#heart notes weaving the narrative
Text
perfume
The Enchanting Dance of Fragrance: Exploring Perfume Performance
Perfume, an artful blend of aromatic notes, is a timeless accessory that accompanies us through life's moments, leaving an indelible trace in our memories. Beyond its captivating scent, a perfume's performance is a symphony of chemistry, craftsmanship, and emotion. Let's embark on a fragrant journey to unravel the intricate layers of perfume performance and how it weaves its magic on our senses.
The Overture: Fragrance Notes
A perfume's performance begins with its composition of fragrance notes. These notes are carefully selected and combined to create a multi-dimensional olfactory experience. The perfume pyramid is a roadmap to the unfolding story, with top notes ushering us in, heart notes weaving the narrative, and base notes providing a lasting memory.
Top notes are the initial burst of scent that greets our senses, often light and fleeting. Heart notes follow, revealing the heart of the fragrance and lingering for a few hours. Finally, base notes anchor the composition, forming the foundation of the scent that stays with us for the longest duration.
Choreographing Chemistry: Sillage and Longevity
The performance of a perfume is an interplay of chemistry, impacting two key aspects: sillage and longevity.
Sillage refers to a perfume's projection or trail - the way it leaves its mark as you move. A well-performing fragrance boasts a balanced sillage, not too overpowering but not too faint. It dances in the air, creating an aura that draws people in, without overwhelming their senses.
Longevity measures how long a perfume remains detectable on the skin after application. This is influenced by factors such as the concentration of aromatic compounds, the quality of ingredients, and the interaction with individual body chemistry. A perfume with good longevity becomes a steadfast companion, accompanying you throughout your day or evening.
The Ensemble: Concentrations and Formulations
Perfume comes in different concentrations, each with its own performance characteristics. These variations determine the intensity and longevity of the scent.
Eau de Cologne has the lowest concentration, offering a refreshing burst of fragrance that lasts for a short duration. Eau de Toilette strikes a balance between freshness and longevity, making it a popular choice for daily wear. Eau de Parfum boasts a higher concentration, resulting in a longer-lasting scent that unfolds gradually. Finally, Parfum or Extrait de Parfum showcases the most potent concentration, delivering an opulent and enduring olfactory experience.
The Pas de Deux: Skin Chemistry and Personalization
Perfume performance is an intimate pas de deux between the fragrance and your skin's unique chemistry. The same perfume can manifest differently on different individuals, due to variations in body temperature, pH levels, and skin type. A perfume that thrives on one person's skin may sing a different tune on another, adding an element of personalization to the performance.
The Grand Finale: Artistry and Emotion
A perfume's performance transcends the realm of science and chemistry; it is a masterpiece of artistry and emotion. Perfumers, often referred to as "noses," are the virtuosos who compose these intricate symphonies. Their expertise lies in harmonizing diverse ingredients into a coherent and captivating experience.
Behind every perfume is a narrative, a story that unfolds through its notes. A well-crafted perfume can evoke a range of emotions - from nostalgia and sensuality to confidence and elegance. Its performance is not only measured by how it lingers in the air but also by how it resonates with the wearer's heart and soul.
Curtain Call: Captivating Memories
As the final notes of a perfume's performance fade away, what remains are the memories it has created. A scent becomes intertwined with moments, becoming a part of our personal history. The fragrance worn on a special occasion, the signature scent that accompanies us on life's journey - these are the echoes of perfume's enchanting performance.
In the realm of perfumery, performance is more than a technical aspect; it's a magical experience that engages our senses, stirs our emotions, and connects us to the world around us. A well-performing perfume is a testament to the skill of the perfumer, the quality of ingredients, and the chemistry of the wearer. It is a celebration of beauty, art, and the power of scent to evoke the ineffable.
So, the next time you indulge in the delicate ritual of choosing and applying a perfume, remember that you are stepping onto a fragrant stage where chemistry and art converge. You are about to partake in a performance that transcends time and leaves an enduring mark on the senses, a dance of fragrance that unfolds in the theatre of your life.
[Disclaimer: This is a creative and fictional representation of perfume performance for illustrative purposes, and any resemblance to real entities is purely coincidental.]
#noses#The Enchanting Dance of Fragrance: Exploring Perfume Performance#Perfume#an artful blend of aromatic notes#is a timeless accessory that accompanies us through life's moments#leaving an indelible trace in our memories. Beyond its captivating scent#a perfume's performance is a symphony of chemistry#craftsmanship#and emotion. Let's embark on a fragrant journey to unravel the intricate layers of perfume performance and how it weaves its magic on our s#The Overture: Fragrance Notes#A perfume's performance begins with its composition of fragrance notes. These notes are carefully selected and combined to create a multi-d#with top notes ushering us in#heart notes weaving the narrative#and base notes providing a lasting memory.#Top notes are the initial burst of scent that greets our senses#often light and fleeting. Heart notes follow#revealing the heart of the fragrance and lingering for a few hours. Finally#base notes anchor the composition#forming the foundation of the scent that stays with us for the longest duration.#Choreographing Chemistry: Sillage and Longevity#The performance of a perfume is an interplay of chemistry#impacting two key aspects: sillage and longevity.#Sillage refers to a perfume's projection or trail - the way it leaves its mark as you move. A well-performing fragrance boasts a balanced s#not too overpowering but not too faint. It dances in the air#creating an aura that draws people in#without overwhelming their senses.#Longevity measures how long a perfume remains detectable on the skin after application. This is influenced by factors such as the concentra#the quality of ingredients#and the interaction with individual body chemistry. A perfume with good longevity becomes a steadfast companion#accompanying you throughout your day or evening.
1 note
·
View note
Text
she got this - op81
pairing: oscar piastri x academic!girlfriend
summary: oscar visits his girlfriends bachelor thesis defending
word count: 1.3k
face claim: phoebe bridgers
warnings: a swear word, some angst - mentions of a panic attack
note: this is for my baby @lissyontour, you got this, pls wish her good luck for today <3
oh and it’s my first oscar fic, hihi, enjoy it
and there is some of the bachelor thesis… i had to include some of it, thanks to chat gpt
masterlist / taglist
Fuck, was she nervous. Her head was spinning and her legs were jelly - no, scratch that - her legs were liquid.
Her eyes were trying to focus on something, just something that would help her back to reality. She knew she was somewhere else right now, somewhere where she shouldn’t be.
Why wasn’t Oscar with her? Why was she alone? This was not how she planned it!
Her heart was beating, she felt it nearly pop out of her chest. It almost hurt. Oscar should’ve been here with her, but a last minute meeting with Zak just threw her plans overboard.
Her breath quickend and her hands searched for the only safe thing she could think of, her phone. Her fingers quickly glided over the screen and Oscars answer made her hold her breath for a second.
Standing in front of the auditorium, the heavy red doors made her uneasy. It’s gonna be time soon.
Oscar had to hold himself back not to text her that he was actually sitting in the front row and waiting for her to enter the room. He knew it was cruel. But he just had to do it.
He was so much more nervous than her. He watched her write that bachelor thesis for over six months now. At every race she was sitting in his drivers room with at least ten books and her laptop. Only just for the last five laps she came out of the room to watch him race.
He appreciated her coming, she could’ve just stayed at home and studied, but she always came with. Multitasking her way through her studies. And he was so proud of her. There was no way he would miss her final step of the way.
And he knew his cruelty was all worth it, as she stepped into the room and her eyes spotted his. Her whole face lit up and he could almost spot some tears of relief.
„What are you doing here?“, she mouthed. A small smile on her lips. „Supporting you“, he mouthed back, matching her smile.
„Welcome Ms y/l/n!“, her professor welcomed her. „I am exited to hear you defend your bachelor thesis about; How Greek Mythology influenced modern literature.“
She smiled at her favourite teacher and took out her thesis. She closed her eyes for a second, breathed in and out again. She was ready. Oscar knew she studied English literature and oh did that make her sexy.
But he had no idea of Greek Mythology or modern literature by any means. Yes, he read her thesis at least twice, but did his brain understand anything she meant? It did not. Being the smart one was all her job.
„Welcome Professor McAllister, dear colleagues, guests and friends. I hereby welcome you dearly to my defending of my bachelor thesis: How Greek Mythology influenced modern literature.“
Oscar listened intently and always smiled when she looked at him for reassurance. His heart was swelling with proudness. He soon had a girlfriend with a bachelor degree.
„In the vast tapestry of literary evolution, Greek mythology stands as an enduring thread, weaving its timeless narratives into the very fabric of modern literature. As contemporary authors navigate the labyrinth of inspiration, they find themselves entwined with the rich tapestry of gods, heroes, and mythical creatures that originated in ancient Greece.
The resurgence of interest in Greek mythology can be traced to its profound impact on archetypal storytelling. From the lofty heights of Mount Olympus to the depths of the Underworld, these tales resonate with universal themes that transcend temporal and cultural boundaries. Authors draw from the exploits of Zeus, the sagas of heroes like Achilles, and the tragedies of figures like Oedipus to explore complex facets of human nature. The gods' capriciousness mirrors the unpredictable forces that shape our destinies, while the struggles of mortals against divine intervention echo the perennial human quest for agency in the face of cosmic uncertainty.
Prominent literary figures, from James Joyce to J.K. Rowling, have paid homage to Greek mythology, infusing their works with echoes of ancient narratives. The hero's journey, a concept rooted in the mythic structure of heroes like Perseus and Hercules, serves as a narrative template for protagonists in contemporary novels. These echoes are not mere nostalgic nods; they represent a perennial dialogue between past and present, a dialogue in which timeless themes find new expression.
Moreover, the enduring allure of Greek mythology lies in its malleability. Authors wield the myths as allegorical tools to explore issues ranging from power dynamics and hubris to the nuances of morality. The Hydra of Lerna becomes a metaphor for societal challenges that sprout anew when seemingly eradicated, and the labyrinthine trials of Theseus mirror the complexities of modern ethical dilemmas.
In essence, the enduring influence of Greek mythology on modern literature is a testament to the universality of its themes and the perennial resonance of its characters. As authors continue to delve into the wellspring of ancient tales, they discover not relics of a bygone era, but rather a living reservoir of inspiration that fuels the imagination of generations, perpetuating the eternal dance between the ancient and the contemporary.“
Her voice angelic as it could be, drew in people who never even heard of the topic. You didn’t have to be interested in Greek Mythology to listen to her thesis, because she delivered her speech that even Oscar understood and left him wanting to know more about it.
My god was he proud. He was in awe, his beautiful girlfriend standing up there, speaking about her passion and delivering it in a way he never thought she could.
Even the look on Professor McAllister made him proud. She looked at his girlfriend with a proud smile, nodding along with her and reassuring her. She was gonna ace this.
Oscar was snapped out of it when the whole auditorium clapped. She was standing with the biggest smile on that stage. Oscar just had to get a picture of her. His new wallpaper.
„Thank you, Ms y/l/n. This was magnificent! We‘ll just discuss real quick and we‘ll be back with your grade. You can be proud of yourself, Ms y/l/n“, Professor McAllister told the young woman on stage.
And as soon as they left the room, she squealed and ran to Oscar. He opened his arms and let the girl spring into his embrace. „Hi“, he whispered. „Hi“, she whispered back. „I thought you weren’t coming?“
He laughed, a real deep belly laugh. „I had to surprise you!“ She hit his shoulder and said: „I hate you, but I’m glad you came.“
„You did so well, my love. I am so proud of you! We have to celebrate afterwards, anything you want.“
The time together was cut short, when the door opened again and the four professors walked in again. „Ms y/l/n, please, have a seat“, her professor said and pointed to the chair sat in front of the four.
She nervously walked over to them and smiled at them. „No need to be nervous, you did well, you can be proud of yourself.“
They talked stuff Oscar didn’t understand. But when he saw a big smile form on her face, he knew she received the best grade she could’ve. Proud, that’s the only word that came to Oscar’s mind.
„I love the boys“, she told Oscar. He smiled up at her and said: „I know you do, but only I can celebrate with you today.“ She giggled and would’ve almost kicked her feet, if it weren’t for the others in the room.
Professor McAllister handed y/n her diploma and told her they’d see each other at official ceremony. After that, Oscar and his girlfriend almost sprinted out of the auditorium.
oscarpiastri
liked by yninsta, landonorris and 82‘729 others
oscarpiastri how did we get from that to this?
view all 22‘219 comments
yninsta the first one is NOT me, idk where you got this from
user1 weren’t we all at that point during our studies?
user2 yes, yes we were
yninsta glad i wasn’t alone…
oscarpiastri so it was you
yninsta oop-
landonorris congrats, y/n! when we gonna get a lecture about greek mythology from you?
yninsta any day you want
landonorris now?
oscarpiastri no, now she’s busy with me
landonorris ewww, my eyes are scarred, don’t ever come back to the mclaren garage
oscarpiastri i didn’t mean it that way
yninsta he did
landonorris you’re just kids
user3 we love an academic wag
user4 so proud of you, y/n!
mclaren congratulations, y/n, next podium is for you 🍾
yninsta thank you, admin
yninsta thank you, baby
oscarpiastri i am so proud of you, darling
loganseargant i cannot believe i have a friend with a bachelors degree…
yninsta better believe it, american boy
user4 do u even know what a bachelors degree is..?
user5 american slander, we love it
alex_albon we are all proud, y/n
user6 we really are
yninsta thank you all so much, i love you guys so much
georgerussel63 oh no, she’s getting sentimental, let’s stop here guys
°°°
@ironmaiden1313 , @topguncultleader , @biglittlesecret , @gulabjamooon , @lovelyy-moonlight , @peachyplumsss , @mistrose23 , @copper-boom , @love4lando , @champomiel , @serenityleah , @iloveyou3000morgan , @angelwithoutmywings , @elleeeee21 , @youkissedareaderinthedark , @mikauraur , @thybulleric , @lpab , @fdl305 , @mellowarcadefun , @teti-menchon0604 , @vildetry06 , @bibissparkles , @aurora-maria , @lunnnix , @sya-skies , @Buckywifeyy , @dakotali , @rechtrecht , @noncannonships , @1eclerc16 , @pitlanebabe , @sopheeg , @avengersheart , @thatsadsmallchild , @peachiicherries , @idkiwantchocolatee , @callsign-scully , @mehrmonga , @badbatch-simp24 , @lissyontour , @din0nugs , @elliegrey2803 , @gay-for-victoria-de-angelis , @10vely-yutazen , @daggersquadphantom , @azriel-the-shadowsinger , @i-love-scott-mccall , @darleneslane , @mikauraur , @heartmetaphor , @darleneslane , @ellswilliams , @thxtmarvelchick , @nataliambc , @dontjudgeabookbythecover , @hockeyboysarehot , @thehistoryone
#f1 x reader#formula 1#f1#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x female reader#lando norris#logan sargeant#alex albon#george russel#oscar piastri instagram au#yuki tsunoda
573 notes
·
View notes
Text
— INHERITENLY UNJUST DESTINY
AVENTURINE X READER
AO3 | NAVIGATION
WORD COUNT — 900
WARNINGS — slight 2.1 spoilers, lowk angst, word vomit about aventurine’s lack of self esteem, sappy unconditional positive regard, handsy aven bc he’s touch starved, preesetablished relationship
SUMMARY — aventurine does not understand the twist of fate that allows him to stand beside you.
AUTHOR’S NOTE — the lack of official aventurine art is making me gnaw at the bars of my enclosure, sloppy headers for now!!
Aventurine isn’t sure how to feel.
The low hues of noon cast a gentle light upon his gloves, giving light to the sea of shattered stones that lie in his grasp. A sea of dazzling green, torn and fragmented beyond repair.
He’s sure he sees it now, a reflection of the wildly wretched life he’s lived sitting in the palms of his hands. The remnants of the only control he’s managed to retain in his life frail as dust in the winds. SIlent he remains, still as a pound dog that has had its bone ripped away from it.
It isn’t until he feels the ghost of your hands along his own that Aventurine realizes his heart is racing. You spin him to face you, and his heart lurches at the worry that etches itself upon your features. He fights with narratives in his head that play games of fallacies, yet the scorch of his devotion to you leaves his tongue tied.
Facades are a game that come like second nature to Aventurine, but he swears he will not do to you what he deems business in his schemes. Instead, he pulls at what little honesty remains in the depths of his heart and his breath shutters.
“Guess I’m back to where I was five years ago.”
The words come out quiet, too soft for his nature and simply small. It’s a confession that makes him wonder how many other pieces of his life will break apart until the whole is severed. There’s a fear that lingers within, bubbling to the surface as he attempts to withdraw from your hold.
Aventurine does not believe that his life holds any meaning with or without the cornerstone. Yet, that title made him seem as if he truly meant something, and without it, what little reign he held over his life disappeared.
He believes you deserve fire, yet he is no more than an ember flickering on a stoked match. He cannot burn in flames bright enough to keep you.
Silently, he awaits your scold, the reprimand that deems him as worthless as he believes himself to be. A reminder that it was all but a stroke of luck that brought you to him, a trial that has run out as you see him for who he truly is, barren and scared.
His hands shake as you guide them to pour his shattered stone into the box at his feet. Shock etches itself upon his features, and he looks to you with nothing but raw, unparalleled fear as you speak.
“You will always be the same to me.”
Aventurine does not understand the twist of fate that allows him to stand beside you. Single handedly, you vowed to peer into the wasteland that was his soul, and devoted yourself to his inherently unjust destiny. And, even as his life’s worth is ripped away from him, you love him unchanged.
An insatiable want carves at his soul like a day yearns for night, and Aventurine knows no other place to put his hands but around you in embrace. His hold is tight, as if he imagines that you will fade away if he abandons it. Yet, the weave of your fingers through his hair is enough to tell him that you’re no illusion, a sensation that will cease to disappear as long as he lives.
“Let me see you, Aven.”
Your words flow as lost prayers on the horizon do, and Aventurine retracts his grasp on you, allowing his knees to bring him to the ground. Your hands, gentle as streambeds in the spring, cup his face, running over spilt tears from keeled eyelashes. Instinctively, his hands latch onto your wrists, desperately chasing after your warmth and attempting to sear it into his skin.
Aventurine outwardly sighs as you run your fingers along his jaw, stopping to tuck a stray wisp of hair behind his ear. Although your gaze rocks with the deepest seas of adoration, the child deep within his heart beckons him to gamble with his luck once again. A risk that trails the faint quiver of his lips, as he would utter no such words to any other being in the entire cosmos.
“Will you kiss me?”
Wordlessly, you nod, and Aventurine closes his eyes. The soft touch of your lips quells the troubles that brew within, igniting fire against endless water. His hands fall to his lap, melting in the passion of your touch, and his heart craves to continue beating as if you are the oxygen that fills his lungs.
He refuses to leave you until there is no air left for him to breathe. Gasping for the vitality of you that runs rampant through his veins, Aventurine tilts his head upward, and your heart flutters at the gentle smile that greets your gaze. Brilliant hues of purple and blue shimmer amidst the night, and his hold on you returns, hands moving to interlock themselves with your own. It’s the same gesture that holds you in the deep of dusk, never waning as lost prayers to the universe whisper behind closed doors.
The words that follow are never far from you, spinning like soft woven silk that rests in your dreams when he’s away. Your eyes shut as he presses his lips to the corner of your mouth, spreading warmth to your cheeks that subdue the chills of frosted wind. In yearn, you wait, reveling in the soft fan of his breath over your skin.
“I love you.”
#eleysiacalling#aventurine hsr#aventurine x you#aventurine honkai star rail#aventurine x reader#hsr aventurine#honkai star rail#hsr x reader
234 notes
·
View notes
Text
DEMO (SEP. 30. 2023) | INTROS
Apartment 502 is a 18+ slice-of-life romantic drama inspired by shows like New Girl and Friends.
Content warnings include: explicit language, sexual themes, substance use, violence.
Moving from your small home to New York City was supposed to be a dream. You were supposed to start your new life with your long-distance partner and dive headfirst into full-on adulthood. Everything was supposed to be perfect. How can you not love being in your mid-twenties in the Big Apple?
That is until your put-together, white collar partner dumps you the same day you arrive.
Fun.
Essentially homeless and determined to make the life you dreamed of, you take a last-minute offer to move into the spare bedroom in Apartment 502. Now, you're twenty-five and living with three other longtime best friends with their own drama and messy interpersonal relationships. Parties, late-night pizza runs, drama, fights, heartbreak, betrayals...maybe the life you want won't be as easy as you first thought.
Will you find romance in the city that never sleeps?
**Apartment 502 is a romance, angst, and drama-centered story **
design your mc from clothing style to appearance to pronouns, gender identity, name, looks, and more.
choose 1 of 5 jobs that grant you different scenes and different people: (artist/musician, news anchor, writer, teacher, bartender )
curate your MCs personality and how they react to all the hijinks Apt. 502 has to offer, especially the drama that ensues. Style your MC's room and their aesthetic style.
navigate angsty and dark dramas that weave your roommates in a a narrative that can either save their friendship, or break them apart.
engage in a romance with 1 of 6 characters: one of your roommates, your ex, your neighbor or work rival.
Ruin relationships or mend them. Center yourself around the roommates and become part of the core group.
Follow Apartment 502 throughtout MC's first year as a roommate: from holidays, to birthdays, to everything in-between.
Atlas/Athena [f/m] - 1 of 3 roommates. A is the elusive and isolated musician who makes a living writing songs for others and doing gigs down at the local bar. A is quiet, nonchalant, and prefers their isolation. After getting their heart broken by their high school sweetheart, A has swore off love and vowed to focus solely on their career. A has no room for love, and they make it clear.
Appearance: Olive, freckled skin. Atlas has shaggy brown hair that falls in front of their eyes in a wolf-cut with bleached white dyed pieces at the bottom. Athena's brown and white hair falls down her back with black, straight-cut blunt bangs. They usually wear all black and have a variety of piercings.
Callum/Calliope [f/m] - 1 of 3 roommates. Cal is the ultra nice, slightly uptight, easily flustered college professor who is currently dating their longtime partner...that everyone seems to hate. Cal seems very in love with them and is oblivious to their best friends' irritation, but is that all a ruse?
Appearance: Cal has golden blonde hair. Cal's hair is curly fluffy while Calliope's falls down in soft ringlets around her face. Pale skin and green eyes. C dresses down, wearing basic clothes like button-downs and plain dresses.
Levi/Lani [f/m] - 1 of 3 roommates. L is boisterous, arrogant, and the comedian of the group. L makes their money as an influencer and uses their abundance of free time to pick up all kinds of people. L doesn't believe anyone can get them to settle down, especially considering they've never been in love..nor believe it exists.
Note: you can only romance L by starting a purely physical relationship first.
Appearance: Russet brown skin and long black hair that falls down their back and tied in a messy bun. L usually wears a white, billowy button down tucked into black slacks with an abundance of rings.
Garrett/Gaia [f/m] - Your neighbor. G is friendly but distant, always looking down at their phone when they see you. They seem disinterested in the happenings of Apartment 502. You can't help but wonder more about them...and their young child.
Appearance: Brown skin and curly black hair. G usually has headphones on, and Garett's hair is cut into a curly undercut while Gaia's is primed in a slick bun. They're usually dressed in a pristine black turtle neck and matching black pants.
Rainn [f/m] - your perfect, financially-stable lawyer ex. You thought what you and Rainn had was special, until they abruptly dump you the same day you were set to move in. The worst part? They live in the same building.
Oddly enough, Rainn doesn't seem to be acting like someone who should be completely moved on...
Appearance: Rain either has a severe black bob or black slicked back hair and usually seen in a pantsuit or business-casual clothes. They have tan skin and bright blue eyes.
Mason/Mona [f/m]- your old academic rival...who is now your co-worker. What are the chances you two ended up in the same place? M seems to have a lot of fun making things harder for you at your new job, especially considering you guys are competing for the affection of your boss. Tch.
Appearance: Long or short dyed white hair and tan skin with bright brown eyes. (M's outfit is dependent on job of choice.)
#interactive fiction#interactive novel#interactive game#interact-if#choice of games#cog#choice script#choose your own adventure#choose your own story#choices
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
blast from the past.
pairing. vinnie hacker x female reader.
outline. at your friends' charity event, you run into your ex-boyfriend vinnie and his new girl, who takes an instant dislike to you and acts possessively aggressive and jealous.
contains. angst, mention of breakups, unhealthy relationship dynamics, jealousy, possessiveness, threats of violence, cliffhanger ending.
authors note. a cliffhanger! love thoseeee. part two will be up soon. and sorryyyy it's so short i was rushing.
part two.
smoothing your outfit, you take a deep breath as you enter the building hosting tonight's charity gala. your friends had volunteered your help on the planning committee and it was hard to turn down such an important cause. but agreeing also meant risking running into vinnie, your ex-boyfriend of over a year who still held your heart in a soft grip.
scanning the room as names and faces blur together, you finally spot a familiar head of perfectly tousled curls across the way. vinnie looks unfairly handsome, chatting animatedly beside some blonde you didn't recognize. a fluttery feeling bubbles in your stomach despite your best efforts to ignore it.
just then vinnie's gaze sweeps the room, locking with yours from a distance. he offers a small smile in greeting that warms you. until the blonde follows his line of sight, catching your stare with harsh eyes that narrow almost imperceptibly. you blink in surprise at her glare, wondering what problem she could possibly have with you already.
cursing your still all too readable emotions where vinnie was concerned, you turn purposefully toward a table to greet familiar faces. small talk flows easily with old friends, finding comfort in their company over lingering on past hurts.
a while later needing air, you excuse yourself to grab a glass of champagne from the open bar. the crowd has only grown in your brief absence, making navigation tricky. rounding a cluster of people, you accidentally collide with someone already occupying the newly emptied spot beside you.
"oh sorry," comes a clipped tone, recognizing it as belonging to vinnie's new arm candy. up close her features hold a brittle prettiness, expensive fabrics stretching taut over exaggerated curves. she clings possessively to his arm with long red talons, sizing you up through narrowed lids.
"not a problem," you respond politely, signaling the bartender. her grip on vinnie's bicep noticeably tightens at your presence, red nails digging into his skin. he winces almost imperceptibly, shooting her a look.
"i'd be careful if i were you. vinnie's moved on so you should too, rather than hovering around trying to cause problems." her voice drips saccharine venom, clearly relishing the power trips petty drama brings. a harsh ringing sounds your alarm bells, wondering what narrative this girl has spun about your past.
keeping composure, you merely flash a tight smile. "i'm not here for vinnie, just supporting friends. no need to worry, you've got him on quite a short leash it seems."
a huff of indignation leaves her cherry-stained lips, still holding onto vinnie's arm possessively. only then does he speak, resting a placating hand over hers to soothe. "babe calm down, we're all adults here right? no need to cause a scene."
her grip doesn't loosen, venomous gaze never leaving your face as if expecting a further retort. perhaps sensing tension, the bartender slides your drink across with a grimace of solidarity. taking a steadying sip you sigh, deciding retreat was the wisest path here.
turning to go, you catch vinnie's eye meaningfully. "i'll see you around vinnie. the both of you enjoy the rest of your evening." with that you weave back into the crowd, eager to leave the cloying perfume in your wake.
it couldn't have been more than 20 minutes later that you felt an arm wrap, coming face to face with the blonde demon once more. her features now hold pure malice, grip on your arm painfully tight.
"i thought i made myself clear to stay away, you bitch. vinnie is mine now, so do us both a favor and leave him alone before i have to make you." her snarled words send a chill down your spine at the sheer crazed fury behind them. people mill around unaware as you wrestle to free yourself from taloned restraint.
with a fierce shove you manage to rip your arm from her grasp, taking a step back warily. "i don't want anything to do with vinnie, you crazy bitch. i was being polite earlier for his sake but clearly, that was a mistake."
before she can lunge further a familiar voice interrupts the brewing catfight. "babe what's going on?" vinnie levels you with a glare that pierces your heart. "i saw you putting your hands on my girl. what the hell y/n?"
you gape in disbelief, gaze flickering between the unhinged witch smirking in triumph beside him and his stony features. "are you fucking kidding me right now vinnie? she fucking attacked me, threatening me over nothing! your bitch is psycho, i was just defending myself!"
he regards you with disbelief, curling a protective arm around her waist. "i highly doubt that. you were always jealous and grasping, couldn't accept me moving on."
hot angry tears prick your eyes at the cruel betrayal, hurt swarming your chest as he blindly sides with this stranger over you after so long together. gathering the tatters of your dignity, you nod tightly before stalking away without another word. glancing back as you enter the lobby, vinnie's new girl hungrily devours his mouth in a lingering kiss that twists the final knife. how pathetic.
storming out into the cool night, you dial your friend noah's number with shaking fingers praying he's awake. within minutes headlights pull up and you collapse sobbing into the passenger seat, spilling the whole sordid tale between heaving breaths. he comforts you as best he can, driving you home in respectful silence once the tears run dry.
collapsing onto the bed still dressed to the nines, you let lingering hurt and frustration wash over in waves until merciful sleep claims your aching mind. all you can do is keep moving forward and try to let go, though scars of the heart heal slowest of all.
that was the last thing you wanted to look back on, after working so hard on moving forward from vinnie in the year since your break up. but fate works in cruel ways sometimes, bringing people from your history back to reopen barely scabbed wounds. all you can do now is try to pick up the pieces again and keep placing one foot in front of the other, hoping in time even bitter memories will fade.
#﹙ kari writes 𝜗𝜚 ﹚#vinnie#vinnie hacker#vinniehacker#vincent hacker#vhackerr#vinnie hacker imagines#vinnie hacker angst#vinnie hacker x reader#vinnie hacker fanfiction#vinnie hacker smut#vinnie imagines#vinnie fanfic#vinnie smut#vinnie x reader#vinnie x female reader#vinnie x y/n#vinnie hacker x female reader#vinnie hacker x y/n#vinnie hacker fanfic
231 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Songbird and the Rebel
pairings: lucy gray baird x gn!reader
summary: you love lucy. you would do anything for her. including throw yourself in with the wolves in order to protect her.
warnings: canon typical violence, minor SPOILERS FOR TBOSAS!!!! reader is gender neutral BUT takes the spot for male tribute, first person
word count: 2.3k
a/n: my first fanfic in a while (leilani if you see this leave) part 2?
Lucy Gray Baird was a name known to most in District 12.
If you don’t know her from when her and her covey arrived in District 12 with an array of songs, then you definitely know her from her singing in the bar or by the hanging tree.
In the quiet corners of my heart, there exists a profound narrative woven with the threads of affection and admiration for Lucy Gray Baird. To gaze upon her is to witness a kaleidoscope of beauty, each facet revealing a unique charm that, when combined, creates an enchanting tapestry of allure. Her presence is a gentle breeze, weaving through the tapestry of my days, leaving me breathless with the ethereal magic she brings.
Lucy Gray's eyes are like pools of liquid moonlight, reflecting a depth that seems to hold the secrets of the universe. When she casts her gaze upon me, it's as if time itself pauses, and in those moments, I find solace in the silent language exchanged between our souls. Her laughter, a melody that dances in the air, resonates with the sweetness of a thousand songbirds. Each note is a reminder that joy is not just an emotion, but a symphony composed by the mere existence of Lucy Gray.
Yet, it is in the cadence of her voice that the true enchantment unfolds. Her words are like a lyrical river, flowing with grace and carrying the weight of untold stories. The timbre, a harmonious blend of warmth and tenderness, wraps around my heart like a comforting embrace. Listening to Lucy Gray speak is akin to traversing a forest of ancient trees, each word a delicate leaf that rustles in the gentle breeze, revealing the wisdom etched into the very fabric of her being.
In the quietude of twilight, as the world settles into a hushed symphony, Lucy Gray's voice becomes a lullaby, a soothing melody that cradles my thoughts and lingers in the corridors of my dreams. It is a voice that navigates the complexities of emotion, painting vivid landscapes of understanding and empathy. With every syllable, she unveils a tapestry of connection, forging a bond that transcends the mundane and elevates our shared existence to a realm where love is not just a sentiment but a living, breathing entity.
To be in love with Lucy Gray Baird is to be immersed in a story where every chapter unfolds with the grace of a sonnet, and her enchanting voice serves as the narrator, guiding me through the intricacies of emotion with eloquence and poise. In her presence, time becomes an ephemeral concept, and the symphony of our shared moments resonates in the chambers of my heart, an everlasting ode to the captivating magic that is Lucy Gray.
As the calendar inches closer to that dreaded date, the annual arrival of the reaping, a shiver courses through my veins, and the spectre of fear looms large in the recesses of my thoughts. It's a perennial nightmare, a cyclical horror that etches its mark on my soul with each passing year. The looming prospect of the reaping casts a long, foreboding shadow over the days leading up to it, like an impending storm gathering its strength.
In the district, where life is a delicate dance on the precipice of survival, the reaping is the grand conductor orchestrating the symphony of anxiety that grips every heart. The Capitol's merciless tradition, designed to remind us of our vulnerability, is an annual ritual that plunges us into a maelstrom of uncertainty. As the day draws near, the atmosphere becomes thick with a palpable tension, a collective holding of breaths that echo the unspoken dread etched across the faces of my fellow citizens.
The fear is not merely a response to the capricious nature of the reaping; it is an acknowledgment of the ruthless lottery that defines our existence. Every year, the odds are a cruel reminder of the fragility of life, and as the names are drawn, the spectre of mortality hangs heavy in the air. It's a twisted game where the stakes are nothing less than life itself, and the chances of escape grow slimmer with each passing year.
Yet, in the recesses of my consciousness, a tiny flame of hope persists. Three more years, I tell myself, just three more before the shackles of this annual torment are lifted. The countdown becomes a mantra, a whispered reassurance that carries me through the darkest hours leading up to the reaping. I imagine a future where the weight of this fear is but a distant memory, where the spectre of the Capitol's malevolence no longer casts its sinister gaze upon my destiny.
Survival becomes an art, a delicate dance between evading the Capitol's scrutiny and navigating the treacherous currents of our district's harsh realities. With each passing reaping, the lessons learned, the alliances forged, and the scars accumulated become badges of a silent resistance against the Capitol's oppressive grip. As the clock ticks away, the urgency to outlast this infernal cycle intensifies, and I find solace in the belief that resilience will be my shield until the dawn of that promised freedom.
The reaping remains an annual crucible, but with each passing year, the embers of hope burn a little brighter. Three more years—a finite horizon that promises liberation from the perennial terror that shadows my days. Until then, I navigate the minefield of survival, driven by the unyielding determination to defy the odds and emerge from the crucible of the reaping with the scars of endurance etched upon my soul.
Lost in the tapestry of my daydreams, where the edges of reality blur into the realms of imagination, I found myself wading through the ethereal landscapes of distant thoughts. The cadence of a country twang, like a gentle breeze, pulled me back from the reverie, and there she was – Lucy Gray Baird, a vision of warmth and southern charm.
"What's wrong, darling?" Lucy Gray's voice, dripping with honeyed tones, sliced through the cocoon of my musings. Startled, I looked up to find her gaze fixed on me, a playful twinkle in her eyes that made my heart flutter.
Shaking my head to dispel the lingering fragments of my daydreams, I stammered out a feeble response, "Oh, nothing, just lost in thought."
Lucy Gray's expression shifted to a quizzical 'really?' as she cocked her head to the side. It was as if she could read the unsaid, decipher the hidden nuances beneath the surface of my demeanour. Unable to support the charade, I sighed and admitted, "Just thinking about tomorrow."
Her brow furrowed with concern, and Lucy Gray, with a sincerity that belied the playful banter, insisted, "We're not getting picked, darling. Trust me."
The assurance, while comforting, collided with the grim reality that haunted the eve of every reaping. "Lucy Gray, you can't be sure. The odds are never in our favour," I argued, my voice laced with the weight of impending dread.
An animated debate unfolded, our words clashing like opposing currents in a tempestuous sea. Lucy Gray, with an unwavering confidence, insisted that fate would spare us, while I, burdened by the grim statistics of our district, could not share her optimism. The tension escalated, transforming a mere disagreement into a storm of conflicting emotions.
With a heavy sigh, I declared, "I can't afford false hope, Lucy Gray. I need to face the reality of our situation."
Lucy Gray's eyes darkened with disappointment, and her lips formed a thin line. "You don't have to face it alone, darling," she murmured, her voice now devoid of its earlier playfulness.
In the aftermath of our heated exchange, the room echoed with the haunting silence of unresolved tension. Unable to bear the weight of the unspoken, I stormed out, leaving behind a tumultuous atmosphere that lingered in the air like a palpable storm. The door swung shut behind me, closing the chapter on a disagreement that lingered in the corridors of my conscience.
As I walked away, the shadows of doubt and fear clung to me like a relentless spectre. Tomorrow's reaping loomed on the horizon, and amid our clash, the uncertain fate that awaited us cast a shadow on the camaraderie between Lucy Gray and me.
The morning of the reaping dawned with an eerie stillness, the air thick with tension as I stood flanked by my brothers, a tight knot of apprehension settling in the pit of my stomach. The proximity to them, a meagre comfort in the face of the impending ordeal, offered a silent solidarity that spoke of shared fears and unspoken bonds.
As the announcer's voice echoed through the square, a collective hush fell over the assembled crowd. My gaze scanned the sea of faces, searching for Lucy Gray amid the sea of anxious expressions. But she was nowhere to be found, and a gnawing unease crept into my thoughts.
The dread reached its zenith when the familiar twang of the announcer's voice pierced the air, uttering those fateful words that sent shockwaves through my world. "Lucy Gray Baird."
Time seemed to grind to a halt as her name reverberated through the square. A sharp intake of breath echoed through the crowd, and my brothers and I exchanged glances, our eyes mirroring the disbelief that clung to our collective consciousness. Lucy Gray, the beacon of defiance and warmth, had been ensnared by the merciless claws of the reaping.
A murmur rippled through the crowd as Lucy Gray emerged, her steps deliberate yet exuding an air of unrestrained rebellion. As she approached the podium, the atmosphere crackled with a palpable tension. Instead of submitting to the Capitol's ritual humiliation, Lucy Gray took matters into her own hands.
In a daring act of defiance, she slipped a snake into the folds of the mayor's daughter's dress, a calculated rebellion that unfolded like a subversive ballet. Gasps of astonishment and screams of fear spread through the crowd as Lucy Gray stood there, an embodiment of resistance against the Capitol's oppression.
Her gaze, a beacon of unyielding determination, sought me out in the crowd. Our eyes locked in a silent exchange, a communion of understanding that transcended the barriers of the Capitol's surveillance. In that fleeting moment, I saw not just defiance but a plea for solidarity, a shared understanding of the injustice that had befallen her.
The Covey, recognizing their songbird in distress, began to sing. Their harmonies, a haunting melody of sorrow and defiance, wove through the square, amplifying the rebellious spirit that Lucy Gray embodied. It was a serenade for a fallen comrade, a hymn of resistance that reverberated through the hearts of those who dared to challenge the Capitol's iron grip.
As Lucy Gray stood there, surrounded by the harmonies of the Covey, I felt an indescribable mixture of emotions. Anguish, for the injustice that had befallen her; admiration, for her unyielding spirit; and a lingering sense of guilt for the moments of doubt that had clouded our camaraderie. The reaping square transformed into a stage for a silent revolution, and Lucy Gray, with her audacious act, had become the unwitting protagonist in a tale of defiance and sacrifice.
Driven by a surge of emotions that transcended reason, I pushed forward through the tightly packed crowd, determination burning in my veins. The air crackled with tension as I reached the front, and my heart pounded in my chest like a war drum. Lucy Gray's name lingered in the air, a haunting echo that reverberated through the square.
As I stumbled towards the platform, the weight of the moment settled on my shoulders. My voice trembled, but a resolute conviction carried me forward. "I volunteer!"
Lucy Gray, standing defiantly on the podium, shot me a perplexed frown. A silent exchange passed between us, a question lingering in her eyes. Why would I jeopardize my own safety for her? But there was no time for explanations as the Capitol's relentless proceedings demanded swift adherence.
Shaking her head in disbelief, Lucy Gray gestured towards me, her eyes mirroring a silent plea for me to reconsider. But I couldn't back down now. I couldn't let Lucy Gray face the Capitol's brutality alone.
"I volunteer to take the place of Jessup Diggs!" The words hung in the air, a courageous declaration that seemed to confound the very fabric of the reaping ceremony. Murmurs of uncertainty rippled through the crowd, unsure if such a deviation from the Capitol's script was permissible.
The Capitol's enforcers hesitated, caught off guard by the unprecedented turn of events. The air was thick with uncertainty, the collective gasp of the onlookers amplifying the tension that permeated the square. Jessup Diggs looked bewildered, unsure whether to be grateful or worried for the unexpected twist of fate.
Before the Capitol's enforcers could make sense of the situation, Jessup was roughly thrown down from the stage. A jolt of realization surged through the crowd, the unspoken understanding that the Capitol's machinations brooked no dissent. I was seized by unseen hands, dragged up to the platform, and away from the tumultuous sea of faces.
As I was pulled away, my eyes sought out Lucy Gray, who now stood alone, a solitary figure in the midst of the chaotic spectacle. Her gaze met mine, a silent acknowledgment passing between us. In that moment, I saw gratitude mixed with an unspoken sadness, a recognition of the sacrifice made in the name of defiance.
The cheers and protests of the crowd faded into the background as I was led away from the square, the consequences of my impulsive decision looming ahead. In the face of the Capitol's cruelty, I had dared to challenge the script, to rewrite the narrative of the reaping. The road ahead was uncertain, but as I cast a last glance at Lucy Gray Baird, standing alone on the podium, I knew that the seeds of rebellion had been sown, and the repercussions of my choice would resonate far beyond the confines of the reaping square.
#elijah writes#lucy gray baird#lucy gray x coriolanus#lucy gray x reader#lucy gray#lucy gray baird x reader#gn#gn reader#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#tbosas#tbosas x reader#x you#tbosas x you#the ballard of songbirds and snakes x reader
351 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hello folks who enjoy TMA and WTNV, do you crave more audio content that is gay and spooky?
I have some recommendations for you!
@hellofromthehallowoods is a multilayered spooky narrative set in a sinister forest with a huge range of LGBTQ+ storythreads which weave in and out of one another. There are 85 episodes at time of writing and the fandom has been screaming about some of the most recent ones, and for good reason. There are transcripts on their website. Each episode has its own lovely artwork, and a patreon-exclusive bonus story.
@thenightpost tells the tale of conscripted postal workers in the strange setting of Gilt City, feat. a lot of queer love and found family. There are 38 episodes currently available and they're about halfway through Season Three at the moment. The plot is definitely thickening. Transcripts are linked from every episode in the shownotes. Their patreon offers early access to new episodes and some wonderful bonus stories.
@monstrousagonies is an advice show for monsters. enough said. but for good measure, it's softly spooky and has a lot of heart. There are 43 (edit: there are 71 I just can't read apparently sorry!) episodes already released, and many of them are written in response to prompts sent in by listeners to the show. The creator opens up submissions for episode prompts now and then, and submissions will be opening for Season Three fairly soon, so if you have a monstrous agony you'd like to see advised upon, keep your eyes peeled. Transcripts are available on the show website and they have a patreon!
There is also our own show, @spiritboxradio, the story of an unlikely radio show host who discovers he has a bigger part to play in the spooky events unfolding around them. The show is full of queer characters and aims for a growing sense of spookiness that builds as the show goes on. There are 69 (heh) episodes currently live and listenable, and you can get early access via our patreon, plus bonus content every Friday, including bonus stories, Creator's Notes, and a monthly behind-the-scenes podcast. Transcripts for every episode are available on our website.
All of these shows are made by LGBTQ+ folks. They're available on most places you find your podcasts. Is one of these shows not available on the platform you prefer? Drop an ask in our boxes and see if we might be able to change that.
#the magnus archives#welcome to night vale#tma#wtnv#audio drama#spirit box radio#horror podcast#podcast#audiodrama#sbr#ghost story#horror#fiction podcast#podcast recommendations#audio fiction#lgbtqiia+#lgbtq#lgbt#hello from the hallowoods#hfth#monstrous agonies#the night post#tnp
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Note: Thank you for all the support, we will get to all the avatar running around bits soon, in the mean time please help me come up with a title for this series!
P.s thank you @im-kaii for helping me out I've done a successful word count finally
Jake x Avatar!reader x Neytiri
Word count: 1.8k (not edited or proofread)
Chapter 3 - Jake Sully
♡●♡●♡●♡●♡●♡●♡●♡●♡●♡●♡●♡●♡●♡●♡●♡●♡●♡●♡
The sun rose early the next morning due to the current season on Pandora resembling one like summer. You awoke before the others and peeked out of your hammock, seeing them all littering the floor like a minefield, it would be a hard task to get out.
You silently reach one leg over the edge of the hammock, the material swaying then tipping slightly, giving you a mild heart attack; with both legs now over the edge you carefully eased yourself onto the floor below and grab your satchel along either your footwear. Now it was the challenge of weaving through the room of a dozen other people.
You tiptoe your way over straying limbs and strewn bags, cringing every time your bare foot stuck to the linoleum floor. Finally you were at the heavy door.
It's hinges creaked slightly as you pushed it open but nobody did anything more than stir, breathing a sigh of relief you put your shoes on and make your way back towards the link room.
In the room you had set up one of Jake Sully's first video logs - the one which he described the first time he became his avatar - for some unknown reason you found the ex-marine's blunt instructions the easiest to follow. Pressing play on his narrative account you sit back in the chair and watch as he shows an emotion other than boredom for the first time, all because he could use his legs once more.
His slight detailing of the experience gave away his enthusiasm and it was almost endearing to watch.
Once the video ended you approach the chamber that will let you link with the avatar, you open the bed and touch the jelly like substance before fiddling with the skeleton shaped network of wires. You couldn't link just yet due to needing supervision. However, Norm had told you the night before to speed up the process more you could drain the fluid from the tank your avatar was in and then the scientists would take your avatar off to a preparation room of sorts.
Going over to your avatar you gently run your hand along the smooth glass before attaching a tube to the thick valve beneath the tank, once attached the liquid protecting your avatar began to drain.
You watched as the water level began to drop, the ebony hairs of your avatar swaying slightly in the moving water before clinging to the damp avatars body.
Your avatar now laid limp at the bottom of the tank but thankfully a few scientists got the alert of the tank being drained and came to take the tank away making the once crowded room feel twice the size. Checking the time it was now 8am meaning the residents of the lab began to wake.
After a while you finally emerged from the room, locking the heavy duty door behind you.
The same people from last night were sat back down around the pop up table with the same chef cooking up a breakfast. Norm saw you and quickly waved you over, patting the seat next to him.
“So I heard you've started to prepare your avatar”
He says, seeming genuinely excited on your behalf, you smile in return.
“Yeah I drained the tank and the scientists took her away”
You were excited, anyone would be in your position. Right now you viewed your avatar as a separate being, as if it were a creature just sleeping, instead of a shell entirely dependent on your subconscious.
“Eat up, it's a long day ahead of you”
Norm happily commands, pushing a plate of what looked to be a Na'vi impersonation of bacon and eggs. You thanked him before eating the food and engaging in small talk with the rest of the crew, finally learning the names of the people you've shared the past conscious 24 hours with.
The meal was soon finished and a chime came from what looked like an old pager in Norm's shirt pocket. He turned to you with a smile.
“Your avatar's ready”
----------
You looked through the glass and saw the large, blue version of you lying on a hospital bed, wires coming off her like she was prey in a spiders web. Norm was next to you, a comforting hand on your shoulder.
“Jake's just arrived, he wants to run you through everything before you go in”
He says and you turn to him, a nervous look on your face. It felt almost taboo knowing you had a plethora of information on him, having watched his videos throughout the past day and now he was going to see you for the first time.
“Where is he?”
You ask sceptically, the mental battle of whether to feel nervous or excited wreaking havoc on your mind.
“Just in one if the lounges”
You forget Norm had known this man for years, an old friend of sorts. The lounges were an unknown place to you as you had only really been in 3 rooms throughout your so far short stay so Norm led you to the one he was on about and stopped outside the closed door.
“Just be calm and friendly and you'll be fine”
He reassured, Norm truly was an amazing friend, always sensing when you needed a bit of comfort.
With a deep breath, you watch Norm open the heavy door revealing the nearly 10ft man inside.
Both of you walk in and you look up at the familiar stranger: he was massive, a dusky blue with navy markings and white freckles, he was wearing a cross between native and humanised clothes with the most obvious feature being a large machine gun instead of a more primal weapon. Despite his rough exterior he greeted you with a smile, sticking his hand out for you to shake.
You were intimidated and in awe. You looked up at him with wide but calculating eyes before staring at the sizable palm displayed to you.
You snap out of your trance and gently place your hand against his, yours was dwarfed making it look as if you were a child discovering your mother's hand for the first time.
“Sorry, I'm just a bit starstruck if that's the right word”
You apologise nervously, a breathy chuckle escaping you.
“It's alright, the first time I saw these blue things striding around I wasn't much better”
He said, releasing your hand. It was now that you could hear the same voice from all those video logs coming from a very different, bluer version of Jake Sully. Was it strange to say you found him slightly attractive?
“I heard you're going to show me the ropes”
You say, diminishing the remaining tension.
“Yep, although my teaching skills might be a bit rusty if not nonexistent”
You both chuckle at that and he runs you through what's going to happen during and after your link with the avatar.
“I'll start you off as well, can you take us to the link room?”
You nod at his request and push open the door for you followed by his hulking figure. The walk to the link room was quiet and comfortable despite you two not knowing each other for long, thankfully due to the avatar programme this building was built for all those years ago, the ceiling accommodated his inhuman size.
“Does it feel weird, showing me how to do something you obviously haven't bothered with in years?”
You ask, filling the silence.
“It's a bit of a change, I'm used to tribe life now and I'm sure one day you will be too”
He says and you look over at him in slight shock.
“I didn't think I'd be doing anything involving the tribe life?”
You questioned, you wanted to, of course you did, but you were under the illusion that your job was to report on scientific discovery. Jake looked down at you, the striking gold of his eyes causing your own to gaze admiringly.
“Can't have a little old scientist wandering around on her own now can we?”
He rhetorically asked. It felt nice knowing you weren't just going to be alone in the forests during your stays.
“Besides Neytiri wants to meet you, she doesn't trust easily and wants to make sure you're safe enough to be roaming around their forest”
He says with a chuckle. You had heard of Neytiri in his logs, finding how their romance grew sweet and inspirational, the chiefs daughter falling for the outcast impersonator.
Soon enough you and Jake arrived at the link room, the room feeling small once more when Jake slots himself in the middle of it.
He opens up the link bed and pulls back the skeletal frame, his movements allow you to study him more. He had various wounds littering his skin showing the struggles of war and the natural injuries from living in a budding ecosystem; you could tell he was a natural born leader in how he instantly took charge, his presence radiating authority and a protective instinct.
The bed then began to glow as it powered up, the gel mattress shining an aquamarine sort of colour. Jake then pressed his finger into the bed with a slight chuckle.
“I will never get over how weird these feel”
He says it with a reminiscent chuckle, it's only in moments like these where you recognise he was human for the majority of his life.
“Come on, I'll show you how the screen works”
He gestures you over and shows you how to work the technology for the future when you're on your own.
“How does it feel, you know becoming an avatar?”
You ask, revealing your trepidation for the unique experience.
“You can't describe it, you just kind of feel like you're waking up as normal just a bit off balance”
He answers, looking at you fondly, seeing similarities between you and him.
“Alright enough chat, lie down”
He commands, patting the cut out of a human on the bed.
You carefully begin to climb into the bed, Jake’s hand resting on your waist causing you to flush slightly as he helps you up.
You lie down in the mattress, flattening your hands and feeling the strange substance beneath you. Jake explains everything to you once more, sending you a reassuring smile as he pulls the skeletal frame back over you.
As instructed, as soon as the lid seals you let your mind go blank.
#avatar poly#avatar#jake sully#neytiri#pandora#avatar x fem reader#james cameron avatar#avatar x reader#sully#norm spellman#series#jake sully x reader#neytiri x reader#jake x reader x neytiri
83 notes
·
View notes
Text
OFMD Spiral Narrative 49: Whims, Self-Knowledge, and Committment
Intro: What I love most about how season 2 builds on season 1 of OFMD is the spiral narrative structure. Ground is repeatedly and explicitly re-trod from season 1 to season 2, but in season 2 everything goes deeper than season 1. Meanings are shuffled, emotions are stronger and truer, and transformation is showcased above everything. The first season plucks certain notes, then the second season plucks the same ones--but louder, and then it weaves them together to create a symphony.
---
Stede and Ed both make many decisions impulsively (although Ed more than Stede). But their whims are rather different: Ed's are the result of things he's been brooding on for a long time, which rise to the surface and become actions in the form of whims. Practically everything he does in S1E4 falls into this category: the way he's drawn to Stede and acts on that feeling, telling Stede "I'm Ed," the clothes swap: it all points to deeper dissatisfaction and longings.
Stede, on the other hand, acts on whims as a form of denial, as a bad coping mechanism to avoid dealing with or thinking about something he's having trouble getting his head around. The whims build on things that have been bubbling, but they amount to "X makes me scared/nervous/anxious, I'll throw myself into Y." The whims are fundamentally misguided ways of dealing with those X things. Going after the hostages in S1E2 is an example of this: Stede is transferring his fears about how he let down his family (his daddy issues) onto an unrelated situation, trying to prove that he's "adequate."
Some of their whims lead to disaster (Stede's more than Ed's), but others lead to goodness, and all work out in the end (since it's that kind of story). Whims aren't bad in this show, but over the course of season 2 Ed and Stede develop better, more self-aware relationships with whims. Because the problem isn't having those whims, or even acting on those whims: problems arise when they act on the whims without fully considering about how they'll negatively affect others, or engaging with those negative effects afterwards. Things like Stede dragging Olu and Pete into the woods with him to save the hostages, and Ed not thinking about how what Izzy might do in response to Ed's changes.
The first time the word "whim" is important on OFMD is in season 1 episode 10.
Mary has completely called him on this. Stede had been brooding about his family even before, but his decision to come back is so impulsive that he's not actually wearing shoes when he arrives. Instead of dealing with what a horrible person he thinks he is--or the intensity of what's happening with Ed--he tries to run back into a life that was empty, but safe. It didn't register on him 1) that he might not be welcome home and 2) that he'd be completely breaking Ed's heart. He can't deal with what's happening in his pirate life by running off back to his married life. But in season 1, Stede refuses to own this until he's forced. His reaction to being called on this shit is denial.
The next time the word whim appears on OFMD, it's also being thrown at Stede by an angry ex after his unwelcome return.
But this time it's Ed, and this time Stede doesn't reject the accusation. Instead, he goes wide with it: he points out that technically their whole relationship was founded on whims.
Whims aren't necessarily a point of conflict with Ed and Stede. They can be a point of empathy, of understanding.
The problem isn't the fact that Stede left on impulse, the problem is that he left. He didn't respect Ed's feelings, at the moment it was most important.
But under the whims, there's love. The whims aren't bad, but they're not a solid foundation for a long-term relationship.
Ed figures this out, and decides he wants feel more secure in his choices in future by considering them first.
He doesn't want to have whims bubble in his unconscious, unrecognized, and then manifest in real life without him understanding what's really happening in his own head.
He wants more solidity, more trust in himself and in Stede than he'll feel if they don't temper their impulses.
Because whims mean his actions may spin away from the kind of person he wants to be--and Stede's important to him, this relationship is important, and he doesn't want it to fail.
Stede recognizes this, he recognizes why it's important.
And then he and Ed proceed to both completely fail to follow through on that.
Each acts on one of their classic Stede and Ed whims. Sure, Stede's been "longing" for Ed for weeks--but sleeping together right now, when Stede knew that minus pressure, Ed wanted to take it slow, and when Stede's clearly freaked out by what just happened with Ned and trying to avoid fully dealing with it? That's a "Stede tries to deal with X by focusing on Y" kind of whim.
Still, it's worth noting that Ed doesn't at all blame Stede for acting on this whim and pushing Ed to go faster than he was ready for. The fact that what happened was impulsive isn't used to invalidate the relationship, like in the conversation at Anne and Mary's. There's an acceptance of the reality of Stede's "whims" implicit in the whole conversation. But rather than communicating about what's gone wrong and how to move forward, Ed panics and whims out.
And Ed's been thinking about leaving behind being a pirate for a while. He's been brooding over his own confusion about his sense of self--and what that means for his relationship--for a while. It's a panic move, but it speaks to real needs for a self-identity that's not dependent on piracy, and for surety that he's emotionally safe.
That said, Ed also isn't considering how this will impact Stede. He leaves insisting "fishermen and pirates are nothing alike." And he's horrified later when he realizes he might not have been there when Stede needed him most.
But by facing these whims and their consequences, each man grows.
Stede doesn't panic when Ed tells him he regrets their night together. He doesn't lash out over any hurt this causes him, or try to displace his pain (though later, he does exactly that and almost gets killed by Zheng). Right in the moment, he demonstrates real growth.
Stede sits with the kind of problem that used to send him running, and he engages constructively with the consequences of his whim.
Ed, meanwhile, thinks at first that his fisherman whim has worked out perfectly. Except it turns out that whims don't always work out against reality. Then he finds that following whims unquestioned meant he wasn't there when Stede needed him.
Ed's whims speak to real issues. Leaving Stede spoke to a sense of insecurity about himself and the relationship. But when he finds Stede's letter, he rediscovers security in that relationship.
And when he finds Stede, Stede understands why Ed followed that whim, and doesn't blame him.
Instead, he offers Ed security. Ed might not fully understand why he follows some whims, but Stede does. And Stede understands Ed well enough that Ed acting on his whims, even when he's careless, doesn't invalidate the relationship.
And then we come to the boys' final whim of the season: turning a shack (which they have clearly never entered) into an inn.
This could have been a negative whim. Ed becomes an innkeeper for a lot of the reasons he tried to become a fisherman, after all. But this is also more considered a whim than something like "we'll go to China."
And most important of all, Ed goes out of his way to make sure that he isn't steamrolling his partner by following this whim (like with the China thing). That they're in it together.
And Stede following his boyfriend to become an innkeeper could have been a displacement. He did just wind up in a world of trouble over being a pirate, after all. And he's watching his own ship sail off.
But this isn't displacement from Stede. This is commitment. Faith that the bones of the relationship are solid, whatever whims are laid over them. Knowing his own blind spots, knowing Ed's, and choosing which whim to follow--together.
#ofmd s2 spoilers#ofmd#ofmd s2#our flag means death#ofmd spoilers#ofmd meta#ed teach#stede bonnet#blackbonnet
63 notes
·
View notes
Text
"Step into the captivating world of 'Love Unlocked' where the boundaries between reality and fiction blur in the most unexpected way. Follow the journey of a young girl who meets an untimely demise only to awaken in a realm beyond imagination. Transported into the pages of a manga titled 'Blue Lock,' she discovers that her new life resembles a gaming experience, complete with status screens, quests, and unlockable romantic interests.
As she navigates this surreal existence, our protagonist realizes that she is no ordinary character. Residing in the narrative as Ego Jinpachi's younger sister, her path is intertwined with the manga's storyline, presenting both challenges and opportunities. With every quest she undertakes, she gains experience and levels up, each step revealing new facets of her character's depth and unlocking a range of potential romantic partners.
Side note: this series is gonna be long and i mean it. Long like more than 90k words
℘ꭈׁׅᨵׁׅᥣׁׅ֪ᨵׁׅᧁׁυׁׅꫀׁׅܻ
Chapter 1: Siblings in Play: A Kick of Connection
Chapter 2: Embracing Digital Mysteries: Unveiling Love and Identity
Chapter 3: New task: Weaving New Connections
Chapter 4: missing keychain: playing detective and getting a new friend
Chapter 5: the promises we made the kiss we had
Chapter 6: new year, new hell
Chapter 7: the itoshi bros
Chapter 8: hearts eyes and the error in the system!
Chapter 9: ice cream on the t shirt
Chapter 10: Turquoise Twinkle: A Day in the World of Soccer and Surprises
Chapter 11:
Chapter 12
Chapter 13???
Chapter 14??
Comment if you wanna be in the tag list
#reader insert#x reader#fluff#x yn#blue lock#blue lock x reader#blue lock x y/n#rin x reader#itoshi x reader#itoshi sae x reader#itadori x reader#isagi yoichi x reader#bachira x reader#reverse harem
103 notes
·
View notes
Text
After Worm ended, Wildbow shared some Parahumans drafts. There are a lot of interesting details that changed, interesting details that stayed the same, and a few things that were just weird. One weird thing that's stuck in my head for nearly a decade is the Rhizome Epidemic.
Out of the snippets provided, the Rhizome Epidemic is only mentioned in the 2004 one, TELUTT (The Events Leading Up to That Thursday). The Epidemic is a bunch of fungus growing somewhere far north enough that it has glaciers. It is noted for sometimes being hostile and producing materials that make great superhero costumes. No seams, bulletproof, cut-resistant, fireproof, "reduces the force of ambient psychic effects," and sometimes transparent.
I could speculate on the origin of the Rhizome Epidemic, whether it's a half-baked Entity "superweapon" or a biotinker creation or some other power effect, but that's impossible to know and not all that interesting. Instead, I'm going to speculate about why Wildbow included it in 2004 and discarded it by 2011.
So, one of the things Wildbow was trying to do with Earth Bet was construct a world where all the standard superhero tropes made sense. Hence (for instance) the 3-4 obscenely powerful precogs, their disparate goals and indirect conflicts pushing the setting towards a superhero norm.
Obviously, Rhizome fabric is intended to help with this. It's the super-suit—nearly invulnerable to damage, good at protecting its wearer from harm, and none of the unpleasant visual clutter caused by real clothesmaking techniques. It even comes with a built-in justification for cleavage windows and the like. It's not a bulletproof suit with a hole cut out right over her heart, it's a bulletproof suit with transparent fabric over her heart!
So why was the Rhizome cut?
Normally, I would argue that the line between "deconstruction" and "reconstruction" isn't fuzzy so much as nonexistent. Both of them take a closer look at a genre's tropes, depicting what the author thinks is a more reasonable version of them. Deconstructions tend to say "This wouldn't work"; reconstructions tend to say "Here's how this could work," but the two are hardly incompatible...especially since genres tend to have multiple tropes to xeconstruct. There are plenty of stories which people could argue as being either de- or reconstructing something; they might outnumber examples which are unambiguously one or the other.
However, the distinction is the most straightforward way to explain the difference between canon Worm and the Rhizome. Worm leans towards deconstructive; it is focused on the ways its setting differs from the Platonic superhero setting more than the reasons why it has superheroes. By contrast, the Rhizome Epidemic is purely reconstructive. From what we saw in the TELUTT draft, it exists to explain why the best/richest capes have costumes that would fit in a Silver Age comic.
Again, reconstructive elements could exist within Worm without ruining its tone; this is obvious, because they exist. (Coil's plans, particularly his early jobs for the Undersiders, are an obvious example.) But the Rhizome Epidemic would still stand out, because it only justifies a trope—and a pretty inconsequential, aesthetic trope at that.
I can imagine a Worm where Rhizome fabrics were incorporated into the narrative weave. Perhaps the flashy four-color costumes are used as a contrast to the grim and gritty reality of the world, with the Epidemic being a disaster that those in power are letting happen because it's convenient for them.
But at the same time, a world where most notable capes have bulletproof costumes, where superheroines regularly flash their cleavage to the world, and where these things exist because of a super-material that only serves to facilitate fanciful costumes and plot armor, is a softer world than Earth Bet needs to be. Worm isn't grimdark (as I'd define the term), but the darkness is needed for the story we saw to come togehter.
205 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello i'm illiterate. What does the iwtv dante inferno i need protection from the wolves post mean. I'm dumb i'm so sorry and i. Desperately need to know
hey, please don't apologize! i was worried this would be kind of unclear because i skipped over a connection in the tags: i have a pet theory of louis walking daniel through the nine circles of hell and showing him his sins along the wayside, similar to the structure of dante's inferno, louis being the ghostly guide virgil aswell as the topological space himself (sometimes i factor in armand as virgil but let's keep it simple for this purpose). there is a reference to the forest of suicides in s1, so louis as an autobiographical narrator is certainly aware of dante and we know how he loves to weave in literary devices.
this is about guilt as foreshadowing, primarily concerning louis' culpability in claudia's death. in the first two images we see louis breaking a birds wings, hoping claudia will eat them, and shortly after lestat makes a hidden reference to armand cutting off his fledling and first love nicki's hands. in the same episode lestat calls claudia a baby bird. if we read iwtv as louis consciously including those references into his narration, we can interpret this as a connection to him prompting claudia's turning, the pain she expresses of never being able to grow up and experience 'flying from the nest' as it were but being kept in a perpetual subjugated daughter state. i believe louis' feelings of guilt express themselves here in a parallel of having a hand in her wings being clipped to having, through his passivity and active alienation towards claudia in paris, a second-hand in her eventual death.
so at the deepest center of dante's hell is a frozen lake, colcytus, which is reserved for the worst sinners, the traitors: caina for traitors of kin, antenora for traitors of city and state, ptolemea for betraying hospitality and judeca after judas iscariot for betraying your lord (lol yes ik this is a medieval text). At last in the frozen bottom of hell is the devil, 'dis', lucifer who betrayed god himself.
the quote from inferno is from the ptolemea section, in which a man forever gnawing anothers head laments him and his children being incarcerated in a tower where they starved, something he references as being hunted like wolves ('i was being hunted'). he now forever rips apart his cruel jailor with 'long fangs'. colcytus overlaps in my mind pretty well with the deepest layers of louis' very christian/catholic shame - the 'murder' of his brother and 'sister' claudia, the betrayal of his community, falling in love with a bad man who's a danger to his child (x2), betraying lestat with a judas kiss and at the end lucifer himself, the fallen angel - am i the devil, am i of the devil. in colcytus a lot of references to blindness and being veiled to the meaning of your own story appear which is very interesting to narrative agency and louis' self-justification too.
then ethel cain references dante in ptolemea - claudia is the daughter of cain, the man who pressed the same blade to his brothers sternum he would later kill his lover with, the one he's never quite sure didn't have a hand in paul's death. before her 'conception' louis makes a deal with the devil. lestat the aristocrat, the wolf hunter, louis accepts his love and his motives. him taking on the page of hearts from this trickster is a moral choice concerned, as every deal with the devil is, not just with love but also power, money and influence. it is a choice which leads to claudias birth into death, her parents union born out of the dark gift, birthing a child into sin, violence and pain. what's interesting in cains text is the interchangeability of the wolf and the hunter which is one of my favorite themes in literature, one i noted in tvl aswell - lestat's stylized (himself) as a werewolf figure, an outsider, hunted, wild and uncontainable. rice was influenced surely by angela carter's writing about this kind of otherness and masochistic attraction to violence which reveals an animality in yourself - louis' favorite movie isn't 'company of wolves' for nothing. to close out this meandering connection i thought it was interesting that this lyric ends with sublime, quick burning white light - the luminous fall of lucifer morningstar is certainly a theme in louis first season story arc.
thank you for coming back on this and giving me a chance to unhinge my jaw about it, always happy to talk. 🖤
#i realized i got the episode titles wrong *dies* first one's are from a vile hunger#pls never believe you're dumb bcs of smth like this i'm also just a scatterbrain jumping to conclusions like that's my whole deal#always feel free to make me clarify smth :)#ask#iwtv#interview with the vampire#vc#the vampire chronicles#this is what my#lethe#tag is about too btw#knives
85 notes
·
View notes
Text
a fun story I wrote speculating on the real reason behind football.
"King of My Heart"
In Taylor Swift's realm, her private life wove tales of mystery, crafting an enigmatic puzzle within her ever-evolving reputation. Travis Kelce, unwittingly drawn into her calculated performance, found himself entangled in her scripted narrative—an intentional commentary on her public relationships, nodding toward the upcoming "Reputation" album re-release.
Their convergence became an orchestrated spectacle, where Taylor employed her music both as disguise and revelation—a satire unraveling for astute observers, mirroring the exaggerated relationships depicted in her songs.
Taylor staged public sightings with Travis, scenes hinting at her "Reputation" motifs. She blurred reality and artistry, echoing lyrics through orchestrated events—a deliberate display, a dramatic prelude to her saga.
For instance, Travis's unwitting endorsements became cues in Taylor's choreography—a purposeful commentary, echoing the lines she teased: "But if he drops my name, then I owe him nothin'." His incessant references to Taylor across various platforms, from podcasts to magazines, became pivotal in Taylor's narrative direction. His continual mentions echoed the very lyrics she hinted at, weaving a crafted tapestry blurring reality with her lyrical themes.
Moreover, Taylor's actions mirrored her songwriting. For example, flying Travis to her Argentina show echoed her lyrics: "I fly him all around the world, letting them believe he saved me," turning reality into a nod to her songwriting prowess. Their public embrace further blurred the lines between her constructed narrative and lyrical parallels, intensifying the drama of her commentary on public relationships.
As Taylor's meticulously crafted story unfolded, some fans astutely noted parallels between her public maneuvers and lyrical excerpts from her songs. Inconsistencies, unlike her typical approach, began to surface. Lyrics spanning from her "Reputation" era to her most recent work hinted at a desire for discreet love, in stark contrast to the highly publicized relationship unfolding before their eyes.
While some fans detected these discrepancies, perceiving a deliberate divergence from Taylor's usual authenticity, others staunchly believed every facet of her public portrayal. For a segment of her audience, Taylor's actions remained sacrosanct, defending her relationship's authenticity despite inconsistencies. These fans staunchly supported Taylor's every move as genuine, failing to perceive any dissonance.
Amidst the meticulously crafted facade, Taylor harbored a deeply guarded secret—a truth obscured by the glittering illusion of her highly publicized relationships. Privately entwined in a profound and genuine love affair with a woman, Taylor grappled with the suffocating constraints of her fabricated public persona. Her retreat and subsequent emergence with the "Reputation" album had been a retreat into secrecy, shielding her true self from the scrutinizing gaze of the world.
The ostentatious relationships with men, seemingly exaggerated and fantastical, were elaborate veils woven to conceal her private reality. It was a paradoxical dance she performed—adorning herself with the allure of high-profile romances while safeguarding the most authentic aspect of her life in profound secrecy. Her heart yearned for liberation, a fervent longing to shed the pretense and embrace her genuine identity.
The "Reputation" album's reissue held the promise of emancipation, a glimpse of light at the end of the meticulously constructed tunnel. Taylor's hope rested on finally embracing her truth, relinquishing the suffocating weight of the charade, and stepping into the liberating embrace of authenticity.
Within the orchestrated theatrics of her public narrative, Taylor maneuvered a grand chessboard, each move calculated and strategic. Travis, unwittingly thrust into the spotlight, played the role of a pawn—a mere piece in her elaborate game of perception. He moved according to her plan, a maneuver in her intricate strategy, while Taylor meticulously positioned herself for the ultimate conquest.
The parallels to chess intricately woven within Taylor's music, performances, and subtle references paid silent homage to the covert game she orchestrated. The song "King of My Heart" whispered of a concealed love, shrouded behind lyrical intricacies—a love not for the pawn but for the ultimate prize, the king of her heart.
Travis, portrayed as the unwitting pawn in her scripted drama, unknowingly played his part in Taylor's masterful game. While the world fixated on his movements, he was a mere piece in Taylor's grand strategy—a strategy ultimately seeking the capture of her most guarded secret, her true love.
27 notes
·
View notes
Text
I'd Be Home With You
One Shot
Pairing: Joel x fem!OFC
Summary: Based off the song In A Week by Hozier ft. Karen Crowley. On patrol, Joel and his love are attacked by clickers. They aren't so lucky this time so they do what they've always said they would if they both got bitten.
Word Count: 712
Warnings: death, decay, suicide, general angst and sorrow. I cried editing this.
A/N: I'm sorry I don't know why I felt compelled to write this. I hope its well done enough to make up for how deeply sad the story is.
We lay here for years or for hours
Your hand in my hand
So still and discreet
So long we become the flowers
We'd feed well the land
And worry the sheep
All is quiet in the vast expanse of tall grass and wildflowers. The prey have skittered into hiding, the predators have had their fill. Scavengers have circled and gone away. All that remains is the fanned blanket of fungi weaving across their still forms, pushing up around their entwined fingers gone stiff.
The first comes out of nowhere, shoving her to the ground in an instant. She presses against its chest as the thing writhes and gnashes relentlessly above her. She can't risk reaching for her weapon and give way to the force of it's weight, clearing a beeline between herself and its gaping maw.
The dull scrape of a knife sheathed in its skull, followed by the creature slumping away from her trembling body, brings only a second of relief.
"Joel! Behind you!"
He's older now, still strong as ever but just a hair slower then he once was and this brief lapse in reflex costs him everything. He manages to shoulder the monster onto the forest floor and she takes her opportunity to return his favor, sinking her blade between its unseeing eyes.
The sun's midsummer kiss nudges the vegetation to rise around them, unsuccessful in waking the pair from their cool slumber.
She sees it on him first, the teeth marks. Hearts flailing with adrenaline, neither feel the impact of their combat.
"Joel-" she chokes on her lover's name, tears already careening down the slopes of her muddied cheeks.
He notes the gash on her hand as she reaches for him, soft brown eyes turning to vivid umber, catching the setting sunlight as they wet with the agonizing realization.
"Joel you're bit."
His voice is low, broken. "You are too, baby."
The flies, the flowers, the crows, and the cordyceps. They dance together in harmony, taking what they need from the stillness. If there was anything to give back, their silhouettes refuse it kindly.
After minutes, maybe hours, their tears slow and still in each other's embrace.
"Okay baby. We talked about this. We're going out together. Just as we were, we ain't turnin'."
She nods slowly, hands cupping his saltwater scruff.
"I know baby. Just like we always said. It'll be alright."
"I ain't missin' this time." He says it to reassure her, so she won't fret that he might go mad all alone.
Hand in hand, resting on a plush bed of blooming pasture, eyes on each other's finding peace in what they find there, one last time.
"It's time, baby. I'm goin' home with you."
"I love you, Joel."
"I love you, darlin'."
Hammers pulled back, cool steel placing a goodnight kiss on their temples, counting together.
"3...2...1..."
Starlings scatter to the horizon.
When they didn't return that night from patrol, the search party began immediately. Joel's brother takes the lead, panic only sated by taking action.
It takes nearly a week, the groups rotating shifts and pushing out further each pass, until they find them.
The meadow is eerily silent, the tips of boots in grass catching the eye of the man who gives the alert.
Tommy comes running at the commotion before he's being held back by his fellow searchers.
Let me through right now that's my GODDAMN BROTHER! THATS MY FUCKING BROTHER LET ME GO!
There's nothing to be done, the narrative clear as day as mushroom caps blossom through the wounds at their temples.
Joel always knew things never turn out as planned, but since meeting her he felt certain that he would always end up where he was meant to be.
As the last light slips softly below the treeline so goes their essence back to the stars, ready to again run the race into each other's arms, footing surer with each pass through the cosmos.
They've done it time and time again, stardust and atoms cut from the same cloth.
He knew he would always end up home with her.
And they'd find us in a week
When the cattle show fear
After the insects have made their claim
After the foxes have known our taste
I'd be home with you
I won't lie I've been shit at keeping track of the everything tag list so I'll just tag who I think might like it 😬😬😬:
@pedgeitopascal @mylostloversbookmarks @atinylittlepain @ladamedusoif @avastrasposts @ssuperficialspacecadett @swiftispunk @pr0ximamidnight @wannab-urs @iamasaddie @jksprincess10
#joel miller fic#tlou fic#tw: suicide#joel miller x ofc#tommy miller#in a week#Hozier#I'd be home with you
61 notes
·
View notes
Text
youtube
You look quite divine tonight♡
Note: I made this as a request for @anxiousarmpit bc they can't live without Soukoku fluff😒(me too)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In a world where lines were drawn in blood and alliances forged in shadows, there existed an unlikely pair—Dazai and Chuuya. Their story transcended the boundaries of expectation, weaving a narrative of love, and redemption.
Dazai, once a prominent figure within the sinister realm of the mafia, made a daring choice to abandon the life of crime. Yet, in his heart, he could never sever ties with Chuuya, his now ex work partner yet current lover. Theirs was a relationship forged in the crucible of adversity, where animosity bloomed into an unspoken understanding.
Despite the odds stacked against them, there were moments when fate seemed to conspire in their favor. Like what happens most nights: under a moonlit night, where the strains of music echoed through the air, beckoning souls to dance beneath the stars, Dazai and Chuuya found themselves drawn together, casting aside the rest of the world.
As they twirled on the roof, laughter bubbled forth like a spring of joy, washing away the stains of the past. Each step they took was a testament to the love they have been connected since the first days.
Taking a break in each other's arms and sharing soft kisses every now and then♡
Their story serves as a reminder that love knows no boundaries, no prejudices, and no limitations. It is a force that transcends every obstacle you just have to accept it.
~♡
#Youtube#bsd#bungou stray dogs#bsd chuuya#bungo stray dogs hcs#bungo stray dogs headcanons#soukoku#soukouku#bsd dazai#dazai osamu#chuuya x dazai#fluff#soukoku fanfiction#soukoku fluff#chuuya fluff#dazai fluff
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
Yellowjackets S2E2: Lottie
Hello! This is about up to Season 2, Episode 2 of Yellowjackets, and ONLY that of Yellowjackets. I have not seen beyond this spot, at all, and know NOTHING about this show. Please do not spoil it for me. Things that are spoilery in nature, for me, include: saying things like “Just wait!!” confirming or denying anything I put forward, outside information about the cast interviews or creator statements, leading questions like “Do you think “blank moment” means anything?” etc. Remember that Y’ALL HAVE SEEN THE SHOW AND I HAVE NOT. This informs the way you talk about things relating to the show. Just be really careful is all I’m asking. Also: If there is LITERALLY any stance I could take on this show or character that would make you upset, please just fucking block the tag
If you WOULD like to discuss the show and my takes on it, the Discord is right here! I don’t go there, so it’s a great place to get every emotion out.
Please thank @sailorsunspot and @moonlight-frittata for backing this odd way of doing a liveblog, and remember my tip jar is always open
Okay, so let’s start this off with my own honesty. I HATE Lottie. Lottie is pretty much everything I hate about a person, I hate her impractical, woowoo, honor your own heart, feel the rhythm cult leader bullshit. I want to note that is most defintiely informing my read of this situation. Despite all that, I ask you to pleas please please not attempt to inform me of nayhting or spoil me. Okay.
I do not for one second believe that Lottie ended up fucking…accidentally killing Travis because of a BUTTON MALFUNCTION. I could go into how she could have lifted up his legs and put his feet on her shoulders to help keep him from FUCKING DYING, and ALSO how he didn’t actually need to be more than an inch off the ground, but this isn’t about what Lottie failed to think of in a moment of desperation, because I don’t believe in the moment of horror and desperation.
Remember, when she’s weaving this splendid little tale, SHE IS WEAVING THIS SPLENDID LITTLE TALE. She is the framing device for what happened with Travis. She even sets the stage, with a bunch of candles in a dimly lit room, covered in soft furnishings, as if it were a sort of confessional, and she the priest, communicating the will of God.
THis is a story, that she is telling to Nat, a woman who has proven she is willing to severely hurt someone, and who is deeply entangled with Travis. Why WOULDN’T she frame this in a way that a woman who is absolutely haunted by the choices she made in the woods would understand? Travis wanting to make it all make sense, Laura Lee showing up and horrifying Lottie*, a moment that had horrific consequences, Travis saying --a nd of course POOR Lottie would never say this unless directly asked--that Nat would just make things worse. This entire story is being cast with the sort of lens that Nat would relate to IMMEDIATELY. It has great fucking narrative flow.
Lottie might believe her own bullshit, but I’m not sure I think she does. The show is tipping its hand to the fact that Lottie enjoys her position of power, the way she fucking corrects her little follower about her healing smoothie, and corrects Nat about the specific color they use (which in itself is something else--heliotrope is the answer to a riddle in Finnegan’s Wake, a very confusing novel altogether that requires a lot of patience and untangling, and I think there’s something in that but I can’t really get it set in my head right). She doesn’t wear heliotrope, she wears goldenrod, or whatever she would call it. Lottie thinks herself above the people she leads, and I think that was true even back in the cabin. Maybe Lottie can commune with something, but she’s ALSO a fucking grifter. I want all of it to be true.
“Sharing is in session” eat my entire dick, CHARLOTTE.
I mean in fairness, Nat doesn’t believe her either, and I do think that is a great impulse.
*I concede it is intentionally played ambiguous whether or not this is a part of the story Lottie tells. I, obviously, think she does, but again, I’m admitting my anti-Lottie bias here.
9 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
