#I'm sure it'll be successful in its own way

[ladyelainehilfur]

y'know what. people are very predictable sometimes. everyone was complaining and promising to boycott the live action ATLA, especially after the original ATLA show runners left due to creative differences. but I knew the moment we got the actors in costume and trailers and decent-looking CGI, all the critics would fold just like that. And yeah, they all folded. You could bring up the same points you brought up 6 months ago and get booed for not suddenly liking the idea of a live action ATLA like everyone else. how about people not be predictable about popular IP and stick to their guns for once.

#LE talks to the wall #I'm not mad about the liveaction #I'm sure it'll be successful in its own way #but the way people who still have critiques about the production and casting are getting bullied now isn't right #I definitely support the actors and I'll probably watch the show #but that doesn't mean I'm okay with all the decisions that were made #those things can and should coexist #atla #atla live action #atla netflix #avatar: the last airbender

[fandomxpreferences]

A Heart That Bleeds

Masterlist

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Female!Reader

TW:angst, cheating, heartache, fluff, mention of drinking, I think thats all

Summary: Rafe betrays you in the worst way. This is set up to be choose your own adventure. There is an Angst ending and a Hurt to Comfort ending labeled and you can scroll to whichever you prefer!

Dating Rafe comes with its perks and downfalls. He showers you with love and affection, buys you lavish gifts, and always makes sure you're taken care of. He insists you're his princess, and he makes sure to treat you as such. 

On the flip side, being with the Kook King comes with a constant influx of competition; though Rafe insists the women who constantly beg for his attention can't compete where they can't compare.

In the beginning, it didn't bother you. In fact, it was almost a sense of pride the way women would eye you with jealousy as Rafe kept his hand planted firmly on the small of your back. You've never been one to be insecure; you know your worth and you know Rafe loves you. 

Over time it became a persistent and annoying sore spot. Though he's never given you any reason to worry or doubt him, the never-ending batting of eyelashes and unrelenting flirting has taken a toll. 

It nags in the back of your mind, an incessant worry that he'll get bored or find someone better. He never hesitates to put these concerns to rest with reassuring whispers, but it only quells the ache until another blonde with a perfect body flashes her pristine smile. 

Despite your fears of Rafe leaving you, him cheating has never crossed your mind. Which is exactly why your stomach drops when you open up the DM that you've been staring at for the past ten minutes. 

Hey, I'm so sorry to be that girl, but I saw you on Rafes insta and wanted to tell you that we hooked up at a party last weekend. I didn't know he had a girlfriend, I'm genuinely sick over it.

You blink down at the words until they start to blur together, re-reading it until you feel the dull thud of an oncoming headache start to form. You briefly think that it's a cruel joke until you click on her profile. 

She's not from Outerbanks, her bio states that she's in a sorority at UCLA on the other side of the country. There's no logical explanation for how she would know Rafe, or about the party you couldn't attend at the boneyard unless she's telling the truth. 

Your fingers hover over the keyboard, trying to figure out how to respond as the blinking cursor mocks you. 

Do you have proof?

It's a simple question, one that you almost don't want the answer to. If she does, then that means your heart is about to be ripped out of your chest. If she doesn't, the doubt has already been planted and it'll eat away at you that you'll never really know. 

Your phone dings again, and this time you open the message instantly. It's a photo of her and Rafe; one where she's smiling brightly and he's turned away, clearly unaware of the selfie being snapped. 

I'm so fucking sorry

The first hot tear of many splashes against the bright screen, and you shake your head. 

It's not your fault. It was his responsibility to be loyal, not yours. Thank you for telling me.

You click the lock button before deciding to just turn it off completely. You need time to think, and the last thing you want is for Rafe's name to pop up. Your back leans against your headboard as you stare straight ahead at the wall. 

The tears seem to flow endlessly, your arms wrapped around your knees as you process his betrayal. Your lip starts to quiver as your throat constricts, and you can feel the sob bubbling up in your chest. 

As soon as it rips free, more follow in quick succession until you're wailing into your hands. There's a knock on your bedroom door and you freeze, praying that whoever it is goes away. 

"Y/N? Babe, are you okay?"

Sarah's voice rings out and your eyes squeeze shut. You completely forgot that you made plans to hang out. You do your best to stabilize your watery voice, hoping to sound convincing. 

"Yeah, I just don't feel well. I meant to text you and cancel."

There's a beat of silence and you momentarily think that she bought it. In reality, she had heard you from all the way down the hallway and is debating whether to call your bluff. She lands on the latter and opens the door gently, taking a step into your bedroom. 

"What happened?"

It's only two words, but it's enough to turn you back into a blubbering mess. Her eyes widen as she races toward you, her arms engulfing you immediately while pressing your head into her shoulder. 

You return the embrace, collapsing into her as your heart bleeds. You stay there for a few minutes before turning your phone back on and handing it to her with the messages open. 

She takes it from you with a frown, reading it quickly while her free hand rubs up and down your back in soothing motions. Her stomach sinks upon seeing what has you upset, and rage floods her system along with confusion. 

This doesn't make any sense. Her brother loves you more than anything, she sees it every time you're with him. He wouldn't do this to you; yet the evidence is staring her in the face. 

She stays silent as she crawls under the blankets with you and holds you close. She doesn't press for more information or ask questions, she simply exists with you at this moment and tries to console you the best she can. 

The two of you stay like that until you fall asleep, and she stays awake for a while to make sure you don't stir. Her eyes dart to your phone when it starts vibrating, and she clenches her teeth at the photo of you and Rafe at midsummer's as he calls you. 

She lets it go to voicemail, finally shutting it back off when he calls three more times followed by a slew of texts. 

You're awoken the next morning by a knock on your bedroom door, your swollen eyes slowly fluttering open. 

Your head is pounding, and the events from last night come rushing back as nausea washes over you. Sarah is still next to you, her body shifting as she starts to rouse. Another knock comes, a little harder this time and you scowl. 

"Who is it?"

Your voice is raw after hours of screaming and crying, and your hand comes up to rub at your throat. 

"It's me, baby. You haven't answered any of my calls or texts."

The familiar voice sends a sharp pain through your chest, and Sarah sits up while shooting you a worried glance. She's about to say something when your voice rings out, and she visibly winces at the venom dripping off your tongue. 

"Go the fuck away."

On the other side of the door, Rafe pales at your harsh command. You've always had a temper and a sailor's mouth, but it's never been directed at him. Not even in the midst of fights that have you ripping your hair out. 

You sound cold and emotionless, and suddenly panic claws at his chest. 

"Wha- baby what's wrong?"

He sounds genuinely upset, and that only pisses you off more. How dare he act scorned when he's the one that destroyed your relationship?

"Why don't you ask Emma?"

Your door is abruptly ripped open to reveal a wild-eyed Rafe, terror clear on his chiseled features. Sarah's eyes dart between the two of you for a second before she lets herself out, sending her brother a cruel glare as she passes him and knocks into his shoulder. 

"Baby…"

His voice is already shaky, and you watch him from your place in bed. 

"Don't call me that, Rafe."

His heart plummets upon hearing you call him by his name; something you never do. You refer to him exclusively with sweet nicknames, and the gravity of the situation starts to hit him. 

"Did you fuck her?"

His mouth opens and closes a few times, trying to figure out of this is some horrible nightmare he can wake up from. He quickly discovers it's not, and he's left to face the consequences of his actions. 

"What?"

He isn't trying to play dumb, he just genuinely didn't hear you over the ringing in his ears as his entire world crashes and burns at his feet. 

"Did I stutter? I said did. you. fuck. her?" 

Each word is punctuated with a short pause, and his hands wring together as your iciness freezes his blood solid. He nods slowly, and you stare him down in a way that makes him shrink back. 

The devastation in your eyes nearly causes him to be sick; unable to live with himself knowing he's the cause of your anguish.

"No, I need to hear you admit it."

Hot tears rush past his waterline, falling so fast and heavy that they drip straight off his face and onto your carpet. 

"Yes, I-"

He pauses for a moment, having to force himself to even speak the words that taste like acid. 

"I fucked her. I was blackout drunk. I barely knew my name and that's no excuse, but you can ask the guys-"

You cut him off, your eyes narrowing into thin slits. 

"Topper and Kelce knew? So I've been walking around looking like a fucking idiot for a week while you all lied to my face?!"

His mouth hangs open while he flounders, wracking his brain for something that can make this better. He knows there's nothing he can say to undo the harm he's caused, but it doesn't stop him from trying. 

"Pl-please. I'm so sorry. Ba- Y/N, you have to know that I regret it more than anything. I love you so much. So fucking much, and I never ever wanted to hurt you. If I could take it back I would in a heartbeat."

Your silence is deafening as you mull over his words, your own emotions selling you out as salty tears overflow. 

"If the roles were reversed, if I was the one who slept with someone else, would you be able to forgive me and move past it?"

Your question hangs in the air, and he waits for a second before answering. 

"It would be hard but yes. I love you and I want to be with you, so yes. I'd learn to trust you again."

He means it from the bottom of his heart. There is legitimately nothing you could ever do to make him give up on you. 

"Why don't we put that to the test then? See if you really mean it."

He looks up at you from where he collapsed to his knees at the edge of your bed, literally begging for forgiveness.

"Wait, what?"

You shrug casually, a stark contrast to the sorrow clearly displayed on your wet cheeks, and elaborate.

"If you're so sure you could forgive me after someone else has touched me and seen me and heard me in those most intimate moments, then let's prove it. I'll go out to fuck a random touron and the score will be settled."

The idea nearly makes him dry heave, yet he knows he doesn't have a leg to stand on. If that's what it takes, then he'll do it. Even if it does kill him inside. He isn't sure if you're serious or just want to hurt him, but either way, he can't blame you. 

You have every right to be petty and spiteful. 

"If tha-"

Your voice rings out over his, and he hates himself for the sheer heartache that can be heard as you strain to talk. Your words are barely coherent as your voice raises several octaves, your throat clamping down like a vice. 

"You didn't even tell me. You turned me into that girl. The clueless girlfriend that has to find out from the other woman. Do you know how much worse that is?"

His vocal cords nearly collapse as he openly cries, the pain in his chest too much to bear. 

"I'll do anything. Just- please. Please I can't lose you."

HURT TO COMFORT

Your gaze meets his, and you feel your resolve start to crumble. Despite the circumstances, seeing him in agony hurts you just the same. 

He notices your demeanor soften and moves to sit next to you while pulling you into his lap. Against your better judgment, you let him; finding comfort in the same man that broke you.

"Baby, you have to believe me when I say I would never ever knowingly do that. I would never intentionally hurt you, but I did and I recognize that. I'll never touch alcohol again if it means that I get to hold you and love you. There is nothing in this world more important than you."

The last of your strength shatters and you fall forward while weeping into his neck. He wraps his arms around you, rocking back and forth as he pets your hair and peppers kiss to the top of your head. 

"You broke my fucking heart, Rafe."

His eyes pinch shut, your words cutting through him like a hot knife through butter. 

"I know, baby. I'm so sorry. I should have had enough respect to tell you. I promise I will spend the rest of my life putting it back together. Please, just give me the opportunity."

He breathes a sigh of relief when you nod and wrap your arms around his neck, fresh tears stinging his eyes. He almost lost you, and you would have had every right to walk away. 

Yet here you are in his arms, putting the heart he crushed back in the palm of his hand. That's who you are. You're forgiving and gracious, even in the darkest of times. You love him as much as he loves you and you're just as willing to work through any problems as he is. 

He revels in your scent, committing every last detail to memory. The way you mold against him, the feel of your soft skin under his palm, the combination of coconut shampoo and cherry lip gloss that he adores so much. 

He holds you tighter, terrified that if he lets go he'll never get to experience this again. He knows the road to healing is long and grueling, but he'll walk barefoot over glass if you ask him to. As long as you have each other, you can get through anything.

ANGST

You shake your head, the smell of his cologne and just his overall presence clouding your mind. 

"You lost me as soon as you had her."

The simple statement causes Rafe to choke on a sob, and he clambers up on the bed. Your eyes shut tightly as he leans his forehead against yours while his hands hold onto your face as if it's the last time he'll ever touch you. 

The heart-shattering fact that it probably is slams into you like a train and you keep your eyes closed. If you open them and see him staring back at you for even a second, you know you'll cave. 

"I love you."

His voice is sincere as he whispers the phrase softly, and it only causes more grief to swim in your chest. 

"No."

You feel his head slowly shake from side to side and push him off of you. 

"Don't say that."

You turn your head to the ceiling and peel open your eyelids, blinking quickly to try and stop the tears. 

"No, Rafe. I never would have done this to you. You knew I was insecure and you hurt me in the worst possible way. I will never look at you the same. I can't hug you or kiss you and not think about what it was like when you were doing the same things to her. I'll never be able to marry you. I can't spend the rest of my life in fear. I deserve more than that."

All the anger has melted away, replaced with a searing hot pain that feels like a serrated knife being twisted in your heart. 

"We could have had everything. We were happy. You threw it all away, and I'm not going to be the naive girl that gives you a chance to do it again. When someone shows me who they are, I believe them. This is all on you. I gave you everything I had, and I can sleep in peace knowing that's the truth. I'm not going to forgive you just so you don't drown in guilt. Choke on it as you watch me have a happy life knowing that you could have lived it with me."

He opens his mouth to respond, and you point to the door while making eye contact for the last time. 

"Get out."

It's quiet, but full of conviction and he clings to your waist. 

"No. No, I'm not letting you go."

You try to peel his arms off of you, fighting the urge to let him stay. 

"Stop, Rafe. You need to leave."

He's desperate now, pleading as if his life depends on it.

"No! I'm not walking away from us!"

He's just below a shout now and you start kicking him away. 

"You don't get to make that choi-"

He interrupts you, not willing to give up without a fight. 

"This can't be over! I can't live without you!"

You launch out of bed as soon as you break free from his grip, your voice screaming loud enough to shatter glass. 

"Get the fuck out, Rafe!"

Sarah runs back into the room upon hearing you, and steps in front of her brother. 

"You have to leave before the cops get called, Rafe. Go."

She's trying to shove him towards the door, but it does little to budge his sturdy frame. He looks down at her, and her heart squeezes at the torment in his eyes. 

"No, Sarah. Please, she's the love of my life."

His voice is broken, despair seeping out of every pore. 

"I know, Rafe. I know. But you have to listen, okay? This isn't helping anyone."

He takes one last look at you curled up on the floor, trembling as sobs wrack your body, and deflates. He doesn't want to hurt you anymore, and so he turns on his heel while Sarah collapses next to you. His knees nearly give out as he walks to his truck, a broken shell of the man he once was. 

@genius2050

#rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff #Rafe Cameron #outer banks imagine #outer banks angst #outer banks fic #outer banks

[i984]

I Love You- Wait, What?

|Pairing|: Wednesday Addams x gender neutral reader

|Warnings|: THIS IS CRACK, Ooc! Wednesday Addams, author kind of gave up on writing after the third perspective shift, honestly this fic is just a joke at this point, potion works weirdly here, stupid love confessions, panicked but low-key high! Wednesday Addams.

|Summary|: You ruin everything for Wednesday Addams, be it sleeping peacefully or good potion-making.

|A/n|: This might as well be titled "I Gave Up on Quality" with the pairing of Wednesday x @vorsdany . I am really sorry but also not really. I promise I write better fics than this.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

A moron.

That's what you are.

"No, I'm pretty sure I put in the right stuff. Snake fangs and then lavender, right?" You scratched at your back while stretching your sore body as carefully as possible.

With the cauldron, textbooks, parchments, and various ingredients scattered across Wednesday's dorm room floor, you're pretty sure the girl will smack your head if you spill the potion in the making the second time.

Wednesday pointed at the procedure text in hand; you sighed as you leaned forward to read. Okay. Great. So you managed to mess up not only the order but also the name of the ingredients. 

"Snake tail? Well- You know what? I can't help you make this mystery potion if you don't tell me what it's for."

"You were the one who insisted on being a nuisance, might I remind you," Wednesday scoffed as she crossed her arms, brows coming together at the disaster liquid filling the pot.

The potion glows a wine color, its light casting a shadow on the ravenette's tired face; the dark bags underneath her eyes compliment her overall corpse-like look. You wouldn't worry because somehow this appearance works a charm for her, except her behaviors have also resembled the living dead. 

"Well, it's because you look like you can use some help-"

"I do not need help, especially not from you." 

Wednesday didn't even look up as she said it, nose buried deep in whatever book she was reading. Why do you even bother to put up with her at this point?

"Fine! I'm leaving, then." No response. 

If she is going to act like you don't exist, you might as well sabotage her top-secret project. Hands swiftly switching the marked lids of two flower jars—white periwinkle and phlox—you stand up and make your way across the room, heading for the door.

"Good luck, Wens." You throw her an open smirk you know she won't see before exiting the room.

You can't wait to see her fail.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Wednesday lets her body slump as soon as the sound of your footsteps recedes to nothing. The past week has been... restless. And she meant that quite literally. For some reason, her past vision invades her mind when she tries to subdue her consciousness.

With her eyes closed, the picture was as blinding as it is irritating, like daylight to her pitch-black heart. 

It always started with a smile—that annoying smug one—plastered on a face she knew too well for her own liking. And then, echoes of laughter would haunt her, taunt her.

She hasn't let it go farther than that. She couldn't. If Wednesday is going insane, it'll be from the intense torture she befalls upon herself. Not from such unwelcomed twisted imageries that plague her mind.

"Descendamus somno sempiterno, donec corpus e carcere reviviscat." Wednesday speaks in her best Latin, fingers trembling as they throw the right ingredients into the cauldron. 

She watches the liquid turn colorless—a telltale sign that it's successful—and sighs in relief. 

Finally, her sleeping potion is ready.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You turn your head to the sound of a familiar booming voice calling your name across the cafeteria. Enid, the werewolf, approaches you with a daunting look on her face. How unusual.

"No bone-crushing hugs today?"

No response. Why is everybody ignoring your words?

"Something is really wrong with Wednesday."

You huff at her while you take a seat. "Really? Because I'm pretty sure she just kicked me out of your room half an hour ago." You grab a brownie from your plate and take a bite out of it. "That seemed pretty normal to me."

Enid raises her eyebrow at you knowingly. "Well, what did you do?"

"Nothing!"

A couple of heads turn both your ways. Suddenly, the ceiling looks very interesting. You can see Enid waving dismissively at the crowd from your peripherals. Face contorting in an apologetic look, you take another bite from your brownie.

"Anyway, she told me my sweater looks like a lunatic splattered their guts on it."

The piece of cake dropped off your mouth. "That means she's into your sweater," Enid raised her eyebrows speculatively as she handed you a tissue, "Did she just give you a compliment?" 

"As a matter of fact, yes I did." 

You and Enid jump at the chilling voice from behind you. 

"Dude! You scared the heck out of me," you turn your head to see Wednesday holding a glass of red liquid. She looked drowsy—subdued almost.

"First of all, never call me 'dude' ever again," the ravenette seated beside you groggily, "and second of all, I thought I made a point that fear feeds my entertainment needs."

"Oh yeah, I forgot you do that-"

You take a pause. Enid immediately notices the look on your face.

"What? What's wrong?" The werewolf asked you in a hushed tone. The raven watches as she takes a sip of her drink.

"Did you just- Did she just-" You pull away from Wednesday in disbelief, "reply to the things I say?"

The girl in question only raises her eyebrow at you, the glass of pomegranate juice resting on her now red-stained lips. Then her brows slowly meet in the middle again, perfectly mirroring her look from earlier. 

The glass produces a thud as Wednesday puts it down on the table. You and Enid share a look with each other. A concerned look. One of you has got to say something right now, and you aren't going to be the one to do it.

The sentiment is shared apparently because the blonde also has her mouth trapped shut.

Clankings of dishes. Chatter comes from the crowds. The room was far from silent, but for some reason, it was as if everybody was waiting for Wednesday's response. The tension thickens in the air as the girl turns to look at you, despair etched in her features.

"I need your help." 

You take the last bite out of your brownie. The sweetness resembles something of a victory.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

There must be something wrong with the potion; Wednesday figured out as much. She expected that after the drowsiness took over and her heartbeat slowed, she'd finally be able to shut her mind and get some much-needed rest.

But it was the opposite; while her muscles may have relaxed, the images flashed through her brain with newfound intensity. 

The smug smile, the laughter that resembled screeching metal chains, the mischievous twinkle in those eyes- Oh, how those eyes dragged her feet through the corridors of Ophelia hall. 

Nothing made sense anymore; Wednesday needed to find the source of her madness and stop whatever is happening at the very core.

She needs to stop you. 

But not before throwing Enid a merry compliment along the way and giving Eugene a preposterous nickname.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"Bee Man? That's what you came up with?" You're almost rolling on Wednesday's dorm room floor, hands coming to clutch your contracting stomach; if Wednesday doesn't kill you now, the laughter certainly will.

"Yes, but can we please focus on the task at hand?" The ravenette clenched her jaw, "You're supposed to be helping me find the problem with the potion-"

Boisterous cackles cut through Wednesday's words, and you swear you can see fumes coming out of her ears. "-not to laugh at a genuine, original nickname."

"Yes, but he asked you to give him a nickname and BEE MAN-" you wheeze uncontrollably, eyes tearing up at the absurdity of it.

If you knew changing one ingredient would've given you a very talkative and silly Wednesday Addams, you would've done so during potion class ages ago.

"Okay, okay, I'll tell you what I did," you take a deep breath, hands coming to pick up one of the vials containing water-like liquid; eyes scanning the mystery messed up serum.

"But, only if you answer my questions first."

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Wednesday was ready to whip out a dagger to your neck and make a new potion from scratch, but without identifying the real problem, she'd risk committing the same mistake again.

After all, she'd been meticulous in following the instructions. So it couldn't have been a mistake on her part.

Begrudgingly, she nods, bracing herself for whatever question you may throw her.

You flashed her a teasing smirk, and Wednesday could've sworn it was almost identical to the ones that haunted her every time she so much closed her eyes. A mere coincidence. That's all that is.

"All right, question number one," you cleared your throat before resuming, "Pineapple on pizza, yes or no?"

This threw Wednesday off. And as if you could read her mind, you added a quick, "and no, there's no significance to these questions. Just answer them as is."

Recalling the intense debate Enid has dragged her in with Yoko in the past, she thanked her roommate internally for the fact that the werewolf has basically force-fed her the food.

A simple 'yes' slides out Wednesday's mouth, and you move on to the second question—still with that annoying smirk plastered on your face.

"The second question. Mint chocolate ice cream for dessert, yay or nay?"

"Yes."

"Beep-boop, that's not the proper answer to my question. You have two more chances of getting this correct!"

Wednesday feels her face scrunch in exasperation, "I thought you said there's no signi-"

"One more chance until you're disqualified! Please choose your words carefully," you wiggled your eyebrows at her, and it took everything in Wednesday not to smash the spare potion vial at your face.

"Yay. The answer is yay." 

"Yay, indeed!" you make a grand gesture by lifting your hands in the air, "Onto the next question. Which one do you put in first; cereal or milk-"

"Milk. It's milk. Next question please."

"Ohoho, eager are we?" you stand up and grab the textbook Wednesday had used earlier for the potion-making instruction. Now Wednesday has all her attention on you, eyes narrowing in laser focus as anticipation for your upcoming words.

"Finally! The most important question of this compatibility test, and no matter your answer, I'll tell you what you desire to hear most!" 

Your fingers tap and dance on the book's cover—imitating the sound of drumrolls—and Wednesday almost mauled you then and there if not for your question;

"You, Wednesday Friday Addams, have a crush on me, yes or no?"

The ravenette surprisingly sinks in an internal debate at this.

Just say no. It wouldn't matter. You'll know why the sleeping potion doesn't work after this. Just say no. What is stopping you? It's so easy. The answer is no. Just say-

"Yes, I do." 

What?

No, no, no, no. This can't be. Correct yourself. Say-

"I do have a crush on you."

The book you're holding dropped to the floor. Wednesday looks up to see your mouth gaping, eyes darting all over her face as if you're looking for a sign of her joking. 

But there was none. There was just a surprised look shared between the two of you. 

Wednesday quickly grabs her book and flips through the pages hurriedly.

The slip-ups, compliments, and the awful nickname. The love confession. Could it really be?

Wednesday's fingers slowed down as she reached a designated page, her eyes scanning the room to see two almost identical flower jars at the foot of her bed, only differentiated by a label stuck on the lid.

And when Wednesday caught your guilty face looking at it like her, she knew.

White Periwinkle and Phlox. The two kinds of flower that are similar in appearance but differ significantly as ingredients of a potion.

"A truth potion," You both breathed out into the room.

And you look at Wednesday; she's looking at you. 

"So it's true then?" The shakiness in your voice surprised the two of you, forcing you to clear your throat for the second time in her room.

"It is what it is," Wednesday tears her gaze away from yours to the book in hand, covering her flushed face with the extent of her bangs.

"Unless we managed to mess up the truth potion too, then maybe-"

"No, no, no, no, because," you drop to the ground and kneel at the space in front of her, hands hurriedly opening the vial containing the liquid that had started it all. Wednesday panically looks at you now, and you smile at her before chugging the whole thing down.

"I have a crush on you, too."

And there it is in all your glory; bright smug smile, childish laughter, and mischievous eyes. It finally clicked for Wednesday that you—yes, you—are her eternal living nightmare. She'll make sure you pay the price for all her sleepless nights. 

And it's not gonna be cheap.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

|A/n2|: I really am genuinely sorry, I promise I'll do better next time.

#wednesday addams #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams fanfic #wednesday series #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday x reader #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams icon #wednesday addams x fem!reader #wednesday netflix #wednesday x y/n #wednesday x you #wednesday #jenna ortega #wednesday addams x gn reader #spotify

[thecurioustale]

Art Begets Art and the Law Should Respect This

I believe in the tradition of folk art, which is to say: Borrow liberally and lovingly.

It's a practice we've been mostly sterilized from embracing in our modern corporatist society, where all of the big-name, commonly-recognizable "IPs" are imprisoned behind layer after layer of obnoxious lawyers with nothing better to do than torment the innocent. It's a terrible thing, a deprivation of our cultural oxygen—a crime against art and ethics.

As an artist myself, I often have to thread the needle of building upon the inspiring works of others while still remaining within the letter of our outrageous IP laws. It's something I think about a lot.

In Galaxy Federal, for instance, I mentioned last time that the name "Galaxy Federal" was inspired, among other things, by the mention of the "Galaxy Federal Police" title screen of the original Metroid game. When I was settling on this title for my series, I also found that Galaxy Federal is the trademarked name of a bank. I spent considerable time and mental resources, years ago, to determine to my satisfaction that it is permissible under the law for me to use this title.

I have to do way too much of this bullshit, and I know it'll still be for naught: If I ever do become an even remotely successful author, I'm sure I'll be sued anyway, probably for something I never even realized was an "infringement" despite all my vigilance. Because, at the end of the day, for big corporations and for IP trolls, our IP laws are just a racketeering scheme—a side hustle. I mean, Best Western trademarked the word "seniority." If someone wants to sue you, they're gonna find a way.

I am not really a "from scratch" writer. I don't sit down at a blank page and just come up with prose from first principles. My art is almost always inspired by things that I experience in my life, or by the ideas that result from those experiences. Sometimes—frequently, even—my inspirations come from things that are copyrighted or trademarked. I have written in the past about the influence of the video game The Secret of Mana on me as a kid. Among many other inspirations, that game has a neat sandship in it, and that's why the desert easts of Relance are prevalent with sandships.

Over the years I've become a pro at reinterpreting IP-blocked inspirations into usable, original ones—both in terms of the legal research I've done and the skills I've developed at transforming an IP-blocked inspiration into something usable. I've also become more knowledgeable about what I can get away with quoting directly: Certain things cannot be copyrighted, and trademarks have a finite zone of applicability.

It's all a very needless and skill-intensive ballet to achieve something that should be directly accessible. Obviously, there do need to be limits. As an artist myself, I am keenly aware that I wouldn't want to have no special claim to my own work. But if I were to rewrite our outrageous IP laws—and over the years I have amassed considerable material for a book on this—I would make it vastly easier for artists and the public in general to "borrow liberally and lovingly" from the sources that inspire them. Our current IP laws are like a crime-ridden police state: The security is in all the wrong places and just doesn't work. We could relax the laws considerably without hurting artists, and potentially even tighten them in other respects to better combat trolls and thieves.

But in the meantime, here's my advice: Don't let it daunt you. Dance the friggin' ballet. Get good at transformation. Liberate intellectual property from its prison in spirit if not in substance. And, when you're fearless and/or sufficiently obscure, just straight-up pirate. I think society has a duty to reject unjust laws through word and deed.

I don't usually don my pirate's hat, but I do sometimes. When I published the Prelude in 2015, for a limited time I also published a free companion soundtrack consisting entirely of, gasp, copyrighted music. Nowhere is the horror of our modern IP laws more evident than in the realm of music. What I did was basically create a curated playlist, to help set the mood of the story. I don't know if anyone even availed themselves of that soundtrack, yet for me to license all of those pieces to make my limited-time links lawful would have cost me thousands if not tens of thousands of dollars! All for something that it's possible nobody other than me even listened to. That's a crime against art. And it's a crime against artists. Our draconian IP laws hurt small artists the most. If I had had thousands of fans, I'd have been able to pay to play—and I would have done so, or perhaps I would have spent the equivalent money to hire composers to write an original soundtrack. But, as a nobody-artist and a poor person, whose own Curious Score musical compositions are long in the making, the lawful avenues are all unassailably closed off to me. This too is an injustice, of another sort.

Doing the companion soundtrack was the right thing to do in the tradition of folk art. None of those other artists (or, let's be real, the corporate goliaths that hoard most of this "content" in their treasure-vaults) was deprived of a single penny; in fact that's one of the great lies of the IP lawyers and their corporate masters: Cultural interchange usually improves income for people whose work is quoted by others. Borrow liberally and lovingly—and give credit where credit is due.

That's the way it should be.

And, one day, that's how it will be again.

#IP law #IP law is a fucking joke and painfully Orwellian and we should all be praying to the Bermuda Triangle to disappear these corporate lawyers #Prelude to After the Hero

[mamadoc]

1, 2, 30, 38, 46 🤗

1. What fic of yours would you recommend to someone who had never read any of your work? (In other words, what do you think is the best introduction to your fics?)

My two long multi-chapters have taken most of my writing time (and I love them), but I actually really love the first series I ever wrote, *Sense* You Know Me So Well. The second chapter of this series and the second chapter of its sequel are the two that I am most proud of. They just feel very authentic and have deep feelings.

2. Go to your AO3 “Works” page, to the sidebar with all the filters, and click the drop-down arrow for “Additional Tags.” What are your top 3-5 most used tags? Do you think they accurately represent your writing habits?

I'm not great at tagging apparently or my stories are all quite different. My only tag that I've used more than once was 'Alternate Universe,' which makes since given that 3 of my 6 are AUs.

30. Have you ever written something that was out of your comfort zone? If so, what was it, and how did it affect your approach to writing fic thereafter?

I have a story that was my first ever idea for a story that I've started writing, but I still haven't felt confident enough in my writing to tackle. It's all outlined with some parts written out, but there's a lot of heartbreak and angst in the beginning of the story, and I haven't written much of that into my stories to date. Perhaps one day when I finish my long multi-chapter, I'll get back to that.

I'm emotionally very affected by what I read and write. So I think I'll have to be in a good place with a good chunk of time to dedicate to writing so that I can get through all the angst more quickly. Yikes... that means I'll have to do it before my kids get out of school in May. Sheesh. Maybe it'll have to wait until fall.... We'll see.

38. Did any of your fics get surprisingly popular (whatever that means to you)? Which ones? Why do you think they were so successful?

Honestly, when I started I wasn't sure anyone would like any of my stories. I definitely lacked confidence in my ability to write creatively since I had never done it before. I have written academically quite a bit, so I wasn't worried about sentence structure or grammar. I just wasn't sure anyone would like what I had to say - that it would be up to snuff.

But the response I've gotten to Catch of a Lifetime has been so amazing. I wasn't sure how many baseball AU Chenford readers there would be out there. But it also just started with 3 outlined chapters, and now I have it outlined to chapter 19. I think it'll be done soon after that. That makes me feel like a lazy, inexperienced writer, but this story has just taken on a life of it's own. I post it at the end of baseball season because that seems appropriate, but somehow it's still going.

46. Do you prefer writing on your phone or on a computer (or something else)? Do you think where you write affects the way you write?

I make a lot of notes on my phone, but I always write out the stories on my computer.

Thanks for asking!

#fanfic #chenford #tim bradford #lucy chen #the rookie #tim bradford x lucy chen #chenford fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction

[kitt357]

How about a request for Adrian being in love with a coven scout, that’s soon to be his S/O? Like how would he act before he realizes he actually likes the person and such, and how he’d react to finally seeing their face!

It's been a while since I last wrote about Adrian, but I'm so happy to do some more stuff about him.

But I hope this is something like you wanted. I kinda went more for the first time he meets you to him realising he likes you. I've done it as a story headcanon, but I can write it as regular headcanons too :)

Also cause its Adrian, I had to include a little drama of misreading people, and it's kinda long. Sorry.

Adrian with a scout s/o story headcanons

When he first meets you:

He'd first meet you on a mission, nothing out of the ordinary, so he wouldn't be paying too much attention to his team, that is, until he hears whispering

He closes his eyes and pretends to sleep in his chair (my personal headcanon for this is that he has really good hearing like a cat) and listens to what people are saying

They're talking about a scout who's sitting at the back of the ship retreading adrians notes and writing their own down, and as soon as Adrian hears this, he's furious, taking it as an insult to his outstanding work

So he calls you into an office like room on the air ship (like the commanders chamber on the boat in the sea episode) and you enter, confused holding your note book, which he takes from your hands and looks down at the work, questioning why you're altering his work

So when you admit you weren't altering it, just understand more what he wants and make sure you know the plan. He's speechless for the first time. He can't help but stare down or up at you, but he quickly shuts the note book and slamming it into your chest, telling you you shouldn't need extra notes and to figure out his notes within his notes and sends you on your way

The remainder of the trip, he keeps a close eye on you. He's never had a scout go out of their way to understand his plan, he can't help but be confused or if he should be happy that someones taking his work seriously or ashamed that someone had to go out of their way to understand it, which is a thought he's never had and tries to shut it out

But it only gets worse when he arrives at the wrist. He's on a mission to find the galderstones, and everything quickly gets into formstion, but the wrong formation. But before he can even begin to belittle them, your voice quietly catches everyone's attention, explaining the formation as something different and understanding adrians little mannerisms like pow, mhm ect

The second you explain it, everyone's on board with the plan, and they take off, Adrian slowly follows behind, ears flushed red. No one's ever understood him before, let alone explain his mind so perfectly to other scouts, despite it being the first time he's worked with you

But despite not finding the galderstones, the mission was undoubtedly a success in his mind, his crew were efficient, and as the airship sailed back, he can't help his eyes wondering over to you every now and then, a small smile twitching from his lips, he's intrigued and decides to keep a close eye on you

From then, he always requests you for his missions, which the crew were extremely grateful for, not wanting to put up with a sarcastic Adrian whenever they got something wrong

When he begins to think more of you

But as the weeks went by, Adrian couldn't help but wonder if his rude mannour might put you off, he doesn't know what brings the thought to him, that maybe it'll stop you working with him, which is what he keeps telling himself, and tried to stop being rude and condescending at least in your presence

The first time he has a thought like that, he takes a mental step back, wondering why on titan he is so worried about you and your thoughts, and he just rolls his eyes to himself

But no matter what, he can't seem to shake you, he keeps seeing you around the castle, which is a given because he's bound to see you around, but the more he does, the more he slowly realises things about you

Like your mask having a dent on the nose, the way you walk, it's quiet yet purposeful, he doesn't speak to you outside of missions, so he thought that maybe he'd try, he feels drawn to you and wants to know what you're about

At first he doesn't go out of his way to find you, but promised himself if he sees you to have a quick chat, and he does, every so often in the week you pass him and share small pleasantries, not realising his drive to see you was increasing along with his nerves

The things he does

After sharing small conversations, he finds himself taking routes in the castle he knows you'll be walking down, just so he has the chance to greet you

He may try to surprise you by a fact on a topic you mentioned last time, taking the time to either brag or boast about the topic, but when he sees you tense up a little bit, but tells himself not to do that, or at the very least brag an actual achievement, he wants to show himself off to you, but finds it encouraging to know you don't need that to talk to him

He can not control his tail for the life of him, he doesn't know whats going on with it, and tells you not to worry about it when you give him a confused head tilt when he's holding it in his hands, he doesn't know why he's suddenly so nervous around you

He'll try to make you laugh by pranking other people with his illusions, figuring out what makes you smile and giggle, and when he hears you laugh for the first time his heart stops, its a sound he just wants to keep hearing for the rest of his life, and makes it his mission to make you laugh at least once per meeting

But when you go out of your way to talk to him one day, he's over the moon and almost breathless. And with coffee in hand too, so when he took a sip and it was his favourite flavour, he stops. None of the other scouts paid attention to the smallest detail like that, yet you did. It made his chest feel warm, and lightheaded, but before he had the chance to thank you, you're gone.

He stormed through the castle one afternoon, orders were coming in left right and centre and he was slowly losing his sanity, but stopped at a corner when he heard your voice, talking to someone, he couldn't help but listen in, his ears twitching to hear you, he knew it was wrong, but he couldn't help himself

"So you and head witch Graye are close, huh?" "It's not like that" "Sure, sure, whatever helps you sleep at night." "That's the thing, I'm not sleeping." "Ew gross." "What? No, not like that, I'm just confused, I know what people say about graye, but I don't think he's like that. He's kinda mhm, you get me?"

Hearing his own mannerism leave your mouth makes his face incredibly flushed, but your voice again quickly distracts him, "Oh titan, I'm late for something. I'll see you around." And you ran around the corner, knocking into Adrian, You profusely apologise, but Adrian stops you, saying it was just an accident as he leads you around the castle to wherever it is you need to be, having small talk with you about your day and whatever else came to your minds, but he was distracted, replaying the moment in his head of you mimicking his words, and his tail flicked in happiness at the continued thought of it

Late night conversations

He just couldn't sleep that week, he was restless, you'd been getting into his head, he found that every moment he spent with you wasn't enough, he wanted to see you more and more as the days went by

He sat up and stared at the ceiling rubbing his face and decided to crawl out of bed, taking a stack of paper work with him to the castle library, thinking he might as well get something done, and to possibly do research on what was wrong with him, he definitely wasn't going to hettie incase it spread around like wildfire

But he stops in his tracks when he creaks the door open and hears a soft, quiet humming

He follows the sound, intrigued and irritated as it was making him sleepy, and finds a scout with (h/c) reading, back faced to him, so Adrian coughs to get their attention to move, as they were in the section he needed, the scout gasped, grabbed their helmet and quickly placed it over them before turning around, and adrians eyes widened, it was you

He knew it was you because of your mask. He couldn't help but feel guilty about making you stop humming

"Sorry head witch, I'll move", you rose to stood, and he stopped you, "no need, I actually wanted your insight on something." He sat you back down, but he had no idea what he was doing. These were private documents. No scout should ever read them. But what came over him next, baffled him to his core

"And please, when it's just the two of us, call me Adrian." The moment he said that he went white as a ghost, scouts were to address them as head witches, he earned that title and should be used, but he slowly started to feel different about it every time you called him that.

"Okay, Adrian" hearing his name leave your mouth made him feel odd, a feeling he couldn't describe, like he was about to throw up the pure essence of joy, but he didn't understand, he didn't know you all too well, so why would he feel happy to see you?

But all night you both talked, if he didn't know you, he took the opportunity to understand, like you'd done about him. At first, you were hesitant, but the little bits you did tell him were ingrained into his head, but something felt off in his mind. You didn't seem over the moon to tell him things tonight.

"What's wrong?" "Oh, it's nothing." "Come one now, we've been talking for a few months now, you know no issue you say to me will get anywhere." "I don't know, it's just strange, I suppose. I mean, you've technically ordered me to talk to you, I guess. And although i have enjoyed spending time with you, I can't but feel like you haven't. You're head witch and shouldn't really be spending time with scouts like me, it'll distract you." You said it so quietly, the conversation with your friend a few weeks back slowly getting to you, it was true you were spending time with him, but did he really want to?

You may have been confused, but to Adrian, it was deafening, you thought he was ordering you, that he had power over you to tell him your darkest secrets, to make you spend time with him, not thinking it was genuine.

He tried so hard to reassure you that he wanted to chat because you intrigued him, and he wanted to know why, what kept drawing him to you, but a part of you didn't believe him.

You figured he needed you for his job and was trying to warm you up to him so you'd do his dirty work. All you heard were the same rumours, and it was starting to get to you. But you were so interested in the man sitting in front of you that every time he was near you, that nagging voice was quiet enough for you to ignore it.

Adrian announced for you to meet him on the castle balcony tomorrow at noon, and not a minute later. He picked up his stuff and left, leaving you very confused, and a little worried you had upset him.

The day he realises his feelings and sees your face

Adrian sat on the balcony for two hours, wondering what to say, and at noon you arrived on the dot

When you go to the balcony, he was on the wall and patted the space opposite him, waving you over, but with a slight pang in his chest, he still couldn't find the words to describe it

he was curious on why you feel he using you, so you explain the rumours and that you supposed your brash behaviour was out of caution, which you apologised for, saying that the comments were getting to your head and that you may have misread him, a slight blush appearing under your mask, which you were thankful it was it was hiding

Adrian tells you he does use people for his work, but it's only because there's so much of it, and there are some scouts who know more about an issue than he does. His ears burned bright red, he wanted to stop himself from saying these things. He was tempted to slam his hand onto his mouth and walk away to save himself from embarrassment. But he couldn't. He was frozen in place

After that it was silent for a few moments, until you started a new topic, which Adrian took a sigh of relief, leading to him finding out so many more things about you, this time at your own free choice, which this time you were more than happy to share

But what made him finally realize what he was feeling all this time, was when you gave him a note book as a surprise, but not just any notebook, an ideas note book, he'd told you about scripts he'd written and directed but needed a new way to store them, and you got him exactly that. Telling him that you felt bad about the library conversation and wanted to cheer him up

You paid so much careful attention to him, and went out of you way to surprise him and cheer him up, that he couldn't help but leap at you with a hug, not realising it knocked your mask off, but you embraced him back, not realising either.

Scouts weren't supposed to take their helmets off while on duty. Coven heads weren't supposed to see their faces. So when Adrian pulled and back stared at you wide-eyed, you were confused about what had happened

"What?" "Your face" you gasped and slammed your hands your cheek to feel not a hard, porcelain mask, but instead your soft cheeks.

Feeling a sense of instant regret and shame, you stand, about to put the mask back on, but his hand stops you, "Don't. Sorry, it's just, you look so... wow."

You ears burn at his words, and thanked him, trying your best to hide a smile, returning a compliment to him, he couldn't help but stare at you, he wanted to say something more but the moment was quickly interrupted by the sound of feet walking up the balcony steps, you quickly shoved your helmet on and stood beside him, Adrian looking disappointed at your helmet

It was a message from the emperor about some more work for him, which Adrian groaned in annoyance at and shooed the scout off, taking a moment to read the note as he began to walk off. But as he reaches the step, he winked at you, telling you he'd see you around, drawing a spell circle, and a piece of small paper fell into your hands, it was his Crow number, before he started to dissappear down the steps, you stepped forward, raising your mask a little.

"It's (y/n)." Adrian turned back, a blank expression was quietly replaced by a toothy grin, as he nodded, whispering the name to himself in content and wishing you goodbye.

You two met up on that balcony every week at the same time, unless some more important business came up, which you gladly helped each other with in the library at night, knowing you were least likely going to be disturbed then.

Every meeting Adrian fell more and more, your comfort growing with your maks off around him, which he adored, and when you weren’t looking, would stare at you like you carved the moon and the stars yourself.

He tried to ask you out a few times, but when it came to it, he couldn't do it, he didn't know how, for a man with skills like his he told himself it would be easy, but he struggled to even get the words out, he remembers being this nervous when he first began talking to you, the worry of rejection plaguing his mind

But was surprised one evening when you showed up outside his door, and did it for him, giving him a bouquet of his favourite spiders and asked him to dinner.

He's never taken an offer so quickly.

#the owl house #adrian graye #adrian graye vernworth #toh #toh adrian #toh adrian graye vernworth #toh adrian graye #the owl house adrian graye #the owl house adrian #the owl house adrian graye vernworth #adrian graye x reader #adrian graye vernworth x reader

[lucas-deziderio]

Dezi reads Pact: Signature 8.7

Let me tell you something about Maggie Holt. This poor girl's backstory is that she is the survivor of a specially mean episode of The Twilight Zone. And then things got A Lot Worse. But, you know, it isn't all bad. She has some victories to her name. Two loving fathers, a handful of goblins on her back pocket, the friendship of an up-and-coming diabolist...

Now the Girl with the Checkered Scarf is a whole other story! If she were an RPG character I could easily show you her inventory and you would see that the only things she has for herself now are one (1) scarf, one (1) goblin, one (1) gender and a dream. OK, I'm exaggerating a bit, but my girl do is struggling as reality is trying to shake her off itself.

This chapter starts with a very interesting conversation with Johannes, the sorcerer famous for having a demesne big enough to fit your mom in it. Up until now he had come off as some kind of secondary or maybe even primary antagonist that Blake would have to face against at some point, but now I'm not so sure. His perspective does make sense and the fact that he's being so kind to the underdog that is our current protagonist does make him more endearing.

The first thing I want to discuss is the idea of demesnes; places a practitioner has claimed for themselves and now have full control over, being able to draw energy from it to power their practice. One of the big three milestones a person in this world must achieve to be considered a grown-up wizard.

To me, the process of claiming a demesne seems to equate the process of forming a nation or kingdom. Through the ritual, a practitioner takes over an area that was until then public and makes it their own. But to do that they need the approval of all Others, spirits and even practitioners in the surrounding region. Or, at least, to overpower them through the challenges that are part of the ritual. If successful, what was once free range becomes infused by the identity of its new ruler. We have seen before practitioners both bargaining for and coercing Others into lending them power, but this is different. This ritual is both way broader in scope and way narrower in what it rewards: a geographical, almost political, type of power.

The main rule of this magic system is so maintained: all power comes with a price. In this case, the practitioner scrapes off bits of the liberty of an entire group to make themselves the sovereign monarch of their own kingdom; a social contract born out of the rules of magic itself. As time goes on, Laird Behaim's metaphor about countries becomes poignant once again.

Still, the mystery of how Johannes was able to conquer such a large territory remains as he refuses to concede us any details. Whatever it is, I'm sure it'll become essential later. Considering Blake's streak of luck, he'll probably need to use this secret to stablish a demesne for himself.

After a very interesting game of 20 questions, our protagonist manages to get some necessary resources basically for free and steps back into reality to put her plan into action. Except that reality is kinda fed up with her. She dodges the cracks in existence, bombs a handful of goblins and starts to jury-rig a variation of the demesne ritual to claim a new name for herself.

That makes me think that, just like political power, identity itself is something that is determined by our relationship to others. Sometimes it's something we can agree upon, and sometimes it's something we must fight to stablish against discordant voices. Luckily, the girl in the checkered scarf spent this entire arc making all other powerful practitioners of Jacob's Bell pity her. She finishes the ritual, craps in a bucket and wills a new place for herself into existence. I'm proud of Mags.

A couple other questions now remain in my head. Had she fallen down into one of those cracks in reality would she end up in the same place Blake is in right now? After all, he also had his connections to reality stripped from him. And if Padraic is still occupying her previous role as the child of a family, would that make of him a changeling? Or would that be a different type of fey?

Previous • Next

#Dezi reads #pact web serial #pactblr #liveblogging pact #wildbow #otherverse #Signature 8.7 #pact spoilers

[inmarbleimmobility]

1.1.4 - "Works to Match Words"

well look who finally got caught up enough in their real job to do their les mis letters posts! (and figured out how to use the title feature!) oh boy there's so much here y'all.

the title immediately stands out to me - it reminds me of a bible verse, though I can't immediately pinpoint which one. a quick google tells me probably james 2:17 (faith without works is dead) but i think 1 john 3:18 fits better - "[...] let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth". this whole chapter is an exploration of what people *say* (or what their titles/positions say about them) vs what they *do*.

Pun Count is now 2 ("My highness cannot reach that shelf", maybe my fave pun in the whole book)!

Myriel refers to the Saint Augustine quote ("place your expectations in him to whom there is no succession") as being "something odd", just like Hugo later says he has his "own strange way of judging things" - driving home that point that for a priest to follow christ's actual words and intentions isn't the rule but the exception.

not sure how the anecdote about his cousin fits my words/works thesis but let me get to the end of this post and I bet I'll find it!

"using the tomb to feed their vanity" seems to imply there's something else these men should be using the tomb for - most likely a contemplation on heaven?

"A pennyworth of paradise" - lots here!! someone else brought up Myriel choosing to convince people to good acts through love rather than fear; we're seeing the fear approach work here, but only insofar as it gets Geborand to donate a single penny - a token contribution, a "work" that is more word than deed. he can say he was charitable, therefore he thinks he'll get into heaven. Myriel's saying it doesn't work that way - that a pennyworth of charity only gets you a pennyworth of paradise, perhaps also that the greater your works on earth, the greater your reward in heaven? this is a view I personally don't vibe all that much with as I feel like in practice it only encourages performative "works" instead of its intent (to reward fully those who were truly good). it *is* a very biblical take, though; see the beatitudes.

the Marquis de Champtercier - others have mentioned him as a kind of precursor to Gillenormand, which, yeah! the "words" here are the marquis claiming he's prioritizing his own poor while the actual work is to deny "Myriel's poor" his donation. Myriel (and I) disagree with the "my poor/your poor" distinction - the suffering of any person is the responsibility of all of us to alleviate, hence "give them to me". interestingly this was the first time i read this line as "give *them* to me" instead of "give them to *me*" - the latter is, again, Myriel saying he doesn't discriminate between "his" poor and the "Marquis' poor"; the former feels like an even cheekier followup to "you must give me something" - if it won't be money, it'll be "his" poor.

"God gives light to men, and the law sells it." Myriel is speaking literally here re: the door and window tax (which I know nothing about; what's the logic there??), but in a larger sense, he also isn't. Light is one of the things I'm specifically looking for on this read, and this feels like the setup for the points Hugo will make later with his other usages of light. God gives light - hope, love, education, belonging, whatever it is - to men, and the law - literally, but also just society and government - sells it (at a monetary cost but also a less tangible one - your soul? your humanity?) goddamn, I can't believe I never thought more about all the things Hugo is subtly setting up in these chapters and passing off as Sick Bishop Burns TM.

"My brethren, be compassionate; see how much suffering there is around you" - it says he's preaching this at "the cathedral", but I don't know much about the demographic of Digne at this time. are his parishioners mostly rich? mostly laborers? a mix?

I appreciate the inclusion of Myriel's knowledge of Southern dialects more now that I know a little about the context of Occitan/lenga d'oc/Provencal at this time! i want to spend some time researching the history and linguistics of Occitan here soon, it's fascinating to me.

lots of people have expressed that Myriel's doctrine of repressing the body so as not to sin as rubbing them the wrong way, and same. unfortunately it very much jibes with the Catholic view of sin. nothing'll give you Permanent Weird Feelings About Your Body And Specifically Sex like Catholicism! (this last to be read like a tagline on a commercial with, like, the Mr. Clean guy doing a thumbs up above it, only he's wearing a miter.) from a modern viewpoint I'd expect Myriel to think a bit differently on this point the way he does on a lot of other Church doctrine things, but I suppose if he really "got it from the Gospels" there's plenty of textual evidence to support that. ew, Catholicism.

also not the first person to point out "but be upright" as paralleling "un juste", the title of this book, but wow it's good.

gonna be vulnerable here and confess I don't really get what he's saying about the "offended hypocrisy" that's "quick to protest and run for cover". pot/kettle I guess? maybe it's just worded in a way I can't wrap my mind around.

again with the Big Three - women, children, and laborers (here "servants". Hugo via Myriel directly identifies the corresponding oppressors - husbands, fathers, and masters - but in this case I'm not sure how much I agree with those. masters certainly, but husbands and fathers? certainly they *can* be oppressive and create those conditions Hugo so strongly opposes, but not always - and in many cases those husbands/fathers are also laborers, so. I much prefer his followup of the strong, the rich, and the wise. once again Hugo says eat the rich.

"the guilty one is not he who commits the sin, but the one who causes the darkness." alright everyone, pack it up, we're done here, we've found the Main Idea! lmao can you imagine if that's where Hugo stopped? hilarious.

the counterfeiter. the "word" here is claiming to uphold justice, when the "work" is actually just upholding the law. I especially like the wording of saying the prosecutor had "brought truth to light" here - going to have to go grab my French text and see if this is a Hugo wording or a FMA wording, but either way it goes back to that theme of light - in this case, how the truth of the case isn't necessarily the same as the Light, the good.

the condemned man. there's so much here. "[Myriel] called [the condemned man] by his name" - this brings to mind musical!Valjean's line "my name is Jean Valjean!" when Javert persists in addressing him as 24601, as well as his later surprise when the bishop treats him like a person. sometimes all it takes is treating a person like a person. i'm sure this won't be the last time I say that. Hugo also refers to death as "an abyss" here; that recalls "I am reaching, but I fall/and the night is closing in/as I stare into the void/into the whirlpool of my sin". I don't think this is the first time Hugo refers to the unknown as an abyss, either! in this case, it isn't just the unknown of death that the condemned man fears, but likely also the judgment after, which he knows won't go well for him (he's specifically said to be "not ignorant enough to be indifferent"), much like the abyss of Valjean's sin. Myriel sheds light on this abyss ("showed him the light") and teaches the condemned man not to fear death or the afterlife. fascinating also how we're specifically told Myriel stays with the man onto the cart and all the way onto the scaffold, literally accompanying this man to his fate, helping him not be alone to the very last moment.

the upper classes see Myriel's reaction to the guillotine as "affectation" - because if they were to show the same outward reaction, it *would* be affectation for them.

haha hey did you guys know there's a character limit on tumblr posts? because i do now!! so uhh part 2 in a second i guess.

#les mis #les mis letters #lm 1.1.4 #i didn't even know i had this many thoughts jesus christ!

[landwriter]

CHOMP CHOMP eating up the WIP list 😋

I can already tell that #4 and #9 are going to make me absoLUTELY LOSE MY MIND (for very different reasons) (I'm begging, actually).

But IF you do not mind I am also very curious to hear what you are going to do with the extinct animal in #13 and if you have an idea of what sort of animal you will choose :)

TY xoxo

Theoretically it'll last you forever because I doubt I'm ever going to actually 'finish my WIPs' hahaha. In reverse order:

[choose extinct animal] is for the Dreamling Bingo prompt Last Of Their Kind. I have done a grand total of ZERO FUCKEN FILLS for my card but I do have ideas! Ideas that I will definitely and totally get to once I finish Oaths and my other mostly-done nonsense. I have not looked into animals at all and have written exactly two lines for this:

In the beginning, creatures were new. Then they were were many. Now they are few. There are as many lasts in succession as there were once firsts, and this, Dream thinks, is in its own way beautiful.

It will be a short story about The Very Distant Future wherein Death is just about ready to pack up the chairs and turn out the lights, and Hob and Dream are very old husbands who have seen a great deal, but Hob not quite so much as Dream. A tender fic, and a sad one, probably, not from Hob's POV because I could not bear it at all, but from Dream, who regales Hob with stories about a nascent Earth filled with dreaming creatures, while the watch the last dreams of entire species. Thus the note: The first time they watched the last dream of a species was X - [choose extinct animal].

#9 is going to be my attempt at, like, a horror/love story that is really tender as well as increasingly unnerving :^)

[tits in front of mirror] is 2K of deleted sex scene WIP from Death of Translation. I stole a bunch of lines originally from that scene and never even got to the fucking (or the [tits in front of mirror], as you can tell) but at some point I am sure I am going to want to write Dream Maritally Banging Hob In Front Of A Mirror With Gratuitous Amounts Of Middle English, because that is who I am.

Have an excerpt under the cut just for fun!

“Look,” says Dream, “Look at yourself, Hob Gadling.”

“Speak it here, speak it while you can watch,” he commands, and Hob, shuddering, does. He speaks the oldest thing about his stranger, Saxon and French meeting in the middle to make English, ‘e’s like exhales, like offerings.

“Myn straunger with derkest cloth an heere. I fol-hope we schul be frendis dere.”

In the mirror he sees it like he could not before, the way Dream looks at him. As he speaks, Dream shakes head, and says, “No. No, it was no foolish hope. Myn ful dere friend. I would be no stranger to you. I have been trying. But I would you knew me as well as your own heart.”

“I thought-” says Hob, and Dream turns then, suddenly, and catches all the words in his mouth, and swallows them that had been forgotten, them that had been spilled out and not understood before, them that he had trapped behind his teeth and bitten into his tongue.

“You are not a mortal,” says Dream, pulling away spare moments later, as Hob is still gasping, and he does not understand the words, but guesses at the translation as Dream curls himself entirely around him, wrapping around his chest and waist, pulling him flush, looking at him again through the mirror: I permit myself this.

“Not for centuries,” he says.

WIP asks (via random notes-to-self in them)

#asks #filename asks redux #the sandman #wips #dreamling

[smartycvnt]

All I’ve Got

Pairing: Nick Jackson x Reader Prompt: 10. "You really scared me back there." "I'm sorry." R WC: 508

Nick was holding onto Matt's arm tightly as he watched you climb up onto the balcony. He had always fancied himself an independent wrestling guy, but you took things to another level. Every single match you went into made sure that somebody was on the edge of their seat. It had been years since you had a regular singles match, usually getting yourself put into some sort of gimmick match to help your hardcore image. Nick hadn't been to a show with you in quite some time, so he honestly hadn't seen all of the things that you were doing. He had definitely heard around, but he knew better than anybody how wrestlers and wrestling news outlets liked to embellish for the sake of a good story.

"Fuck man, I don't know how she does it," Matt winced as he watched you jump from a ledge towards your opponent. That jump on its own would have been hell for your knees, but you got smacked into a table on the outside of the ring by a steel chair on the way down. It looked cartoonish, but you knew that it would do the trick for this match. Besides, you doubted that any of your fans were going for realism when they came to your shows.

"Why hasn't she gotten up yet?" Nick asked. His grip on his older brother's arm was bordering on painful for Matt, but Matt understood that Nick needed something real to hold onto. "Isn't somebody going to go after her? I can't be the only one who sees this shit!"

"Hey man, calm down. Y/n is always doing stuff like this," one of the backstage guys told Nick. However, your husband wasn't having any of it and ended up coming out to check on you. The crowd lost their shit for the appearance by the Young Buck, who immediately kneeled down by your side as your opponent stared at you victoriously. You had been counted out after the table fall, and the ref had tried checking on you, but your opponent kept them away from you, as instructed.

"Nick, what are you doing out here?" you asked as he pulled you into a sitting position.

"Nobody was checking on you. You weren't getting up. I had to do something," Nick rambled. You wrapped your arms around him in a hug, hopeful that would help to calm him down a little. "You really scared me back there."

"I'm sorry," you apologized. Nick was waiting for the 'it'll never happen again' but both of you knew it wouldn't come. "They're giving me a few weeks off. I get to relax and scout some talent in Europe. There are these brothers, I hear they're doing amazing things."

"Oh yeah?"

"Even named me specifically to be their American trainer. It's a pretty big deal, some think they could be the next Bucks," you said. Nick softened up at that, always happy to hear about future success stories. Especially whenever they were inspired by him and his brother.

#nick jackson x reader #nick jackson #aew #aew x reader #my writing

[catohphm]

Weekend With The Grays 2023 Day 7 Prompt - It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas

Hey everyone! Hope the weekend went well. This is the conclusion for my part in the 2023 Weekend With The Grays event for Hogwarts Legacy organized by @endlessly-cursed. Her OC Prim is featured in this story, as well as Malcolm, belonging to @gaygryffindorgal, with @mjs-oc-corner's gals Bella and Roxie also involved. Tysm Noe for hosting this wonderful event! 😊 Everyone now has to say goodbye to Winbourne and the Somersets for now, but it's not truly goodbye after all<3

The young couple worked to clean up their spaces and pack their belongings.  It had been a week since the Christmas fun and festivities at Winbourne had begun, and it was now time to go home. Danny and Bella looked back fondly on the past few days as they got ready. This was not the first nor the last stay of theirs, but goodbyes weren't easy. That was just natural, and they well knew not to fret over it. All the guests had to prepare for their departures and make sure their areas were in order before they left. All the while, they traded goodbyes, season's greetings, merry Christmas, and happy holiday wishes.

Danny and Bella met up with Roxie on their way out. 

“I'm sad that this year's celebration is ending but I'm also glad to get back to our auror training together, Danny.”

He nodded and smiled at Roxie. “Me too. In a way It'll cancel out some of the regrets about leaving here after the party's over.

“That's a smart way to think about it. We can't have no regrets though, otherwise we won't miss this place and want to come back as much.”

Bella added “Then me and Danny are going back together with one broom. It's the good little things that matter.”

“It all works out on its own.” he concluded. 

Roxie grinned warmly.

“Me and Danny were talking about going back to my mum and dad's for supper later this evening. Do you want to come over, Roxie?” asked Bella.

 “Aw, that's very nice! I'll be happy to join you all. We'll be making our own way out and see you there then.”

“That sounds great, Roxie. See you soon. Merry Christmas.” said Danny. “Merry Christmas. Talk to you later.” Bella remarked in goodbye.

“Merry Christmas to you both. Be safe in your travels, alright?” The three exchanged hugs.

-

Bags and broom in hand, Danny and Bella were a couple feet away from the gates leading out of Winbourne where they encountered Lady Prim and Lord Malcolm.

“Hello, I hope you all had a wonderful time here for the holidays.” greeted Prim.

“Amazing attire you had as well last night, Danny.” commented Malcolm.

“Many thanks, my lady Prim, my lord Malcolm. The hospitality you offer together never ceases to be grand and greatly warming.”

Bella added “I'm gratified for you both as well as my dear Danny.” She ran her arm around her love's. “The week would never have been this splendid without my love and my friends.”

“Of course.” said Prim. “We do our best Winbourne a place of comfort and happy memories. I'm so glad every everyone enjoyed themselves.”

With a positive outlook, Malcolm also noted assuredly “We have it all in us to keep going no matter what. This place is strong in it's heart, soul and body.”

“That's very thoughtful.” Bella told Malcolm.

“You two are amazing for each other.” complimented Danny.

“Thank you, Danny. We've worked together to overcome a lot of challenges over the past year.”

Malcolm nodded. “I hope we can keep on going and be successful next year. We cannot worry about the coming days though. Ourselves belong in the present, here and now.”

“That's good advice. We'll also keep it in mind moving forward.” Danny said as he smiled.”

“So,” then asked Prim “What do you and Bella have planned later? Other fun gatherings, parties, anything on your minds?”

Bella looked at Danny and then back at Prim and Malcolm. “We and Roxie are going to my parent's for supper.”

“That's wonderful, I hope it also turns out fun for you all. Anything on what your mum and dad are cooking?”

“Bella told me they want to keep it a surprise.” Danny said as they chuckled.

Prim grinned. “Guess you all will have to find out then.”

“This estate isn't gonna get itself back together, so we must get back to it.” Malcolm reminded her wife.

“There are other friends we have to make sure we say goodbye to, as well as see that the grounds and halls are tidied up.” she explained. “We'll talk to you both later, okay? Safe journey home.” Danny and Bella hugged Prim and Malcolm, the pairs wishing each other “Merry Christmas.”

#wwtgsolstice23 #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy mc #hp legacy era #hp victorian era #danny gibson #malcolm stolberg burke #primrose gray #roxie hailey #bella mcintyre #bella x danny #bellanny #prim x malcolm #grayburke

[thesinglesjukebox]

BILLY JOEL - "TURN THE LIGHTS BACK ON"

The theme narrows a little, maybe...

[4.15]

Hannah Jocelyn: The first Melodyne’d word of this song -- P L E A S E -- had me worried. This is the latest in a series of '70s and '80s rockers coming back one last time, normally with Post Malone's producer Andrew Watt at the helm. The results can either be pleasant, like the Rolling Stones' Lady Gaga collaboration "Sweet Sounds of Heaven", or abysmal, like Elton John's horribly edited "Always Love You." But Watt's not here; behind the boards instead is industry songwriter Freddy Wexler, a Billy Joel fanboy who convinced the artist to release music again. If the song sounds a lot like "Piano Man" and "Summer, Highland Falls," repeated listens reveal it's not just a cheap nostalgia grab. It sounds exactly like a new Billy Joel song should in 2024, P L E A S E aside, with a tasteful build and some grandiose but lovely lyrics: “Pride sticks out its tongue/laughs at the portrait that we’ve become/Stuck in a frame, unable to change.” Joel occupies a weird place in pop culture -- not as acclaimed as Dylan or Springsteen, but more thoughtful and introspective than the Eagles or anyone else in his imagined supergroup. With "Turn the Lights Back On," it all makes sense. He invented an archetype now filled by musicians like Adele post-21 or even Hozier: pop songwriters with enough depth to earn them a devout following even if they’re not critics' favorites. The liner notes reveal more connections. Eclectic producer Emile Haynie drops in to provide some additional production, the same way he did on "Hello" almost a decade ago, and the song is mixed by Adele's engineer Tom Elmhirst. It's an effective repositioning of Joel not as a "33-hit-wonder", not as a poet, but as one of the great pop balladeers and craftsmen. And my dad loves it, which is all that really matters. [7]

Alfred Soto: Despite the co-writers and a video whose nostalgia bid is as, ah, shameless as Paul McCartney's last year, "Turn the Lights Back On" sounds like any generic thing that might've appeared on Storm Front or The Bridge. Which is the point. [4]

Aaron Bergstrom: A direct descendant of Elton John's far superior "This Train Don't Stop There Anymore," as underlined by their similar music video treatments. While Joel was able to use cutting-edge AI technology to de-age himself in his video, Sir Elton had to make do with the tools available to him back in 2001, which is to say, Justin Timberlake. (Both AI and Timberlake are now trying to make their own music, with limited success.) [5]

Ian Mathers: Get the fuck outta here with this uncanny valley "AI" CGI shit. I'm not shocked boomers would cling to yet another way to deny they're old as fuck now -- it'll happen to all of us, I'm sure -- but it's still repugnant. Despite Joel being away for years, god knows you still hear the hits, so I'm kind of shocked that his voice seems to have lost most of its distinctive timbre. If you'd played me this blind I don't think I could have told you the singer, although the voice would have felt weirdly familiar. And look, respect to the man's undeniable achievements in his craft (which even haters should admit he takes pretty damn seriously) and especially stardom/mass popularity, but partly given the characterlessness to his performance here, my answer to "did I wait too long, to turn the lights back on?" is... yeah, you kinda did. I don't think the reason I loved the ABBA comeback singles and not this is just because I like ABBA and don't care for Billy Joel; I genuinely think they did a better job on playing off their context than he does here. [5]

TA Inskeep: I'd like to keep them off, please.  [1]

Isabel Cole: Billy Joel was one of the few artists my whole family could agree on during long trips in the car; my first concert was his dual tour with Elton John at Madison Square Garden. So on the one hand, the sheer nostalgic sentiment aroused in me by the thought of Billy going back to songwriting after all these years is real, and powerful. On the other, I know whereof I speak when I say that even assessed by the generous lens of someone who was once a 13-year-old girl glad to name Songs in the Attic as her favorite album, this is mid-level Billy at best. Lyrically, so much of his appeal has always been his willingness to indulge—in shamelessness, in sentiment, in spite, in just being kind of an asshole—but this song is too busy wrestling ponderously with its own existence to have that kind of fun; musically, it’s just “I’ve Loved These Days” but not as good. [4]

Rachel Saywitz: It's good, for a budget store "Piano Man."  [5]

Dave Moore: The best thing I can say for this lugubrious comeback ballad, loosely patterned on vintage Billy Joel and a dollop of "Hey Jude," is that it technically clocks in at under four minutes. The worst thing I can say about it is that I am not yet convinced the vocals aren't BillyJoelAI, though it does sound like him really playing the piano (derogatory). [3]

Daniel Montesinos-Donaghy: God, what a trudge — the type of pianoman mewls I thought every Joel song would be as an uneducated youth. But then I heard "Movin' Out," and what a fuckin' joint! (Fun fact: I think a quick browse of Billy Joel's biggest hits has taught me "Movin' Out" is, uh, the only BJ jam I like. Sorry.) [3]

Katherine St. Asaph: I dislike the term "overproduced" in criticism; it's often a way to sneer at pop without having to say something so gauche. But when you have a swelling string section -- a mercilessly effective cheat code to make a listener moved -- and yet that listener cannot be moved because she can't fucking hear it over everything else in the arrangement, your song is overproduced. When you autotune everything about your singer's voice except the notes that he actually flubbed, your song is -- well, not overproduced exactly, but produced poorly. Can't imagine how I'd feel if I were even a Billy Joel fan! One singular point because I learned something: it's not just the de-aging "AI" (scare quotes), Billy Joel really did look kinda like Harry Styles back then. (Harry Styles would probably love to remake this. It would still be a [1]). [1]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: This absolutely shouldn't work on me. I, of sound mind and body and possessing no strong relationship with the music of Billy Joel, ought not to have any reaction to this at all. It's a Billy Joel song that is once again about the romance between the performer and the audience, hitting all the marks he last hit 30 years ago. If nearly everything else he's done leaves me inert, then this should do the same. Yet something about its twilight glory, the way Joel puts himself through his own paces, moves me nonetheless.  [6]

Brad Shoup: I know I'm not the first person to interpret this as a metaphor for Joel's relationship with the public. For me, he's always been a sort of pop midpoint, and I've never been able to budge him. Everything he's ever done has been... fine: the bangers always fuck up somewhere, the groaners are never that embarrassing. So leaving things off with "The River of Dreams" (my favorite) wouldn't have been a bad way to go. This is confident schlock. The snare smacks like a worn copy of "Bridge Over Troubled Water"; he does a little "Piano Man" twirl before the orchestra goes for broke. I don't think he waited too long; I think this song was within him the whole time, for better or worse. [5]

Nortey Dowuona: I understand the hatred. For us, being smooth and easy on the ears is a crime. To refuse the challenges that push the artform of popular music and music culture, or worse, to fight them tooth and nail, is enough to make you an enemy in our eyes. But I do understand the actual reason to simply play to the middle of the road: to connect with everyone since you have learned, possibly later or earlier, we are a rare and bold breed, despite the infighting, backbiting and slimy behavior I will not detail here. Billy Joel has waited long enough -- he at the height of his popularity was despised and condemned, a figurehead for the stultifying demands of white yuppiedom. Unfortunately he was wrong; the fire was started, and will never stop. We, as a far more revered and loved writer said, made our choice as a species, and it's just a question of how long it takes to play out. Billy once wrote of New York being destroyed and its citizens fleeing like rats to Miami, reminiscing over their glory days. But now in 2024, New York refuses to go away. Our mayor, as Wiki and MIKE said, is a cop, and millions are homeless and starving, struggling to keep afloat and trying not to crumble every time a blank, greasy-faced kid with worn-out clothes playing with a iPhone 14 who could afford to give you $5 shakes his head to ignore you. I understand the hatred. But I can't feel it because the hatred feels pointless, empty, a target for those old timers who have fled the sinking ship and their ancestors who only know to despise the old place from stories and memories. He might've waited too long to turn the lights back once since the wires have rotted and the bulbs are broken, but not because the city is empty. It's full of your fanboys and their grandchildren, who now feel the sour bitterness that drove you to flee and cannot choose any other feeling. It's not too late -- it's never too late. [5]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

#billy joel #music #music writing #music reviews #music criticism #the singles jukebox #Youtube

[chewtoyboytoy]

Okay I wanna talk about some thoughts I have regarding "Saltburn".

To set the tone: I am so incredibly conflicted about this movie.

It is visually STUNNING. It looks like everything my dark academia obsessed heart fantasizes about. However, the dark academia vibe it was so clearly going for stops at the visuals.

The plot is interesting, but it takes the bare bones of DarkAc stories and works off of that alone. You've got the Outsider getting a closer look at opulence and trying to learn how to fit in as they go. You've got "the unspoken game", and the tension that you never know if it'll manifest into sex or violence or both. However, the plot is kind of... shallow? And it doesn't even reveal itself as such until the end, which feels like a soft betrayal. If that's the angle it was going for - a betrayal by Oliver to the audience just as he's betrayed all the other characters - it's a success, but not a satisfying one.

Speaking of the ending though, it was incredibly Hollywood. It very much felt like "assume the audience is stupid, so make sure to spell everything out." We knew Oliver killed those people. We could tell by his reactions to their deaths. We didn't need to see how he did it, and by doing so, it opened up avenues of how he shouldn't have been able to get away with it. If we never knew how he did it, we could plausibly assume it must have been in such a way that it was undetectable. By not knowing, we'd have also been that much more terrified by Oliver. We'd never know just how much he was capable of, each viewer coming to their own worst possible scenario. It should've been left open ended.

Additionally, a staple of DarkAc is it's subtly. Even when things FEEL bold, rarely are they actually. Most everything in "Saltburn" feels bold because it IS. The Bathtub scene is the most talked about and gagged over scene, and yet, it was the most subtle of the major Gross Events(tm). THAT felt DarkAc. The Grave scene did not.

This movie also enlightened me to a fixture of DarkAc that I hadn't noticed before, despite it being so clearly plain to see - its use of language. Whatever opinions you may have on the genre or these specific books, "The Secret History," by Donna Tart and "If We Were Villains," by M.L. Rio and "The Atlas Six,' by Olivie Blake are incredibly beautiful reads. The words chosen mean everything. When it comes to film, you are limited exclusively to dialogue when it comes to word choice.

There are ways around this, like NBC's "Hannibal", where it's made clear immediately that Everyone Just Talks Like That. The world is built in a way that allows the writers to use all the purple prose they want without it feeling ill-fitting to the characters. In "Saltburn", the characters had their own voice that needed to be worked around. I'm not saying it would have been better to go the Hannibal route, just pointing out how it limited their language extensively.

Despite all this, I still really liked the film. But it wasn't DarkAc, it was DarkAc camp. Which is fun, too - an entertaining film is a successful film. And boy, you could not pry my eyes away from that screen.

4/5 stars :) 👍

#saltburn #dark academia

[angelbellelc2]

Dark Blue Shadow chapter 1 (The Looming Ghost)

Professor Layton and the newly made Detective Luke have gathered a group of people who are involved within their current mystery. Luke debriefing the current evidence at hand who has been behind everything and makes his deduction pointing at the very culprit. "The one who's behind this is you!" Luke says with his voice sounding very confident as the Professor looks with proud eyes as he agrees with his friend. The group around the culprit turn their gaze making the culprit freeze in place as law enforcement takes them away.

Professor Layton puts his hand on his apprentice's back congratulating Luke on his successful case. "Well done Luke my boy. You have come along way ever since back during our journeys together." Hershel states with a proud smile as Luke smiles as well putting his hand to his hat as a thankful gesture. "Thank you Professor but I wouldn't have been able to solve this without my mentor by my side." Luke says with a happy soft tone.

"Alright Luke let's make our way somewhere private as I have something very important to tell you." Luke looks at his teacher with confusion as the tone sounded somber all the sudden. "Alright then Professor how about heading towards my house if it's important." The duo make their to the new residence of the Triton family.

The pair make their way into Luke's bedroom to discuss the matter. "Luke my boy what I have to say may put you in a conflicting position but I was asked to give you something as it's was their last wish" The professor hands Luke a written note that details the sender's intentions. Luke starts to read the note out loud as the Professor listens.

"Professor I believe that I don't have much time left for me as I feel like my time is at it's end. I have many regrets and hurt so many people who didn't deserve what has happened to them by my selfish actions. I was blinded by my so called "righteous acts" and felt like London had to pay for the death of my parents. I was so caught up with my plan that I failed to understand that I was doing the opposite and making history repeating itself.

One of my many regrets was putting mistrust within Luke and you. I'm not sure if "Little Luke" could ever forgive me as I did use his own name as a big part within my plan. I think about how things could of been if I just could of asked you for help in the beginning and no one would of been hurt. I have one wish that I would like to ask if you to full fill for me. I ask you if you can come in person as I have something that I would like you to give Luke as my way of saying sorry. I believe he'll have more use of it than I ever could. Thank you for everything.- Clive Dove"

"It's from Clive Professor but what does he mean his life was at its end? Isn't he atoning to make up his actions? I don't understand what does he have to give me? I have so many questions." Luke says with a confusing concern expression still staring at the note. The professor goes into his trunk retrieving Clive's gift for Luke. "He had a long time thinking over his actions Luke and he did feel regret regardless of anything else. He thought by giving you this it'll do better with you instead of him."

Professor Layton places down a familiar dark blue hat that once belonged to the man who for a short time was "Future Luke". Luke turns around to see what it was and sees this stopping in his thoughts. His face turns into a frowned gaze upon the hat as he still feels a certain way even though it's been a year since then. A mixture of different emotions of sadness and frustration race through upon Luke's mind as this is a reminder of the whole ordeal and the ghostly image of the man who is no more.

#detective luke #luke triton #clive dove #professor layton unwound future #pl nwos #pl au #fanfiction #future luke #professor layton

[scitties-enjoyer]

Missing!?! - JSR×MCYT

@bluiex I have been playing JSR again so! More rollerblades and spray paint!

---

Grian was starting to get worried now. He'd done several laps of boatem's territory, even getting to the top of the highest buildings Mumbo could never hope to scale the way Grian did.

Who knows, maybe Mumbo had figured out the trick.

Well, he hadn't. And Grian had circled through the entire region several times, even going through the Wither Roses' territory. His own voice was blaring through his headphones, but Scott was his best chance for answers so he refused to switch stations for even a minute.

---

"You're Boatem's leader, aren't you?" The man's gold tooth glinted.

"Well, yes, technically."

"Technically?"

"Well..."

"You mean someone else makes the decisions?"

---

Now, Grian was over at the Octagon, a fancy mall that had popped up right by the residential district Boatem called their own. Notably, it had its' own gang, who regularly hung out on the roof of the building.

The problem was getting up there, but the day when heights actually dissuaded Grian would be a very sad day indeed.

He hopped up onto a bus shelter and then lept onto a ledge on the building itself.

Oh, this was too easy, with enough momentum Grian could get up that pipe and-

Ah success, Grian was another floor higher, and the window was open into an empty shop.

He hoped they knew something, Gem was apparently missing too, and that had done nothing to calm Grian's nerves.

---

"You're not getting anything out of me." Gem grinned.

"Aren't we?" A voice blared over the speaker.

"You're too coward to even step foot in the room. I'm not telling you anything"

"Necessary precaution, you know better than anyone how toxic your roses can be. Of course, if I leave you in there long enough, whatever antidote or natural resistance you have... it'll run out eventually."

Gem didn't let her hesitation show on her face. Whoever this was... they were right. But there was no way they'd keep her that long, right?

---

"Grian!" Came a shout from behind him, so he spun in place, now rolling slowly backwards from the momentum he'd gained.

He was cutting through the shop. In the crowds, Grian would be vulnerable, but this shop was empty, and the window open at the other side should take him to ledges he could use to get further up the building.

(and civillians kept getting caught in the crossfire when the cops brought out the big guns, so as fucked up as it was, it made sense to avoid crowds)

"Cub."

"What are you doing up here?" Cub asked.

"I'm..." Okay so rolling up to enemy territory without a plan wasn't smart, but sue him, Grian was worried! "... People are missing. I wanted to know if they had any idea what's going on."

This made Cub's expression even more somber. "People. Not just-"

"Mumbo and Gem, so far. That I know." Grian said.

Cub took Grian's hand in his own. It felt grounding. Safe. Grian hadn't felt safe all day.

"And Scar." Cub said.

---

"Hello?" Scar called out. He really was alone in this sterile white room.

He pushed the panic down.

Studies showed he had a few days before the psychological effects of the confinement would start to become apparent. The question of how long they intended to keep Scar there was one he didn't have an answer for.

"I'm sure we can all come to a nice, safe, happy deal."

A voice crackled through a speaker. "I'm sure we could, if I wanted."

Scar may have been alone, but he was being watched.

---

No.

That couldn't-

No. Scar was-

...Fuck.

Grian took a breath. "We need to get to the roof." He pulled his hand from Cub's and threw a grin that he hoped was less shaky than he felt. "Try to keep up."

#JSR×MCYT AU #mcyt au #this one isn't particularly shippy but as a warning there is definitely #hermitshipping

[anotherghoul666]

ooo, that deck is very pretty

i’m not sure how tarot readings really work, so, is this a suitable question?

what is making school so difficult recently?

if not that is fine too i think a general Vibe Check would be cool :3 thankyouu :D!!

Isn't it a beauty! It was an Ordeal to get my hands on XD My partner got it for me for christmas but, like, 2 years ago. It was a kickstarter deck. It took easily over a year and a half of kickstarter shennanigans, production delays, shipping delays, etc. to get home. But now I'm so excited to see how it reads and build a bond with it! :D

This is a perfectly suitable question buddy! Let's see:

Looks like a big part of what's making school so difficult for you currently is lots of self doubt. You're stressed out about something that happened in the past, be it a class you almost failed, a class you got a bad grade in out of nowhere that pulled the rug from under you, a project you thought you nailed but it didn't do well, someone else's negative reaction to a grade, teammates in a team project that sucked to work with, etc. It's not necessarily that there was a failure, I don't think this indicates you failed a whole class or anything catastrophic. It's an error you percieve. It's the way you feel about something. You're afraid to mees up again. You're probably a perfectionist, or at least you want to do well, and that fear of messing up again paralyses you right now. Your inner-critic speaks louder than you, and it's making you stagnate. Your emotions are valid. Your fear is real. Don't dismiss it, it's not "just school stuff" or "just a grade", your feelings are real and they matter. But they don't deserve to hold you back. You can sit with the emotions. Allow them to swell up, then go back down. Sit in the wave, and it'll smooth out. If you gotta cry it out, if you gotta take it up with guardians or teachers, if you gotta blow off a fuse at a classmate who's not pulling their own weight, whatever the situation calls for, do it. As long as you don't ignore the feeling. You're not seeing the full picture right now, because the anxiety clouds your judgment. Let it flow, let it do its thing, and then you get to decide what to do next. Take a step back. Look at your whole school year. The other success you got. Those matter a lot more than where you believe you messed up. Think of the steps you're gonna take to get to where you want to be and try your best to leave your fear behind.

Also! This card wanted to say hi:

Feels like someone wants to help you out. Related to school or in general, it doesn't give me a time frame. But there's a person. Sensitive. Nurturing. Welcoming. Warm. Likely artistic or a creative of some sort. There's a healer and a supporter in your corner somewhere. Someone who'll make a point to let you know to not face your fears alone. Lean on them.

#asks #AnotherGhoul's tarot booth