them, or you’d look back, and you couldn’t look back.

Since your eyes were closed, you had no way to know that Sebastian chased after the car for nearly a block, giving up at the turn of the road, falling into the gravel and laying there for a while, repeating that one English word he couldn’t get out of his head: stay.

#sebastian stan au #sebastian stan x reader

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my-fanfic-library · 4 years

Text

Something Different {BBC Dracula x Reader} [31]

Masterlist

~^*^~

The next morning, you awoke with a heavy arm draped over your waist. Overnight, your fever had come and gone and you were finally a normal temperature. You turned your head, looking behind you to see Dracula. His eyes were closed, and you knew that he wasn’t sleeping he couldn’t. He was probably just resting himself after the events of yesterday.

In your wrist, there was a subtle throb where your wound was, but you noticed that it had been bandaged up whilst you were out cold.

You sighed, turning around to face Dracula. He could feel you moving, positioning yourself so that your arms were wrapped around him, one of your legs draping over his, pulling yourself into him. He only pulled you closer. It was silent. It was peaceful.

It was maybe half an hour that you stayed like that, just lying in his arms. In a way, it was your apology for leaving him. Letting him just feel you against him, it was like saying that you were sorry and confirming that you weren’t leaving again. And you weren’t. After last night, after Dracula had done everything to get you back to him, how could you leave? He had proven to you that you meant more to him than you originally thought. He had lost control in anger. He’d been angry with you before, with Jack, and he’d never lain a finger on either of you. You were safe with him.

“Darling...” his voice broke the silence, rippling through the air. You hummed a response, snuggling into him as if he were the warmest thing in the world, “we need to get up...”

“No...” you whined quietly, “we need to stay here.”

He chuckled, pulling himself away from you. You tightened your leg around him, keeping him close. He looked down at you, smiling.

“My darling, my sweetheart, my sunlight, we need to go.” He told you softly.

“Go where?”

“If you get dressed, maybe you’ll find out.”

“Drac.” You pouted.

“I’m disclosing no information, I’ve already packed your stuff, just change.” He pressed a sweet kiss to the top of your head, “are you going to remove your leg now, darling?”

“Five minutes.” You mumbled, pulling yourself into him once more. Dracula chuckled. Five more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

~^*^~

It was a dull morning. It was just bleak. A white sky with grey clouds swirling high above, the grass deep greens, rolling fields of sage and forest green squares.

The country roads were mostly empty, every now and then, Dracula would have to drastically reduce his speed to match that of a car in front. You didn’t speak much during the drive. You liked to look out of the window - even if the scenery wasn’t bursting with vivid colours - and see what you were passing. Dracula opted against the radio, liking the sound of the grumble of the engine. Every now and again, he’d ask if you were doing okay, and you’d give a quick response before falling back into silence. It was nice and peaceful.

When the sign for the airport came up, a little jolt of excitement ran through you and Dracula caught on when your blood began to rush with it. He smirked.

“Looking forward to our little escape?” He teased.

“I haven’t been abroad in so long.”

“Evidently, neither have I.” He flashed you a rather goofy smile and within the next ten minutes, you were hauling bags out of the car, “here.” He took the suitcase, then your backpack, then his own carry on and began striding towards the entrance. You were left to stand in confusion before rushing after him.

He jumped very slightly when you suddenly linked your arm with his. It was mostly just so that you could keep up with his fast pace, but your display of affection and ownership of him... wow. Your hands were a little colder than usual and he wondered if you needed your jacket from your bag. He supposed you’d get it yourself if you needed it.

An hour later and you were boarding the plane.

“Oh, sorry, ma’am, you’re this way.” The flight attendant placed his hand on your lower back. It was obviously out of just trying to help, but the look Dracula gave was enough for the hand to be immediately removed.

“But- business is-“ you began pointing.

“[First], you don’t truly believe I’d make you fly in business class do you?”

“Well, it’s already a step up from what I’m used to...” you trailed off.

The flight attendant pulled back the curtain to the place where you would be seated and you gasped. Plush, cream leather seats, all reclinable, with fluffy blankets awaiting you. So much space!

“First class?” You turned your head to Dracula who was grinning.

“The best, for the best.”

“Okay, how much money do you have?” The flight attendant clearly pretended to forget how to hear and turned away to help the next group of people on.

“That’s a very personal question, [First].” Dracula playfully frowned, “it’s not something you ask a gentleman.”

“You are anything but a gentleman.”

You sunk down into a seat, a moan of the pleasure of being in first class pulling from your lips.

“Stop with the noises,” he spoke, taking the seat next to you.

“Why? Turn you on?” You asked nonchalantly. You began to fiddle with the remote for your personal TV.

“Extremely.”

You laughed. For a moment, you fidgeted and found a comfy way to sit. You looked over at Dracula, who had decided to read the safety pamphlet. You wondered if he’d get a fear of flying after the safety precautions. That would be pretty funny.

The pre-flight procedures took place and then you were taking off.

“Champagne, madam?” The flight attendant held out a glass. You gave Dracula a quick look of excitement.

“Yes please.” You took the glass. You were trying hard not to smile too brightly.

“And for the gentleman?” He held out another glass.

“No, thank you, I don’t drink... champagne.” You snorted at Dracula’s words and the flight attendant gave you a strange look.

“Very well.”

“Stop that.” Dracula turned to you, a smile on his own face. The flight attendant turned away.

His hand found yours and you sat back, enjoying the feeling of being in first class. The flight was only a couple hours long, and from the stretch from England to wherever Dracula had brought you, the sky turned into a dazzling blue, the sun came out and it had begun to get hot.

You were so very curious to find out where the vampire had brought you. Spain, maybe? Or perhaps Greece? It was definitley hot. Conveniently, Dracula covered your ears every time the captain spoke so that you truly had no idea where you were headed. The mystery was a little scary, but you trusted Dracula. When the plane touched down, Dracula helped you grab the things that you needed to take with you and laced his fingers with yours.

He gestured for you to walk in front of him and you complied easily. You wondered what lay beyond the door of the aircraft. What country were you in? The sun burst through the door as it opened and the second you stepped out, a blazing heat smacked you in the face. You squinted.

“Where are we, then?” You inquired, making your way down the steps.

“[First], my darling, benvenuto a bella Italia.”

“What?!” You turned, looking at him in surprise. You were in Italy?!

“Ci, la mia adorabile moglie,” his Italian was flawless.

“What does that mean?”

“Never you mind. Now keep going, we’re holding the plane up.”

~^*^~

It turned out that Dracula somehow had a licence to drive in Italy (you didn’t inquire on how he acquired said licence) and you were speeding down winding roads, past beautiful fields and the occasional white limestone building. During the drive, you had gotten bored and had turned the radio, belting out the lyrics to the songs that you knew.

“But it’s just the price I pay! Destiny is calling me! Open up my eager eyes~! I’m Mr. Brightside!”

Draucla was laughing at your singing, the drop top making your hair whip in the wind that came with the speed of the car. He didn’t know how you had memorised so many song lyrics over your short life, but you sure knew a lot. You were clearly in your own little world, so happy. He couldn’t help but smile. Here he was, driving towards what could only be described as a palace on the cliffs, with you - the most beautiful person inside and out that he had ever encountered in all of his years. Life had finally decided to treat him well.

The sun made your hair glisten, your eyes sparkle and your skin glow. You looked like a goddess.

To the left, cliffs were appearing and a turquoise sea of gentle rolling waves welcomed you to the beautiful country. Within the next 20 minutes, Dracula was pulling up outside of a beautiful home set into the cliffs and he couldn’t wait to get you inside.

“Is this where we’re staying?” You asked with a very unconcealed hint of surprise in your voice.

“Do you like it, my darling?”

“It’s... huge!”

“Yes, well, we wouldn’t want to be all cooped up, would we? Shall we go inside?”

The inside of the home was just as grand as it’s exterior. Bursting with light, every room was decorated so sophisticatedly. It had a very distinct feel to it, obviously meant to look rather antique and yet it was all still shiny and new. You peeked in every room, the kitchen surprising you with not one but two ovens (an gorgeous in—house oven and a more standard fan), and the bedroom has a gorgeous balcony that overlooked the sea.

“So, where are we?” You asked, turning into the bedroom to look at Dracula who was just placing your bags down.

“Italy.”

“No, I know that. I mean where in Italy?”

“We are just off of Montreosso al Mare.”

“Montreosso al Mare, huh?”

“Yes, darling,” he turned to you. The light caught his eyes and hair, “now what do you say about going to the beach?”

Your face lit up and you were fast to come back inside and begin opening bags.

“Wait,” you froze, “I don’t think I even have a bathing suit.”

Your unfortunate situation lead to having to drive to Levanto where there was a small boutique (you checked beforehand) that sold apparel. Dracula opted for sit in the car, but graciously handed you some money to indulge yourself. You spent quite a while inside, unable to decide on what you wanted. You were curious as to Dracula’s reaction upon seeing you in said bathing suit. He probably didn’t realise just how... revealing they could be.

Picking out one, a wicked smile made its way into your face. This would be fun.

~^taglist^~

@vampiregirl1797 @avalanet @bunnyreese12 @nerdonpluto @teamceleries @grifffins @hitbythunder @winterseoul @mymagicsuitcase @angeli-fucking-cat @benedictethegoddess @bloodhon3yx @nifflersravenclaw @writteninthestars288 @labelladrama @frankcastlesgrunts @angelicdestieldemon @quakerlasss @aliisa-jones @wolverinexmenn @clairedragonessbaker @cryiner @mitsukatsu @piratewhore @your-pixels-are-showing @tardisnesss @ladydovahkiin180 @catwomom @god-of-dramatic-death-scenes @th3rah @viper-queen @mephdcosplay @greghouse7 @faeprinces @kokoro-no-yami @trishaferdream @therealmoni @crazytxgradstudent @sansthelonelypunster @crowley-needs-a-hug @girlonfireice @wasntpriscilla @ivanna6026 @savebensolo-ordie

#oh my god sorry for the wait #but DraccyBoi is back!#thank you all for being patient!#something different #dracula #bbc dracula #netflix dracula #dracula x reader #bbc dracula x reader #netflix dracula x reader #claes bang #claes bang x reader

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ladyartemesia · 4 years

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Just so you know, I will never get over this ✨universe✨ And the fact that you just basically announced that jk’s gonna get his own spin off??? 😩😩 Yes, I guess I enjoy suffering. 23 was also my hoe year. Ok, but the way the Luna thinks that namjoon is about to WRECK lil jimin… :( and they're making her watch??? That seems a bit… insensitive?? But the way she arrives in RED had me slow clapping for my girl!!! I always appreciate a strong female lead and I’m loving how fierce she is. It seems like our other female charcters, yunli and yoonji, are also strong females too, and I’M LIVING FOR IT. “You remember that time I came to your house a little too early and… yoonji had you tied to a bed…” I’M ACTUALLY ROLLING🤣🤣 and v impressed with this yoonji… I wanna BE yoonji😏 hahah ok and no onto THE secret. I DID NOT SEE THAT COMING 👏👏Like wow you really did put all the clues out there for us!! So I guess “visiting grandma in seoul” was code for: learning to kill a man with your bare hands. “I doubt a mountain wolf could even throw a punch… not that they’d need to with those fangs.” I KNEW IT WAS ODD THAT JIMIN WOULD WANT TO FIGHT IN HUMAN FORM IT MAKES SO MUCH MORE SENSE NOW!! I loved getting to see more of jimin’s past. His sense of not-belonging was so palpable. Like when he wasn’t invited to build traps with all the other unmated alphas. I got the feeling that things like that had been happening throughout his life… as if he were constantly overlooked… like he wasn’t suitable to be groomed to be a strong alpha. It made my heart hurt 🥺🥺 I honestly must enjoy pain cus my favorite scene is the flashback to Luna’s 17th birthday, and she wants him to come to the celebration and dance with her. But he never shows up and she turns down every offer to dance bc she was waiting for “the beautiful boy from the forest” omggggg R U SRS. It seems that they’ve been drawn towards each other since the beginning, even tho he’s been keeping his distance. Their level of pining is through the roof and I can’t wait for it to just… explode🥴 I’m so happy to have some answers!!! And I cannot wait to find out how the fight unfolds!! Thank you for sharing your story with us. I’m loving how the plot is progressing. I’m loving how we’re slowly getting to know the supporting characters. (I see you taeji and namli) Sending you all my love! 💜💜 Ps I'm still not over my baby boy aka thottius the second. Like... I didn't know second puberty existed until "my time" 🥵🥵

You really are like a one in a million person. Like you just support and give and are so enthusiastic and sweet and every interaction I have with you is just a total treat. I hope you don’t mind but we’re moots now 🙈.

Lol yes a JK spin off is in the works and (as of now - tho it is subject to change) it’s called Masquerade...

(Low key there is also a Yoongi one called Season of the Witch - also in the same universe that I am thinking about.)

Stories are in my head constantly. Alas I must write them to share them.

Yes! I think my favorite type of female lead to WRITE (I enjoy reading a variety) is a very strong woman who is also very feminine and occasionally vulnerable, but definitely a fighter and force in her own right. I admire that characterization a lot and writing it is very satisfying for me personally. Perhaps because on some level, that is who I hope to be.

Also. Who DOESN’T want to be Yoonji. For real. I do.

Yes! Jimin has carried that sense of passive rejection with him all his life and it’s been very at odds with the strong pull he feels to the Luna. He assumes that everyone feels this strong pull towards her and completely dismisses the idea that it might mean something and that it might not be one- sided. And don’t get me wrong, people are very drawn to her, but Jimin is really fighting against something deep and powerful when he tries to resist her growing up.

I am so so so SO glad you are loving the story. I am loving sharing it with you all. Truly this has been such an adventure and I can’t wait to keep going. 🥰🥰🥰

If I’ve already said it, I’ll say it again, I so deeply appreciate you and your consistently amazing feedback. Truly.

#the alpha #moots #lovely moots #this is so amazing #what precious feedback

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twentiethcenturymoviesandtv · 4 years

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12 Angry Men: Facets of Film

Once a movie gets a great cast, good characters, a well-written script and a good production team, there’s only one thing left to do before it’s ready for the big screen.

Or more specifically, there’s a whole lot of things left to do before it’s ready for the big screen, all encapsulated in a not-so-simple process: moviemaking.

Turns out, there’s a lot to making a movie. There’s cameras, music, sets, special effects, costumes, and a whole lot of other stuff that has to go into piecing together the parts of a coherent narrative in a way that makes sense to an audience, as well as looking appealing. These are the elements that can sometimes catch the attention of an audience, taking a film from good to great based on the ‘movie magic’ elements of the movie in question.

These are typically most easily seen with big budget, special-effect heavy films like Star Wars or Independence Day, but of course, the tips and tricks of Hollywood are used in even the smallest of the small. It’s inescapable: if it’s filmed, there has to be even the barest minimum of these aspects to making a movie.

At first, this can sound like I’m talking out of both sides of my mouth here. After all, as I’ve pointed out in previous articles, the most important thing in any movie is the characters and story, as without them, the ‘movie magic’ seems like so much sound and fury.

And that’s true. Without a substantial story or characters the audience cares about, no amount of special effects or pretty cinematography is going to save it. However, that does not mean that the ‘trimming’ isn’t important.

The purpose of all of these elements of movie-making (facets of film, if you will) is not to replace the story, or distract from it. They are used to structure it, to enhance it, to assist the story and make it easier to subtly get across things to the audience.

For example, in 12 Angry Men, Juror #8 is the only character in a white suit, emphasizing the idea that he is our hero, one of the ‘good guys’. The fan in the room, invaluable on the hottest day of the year, only begins to work once the tide of the votes have begun to change. Neither of these things is coincidence. They are put in the film for a purpose: to tell you things about the characters and the story that the movie itself doesn’t have to in words.

See, the production of a film is directly tied to the story it’s trying to tell. It serves as a vehicle, the method by which the story is told.

With that in mind, it makes a lot of sense that the production of a movie be as important as it is.

All of these ‘movie making tricks’, camerawork, music, set design, etc., are all factors involved in what I call ‘visual shorthand’, or ‘storytelling shorthand’. The point of these elements is very simple: to tell the story in ways that the audience can understand immediately, without having to be told in dialogue. The skillful application of these methods makes the film easier to understand, as well as more impressive and enjoyable. It is the use of these elements that mark the difference between a competent director (or an incompetent one) and a great one.

This leads us to today’s question.

Did 12 Angry Men happen to use its ‘facets of film’ wisely?

At first, it might seem like the film is already in trouble. Sidney Lumet was untested in the movie directing business, having only worked on television shows before, and it seemed unlikely that this low-budget piece set largely in one room would be the show-stopper as other epics of the time such as Ben-Hur or Bridge on the River Kwai.

Frankly, that’s true.

12 Angry Men is by no means a big-budget extravaganza, but that does not negate it’s uses of movie magic. Indeed, as a matter of fact, this film turned out to be an excellent study in the subtle uses of ‘storytelling shorthand’. Let’s take a look, starting with one of the more easily overlooked elements of a film: cinematography.

On the surface, it can seem like 12 Angry Men is shot in a rather dull manner. The camera switches between shots of the whole room and table to shots of the individual or grouped jurors who are speaking. And to be fair, there isn’t a whole lot else to be done with the camera in a film that relies on dialogue, and never leaves the jury room.

But the production team was smarter than that.

While both the cinematography and the sets are simplistic, that does not mean they are simple.

Even the casual viewer can pick up on the rising tension as the film progresses, and while the aforementioned viewer might attribute this to writing and performances, there’s a little more to it than that, aided by the subtle use of camerawork.

While it’s true that the excellent writing and masterful performances do the bulk of the tension rising, the camera operators had something to do with it as well. The careful movie-watcher will notice a subtle change with the camerawork between the beginning of the film and the end.

In the beginning of the film, the shots are wider. There are very few closeups, and the ones that do exist are there to establish characters. The camera is a respectable distance away, across the table from each juror. As the film goes on, however, the frequency of these shots changes.

As time passes, more and more close up shots are used, emphasizing more emotion as we learn more about the jurors as people. This furthers not only our personal connection with the jurors, but the intensity of the situation, letting the audience feel the urgency without having to be more obviously cued. Director Sidney Lumet put cinematographer Boris Kaufman (Oscar-Winner cinematographer for On the Waterfront in 1954) on the task, saying this: “I shot the first third of the movie above eye level, shot the second third at eye level, and the last third from below eye level. In that way, toward the end, the ceiling began to appear. Not only were the walls closing in, the ceiling was as well. The sense of increasing claustrophobia did a lot to raise the tension of the last part of the movie.”

And it really works. Very simple, but effective, much like the movie in general.

The film being shot in black and white serves it well, with stark contrasts and even more attention drawn to Juror #8’s white suit, the only real piece of ‘costuming’ involved. After all, all the ‘costumes’ needed to consist of was very simply suits, normal dress for the time. Even the set was very simple. It’s a jury room, again, nothing special. The only other settings in the film is the outside of the courthouse, during which an excellent use of the camera takes the audience around the interior of the building before settling on the room in which the trial is taking place. It’s an excellent mood-setter, giving the audience a taste of what to expect in tone before the film gets going with its story.

But there’s more to the production of a film than sets, cameras, and costumes. Let’s talk about the music.

Again, the observant viewer may have picked up on the fact that there isn’t much of a score to 12 Angry Men. The music is there, but there are a lot of quiet moments in the film without music playing. There are two notable instances, however, where the music does quite a bit with mood-setting:

The first instance is in the beginning, as the jury retires to the jury room to deliberate on a verdict. The music is slow and sad as the camera focuses on the defendant, heightening audience sympathy for the character, a wise choice as it increases the audience’s interest in hearing the verdict, and increasing the reaction when the vote comes down so heavily in the ‘guilty’ favor.

At the end, however, there is a noticeable, if subtle, change.

The same style of music is played as Juror #8 heads down the steps out of the courthouse, but done as more of a triumphant fanfare. The day is won, justice has been served (hopefully). The music really only plays during scenes with little to no dialogue, with the rest of the film’s background being mostly silent, emphasizing the dialogue and performances going on.

How about those performances, huh?

All twelve main parts in this film are played to perfection, even more impressively as each character is thoroughly human. There are no knights, no cops, no ‘heroes’ to be found here as typically thought of in the realm of film, these are all, plain and simply, men. They are people that we can easily imagine running into or even being ourselves. Each character is played believably, in genuine, unpolished humanity, and in a way, it is this element that sets this movie apart.

The costuming isn’t anything special, and the sets, while well constructed and believable, is very simply a jury room. They are both contemporary, and aren’t the point. This film isn’t about flashy visuals, sweeping landscapes, or incredibly powerful musical scores: it’s about the performances.

Any film, no matter how good the script, cinematography or effects are, is nothing without decent, believable performances from its main cast, and it is here that 12 Angry Men truly shows its merits.

Every line of dialogue in the script is spoken with raw realness. The characters sometimes pause and stutter, all shown as individuals (even those with smaller parts) with lives and opinions of their own. Every juror is perfectly realized, from the earnest, organized Juror #1 to wishy-washy fast-talker Juror #12. Every part, notably Jurors #8 and #3, feels real, as though they are people, not characters, and it is there that the movie shows its strength. The acting perfectly matches the gravitas and realism of the rest of the film, with each character clear enough that the audience establishes a connection with them, and after all, that’s the point.

There isn’t a single piece of this film that feels out of place, or unbalanced. While the film’s production can seem unremarkable at first, a deeper look shows that every aspect of this film fits in exactly where it’s supposed to for the film to hit home. Nothing overshadows the script or the actors, with each ‘storytelling device’ used to heighten and accentuate, remaining subtle and in the background, allowing the audience to focus on the story and characters. Although it can seem like there’s not much to look at with this low-budget, single-set piece, Sidney Lumet’s Hollywood debut proves that you don’t need a budget to effectively use the tools at your disposal.

It all fits together, blending to become a quiet, subtle masterpiece that more than deserves its title as one of the greatest movies ever made.

But as I mentioned, none of this was an accident. We looked at the moviemaking magic, it’s time to look at the magicians themselves. Join us next time while we take a look at the facets of filmmaking: the behind the scenes of 12 Angry Men. Hope to see you there.

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starrspice · 5 years

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Rose Quartz isn't a villain

Unpopular opinion. But here we go

This is My personal two cents. This isn't ordered well its kind of all over the place.

WARNING. ITS REALLY LONG

A lot of people (especially since the movie) have been acting and bashing Rose Quartz/Pink Diamond and acting as though she's the cruelest villain in the universe.

And here's why I don't think she is the ANTAGONIST (a person who actively opposes someone or something)

And furthermore why she falls in line as a VILLAIN ( a character whose evil actions or motives are important to the plot.)

As well as a HERO (a person who is admired or idealized for courage, outstanding achievements, or noble qualities)

Let's start with her thought process and behavior.

A big thing I see is people saying "HER ABUSE DOESNT JUSTIFY WHAT SHE DID SHES STILL A MONSTER" and it's true. Abuse doesn't justify terrible behavior but it does to some degree explain it. Pink diamond was abused by the other diamonds.

She was constantly punished for acting out, which she did not only for attention from the other diamonds (as she seemed to be left alone quite often ) but also to make them happy (which indicates that they usually are not) and bring the family together. Not only did she act out, but when punished, she was forced to say she's sorry and that she was wrong, for simply trying to make her family happy and feel less miserable herself.

Pink was basically trained to follow homeworlds rules and not to question anything. And was forced to live a life she hated.

Yes. A lot of what Pink did and HOW she acted is due to how she was raised by the diamonds.

Diamonds are taught that THEY are the leaders. All gems and other life forms are lower than they are. And while Pink did, in fact, realize that killing the planets was wrong that may very well be all she realized. Gems weren't made to fuse with other gems, or to rebel, or to find their own path in life. All of those were things introduced by the rebels. The only reason the diamonds are getting closer to behaving and thinking better than they used to is that they had GUIDANCE. Steven helped show them a better right and wrong. He's helped them work to become better people for 2 years. And one may argue that pink/rose had thousands of years AWAY from. her abusers to become better. But the big thing she didn't have was guidance. She didn't have anyone tell her that those things weren't ok. The gems couldn't tell her that because everything they were doing is new to them. They grew and developed as people but couldn't possibly understand a stronger sense of right and wrong since it had never been questioned before and they'd never been told anything except for "Diamonds know best so we never question them" if you listen to Rose's song love like you she REALIZES SHE WAS TERRIBLE but only because she finally had someone to show her how her way thinking was resulting in terrible behavior and causing problems. "I always thought I might be bad now I'm sure that it's true, 'cus I think you're so good and I'm nothing like you. " GREG WAS HER GUIDANCE but she realized that even if she tried to be a better person. Shell always has a bit of her old self. And she may very well think That's holding her back. But she knew that steven, someone surrounded by people better than she ever could be. And by a strong loving father to guide him and make him kind and considerate and the amazing steven we know and love.

I know a lot of friends who have dealt with abuse. And they go on to behave all kinds if different ways. But this show depicts 2 very different ways people can behave after a childhood of abuse. Pink ran off and made her own life, but didn't necessarily become better. She continued living as she had, not knowing her behavior was wrong because she had never seen anything else or been told that it was wrong. She acted how she was taught to act by homeworld, and as for the rebels, no one recognized how bad it was because they lived the exact same way. They were stuck and had trouble growing as people because they didn't know how to grow. Steven taught them. That's why pearl lives for herself now instead of rose. How Amethyst takes pride and lives with the support of her friends and family boosting her up. He taught garnet that it's ok to not know everything, and sometimes you just have to focus on what you can change rather than what you cant. He taught them that fighting doesn't always fix the problem. Pink didn't have a steven until she realized how much she truly loved Greg. How he was different from other humans because he taught her and was willing to overlook the mistakes of her past so he could help her future. Only at the end of her life did she learn that she was wrong, and selfish, and not a good person. The diamonds acted JUST like this. They all dealt with Whites abuse. And realized. They behaved wrongly. Steven showed them that. They had guidance. Yes. Some people can realize the fault in their behavior on their own. But some cant. The diamonds needed guidance to take steps towards being better. And they're still struggling to learn. But they have someone to help them. So they're trying to fix their mistakes. So yes. Pink diamond was a bad person. And she did a lot of what she did not only because of the abuse. But because of how she was taught to think. This is not to void her of fault or to excuse the things she did. But I feel like it's unfair to call her evil and cruel and heartless. EVERY SINGLE VILLAIN in steven universe has had some layer of depth of deeper reasoning for what they did. And even if you consider pink to be the real villain. The same goes for her. Evil is not inherent, just like all terrible thoughts and behavior patterns. Like racism isn't inherent, or bias or prejudice. These are behavioral traits that are TAUGHT. If a killer raises a child. That child may not think killing is wrong. Pink was raised where she was an important person who had a right to everything she wanted and her desires took priority. Once something didn't serve a purpose she was expected to get rid of it. And gems were treated like objects. They were used for walls, decorative statues. Even aquamarine said topaz was of no use to her. And was prepared to get rid of her. we know this is wrong but they don't. Not all of them anyway. Even the off colors thought they were in the wrong for being themselves. It's not as if she did all of this because she wanted to hurt those around her. She did everything how she did because she was taught to think that way or behave that way. We become the people we are through nature AND nurture. But one can have more sway on someone depending on their upbringing. Abd abusive upbringing like pink endured is bound to drill homeworlds ideals into her head that much more. Especially since she tried to go against the grain and was punished constantly for trying to save things and be better.

And a lot of complaints I see is that "if she tried to explain her feelings to the diamonds none of this would happen" but everyone seems to forget. SHE DID TRY. In the episode where ruby and sapphire split and pearl explains everything she shows that pink diamond DID try. But was scolded for it. And was ignored. Just like how white ignored blue and yellow. She used all her authority but it meant nothing. She felt trapped and took an out. She tried to make a change. It started a spark that leads to a rebellion. Gems thinking for themselves. Being themselves. She did do good things. She tried to leave as much good as she had. But she didn't really know good and bad. She is still responsible for her failures and actions. But it's so so SO wrong to just slap a label on her calling her pure evil like she WANTED to do all that damage. Its the same as calling someone a hero despite any terrible things in their past that may have lead up to that. It's fine to classify her as an antagonist because yes. She caused problems for the main character and everyone around them. But it's not ok to ignore the meanings and cause behind it. We all knew pink/rose wasn’t A good person. But it's not ok to belittle her and act like her suffering and upbringing played no part.

It just upsets me when people ignore the history of someone. And I repeat THAT DOESN’T EXCUSE HER ACTIONS but that doesn't mean its ok to label someone based on their mistakes. No. Rose isn't a good person. She didn't know how to be. But that doesn't mean shes a cruel villainess. It means she was hurt early on and never fully recovered.

People who come from abuse can rise higher than their oast and tey to be better. And sometimes they can get stuck in their past and never learn from it. But that doesn't mean it's from a lack of wanting to be better. They may just not know-how.

This explains pinks behavior. And why she isn't an ANTAGONIST. She wasn't ACTIVELY trying to harm anyone or ruin anything. She even REFUSED TO SHATTER GEMS. She had a semblance of right and wrong and what was too far, but that's as far as it went. Additionally, by the time the show takes place, Pink is gone and can no longer actively do anything against steven or the crystal gems.

So. My thoughts on Pink/Rose

Not a good person and not justified in her actions, but came off the bedside of an abusive childhood and was never taught better. Just because she's done a lot of bad things doesn't mean bashing her is ok. Try and think of it like real life. Not everyone becomes better after abuse. And not everyone has the influences and tools needed to become better after abuse. We learn right and wrong from the people around us, so what if no one around us knows proper right and wrong?

Not looking to argue and you can reply with your thoughts if you want. But that doesn't really mean ill respond (im sure ill be flooded with people telling me why I'm wrong lol)

I would go on but I feel like this is too long already

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digitalmarketer0-blog · 4 years

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Pawna Lake Camping

PAWNA LAKE CAMPING

Pawna lake camping is one of the most fascinating camping places around Mumbai and Pune. Driving along the golden lake side, enjoying the water mirroring the sky, camping on the edge of Pawna lake, staying in a tent next to the lake, feeling a warmth of campfire, having mouth-watering barbecue and singing away the night.

Pawna Lake is essentially an artificial lake brought into existence due to the Pawna dam (Pavana dam). Pawna dam is located on Pawna river in Maval taluka, around 40 km from the borders of Pimpri Chinchwad city. Its capacity is around 10 TMC. The construction of the dam began in 1963 and ended in 1972, is 1,329 m (4,360 ft) long and 42.37 m (139.0 ft) high, with a gross storage capacity of 0.24 km (0.058 cu mi). The backwaters of the Pawna Dam formed a reservoir, and the Pawna Dam backwaters subsequently came to be known as Pawna Lake.

How To Reach Pawna Lake Camping

Pawna Camp proximity to the happening destination of Lonavala makes it easily accessible to from there. It is just around 20 kilometres away from the Lonavala Railway Station. The easiest way to travel would be to hire a taxi or a cab from Lonavala. There is good road connectivity from Pune, Lonavala and Mumbai to Pawna Lake. The nearby town of Kamshet, off the Mumbai-Pune Expressway, also offers a lot of transport facilities to the lake which is only 35 kilometers away. The nearest railway line is in Lonavala, and the train route is pretty scenic as you approach Lonavala.

Distance

Mumbai to Pawna lake :

– Via Dudhiware khind = 105 km

Mumbai > Lonavala > Bhangarwadi > Dudhiware khind >

Pawna lake

. – Via Kamshet = 122km

Mumbai > Lonavala > Kamshet > Pawna lake. Pune to Pawna lake : -Via Kamshet = 65km

Pune > Pimpri Chinchwad > Kamshet > Pawna lake -Via Paud road = 45km

Pune > Paud > Kolvan > Jovan > Thakursai > Pawna lake

Things To Do Adventure At Pawna Lake Camping

· Adventures At Dudhiware Waterfall

· Camping at Pawna lake

· Paragliding

· Trek up to the Lohagad or Visapur

· Tikona Fort Trek

· Kayaking at Pawna lake

Top 6 places to visit near Pawna Lake Camping

Pawna lake is one of the popular tourist destination in Maharashtra. It is popular not only for its view but also due to some historic nearby places. Below is a list of top six places to visit around Pawna lake. Also at the end of the article, we will help you to plan a day and make the most of it. Also find some excluded attractions and the reason for exclusion at the end of the article. We will also tell you best restaurant to have launch around Pawna lake.

1. Dinosaurs Park (See on map) 2. Lohagad – Visapur fort (See on map) 3. Dudhiware waterfall (See on map) 4. Prati pandharpur (See on map) 5. Tikona fort (See on map) 6. Tung fort (See on map)

Sightseeing Around Pawna Lake Camping

Pawna dam is one of the explored spots around the city. It’s an ideal getaway for a tranquil one-day outing. The lake provides fresh water to the Pimpri Chinchwad area. People headed to the lake can also visit several forts like Tungi, Lohgad and Tikona and many temples in the vicinity. An artificial lake, Pawna Dam is located about 15 km from Lonavala in the Sahyadri ranges. It’s nestled amidst greenery and hills offering a great view. Pawna Lake came into existence as the Pawna Dam was built in the area, which now along with being a source of fresh water, also serves as a host for tourists who come here for soothing their minds, camping and for picnics. Trekkers also often explore this area. Plenty of advertisements are shot with this lake in the background. An island in the middle of the water body adds to its beauty. This place is like an artist’s palette, offering plentiful colors with blue waters, green vegetation, brown hills and the open blue sky above.

Pawna Lake offers all you’ve dreamt of in a holiday location – a calm setting, beautiful landscapes with unmatchable sceneries and the freedom to explore. From the ancient ruins of forts to untouched pastures of lands, there is so much to see.

Lohagad Fort: One of the most scenic hill forts in the state of Maharashtra overlooking the Pawana Lake which is located to the south of the fort.

Visapur Fort: An extension of the Lohagad Fort on the Lohagad-Visapur fortification line, at the height of 3,550 feet above sea level.

Tung Fort (Kathingad Fort): With an elevation of 3,527 feet, Tung Fort is one of the hardest forts to access. Reaching it from the Pawna Dam requires a 400-meter steep climb.

Koraigad Fort: Extremely well preserved and intact, this fort is as pretty as a picture. A must visit.

Tikona Fort: One of the oldest forts in the region, dating back to the 7th and 8th Century A.D. This hill fort is pyramidal in shape and offers charming views of the reservoir and the other forts.

Sunset At Pawna Lake Camping

For people living, it isn't very easy to take out time and enjoy the

beauty of nature. It is nearly impossible to do so as there are very

few places which offer such a luxury at a reasonable price. And yes,

enjoying nature is a luxury in Mumbai.

People who want to enjoy a beautiful sunrise and a mesmerizing

sunset should look no further than Sunset Pawna. Pawna lake is an

artificial lake that is located around 120 km from Mumbai by road,

depending upon where you stay in Mumbai. This beautiful lake is

nestled in the lap of the stunning mountains.

Sunset Pawna provides all the provisions required to make your short

stay with nature a memorable one. The reasons why Pawna lake

camping at Sunset Pawna should be in your list are many, few of

them are as below:

It is a Quiet and Stunning Location

As this location is not commercialized yet, you can still enjoy the

serenity that this place provides you. Unlike other sites nearby where

there are too many people leading to crowding and loud noises,

Pawna lake is a welcome change. It is placid where you can forget

about your stress and enjoy the tranquil till you can.

Provides All the Camping Requirements

Sunset Pawna has taken into consideration the camping requirements

of one and all. They offer different sized of tents i.e., a bigger tent for

people with family or a big group, a smaller tent for people who have

come to enjoy with selected people. They customize the tents as per

the requirements of the visitors.

They Provide Lip-Smacking Snacks and Food

Any outing is incomplete without a delicious meal. Sunset Pawna has

kept this in their mind and makes sure the guests are served with

delicious snacks and hot beverages upon their arrival. Guests are

welcomes with piping hot pakoras along with freshly made tea. Before

dinner, the guests can enjoy their barbeque, both vegetarian and non-

vegetarian dishes are provided as appetizers. For dinner, the campers

can enjoy unlimited delicious local food. The next morning for

breakfast, campers are given lip-smacking poha and other local

delicacies freshly prepared.

Reasonable Price

To enjoy nature and scrumptious meals, you need not shell out loads

of money. In Sunset Pawna, this can be done by giving a small

amount of approximately Rs. 2500 per person. This amount is quite

reasonable compared to others. You get to enjoy the beauty of nature,

delicious food, good music, and fantastic ambiance at a literally small

price.

Even though it is not luxurious, but one should definitely

experience sleeping under the twinkling stars once in their

lifetime. Sunset Pawna makes it possible for you and your family

and friends to enjoy nature at its best.

Conclusion

Sunset Pawna Lake Camping is the best place for Camping in Lonavala. We

makes your camping convenient, beautiful and memorable. It is the best for

Pawna Lake Camping.

Best places to have food at Pawna lake Camping

1. The oven (See on map – Antique, feels reach, Near to Lohagad fort and Dudhiware waterfall, Rating 4.2/5) 2. Lohagad restaurant (See on map – Lake-touch, Acess to lake, Rating 4.2/5) 3. Shree Swami Samarth Family Restaurant (See on map – Best for spicy Maharashtrian food, Lake-view, Acess to lake on 50m, Cleanliness below average, Rating 4.1/5)

We hope that you got all the information to plan a trip around Pawna lake camping

If you are planning a trip to pawna lake contact us on pawnacamp.com or call us on 8381004848

20 Reasons to book on Pawnacamp.com?

· No fake commitments.

· No booking fees, No extra cost.

· 1753+ reviews on google map & 1067+ website reviews

· Campgrounds are private property

· 24/7 call support on 8381004848.

· Online booking system - Instant confirmation.

· Only 33% advance to book.

· Freedom to choose any site from A,B,C,D...etc.

· Camps are lakeside except camp J.

· Couple section on camp C, D.

· Family section on camp C.

· Separate BBQ grill for each group on camp E.

· Live guitar on camp A,G, I, F.

· Machan tents only on camp J.

· Jain food can also be arranged.

· 3 options in breakfast

· Fridge available

· Paragliding at an extra cost.

· 360 degree street view of each camp

· 250+ original photos

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iknownothingihearnothing · 5 years

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Game of Thrones 8.3 “Battle of Winterfell”

HOLY SHITSICKLES, YOU GUYZ!

That episode was AH-MAZING. I know it wasn’t exactly the shower of death we expected--I mean, there was TONS of death, don’t get me wrong, but our ultra-beloveds are still safe...for now--but it was still epic. Totally worth having to squint for over an hour at a laptop screen brought obscenely close to my face.

Honestly, I thought it was just me until I logged onto Twitter after the episode and everyone was like:

I also made the grievous error of signing into social media before the episode aired and I saw that “Arya” was trending. I thought that she had been killed and I was about to riot.

My brother had actually seen the episode before me--we share an HBO Go account with my uncle because as a lifelong bachelor, he can afford all those channels we cannot--and when I turned it on the battle was at the midway point; I was spoiling myself. I texted my bro “I WILL KILL YOU” and he replied with an emoji of a house. IDK if he plans to defend himself with a house or hide in a house or drop a house on me like I’m the Wicked Witch of the East.

As the episode opens, it’s nighttime (of course it is), and Sam’s hands are shaking because it’s really fucking cold. The Winterfellians are ushering everyone who ain’t fighting into the supposedly SAFE IT’S SO SAFE YOU ALL WILL BE SO MUCH SAFER crypt and performing last minute prep. Theon and Co are wheeling BranBot to the Weirwood tree where he will be used as bait to lure out the Night King.

Sansa and Tyrion and Co. are up on the ramparts. Sansa, naturally, does not look very excited for this party.

The actors’ also. They had to shoot 55 nights in a row.

We get our first glimpse of Drogon and Rhaegal of the episode, AKA the Good Dragons. Because we need to decipher on this show.

Everybody’s in position. The canons are ready. The awesome catapults are ready. The Dothraki are ready. The Unsullied are ready.

All the animals, too, are in place. Including Ghost!

Jon/Aegon approaches Dany and her dragons on a hill overlooking Winterfell so they can get a decent view of the happenings below and get better air on their dragonplanes.

There is SO much to unpack with Jon and Daenerys. They have lots of, uh, “stuff” to deal with, like that he’s technically her nephew and she’s more concerned that he has a claim (and a bigger one) on the Iron Throne than that he’s her blood relation and they’ve had lots of sexy sex. And also that the brother she grew up hearing raped Lyanna Stark actually loved her and married her in secret, thus producing Jon.

But, er, now is not the time and they know that so they gots to put aside their feels and kick some ice zombie butt and save humanity. I imagine this is how Sophia Bush felt when she still had to work with Chad Michael Murray on One Tree Hill knowing he cheated on her with a teenaged extra.

Sort of. Minus the whole “we might die” part.

Melisandre rides up after being in Volantis all this time. Remember how she said she’d come back to Westeros just one more time? Well, that time is here. The Red Woman asks Jorah to tell the Dothraki to lift their swords, which he hesitantly does. Melly grasps the front dude’s Arakh, chants some freaky Lord of the Light mojo, and then all the Arakhs, one by one, become alight in flames like Beric Dondarrion’s.

Even Tormund is awed.

The Red Woman continues on, wishing “Valar morghulis” to Grey Worm, who instantly returns with “Valar dohaeris”. Davos, up in the ramparts, having been warily watching Melly, finally gives the order to open the gate. He...is not a fan of Melisandre. She may have brought back Jon from the Great Beyond but she burned Shireen alive.

However, now is not the time for disputes among the Team Alive population. If they wanna beat Team Undead, they gotta work together.

Davos goes to meet her and she assures him that there is no need to execute her or anything cus she’ll be dead before dawn.

Davos:

Up on the roof, Arya catches Melly’s eye. And she don’t look like she’s throwing out the welcome banns.

Melisandre is on there because she kidnapped Gendry all those seasons ago. You know, to do that sexy, leechy blood magic on him.

And BOOM. The first wave sets off. Mostly consisting of Dothraki on horseback, with Jorah leading them into battle. Huge alight boulders are also placed inside catapults and set flying. Ghost is seen running beside the horses, teeth gnashing.

Srsly, they need to save that direwolf. The PTB at GoT have already killed the other wolves, with the exception of Nymeria, who has run free, and David and D.B. have confirmed that Crazy Cersei killed Ser Pounce after Tommen died. There is NOT a good track record with pets on this show.

All the Dothraki race into the fray to meet the undead, ululating and shouting war cries in the Dothraki language. They’re proud. They’re confident. They are WARRIORS. They know what they’re doing. They’ve been raised on this shit.

And then...

That’s the ENTIRE DOTHRAKI HORDE! Just...gone in a few minutes, holy shit .Did GoT just erase the Dothraki?! Just like that, what the fuck?!

Anyone else feel indignant on behalf of the Dothraki?

Jaime looks like he’s about to shit his Iron Pants.

The second wave all look at each other like “WE ARE SO FUCKED” until some animals and finally people--including Jorah--return to the line. Ghost better be one of them!

Up on the hill, Dany’s in a panic because, again, the dead desecrated her entire Dothraki forces. And she is understandably devastated; they weren’t loyal to Jon, they were loyal to her. She was their Khaleesi. Their original plan was for them to remain on the hill and take flight there and wait for the dead to come to Winterfell’s gates but we all know that ain’t gonna happen. Jon, awkwardly, tries to intervene when Dany begins to leave, but Dany perseveres. The dead are already here and the Night King is a-comin’.

On the line, everyone’s waiting with bated breath. Sam looks about ready to pass out. Tormund’s glorious red mane blows in the wind, which the captions keep telling me “whistles”, so I know it is strong. Grey Worm puts on his helmet. The Unsullied army bend and position their weapons and....

The ensuing scuffle is pretty much insanity and confusion. There are dead body parts mixed with the same people we know and love trying to fight them off and, like, totally forever kill them. Brienne shouts “STAND YOUR GROUND!!” like a badass but is immediately overwhelmed and Jaime, upon glimpsing his CO and fellow knight (and maybe something more?) going down in the mud, jumps in to help her.

Dany and Jon ride in on the backs of Drogon and Rhaegal and it is never not awesome watching dragons spitting fire at their human overlords’ enemies.

Up on the roof of Winterfell, Arya and Sansa are flabbergasted as they watch with dismay the battle below. The blood, the fire, the (good) dragons. Finally, Arya turns to Sansa and implores her sister to get into the (VERY SAFE EVERYONE WILL BE SAFE THERE SWEARSIES) crypt.

Sansa doesn’t know how to use it, she is not trained in combat. Arya just tells her to stick the wights with the pointy end.

Good advice, Arya!

At the Weirwood tree, Theon and Co. are doing their bestest to keep the BranBot safe while he attempts to lure Ol’ Nighty out of his hidey-hole. And on the battlefield, Jorah falls off his horse decapitating ice zombies, Jaime is going through the dead like toilet paper (or whatever they used back then...what did they use?), and Sam is...well, he’s trying, poor lamb. Ultimately though, he becomes overwhelmed and Mr. Edd has to save his butt.

Sealing his fate.

Stabbed through the back of the head, that is quite dolorous.

Sansa goes down into the crypt, where all the nearby tenants who have no fight training are gathered already. Wordlessly, a ball of nerves, she meets the eyes of Missandei and Tyrion, the latter of whom, naturally, takes a drink.

I’d drink, too, in that scenario.

In the air, Jon and Dany are on the backs of their respective dragons, which I guess is the ye olde version of aerial warfare, battling the elements as well as the gross horde down below. It’s snowing and raining and they’re stuck in a low hanging cloud or maybe some fog idk I can’t SEE.

Someone shouts to fall back and the gates to Winterfell are opened--by Lyanna Mormont’s command, that pint sized badass--and men start piling in. Grey Worm orders the Unsullied to protect the retreat as best they could and stand their ground, damnit.

Jon finally comes out of the cloud but Dany doesn’t, and he lands with a worried look on his face. More men pour in through the gates while Brienne and Jaime usher them inside.

Arya, from the top of Winterfell, uses her archery skillz to take out the munchers creepin’ up behind Woof.

It’s a milestone every teenage girl reaches and it brings a tear to your eye, it does.

Grey Worm gives the order to fall back and light the trench and we the audience are like--

I cannot say enough how dark this episode is. I have my screen up to 100 percent brightness and I am still squinting doing this recap.

He’s really referring to Dany here, whom he’s trying to signal with torches, but she and Drogon are still stuck in that wholly inconvenient cloud/fog thing. Truly, the worst weather has converged on this one location in Westeros on the one night that they really need clear skies. All that’s missing is a hurricane.

But Davos speaks for us all.

So, Team Alive is all scrambling around trying to light the trenches with torches but they can’t because they’re kinda preoccupied battling the undead. That is where Melly steps in. After reciting some of that weird mojo in High Valyrian, the deep trenches throughout the Winterfell grounds become alight.

And the rest of us blink our eyes repeatedly in thanks.

The wights are separated from Winterfell behind the trenches and the Hound’s kinda freaking out because he doesn’t exactly like fire, having had his face nearly melted off by his brother, the Mountain. So he disappears.

Down in the crypt, everyone is hearing all the crazy going on upstairs and Varys is like “At least we’re already in a crypt, eh?” and no one’s amused.

Tyrion is anxious. He wants to be doing something, damnit! Like he did at the Battle of Blackwater. Maybe seeing something that no one else has figured yet. But Sansa, Lady of Hindsight, tells him to sit his ass down. It won’t do anyone good if Tyrion joins the Army of the Dead. Tyrion makes a smartass remark about how there is no organization less suited to his abilities and Sansa, Milady Logic, is all “Witty remarks won’t help you, all we can do now is wait. That’s why we is down here, because we can’t do nothin’” and Tyrion pauses before--

Tyrion, Lord of Winterfell? A Lannister?! Why not? Weirder shit has happened on GoT. Weirder shit is happening right now.

Then, Sansa squashes that by laying this on the table: it’d never work between them because of the Dragon Queen. Their divided loyalties would come between them. But before Tyrion can reply, Missandei, who has been eavesdropping on their convo, cuts in like “Yeah, damn that Dragon Queen! Y’all wouldn’t have to worry about that crap without her because...we’d all be dead, so...”

Whatever you think of Dany, there is no way the North would live without her and her armies and dragons. They’d be overrun within minutes.

At the Weirwood tree, Theon and Co. have formed a barrier before BranBot. Theon remarks that the trenches have been lit, then, haltingly, turns to BranBot and starts to apologize for, yanno, turning on the only family that ever loved him and claiming Winterfell for himself.

Dime store psychics around the globe should replace their crystal balls with miniature BranBots.

Then he says he’s going to go now, just like that, and he wargs into a raven to find the Night King’s position.

Gee. Why didn’t I ever think of that to get out of conversations?

“Hey, Bee, how’d you do on your stats exam?”

“...oh, uh, I did, er, ok. I’m gonna go now.” Wargs into chicken.

Ah, there’s Ol’ (really Ol’, Ancient Ol’) Nighty, riding Viserion, looking all creepy and stuff.

Not quite, Nighty, not quite.

Zombies are an impatient lot. They’re hungry and dead and they’re doomed to shamble around the earth forever. So, if a few have to be sacrificed in order for the rest of Team Undead to cross the trenches, so be it. One by one, the ice zombies literally throw themselves on the line of fire, sandwiching their ewwie bodies until the rest of the horde can safely use them as a bridge to cross. An Undead Bridge, if you will.

When Davos realizes what they are doing, the look on his face is quite classic horror movie:

You know when you’re watching a scary movie and the protagonist or whoever hears something or sees something but isn’t quite sure what it is, only knowing that it’s bad mmkay? That is that look.

Davos shouts the order to man the walls of Winterfell. Elsewhere on the battlefied, Jon is still in the same spot he landed, anxious about Dany. He glimpses a dragon emerge from the fog and, at first, he thinks it’s Daenerys but it soon becomes evident that it’s the Night King riding on Viserion.

Winterfell, meanwhile, is all cloaked in a cloud of mud and rain. The soldiers and Northerners are clambering to keep the White Walkers from penetrating the walls of the castle.

They have to keep them from legit climbing the damn walls.

If I’m ever a zombie, I want the Night King to make me. Apparently, rigor mortis is not a thing in wights.

The wights keep climbing until some of them start to get over the wall despite Jaime, Brienne, et. al. slicing off head after head. They just keep coming. The Team Undead horde is massive.

I bet the denizens of Winterfell are wishing for a nice, stationary mall right about now.

Soldiers are going over the railings, Sam’s whimpering butt has to be saved again, and the Hound is utterly frozen. It’s all just anarchy.

Beric and his Flaming Sword of Justice attempt to get Woofie’s attention again but to no avail. Arya’s doing her thang with her pointed staff, taking out wight after wight with Davos looking on, impressed (knight or not, you have been bested by a teenager, old man).

And then, this:

ZOMBIE GIANTS!

ZOMBIFIED MOTHAFUCKIN’ GIANTS.

“Fee, fi, fo fum, I smell the blood of EVERYONE.”

It pushes her to the side like she’s a goddamn sack of potatoes and it’s smacking people around with its club like they’re nothing but rag dolls. Arya falls down a set of stairs as wights group in to attack her and smacks her forehead on the side of a wall. Not up to her usual Faceless Man self after that, she stumbles and nearly falls off the roof, which finally energizes the Hound to action.

On the ground, Lyanna’s had enough of being tossed around by White Walker McGigantor.

She screams, races toward it, it grabs her in its huge fist, and, blood pouring out of her mouth and nose and it crushes her, she STABS IT THROUGH THE FRIGGING EYEBALL.

It’s a fitting end for an awesome character. Lyanna made such an impression on everyone and her cumulative screentime was just over fifteen minutes on the show.

In the air, Jon and Dany are finally reunited again when out of nowhere sails the Night King and his trusty Undragon.

Looks like someone has been chewing too much Winterfresh!

Viserion lets loose a stream of Winterfresh friendly fire and Daenerys ducks and whimpers as her undead baby tries to kill her. When the Night King sails off, Jon and Dany look at each other before mutually agreeing in some unspoken communication to dive.

Aww, they are communicating without words already! Bestill my lowkey-shipping-for-incest heart.

In Winterfell, the White Walkers have managed to break into the halls of the castle and, in less...white climes, they look less frozen and more, well, zombie. Arya, with her trusty staff, is attempting to sneak through her ancestral home without alerting Team Undead.

Unfortunately, she stumbles into the library and, weird, there are a lot of wights in the library. I didn’t know ice zombies were such avid readers.

What? Ice zombies need wank material, too, you know.

That is, if their genitals haven’t fallen off.

Our girl is creeping through the library, dodging errant undead in her wake. Desperately, she dives under a table, but the blood from her head wound is dripping on the floor, which attracts a nearby wight.

You know, like a shark.

The wight bends down and almost catches her, giving us all a mini heart attack, but Arya is gone. Phew.

BT-dubbs, that wight is none other than Javier Botet, who has made a sort of career playing monsters, including as the Leper in 2017′s It.

He was cast on purpose because he can contort his body in absurd ways. And I apologize for making you look at the Leper again. Yeesh.

Grabbing a book, she sails it across the floor to distract the zombies, runs into one going around the corner who then meets the fun end of her blade, and escapes the library.

Who knew a library could be so dangerous?

Arya escapes into a chamber and softly closes the door behind her, leaning back against it. She seems to be safe for a moment and then--

Ser Brus of House Bannyr. He’s a buddy of the Mountain.

Wights start pouring in and Arya runs. She runs, runs, runs--down through the narrow, damp, ill-lighted walls of Winterfell, bleeding from her head wound.

Meanwhile, just below her down in the crypt--

It’s SAFE it’s so SAFE, you guys.

The denizens of the crypt wait with bated breath and gasp when two desperate soldiers ram against the crypt door, begging to be let in. Sansa looks conflicted, wanting to help the soldiers but not at the cost of any of her people.

In the corridors, Beric Dondarrion and his Flaming Sword of Justice and the Hound are tiptoeing through Winterfell when they hear battling and growling noises (thank you, captions) and Arya falls through a doorway with wights quickly after her. The Hound picks her up and they all race down the hall, Beric throws his sword at a couple of White Walkers but they soon begin to overwhelm him. Arya gazes back at him in desperation as the Hound tries to get her away, and Beric is stabbed by one of Team Undead. He stands there, limbs akimbo face aloft as if praying to the Lord of the Light.

I love this scene. It further underscores how much Arya has come to mean to the Hound. Before, he was frozen, nothing could jolt him out of his panic but the image of Arya in peril. And he spends the rest of the episode fighting not so much for the living but for her.

Beric manages to stumble down the hall after Arya and the Hound and they lock a door behind him. Arya sits him against a wall while the Hound barricades the door with anything nearby.

Muttering unintelligibly, the man who was resurrected six times closes his eyes forever.

Melisandre appears behind them after Beric passes, letting them know that he served his purpose. Arya knows her; the Red Woman promised her that they’d meet again and there they are. She also promised that Arya would close many eyes in her young life, which was also right. Brown eyes. Green eyes. And blue eyes.

The wights are growling and scratching at the door, eager to come in and kill and feast on human flesh and blood. Arya stares while Melly bends down and whispers in her ear--

At the Weirwood tree, the wights are finally a-comn’ for BranBot and Theon and his men get into position with flaming arrows (I am now really in the mood for smores). Simultaneously, Dany/Drogon, Jon/Rhaegal/ and Ol’ Nighty/Viserion are duking it out in the air above them, the archers below attempting to knock the Undragon out of the sky.

It’s like a WWII aerial dogfight, but with dragons. So, like, a dragonfight.

Someone has entered his rebellious goth phase!

Srsly, what other show offers a mid-air dragon fight?

The dragonfight ends, somehow, only with the Night King falling off his chosen Undragon.

Rhaegal makes a shaky landing--there is plenty of turbulence in the North, after all--and Jon rolls off his favorite dragon. Dany continues the hunt for Ol’ Nighty and when she finds him, she gives the order for Drogon to do his thang.

It...doesn’t work out as hoped.

The Night King grins and throws his ice staff at Drogon, the weapon that took down Viserion. Fortunately, the ensuing hit isn’t fatal and Dany turns tail and gets out of there before it is.

Jon whips out his trusty sword and begins following the Night King. But when Ol’ Nighty realizes he’s being followed, he turns around, bestows upon Jon a “teacher catching you doing something naughty” stare, and...does his thang.

Team Alive desecrated many of your army? Just make a new one like that. Using his dark hippity doo da, the Night King raises all the soldiers (formerly) of Team Alive who fell in battle. And there’s a fucking lot of them. Including fallen Unsullied back at Winterfell’s gates and even Lyanna Mormont.

At the castle, Jaime and Grey Worm look on in confusion and horror.

New inductees to Team Undead swarm in on Jon as the Night King and some of his disciples make their way to Winterfell.

In the crypt, it was only a matter of time until this happened:

Y’all need some stronger building materials. This cannot be up to code. What would the leader of the HOA say?

Everyone in the crypt scatters in panic, minus the unlucky few who become Thing Food.

At the Weirwood tree, Theon and Co. are doing their best Robin Hood while BranBot is still checked out. I guess he’s in the raven, trying to get a location on the Night King? BranBot, do us all a favor and crap on his head.

(You missed! He was totally open, Bird! Damn.)

Jon almost gets overwhelmed until Dany and Drogon come to the rescue and manage to char the ice zombies without turning the one guy who is alive into a crispie critter, too. She tells him to go, be the hero we need, and he runs off.

However, before Drogon can fly off, he, too, is quickly overcome with wights, tearing at his wings, climbing all over his spine. He roars and twists and turns and Dany goes tumbling off.

Drogon flies away with some wights still hanging onto him, trying to get all the annoying dead OFF. They must itch like crazy.

He leaves his mommy behind and suddenly Dany is alone in a battlefield surrounded by Team Undead. She has no weapons. Her main weapon was Drogon. He is how she defeats her enemies. What the hell is she gonna do now?

One of the wights falls off Drogon and has blue eyes only for Dany. Who is alone. Vulnerable. Fucking sitting in the dirt.

But, what luck! Jorah of House Fryndzonne appears out of nowhere to decapitate the wight with Heartsbane and protect his Khaleesi.

I’ve been looking for an excuse to use that. Not a big anime fan but I love Hetalia.

Jon makes his way back to Winterfell, stickin’ and stabbin’ and gruntin’ and growlin’ and bein’ manly. He’s had it up to here with them ice zombies, you guys.

Theon and Co. are working all the harder to protect BranBot while he’s still Like A Bird. Theon’s men all go down and soon he’s left alone to defend the automaton that was once Brandon Stark.

In the crypt, Tyrion and Sansa are hiding behind a cement monument. Their wordless communication, expressed through the eyes alone, sends a chill down my spine. There is so much unsaid in that mutual gaze, and the acting here is superb. Props to Peter Dinklage and Sophie Turner.

Sansa, shaking, whips out the dagger Arya gave her, and Tyrion kisses her hand.

If they both live through season 8, maybe those crazy kids could make it work? Tyrion would be a kick Lord of Winterfell. I can see him in a furry cape.

Elsewhere, Viserion is utterly destroying Winterfell.

Dany and Jorah are desperately stabbing at ice zombies on the battlefield. Tyrion and Sansa carefully run out from behind the monument. Jon just barely dodges a wave of blue fire as Viserion continues to destroy Winterfell. Theon is doing is damndest to shield BranBot from the White Walkers, but he’s evidently slowing down.

And then, oh crap, there he is. In slow motion, like he knows all eyes are on him.

Hey yeah yeah, they’re Calyfornya.

Jorah is working alllllllll his muscles trying to protect his Khaleesi. Jaime and Brienne are backed up against a still standing wall of Winterfell as wights close in around them.

The Night King and his Night Kronies are coming for BranBot.

The remaining wights part for their Icicle Overlord. He stands there glowering down at Theon and BranBot. BranBot tells Theon he is a good man and thanks him and the audience is like--

I thought BranBot wasn’t programmed to say thank you. Ask Meera.

Theon grasps his pointed staff firmly, yells, and runs toward Ol’ Nighty, who, of course, grabs it and stabs him right through the gut.

Sorry, Theon. You managed to survive Ramsey (and getting your Reek cut off) but the Night King was your undoing. You lasted most of the show, though. That’s more than can be said for most characters.

Speaking of lasting most of the show--

Beric, Theon, now Jorah. Everybody stab now!

Jon is hiding behind some debris. The Night King walks ever closer to BranBot. Jon gets up and screams at Viserion for some reason. BranBot gazes up at the Night King. The Night King begins to reach for his ice sword, and then--

Arya Stark, like the fucking avenging angel she is!

I love that she was the one to destroy the Night King. She and Lyanna Mormont were both frigging awesome this episode.

Moral: don’t mess with a girl.

Maisie Williams said in EW that when she initially read the script she was afraid people would think she didn’t deserve it or something. To that I say pish posh. “Arya” has been trending for days.

After he explodes, all the wights begin to fall, including Viserion. Team Alive was right. Kill the Night King, his disciples are toast, too.

The crypt people come out of their hiding places and silently view the carnage. Arya looks over at BranBot and smiles a little. BranBot just sits there without offering a thank you. I guess he only malfunctioned that one time with Theon.

Unfortunately, the zombies aren’t the only ones that fall. Jorah is hurt and hurt badly. He buckles on the battlefield, surrounded by inactive wights, bleeding from seeming every orifice. Dany bends down before him, crying and holding his head.

He dies in her arms. A fitting end for Jorah of House Mormont, forever loyal to his Khaleesi.

So is Dany’s dragon.

Aww. That’s...cute. Like a dog with wings. And scales. That breathes fire.

The Hound, Melisandre, and Davos walk out of Winterfell just as dawn is breaking. The Hound and Davos stop at the door but Melisandre keeps going, looking determined. Shedding her trademark red cloak, she marches forward, ridding herself of the ruby necklace that has kept her young for centuries.

And then, growing older before their eyes, she perishes. Her mission is complete.

And that’s the end of the episode. Cue end credits.

Salt and crackers, that took FOREVER. Every free moment I had I was recappin’. But the episode was awesome and the cast says the next episode is even more awesome so I can’t wait!

Now comes the march on King’s Landing, the taking of the crown, and, hopefully, Cersei gonna die. Who’s gonna have her head? Will it be Jaime? Arya? Tyrion? My bet is Jaime.

Also, congats are in order for our Sansa Stark. Sophie Turner got married to Joe Jonas last night after the Billboard Music Awards. In Vegas with an Elvis impersonator presiding, which is fantastic.

#game of thrones #game of thrones recap #game of thrones 8 #nickolaj coster-waldau #gwendoline christie #Sophie Turner #peter dinklage #Kit Harrington #emilia clarke #iain glen #alfie allen #isaac hempstead wright #maisie williams

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spideythotsblog · 7 years

Text

Cheers To Being Cheated On

Characters: Sam Holland : Y/N

Song: Light the Night by Tracey Chattaway

__________ You take a swig of your paper bag, which really isn’t a paper bag but no one needs to know that. You could feel the frigid wind on your exposed back from this dress. The dress you were so happy about wearing tonight. You were so happy not even an hour ago. Time changes fast.

You had plopped yourself down at the table just outside the school building. You didn’t care that you weren’t suppose to be out here, you just needed to get away from everyone in that room. Your hands entangled themselves in your hair, which was also ruined, and you put your head down, letting a few tears fall from your eyes.

Things were silent for a while. You could hear the little bugs singing their tunes in the woods behind the school, which was kinda relaxing. The moon as the only light source, since the school didn’t want anyone out here they didn’t bother with turning on the lights. You liked it.

You picked your head up and took another sip of your drink of choice.

“Rough night?” A voice spoke behind you. You turned around immediately and made an audible gasp in fright.

“Christ in Hell, dude! Don’t sneak up on people like that!” You squealed, placing a hand over your chest. Like that did anything anyway.

“Sorry,” He said quickly.

You looked at him, up and down, then back to the dark field in front of you. “Yeah, you could say so.”

He hesitated but made his way to the other side of the table, not sitting but staring. You could see his face now, you still didn’t recognize him though you probably should.

“You’re missing a really fun party, they’re playing the cha cha slide, you know.”

You laugh, thankful he was being sarcastic. You motion for him to sit in front of you and he does, like he was already waiting for you to do so. You offer your paper bag out to him, he takes it and sips with ease.

“Where’s your date? I’m sure she is missing you by now.” You say as he hands you back the bag.

“Oh, yeah, shes missing me...while snogging another guy.” He admits, tapping his fingers on the table. You could see the redness in his eyes like he had been crying.

“I’m sorry,” You say to him sympathetically, he looks down for a moment, looking back up a few seconds later with a smile.

“What about you? You’re not going to go all Carrie on the entire lot, are you?”

“No,” you half smile, letting out a small chuckle. “my date--my ex boyfriend.. just was caught snogging someone else too.”

You both look up at each other for a split second. “Do you think?”

“What are the odds-”

You both laugh for a moment, forgetting what has happened to the both of you. Forgetting the party behind those metal double doors. Forgetting everything but the sound of each other laughing.

“Cheers to being cheated on, I guess.” You hold up the bag with a sad smile, swigging some for yourself before handing it over to him to take one as well.

“I’m Sam,” He says, taking the bottle from his lips and handing it back to you, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his tux. Which infuriates you entirely but you ignore it for now.

“Y/n,”

Sam smiles in the light of the moon and you do too. You quickly get an idea.

“Come with me, hurry!” You beamed, reaching for his hand across the table and dragging him along with you.

You let go of his hand as he got up and just sprinted past the double doors fast to avoid the eyes of anal chaperons that don’t like fun. With the doors behind you, no one in sight but you and Sam you started running, him following close behind. You were thankful you had worn flats and not heels tonight.

“C’mon, hurry! We can’t get caught!” You called behind you, rounding the corner of the school. Sam was right behind you as you reached the ladder to the roof. “Scared of heights?”

“No,”

You smiled and quickly turned around to climb the ladder. It wasn’t very tall but it wasn’t short either. You reached the top within a minute with Sam right behind you.

“You come up here often?” He asked you with a half smile.

“Couple times a week, tops. But only at night, come look.” You take his hand and lead him to the other end of the roof top. You reach the edge and overlook the city below the both of you.

You saw this view often, but Sam hadn’t. You looked over to him, his lips were parted in amazement at the view. It was dark but the lights made it so beautiful.

“I didn’t know it looked this pretty.” He said, still watching over the city. You didn’t respond, you let the sound of nature and the lights speak for you.

Sam looked for a few more moments, letting it all sink in. “We won’t get caught?”

“No cameras up here, you can’t hear our footsteps below in the classrooms because of the music. No one comes up here. We won’t get caught.” You reassured him, looking over to him, and he was already looking at you.

His eyes were still a little red from crying, and probably so were yours. You could see his whole face now in the light of the city. His face was scattered with small freckles, which you thought to be adorable.

You both were just kind of staring at each other for a few moments. Not really sure why, you looked away and back to the lights. “Do you have to go home anytime soon?” You asked him innocently.

“No,” He responded, looking back to the lights now as well. “Why?”

“Cus I kinda don’t wanna be alone right now.” You confessed, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Sam rested his head on yours. “Me either.”

#sam holland #samholland #sam holland imagine #samhollandimagine #imagines #imagine #oneshots #one shot #writing #shortwriting #otp #otp imagines #otpimagines #x reader

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cielospeaks · 5 years

Text

one thing i think i maybe figured out abt cu- its gotta be a situation where he needs help, needs my help in some way. regular ol servant summoning is presumably also ok, but usually a kinda dangerous situation (like a grail war), not a fluffy no stakes slice of life thing, bc as nice as that is i dont think itd really work for specifically our ship thingy?

tbh i still like the situation in original cu/mo/ri where hes summoned extraneously and ordered to make sure hes dead after the fight (whether he wins or loses) but is saved by the other two and a new contract, it tackles both the kinda weighty issues of me and sal as well as kinda brings out the best side of us imo (and in a weird way is like a bit of an inserting into the f/s/n timeline stuff)

cu is smooth and cool as a cucumber (lol) and thats one thing i love abt him, hes incredibly charming and kind, but also a force to be reckoned with and fully capable of stabbing anyone dead, and i think the latter tends to be overlooked unfortunately, but seeing as all of this is what i love abt him id want to include it. unfortunately the thing is his confidence and charmingness kinda... falls in the same way that a lot of perfectly fine dating game characters. like theyre fun characters but i cant really see myself with them- theyre kinda.. there for your/the reader’s issues and stuff, and not really on an equal field.

i think part of it is a lot of my faves arent pushed as being “sympathetic” for their vulnerabilities, its simply part of who they are (if anything, the story narrative tends to want to show them as “weird” or “pathetic” for what theyre dealing with, or they rarely show it directly), whereas a lot of times when characters are pushed more towards being “sympathetic” it seems to be to erase/mitigate the awful things theyve done and “excuse” those things, which really makes them less sympathetic for me. cu would fall into the category of not showing it directly (i mean original lancer, not necessarily any of his other selves), hes definitely been through a lot but he seems the sorta guy to focus on now rather than then.

i guess bottom line my ‘type’ (i dont like using the term) or ig ideal relationship is characters that dont have a ‘conventional’ affection- not really any pet names or initiating “romance” on their end, and mostly just like.. spending time with each other casually. a lot of times theres like helping w hurt/comfort, but not really in a showy or outward way, just like everyday (boring) taking care. not really a constant affirmation if they dont want it, just letting them know they arent alone. no ego stroking for either of us (besides telling izou hes a genius and deserves respect, which i dont consider to be that tbh)

cu is ig more outward, kinda like mozart and maybe hans a little. like thered be some time spent at home relaxing and healing, but also time spent out and about, and hes just as likely as me to take the lead. i think hed like exploring independently, and i think both of us would be more than ok with taking turns leading and following. i think hed be down to try new things and to teach me things he likes in turn- not for any reason, just because. and id feel the same way.

#fave blogging

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yogaadvise · 5 years

Text

Yoga teacher training with Esther Ekhart: My experience

I live in the San Francisco Bay Location, where there are yoga studios as well as yoga exercise instructor trainings used on almost every block. Why, after that, would certainly I overlook the instructors on my doorstep and also rather fly to Spain to research yoga with Esther Ekhart?

Esther has actually been my educator since long before I moved to the Bay. I enjoyed her videos while living abroad in Vietnam, Guatemala, as well as Colombia. Whenever I feared, experiencing society shock, or feeling separated, an online course with Esther helped me re-center. Her emphasis had not been just on physical poses, however additionally on growing thankfulness as well as self-acceptance.

I really felt that I wished to fulfill the individual who had actually unknowingly directed me with stress and also trouble, and that had actually played a duty in my life as a type of fairy godmother.

Although I make certain I might have went to many instructor training courses in San Francisco or Berkeley, I really felt that I intended to satisfy the individual who had unwittingly guided me through anxiety and problem, and who had played a function in my life as a sort of fairy godmother: call on her in times of need, and she gets here, usually with simply the type of magic you require at that moment.

As it ends up, I had not been the only individual who felt by doing this. Twenty other females checked out Esther in a comparable light and also had actually valued her existence and mentors sufficient to buy her three-week training. We could all bond over specific things: our tourist attraction to her gentle, do-what-works-for-you method to yoga exercise, our affection for the feeling of tranquility that she emitted through the display, and also our recognition of her yoga exercise outfits from times we had actually seen her in video clips (' Those are her leggings!' we tweeted. Of training course they were, whose else would they be ?!)

Of training course, Esther wasn't the only educator: she had welcomed Tracey, Gilda, as well as Jennilee to impart their knowledge. Quadruple fairy godmothers! With their advice, I found out 3 major lessons:

First, that mentor yoga requires precise and intelligent language (the art of cueing),

Second, that yoga exercise reacts ideal to a balance of effort and convenience, and

Third, that yoga educators must find out to sit with their very own feelings, non-judgmentally, in order to permit their pupils to do the same.

Intelligent cueing

In my years of being a yoga trainee, cueing was something like the weather: it went unnoticed unless it was especially bad. I took for provided all the smart positioning directions I had spoken with EkhartYoga instructors, not knowing just how thoroughly they had selected their words in order to generate the very best action from the body. You don't 'press' right into the mat, however 'press' right into it-the latter connoting mild stamina without hostility. 'Draw your hip bones in the direction of each various other' elicits an interaction of the lower abdomen without the pressure generated by 'draw in your stomach'. Sometimes cueing jobs best by involving the creative imagination: I learned to engage my pectoral muscles in Chaturanga due to the fact that Jennilee cued: 'act to scrunch the floor covering with each other between your palms.'

Intelligent cueing additionally indicates enabling variants in presents based upon distinctions in anatomy. I had actually usually listened to 'pretend as if your body is pushed between 2 panes of glass' in Triangular pose, but also for lots of people, this is actually much less healthy and balanced than allowing the back hip to turn a little ahead. All these signs were mind-blowing for me: I had never ever realized just how little differences in language have a refined however substantial impact on students' positioning, muscle activation, and also attitude in any type of given yoga pose. Occasionally, as in both panes of glass circumstance, specific oft-repeated instructions are even potentially dangerous, as they could lead a student to force their body into a harmful placement (keep an eye out for that SI joint!).

Since the yoga exercise instructor training, I've become much more mindful of the words I listen to (or speak, if I'm teaching) in yoga classes: are the guidelines exact, gentle, and also notified by an understanding of composition? Picking the most effective words while educating yoga exercise entails a long-lasting technique of refinement and also observation, as well as it's interesting when you dive in.

The balance of effort and ease

The second lesson I took away from the educator training was that yoga exercise serves us ideal when practiced with a balance of effort and also simplicity. I have actually constantly been attracted towards solid, perspiration-laced Vinyasa methods, out of a double wish to challenge myself and to have my yoga technique function as my workout, essentially killing two birds with one 'Om'.

I had actually presumed because all of us came to find out to be instructors, that our everyday practices would certainly be hard, sweaty, and tough, to make sure that by the end we would all be easily balancing in Handstands. We did have some of these methods (many thanks, Gilda!), the primary goal was balance: a solid method someday normally suggested a slower or even more yin practice the following. Much from being lazy or a cop-out, stabilizing strong techniques with slower or more yin techniques shows that you have the wisdom to prioritize mind/body stability over, as an example, an obsession to shed calories or lose weight.

Interestingly, this balance of initiative and simplicity relates to training also: when I was too concentrated on the cues I had rehearsed, or extremely logical concerning the means I was showing postures, I lost the happiness and fluidness of training and also came off as stiff as well as nervous.

In the physical technique of yoga exercise, the capacity to apply initiative while still keeping convenience commonly indicates just activating the muscular tissues necessary for a posture, and enabling non-active muscular tissues to remainder. In the practice of training yoga exercise, stabilizing focus easily is more of a psychological game: if effort is verging on perfectionism or stress and anxiety, it's time to smile and relax.

Observe without judgment

The third thing I amassed from the yoga educator training was the feeling of just how essential it is for yoga exercise educators to be able to observe their own minds without judgment. I had actually currently gained from Buddhist reflection how important it is to exercise the aware observation of psychological phenomena as it shows up in the mind. What I had not understood was that this technique is not simply for one's own benefit, however is additionally important to ensure that others can really feel emotionally risk-free in one's presence.

Deep hip openers, as an example, sometimes welcome solid feelings to develop. Emotional discomfort appears threatening, which is why we so commonly run away from it. Really feeling the feeling of calmness which underlies the indecisiveness of the mind is essential for a yoga exercise instructor to make sure that she can show others that it is risk-free to rest with difficult ideas as they arise. Esther composes about this in her post 'Face your emotional problems to end up being a far better yoga exercise educator,' and also I think it is this facet of mindfulness as well as self-compassion that beams with the most extraordinary teachers. It is impossible to trick pupils by acting as if you have attained a level of spiritual maturity that you have not, just like anything, you've got to do the work.

What I picked up from the teacher training will remain to influence my thoughts as well as experiences through the rest of my life.

What I picked up from the teacher training will continue to influence my ideas and also experiences via the rest of my life, and also I believe many otherwise all of my fellow trainees feel the exact same. Although it's probably silly to leave the San Francisco yoga center to find out about yoga exercise, I could not stand up to need to satisfy my years-long virtual yoga exercise instructor personally, as well as I'm grateful that I did.

The reason Esther's classes are so unforgettable is that the lessons apply holistically to our lives: learning to make use of words to the most effective possible impact, stabilizing initiative and also tranquility, as well as experiencing one's very own ideas and also feelings are strategies that can be practiced whether one is doing 2 rounds of Sun Salutations or stuck in bed with two damaged legs. Whereas yoga, for me, was as soon as a compartmentalized task that began with www.Ekhart and finished with Yoga.com, it currently resides in the mind also, which is even much more ubiquitous than wifi.

Train with Esther Ekhart

If you're curious about doing a yoga instructor training course or workshop with Esther, or any type of other of the educators on EkhartYoga, head over to our workshops page.

Read: 10 points to recognize prior to yoga exercise teacher training by Emma Newlyn.

#hot yoga #spiritual #yoga #yoga center #yoga classes #yoga for beginners #yoga instructor

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morehandstowritewith · 5 years

Text

This One is a Mystery

The handwritten note read in curly print, but it was all a distraction from the content:

There’s something about how much I don’t hate you that makes this that hard to write down in words. Deep down I loved you fro so long; I just never thought the way I feel now would be possible. But now, I am scared of you and in my sympathy I am worried for your wellbeing.

All of this felt like a third draft of the letter to Robert, he could see it in the way the words were written, no erase marks, the words were fluid and raw. He thought to himself about the other crumpled up versions of this letter in Erin’s waste bin at home, he wondered if the ending of this note would be the same as draft one.

I want you to know that I still care about you, it might not be in the same way as I did before, I don’t love you anymore Robert, and I really want you to examine why you think its okay for you to still tell me that you love me, because if I was you, I wouldn’t love someone that did what I did to you.

Robert stops reading, a world of possibilities hits him in the face and flashes of previous moments he overlooked smack against his body, hurtful blows of texts that went hours without answer, phone calls sent to voicemail, date nights cancelled because she just wanted to sit at home and watch Netflix by herself. The red flags were everywhere and he just chose to ignore them and live in his own world, one where life was okay, not great, just okay, and he was just finishing up his first semester of junior college after taking a gap year that stretched into the fall. Gap year was a nice way of putting it; most people would call it a nervous breakdown. Ranking this letter on its scale of terribleness, it easily makes the top 5 worst pieces of mail he’s received, right up there with the rejection letters from NYU, Brown, Northwestern, and Boston College. The assumption that Robert lived by was that they weren’t just looking for test scores anymore, they had a certain criteria they wanted in white males who scored a perfect on their SATs, and sadly Robert did not fit the J. Crew model that would be perfect for the front of the admissions packet booklet.

What Robert did possess though was a brain that always had an escape plan, in case the world got rough around him. Of course this also led to issues that he couldn’t really ever contain, as in case of the college debacle, his safety school was the junior college 5 miles down the road from his parents old house.

The January wind kicks snow up into Robert’s face as he walks past the house, his eyes glancing over at it, like a relic lost to time. His parents sold the place when Robert graduated high school; they thought it would be a good time to retire to Florida. The shell of his past life is just another house on the street that leads to his studio apartment. He stops and looks at the place, Christmas lights still dangle from the gutters, and January has been too cold to bother to remove them. A frozen Santa Claus holds a waving pose, rosy red cheeks and wide smile, not giving a damn that he’s buried up to his chest in smoke colored snow.

“Robert? Is that you?”

Robert freezes, shit I know that voice.

“Robert, that is you!”

Robert shoves the note in his pocket and turns to face Mrs. Hays, a woman bordering on 80 who lived across the street from him for 19 years worth of his life. He can count on two hands how many times he crashed his bicycle on the uneven pavement outside of her house.

Robert tries to plaster on some sense of humanity, “Mrs. Hays, how are you?”

She’s not buying it, “Good, I’m good, you look cold dear, what are you doing walking in this dreadful wind?”

Robert forces a chuckle; “Parents took the car with them to Florida so—“

“Oh, I see.” He face crinkles with puzzlement, “Do you want a ride home?”

“Oh no, no I’m good, thank you though, I really appreciate the offer.”

She laughs, “I offer, but,” she motions to the pile of snow mounting around her garage door, “I doubt I could get out, even if there was an emergency.”

Robert sighs, “That’s a mess.” A thought kicks around in his brain, “How about I go drop my things off at home, then come back and dig you out?”

Mrs. Hays’ face lights up, “That would be so kind of you, Billy keeps on saying he’s going to come by and do it, but he never seems to have any time.”

Robert smiles, Yes your drug dealer son is probably very busy up to his eyeballs in white powder, “I imagine he’s got a lot going on these days,” In a town that was knocked on its ass by the recession that can’t seem to recover so it turns to booze and hard drugs to cure the ills of the day before.

Mrs. Hays nods, “He seems to be, yes.”

“Well, I’ll see you in a little bit then.”

She smiles and gives Robert a big hug, “I really appreciate it, Robert.”

Robert smiles and squirms out of the embrace. He takes a parting glance at his childhood home and trudges on through the snow the extra mile to his grey concrete block of an apartment.

The key sticks in the outdoor lock, blame it on the cold, Robert jiggles it and puts a shoulder into it, bumping the misshaped wood in a way that jimmies the door open.

The apartment doesn’t seem worthy of the struggle to get in it. A loft bed hangs over a computer desk and a futon sits opposite of it, pushed up against the ghost white walls that are adorned with, nothing. Not a frame or a Reservoir Dogs poster graces the paper-thin dry wall.

Robert picks up a remote off an end table and clicks on a stereo that is already cued with a jazz album, possibly Chet Baker or another one of the classic artists that are part of a music collection that is nothing but by his own thoughts, deep cuts.

Robert opens his closet doors and digs into a carefully stacked set of boxes, pulling out ones labeled, “snow boots.” He tosses the box behind him, then reaches back into his coat pocket and pulls the letter out again, smoothing it out over the end table. Looking again at the final paragraph:

Deep down, I knew that I could love you, but it was going to take work and I don’t think its fair or worth my effort to bury myself in a relationship that is so one sided. Its not that you only care about yourself Robert, don’t let anyone make you believe that lie. It’s that you are different. You make decisions based upon what is given to you, the physical connection of an item, but when its theory or thought that’s where you disappear. I’m not telling you this to hurt you; I’m just trying to explain in a way that I think you’ll understand so you won’t doubt that what we had wasn’t bullshit. I loved you. Part of me thinks you loved me too. I wish you nothing but the best, please respect my space and I’ll do the same.

Regards,

Erin

“Regards,” Robert repeats the line out loud letting the “s” sit on his lips.

He crumples the note again and tosses it towards his garbage can.

#story #stories #should i continue?#dont read this

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