#don't look back
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Sophie Marceau and Monica Bellucci in Ne te Retourne Pas, 2009
#monica bellucci#sophie marceau#ne te retourne pas#2009#don't look back#dont look back#ladiesofcinema#userladiesofcinema#belluccidaily#dailywomen#monicabellucci#vanessa#userklaudia#flawlessbeautyqueens#wonderfulwomendaily#breathtakingqueens#glamoroussource#movies#*gifs#*#m!lfsource#userlau#userstream#userrobin#usergif#french cinema#french films#italianstream#italianedit#italiansedit
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that stare down... what is his issue.
#the silmarillion#the silm#silmarillion#lotr#lord of the rings#silvergift#silvergifting#celembribor#sauron#annatar#mairon#celembribor... i don't mean to alarm you... but there's a creachure behind ur back#walk here. slowly.#don't look back#i'm fucking crying why is he looking at him like that
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#mental health#self reflection#be yourself#self help#inspirational quotes#letting go#self improvement#positivity#new life#new beginnings#new day#new me#new blessings#never too old#keep moving forward#don't look back#people from the past#past self#past life
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Y'all if you're a Star Wars fan who likes Time Travel Fix-It fics, PLEASE check out @this-acuteneurosis (acuteneurosis on Ao3). They have a series called Don't Look Back where Leia gets sent back in time to Pre-Attack of the Clones to try to keep the Empire from rising. It's SO well written and consumed my brain for a solid week while I was on vacation XD
This is a poster idea based on the third installment in the story, Duty Bound (mostly because I was OBSESSED with the idea of Leia with the Iconic Anakin scar)
(I originally had the handmaidens on here too, but didn't like how the final composition looked)
#my art#star wars fanart#leia organa#anakin skywalker#padme amidala#obi wan kenobi#anidala#star wars#bail organa#shmi skywalker#don't look back#anidala fanart#mixed media
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Contact sheet portraits of Bob Dylan and Joan Baez, London, April 1965 © Philip Gotlop.
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Don't Look Back, Seisia! - By danryhan (8.5/10)
A poisonous love battle, featuring a ruthless Duke who acts kind and a merciful healer with a bad reputation. They are a loving and tender couple. Their honesty is the highest charm point in their relationship. The magical poison part of the story gets kind of pointlessly complicated, but it's good.
Seisia Lidyne is an adult woman who knows her worth. Not a crying child in need of saving. At least not at first. The forces working against her have way more influence than her. There's only so much she can do with no allies and knives in her back. Her father remarried. Her younger brother is an idiot sadist. Her father only cares about his male heir, and her stepmother only cares about her reputation.
It's a powder keg that explodes whenever Seisia Lidyne dares to step outside.
Her stepmother has been using her as a scapegoat.
Seisia Lidyne is an infamous hoe. Her poor brother was tormented by her, and her countless men. That's why he's such a nasty loser. It's all her fault. The rumors are both extravagant and ridiculous but Stepmother Lidyne puts YEARS of effort into the lies.
Seisia is left friendless with no marriage prospects.
She leaves the house.
Yep.
She also doesn't care about her father at all.
She walks out the door.
Time passes, and she finds a bloody man on the ground. Seisia has healing magic. Does this make her super special? No. It's pretty rare but healers have zero offensive capabilities. She never ever revealed her powers to anyone, because she knew her scummy father would use her gift to make money.
Dian is just another man who benefits from her services.
She settles down in a village. She uses her herbal knowledge and her magic to make a modest amount of money, for herself.
It's nobody else's business.
She quickly figures out he is noble. He's too educated. His clothes are too nice, and he was badly poisoned. His fingers were actually blue. Two plus two equals four. She helps him and sends him on his way.
Seisia Lidyne has no one. No one that can be trusted. No one that she likes. Her rare hair and eye color makes her a target. The local villagers eventually realize she's a runaway noblewoman, and they want to turn her in for money. Her awful family is looking for her because they need their scapegoat.
She doesn't flirt with Dian, who is secretly a Duke with poisonous mind control magic.
He goes after her.
They are opposites in funny ways. He sticks around the village to watch her, and he notices that she's actually kind. Even when she doesn't need to be. All of the villagers gossip about her sordid past. They talk about hurting her. Selling her back to her abusers. Dian hears them all, and he wonders why she doesn't want revenge.
Dian is frustrated. His reputation is perfect. Everyone thinks he's kind, because of his manipulative magic. On the inside he's your average ruthless Duke. He's a master of poison too so...two plus two equals four...
He kills the men who want to harm her with a burning cloud of poison ash.
He thinks he wouldn't mind dying if she killed him.
Dian is a strange kind of yandere. He's happy about it. He loves being in love. He resented his mother for most of his life, because she died in a stupid way.
His mother sacrificed herself for love, even though she had a six year old son that needed her. He didn't understand her.
Seisia is kidnapped by her family, and he doesn’t hesitate.
Now he does. His love for Seisia showed him the light. His mother could not give up on her first love, even after he betrayed her. That's normal and natural. He finally feels the same way about his own love.
It gives him closure, and he can finally let the past go.
Dian uses his status to save her and marry her. He is too powerful to refuse, and Seisia is happy about it. With no allies running from her father is a pipe dream, but she can trust Dian.
She also has no choice.
Dian listens to her woes. He accepts her past. Her flaws. Her fears. He promises her the world and he wants to give it to her.
Her brother has dark magic. That's why he gets so much special treatment. He tortured her with bugs. He helped spread the rumors about her sordid affairs.
He feels no remorse either.
Seisia is so happy to talk to someone she can trust.
The "real" Dian isn't hidden away. He shares his true thoughts and feelings with her too. He has enemies he needs to dispose of. They already tried to kill him. The gloves are off.
Seisia pledges to help her husband, like a good wife.
He takes her to an endless field of flowers, where four families compete for power. Even though she's a healer it's a struggle for her to get used to all the poison in the air.
She tries her best. He helps her, and together they rise to the top of the flower battle.
He gives her his blood, as proof of his love. His blood is the antidote. His mind control powers can no longer affect her. He has to trust her, and she has to feel the same way. When he says he can't live without her he really means it.
#yandere#male yandere#yandere male#yandere boy#recommendations#recs#rec#recommended#Don't Look Back#Seisia!
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hablando con mi vieja llegamos a la conclusión de que vivimos en una dictadura democráticamente electa.
el uso ilegítimo de las FFAA y la Federal
el detenimiento a manifestantes, que viola la Constitución
los decretos y protocolos ilegales
el proyecto hiper mega neoliberal
no sé. qué piensan ustedes argiemutuals?
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art for absolutely heartbreaking ff
DON'T LOOK BACK by @onyx-and-elm
I'm saddened that I'll never know its ending, but I still love it all ❤️🩹
#dark dramione#dramione#draco lucius malfoy#hp fanart#draco x hermione#draco malfoy#hermione grainger#draco werewolf#don't look back#love it so much#dark hermione#hogwarts#gryffindor#slytherin
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Reliant
Leia's used to relying on her self, even in dangerous situation. But it's always nice when she has backup.
#Duty Bound#Star Wars fic#time travel fix it#Leia Skywalker#Lyra Erso#Galen Erso#Jyn Erso#C-3PO#General Grievous#Anakin Skywalker#Captain Rex#Padmé#Amidala#Dormé#Eirtaé#Sabé#Shmi Skywalker#everyone is having a bad day#Don't Look Back
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Whumptober 2023 - No. 29: “I only sink deeper the deeper I think.”
Scented Candle | Troubled Past Resurfacing | “What happened to me?”
Milo Ventimiglia as Peter Petrelli in Heroes (S01E01) and (S01E02)
#whumptober2023#no.29#“What happened to me?”#gifs#heroes#1x1#genesis#1x2#don't look back#fall#hospital#lied to#whumpedit#my gifs#milo ventimiglia#peter petrelli#suicide mention tw#not really sure if it needs tagging or not since baby was just trying to fly but guess it's better to be safe than sorry lol#forgot to post this on the actual day#queue
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"Boston - Don't Look Back"
Album cover by Gary Norman, 1979
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[Leia] threw her feet up on the seat between her and Yoda, leaning back and into the Force with minimal effort, lounging on air as flippantly as she could. “You might want to get more comfortable. We could be here a while.”
From @this-acuteneurosis story, Don't Look Back. Check it out on ao3
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Bob Dylan & Joan Baez “Young But Daily Growing” Savoy Hotel, May 4, 1965.
#Bob Dylan#Joan Baez#Young But Daily Growing#Lang A Growing#The Trees They Do Grow High#Savoy Hotel#1965#1960s#Don't Look Back#Baez and Dylan#Joan Baez Vol. 2 (1961)#Folk#Video#Spring
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Don’t Look Back - Part 1: Original Run
CW: Major Character Death, blood and gore, interrogation, drowning, mourning
On the night between the 7th and 8th of June 1589, Hob Gadling got drunk like he never had been in Sir Robert Gadlen's life. In any of the three successive Robert Gadlen's lives, to be exact. Unlike any other previous night of debauchery, though, he did on excellent wine. He had ordered more than twice the amount he needed to get wasted, since he had assumed his patron would drink his share, but no, he had spurned Hob, preferring to spend the night with stupid talentless Will Shaxberd. What did the little punk have that Hob did not? He wasn't even good at writing! At least Hob knew better than to inflict his verses onto anyone.
The twentieth pasty was as delicious as the first one, though Hob had vomited some of them at one point. He felt full and drunk, and mysteriously still empty and enraged. He waved to the waitress to get more wine, and he saw hesitation in her eyes. He probably looked more drunk than he really was. Who cared? He was paying a small fortune for tonight's banquet, they could keep their judgments and serve him.
When he stumbled back to his room, it was after a difficult time of climbing the stairs and finding the right door. He fuddled with the doorknob and cursed the man who had made it, as if his ebriety wasn't the reason he struggled to open it. He finally managed to open it, entered the darkened room, and battled with the mechanism again to lock the door one handed, as his other hand was holding the candle. Then he turned toward the bed and froze.
There was someone in the room. A stranger was lounging on Hob's bed. At first, Hob's drunken brain told him it was a cardinal. They were dressed entirely in red. Then, the other part of Hob's brain caught up, suggesting maybe a cardinal wouldn't wear such suggestive garments. The dress was in a style that Hob had never seen, following closely the shape of the body in a way that was very close to indecent. Though the skirt fell down to the ankles, on each side a long slit went up to the waist, revealing the naked skin of the narrow hips. If the dress was definitely feminine, the body wearing it was a lot more ambiguous, with a flat chest and narrow waist.
"Hello, Hob Gadling," the stranger said.
They were smiling, though it looked more like a cat baring their teeth in front of a mouse.
"How…I am Sir Robert Gadlen. This must be a mistake. Please leave my room immediately."
They chuckled, and made no move.
"I know who you are, Hob Gadling. I've been watching you for centuries. Such a will to live, I couldn't resist."
Hob remained silent. The adrenaline rushing through his body was sobering him up fast. This person, whoever they were, knew about his secret. They were immortal as well. What did they want? Were they here because Hob's other patron had left?
"I know everything about your deal with my sibling, meeting him once a century to tell him about your pitiful human life. But he couldn't even sit and listen, could he? He was always shallow and selfish, only interested more in stories than in the people telling them or living them."
Sibling? Hob was dealing with a being not only immortal, then, but powerful enough to grant immortality… or take it away? He knew enough Greek and Roman mythology to fear being taken between a godly sibling rivalry. These stories never ended well for humans.
"What do you want?" he asked, finding a bit of courage in the ebriety that was leaving him.
"What do I want? That's not the question, is it? The question is what you want. Or rather, what will you want, you see. You wanted to save your only friend, you were ready to give up everything for him. How could I not deliver, when you wanted like that?"
What the hell was this? It was madness. Who were they talking about? Who was Hob's only friend that needed saving?
He was about to ask, but was interrupted. The stranger had gotten up from the bed, and was slowly walking to Hob. Instinctively, Hob backed off step by step until he hit the door. The door that he had locked earlier, not knowing the danger was already inside. Not that a lock would stop a god.
"Unlike my brother, I know how to show appreciation."
The mysterious being drew their hand back, as if preparing a blow. Hob steeled himself, unable to move under the gaze of the two golden eyes.
The blow never came. Instead, the hand passed right through his skin into his chest like a knife in water. It was not painful, though it was incredibly disturbing. The slender fingers moved underneath Hob's ribs and closed around his beating heart. Hob could feel them constrict it with each beat.
"Are you going to kill me?"
"Oh, no, Hob Gadling. I'm going to make you live. I'm going to give you every chance to get what you will. Enjoy."
There was something in their other hand. Hob had very little chance to see what it was before it disappeared into his chest. It had looked like the clock dials of the new German clocks, but bizarrely crooked and twisted. Then the cold metal came into direct contact with his beating heart, and Hob lost every thought and word.
The stranger had come closer, their cheek against Hob's and their mouth close to his ear. The position was intimate, but less than having both their hands burrowed inside his ribcage.
Painfully slowly, they pushed the metal apparatus into his heart until Hob felt like the two were, impossibly, occupying the same space. Hob's heart stopped, and Hob felt like it had imploded inside his chest. The cold seized him entirely, and he lost consciousness.
---
Hob Gadling died for the first time on the eleventh of November 1621, drowned in a lake.
He’d always thought he’d die by the sword, or most likely shitting himself to death in a ditch, somewhere along his life as a bandit. He had no shortage of possible causes of death, from tavern brawls to pitched battles, from dysentery to pox, from infected wounds to bad head injury. He’d been almost surprised to survive at all, to dodge death again and again with the most insane of luck. Almost, because he had defied Death, once, drunk as a skunk. He had claimed to everyone who would hear that Death was stupid and he would have no part of it. And somehow, Death had heard him, because from that day, Hob had survived every war, every epidemics, every accident thrown his way, until decades slowly turned to century and Hob’s hair remained obstinately brown.
Hob had even met Death twice again. Once in 1489, as agreed one hundred years before when they had struck their deal, and once in 1589, as they renewed their deal. Hob had told them, when the pain had become too unbearable. Described Death’s cold beauty, the thin black and white shape of a man with eyes too deep and smile too sharp. He’d told them Death was no Devil, they had said so. Yes, he made a bargain to gain immortality. No it didn’t involve the lives of his wife and son. He didn’t really know what it involved, except that he had to live forever and speak to Death once every hundred years. After days of never ending pain, and no sign of him dying, he’d told them everything he could think of.
That’s how Hob Gadling ended up chained and attached to a wooden perch, one cold morning of November. Big Humphrey, who was the miller’s son and the strongest man in the neighbourhood, was sitting in a rowboat on the lake and holding the perch above the water, ready to dunk Hob until he was either dead and innocent, or alive and guilty. What they would do, if he emerged alive and guilty, Hob did not dare imagine. Sitting next to Humphrey was Edward, the prosecutor, the man who’d relentlessly murmured question after question in Hob’s ear as Hob cried in pain. Hob didn’t think there was a thing in the world he hated and feared more than his deceptively soft voice, encouraging Hob to damn himself while he transcribed. The same soft voice sounded surreal in the fog, as it ordered Hob to be dunk into the water.
Hob protested. It was a mistake. His mouth was instantly filled with murky water, burning his lungs. Hob tried to cough, only to inhale more of it. The water was icy cold, seizing his muscles as he thrashed to escape his restraints. Hob could not die. It was impossible. He had a deal with Death. How long would it take, for the priest, to deem it enough? Every moment of it was agony.
It didn’t matter. Hob couldn’t die. He would have no part in it. He was over two hundred years old. He felt at peace. He would not die, because it was impossible. He only had to wait. He stopped himself from trying to breathe. He didn’t need to breathe. He was calm.
He was wrong.
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