#apologies for the absence of mirage

[strbry-shortcakes]

silly sweet stuff from a perfect world

(also after much consideration (aka thinking too much about his typical armor, his Christmas dress, his pareu, and how i don’t even remember seeing him wear pants in official/Francis’ art too often) i think Gabriel is a skirts guy… at least that’s what I’d like to think so that’s what the first couples ones are)

#ultrakill #gabriel ultrakill #v1 ultrakill #minos ultrakill #sisyphus ultrakill #v2 ultrakill #ultrakill ferryman #gabv1el #ferryv2 #that’s a lotta tags #ferryman’s taking the group pic btw #apologies for the absence of mirage #my art #yay fun a6 sketchbook stuff!!!! #oh yeah guess the ferryv2 brain bug got me too huh. neat

[bulbabutt]

ok i wanna talk about tmnt 2007 and the way i think this is the best version of a leo and raph conflict, and also leo as a character

for context i've been talking about tmnt things kinda chronologically, so i'm gonna mention an unconditional understanding in 03 i bring that up in a previous post about that show and the family dynamics in it here if u want context for what i mean

i think this movie can really be appreciated for the place it has between adaptations, and the way character-wise everyone is more or less the same as they've always been but with a more interpersonal relationship as the focus. the main villain of this movie doesn't really matter, the conflict, the fights, that's not where the strength is (although, it is reflected in the conflict and ill get into that)

so tmnt 07 is one movie that kind of combines the 90s movies, 03, and mirage all in one place, and tonally is is similar to the show that will come after it, 12. if the 90s movies give us conflict between leo and raph, and 03 gives us the unconditional understanding between the two, 07 takes these two aspects and creates a story out of it. (debate in your own mind if this movie is a literal sequel to the 90s ones or not, its not that important)

the set up of this movie is we are in a post killing the shredder world. leo has been told by splinter to go get training elsewhere, there isn't much context for what happened to cause this, but i would bet its a similar cause to 03, where he had ptsd and lashed out at his father to which splinter sends him to his grandfather to get better advice than he thinks he can give him. the difference here is there is no grandfather hes sent to, he's sent on a journey of self discovery around the world to learn about it and himself.

the thing about leo as a character, and this goes for all leos, he's has a very black and white way of thinking. leo thinks he's been sent away because he's failing his family, that he's not a good enough leader. so he stays away for longer because he doesn't feel good enough. he finds a place where he can help and he does that. leo always needs a bad guy to fight, or else he's fighting his own demons. so he stays there for a long time. finding a place he can help quietly, never letting anyone see him, and becoming a legend to the locals because no one knows what's really going down.

april manages to track him down and tell him about whats going on with his brothers, how they're holding up without him and without being a team, and i think thats a good reminder for him that they miss him. he doesn't tell april but he finds a way home only after hearing about this. when he arrives and speaks to splinter, he says "i was so caught up in my own world i forgot about everyone else, i'm sorry i failed" he still doesn't feel like he's done anything of worth.

i'm gonna jump in here and say, you know how we all love rise raph? cuz hes the big brother and some traits that come from that are like being overprotective and taking on everyone else's problems and trying to handle emotions alone? well that's a trait thats usually leo's. but the difference with leo is sometimes that concept doesn't make you as likeable. sometimes it means you come off like a nagging mother hen who thinks they know best but in an arrogant way. sometimes it makes you mirror being a parent when no one asked you to be. leo's less of a passionate character than raph, hes more analytical and full of himself. he takes splinters lessons more seriously, and hes always trying to do whats best for everyone so they don't have to worry. this is something evident with 03 and 12, but its so specifically noticeable here because these traits make up the main conflict. i just want to bring that up so we start seeing leo as no different than some of our other favourite iterations.

splinter responds to his apology by saying "you owe me no apology, but perhaps you should talk to raphael, your absence has been particularly difficult for him, though he'll never admit it" but when leo greets him raph is brushing him off.

on raph's end, this is him being angry that leo left, and angry that hes back and everyone wants to pretend that he wasn't gone at all. as if the time he was gone didn't happen. hes lashing out because he too cant handle talking about these emotions. and hes lashing out by becoming a vigilante in his own right.

i see a lot of people misunderstand what raph is doing here, that "this is what the turtles always do" or "this is the same as what leo was doing how could he be mad" when that is not true. that's what casey does. its true that both leo and raph have been fighting bad guys on their own (as a way of dealing with their issues) but raphael has made himself a costume to disguise himself which means hes prepared to be seen. hes riding a motorcycle around, which is loud. this isn't stealthy, this is aggressive. his vigilante name is in the news. the turtles are ninjas, they silently help where they can and fade into the night and, very specifically, they work as a team. these turtles live in a dangerous world, what if something happened to him while no one else was around? they would never know because he never told anyone.

so raph is lashing out, and leo doesn't have a good way of dealing with it. he tries to slide back into being leader, doing what splinter says but he forgets how his brothers are, and with raph egging them on they get into fights they shouldn't. which leo specifically gets in trouble for, as the oldest brother, and as their leader. leo tries to be this better leader hes supposed to have learned to be, but it doesn't work and raph ends up back out there in his vigilante get up. leo tracks down said vigilante, and in his peak "leo knows best" moment, lectures him, not knowing its his brother. there's a scuffle, and the mask comes off. let me point out that casey knew this vigilante was raph but his own brother didn't, because leo has been gone that long.

so lets get into what this fight is really about. on the surface, its "wow you've been going out at night alone putting yourself in dangerous situations with no backup" and "so what you're just mad that i can do it without you" which leo would be right about. and this is the analytical leo, he really thinks that's all that's going on here. what hes missing is that raphael has missed him as a brother, and hes hurt that leonardo left and just came back no big deal. that he wants everything to be normal. raphael is always a character with big emotions and the only outlet he knows to express them is violence.

leo, who as we've established, went away to learn to be better for his family is angry that raph doesn't see that. he's mad raph doesn't appreciate the effort he went to, and he thinks he's just angry because he's not in charge. each brother sees the other as being arrogant.

this leads them to the big fight. no one can disagree that this is the best part of the movie (seriously watch the movie for this scene if you haven't seen it before) , but the real best part of it is that raphael wins. raph proves hes just as capable of a fighter as his brother, if not more-so. he uses those sais as they're supposed to be used, catching leo's swords and in a fit of rage he fucking breaks them, leaving leo defenceless and completely vulnerable to attack. you'd think he'd be smug that leo lost but he pauses, going through a lot of emotions in a moment, questioning what he's doing, why hes doing it. and leo finally looks his brother in the eye and sees raph going through something he didn't before, realizing raph hasn't been angry that he's back, but that he's angry that he ever left. they don't have a conversation, because raph cant handle all these emotions and he runs away, crying as he does. leo just watches him, taking it all in and realizing the error of his ways.

hearing leo scream turns raph around, but he's too late to help him, and this is where raph regrets his own actions because right then, leo is also proven right in his argument. because he gets kidnapped. if leo hadn't chased raph down, there is a very good chance that would have been raph being kidnapped. with no backup, with no one knowing what happened to him. that's why its important that the turtles are a team.

raph goes home full of guilt, and there's a good moment of showing how he cannot open up emotionally here, because he grunts, punches the wall, knocks over some weights and forces splinter to ask him what happened, because that's how raphael is. he laments to his father that he finally understands why leo is the better son, proving that to raph none of this was about their team, but about their family. conflating the two ideas in his head. splinter gives him a talk that mirrors what he said to leo when he returned earlier in the movie, encouraging him that he is a good son and brother. this shows that these brothers have very similar insecurities about their value to their family.

the rest of the movie plays out as you expect, they go save leo, they stop the bad guy, they reconcile and behave as the team they're supposed to be. but i just want to point out that the villains plot is mirrored in leo and raph's conflict. the 'villain' here is a brother who has been cursed to be immortal without his own siblings. for 3000 years he lived to regret his actions and decided to undo his curse, but he used the cursed stone versions of his siblings to do so. no communication, just thinking he knew better (which maybe he did) and lying about it. that caused them to lie to him right back, and try to overthrow him and destroy the world. this is just one family whose inner turmoil could have destroyed the world. you might say, oh that's not a very interesting turtles villain, but its not supposed to be. its not the focus.

this movie is all about the complicated relationship between a family, and i see so many people talk about it by trying to ask who's right and who's wrong. that's not how it works. life is more complicated than that, people are more complicated than that. its boring to look at this movie and just say "leo is wrong and raph is right" because that's not even how the characters see it. this movie is about leo and raph being mirrors of each other in their arrogance, in their insecurities, and in their stubborn pig-headed refusal to let the other know how they feel. splinter says as much at the start of the movie. this whole movie shows that without each other, they need to be fighting something so they don't get swept up by their own emotions, which they are both bad at processing. they are SUCH brothers. they are so similar emotionally, yet they have such a hard time understanding each other.

personally 07 leo is my favourite leo for his complexity, his flaws his strength, his growth. its sad we never got those sequel movies to get into the other brothers heads as much as we got into leo and raphs heads.

also nolan north and james arnold taylor gave the best vocal performances in this movie and they deserve all the credit for it.

#tmnt #tmnt 2007 #tmnt 07 #teenage mutant ninja turtles #07 leo #i will defend 07 leo to death does no one understand his autistic swag like i do #all leos are like this he just got to shine cuz the movie was ABOUT his and raphs issues #this has been in the drafts for a while and in the mind a LOT longer than that #sorry its long idek if thats all i have to say about him but CLEARLY its long enough #thoughts

[kairiscorner]

so while i was playing enstars and grinding to get natsume's 5* in mirage, something entered my mind

imagine how, before miles 42's dad died, they had a fight or an argument over something so futile and stupid, something so trivial it shouldn't even be worth arguing over.

imagine miles 42 coming home late at night and his dad just waiting for him by the kitchen table and is thoroughly exhausted. his mom is angry at their son over something, like maybe missing his dad's promotion party, and she can't even face him right now because she has work the next day, so his dad is the only one who's gonna talk to him.

little do they both know this is the last time they'll ever speak to each other, so none of them are walking on eggshells around each other and are just being honest–or as honest as they'll allow each other to be because they're both hiding how they really feel from each other.

miles 42 tries not to worry his dad or dismiss his absence as just another mess up, nothing that he meant any harm in doing anyway. but his dad's not having it. "where were you?" he'll ask, and miles 42 just shrugs it off. "at school." "this late? miles, you promised you'd be here with us today."

and this is where all hell breaks loose, when they remind him of the promise he broke. since i think miles 42 struggles to control negative emotions towards himself, he'd probably look at his dad and just... just tell him, "well, i broke my promise. there, happy? we can't all be perfect, dad."

"why are you so determined to go against me, son? did i do something wrong?" he asks him, but miles 42 never answers. he trudges upstairs and puts his hood on as his dad talks to him from downstairs, trying to control his voice so as not to wake miles' mom up. miles 42 climbs out of his window and sneaks off into the night, but before he can even climb out, his dad has that talk with him from outside his door.

he apologizes for getting mad over something so trivial as not being there among the sea of faces and bodies there during his promotion party, it's just that he wishes he could understand miles more. but miles doesn't hear the end of it and escapes into the night.

and those words he spoke through the closed door, not even being able to see or reconcile with his only son, are the last words he ever spoke to miles 42.

#earth 42 miles #earth 42 miles angst #miles morales angst #miles 42 #atsv miles morales 42 #miles morales imagine #earth 42 miles morales #atsv #atsv imagines #atsv angst #atsv spiderman #spiderman across the spiderverse imagines #spiderman across the spiderverse angst #spiderman across the spiderverse

[aspenaspid]

Might be too late by now.

Not a fan of pointless labels unless they designated the lines of oppression, Hobie often veiled his emotions, letting them fester in the shadows. Many would think that a soul as raw as Hobie would lay his heart bare with a blunt "I think I love you" amidst the mundane act of sharing fries in a cafeteria. But not with her. This girl, a ticking time bomb of chaos and entwined emotions, had more audacity than him, admitting her love during one of their surreptitious nights in her parallel universe post-mission.

"You know, I've been in love with you, right? Almost from the beginning.”

She'd smirk, brushing off her confession as if testing him, echoing the very nonchalance she believed he'd portray.

Hobie’s response was cryptic, a distant smile, as if saving her words in a vault, weighing their worth. She wasn’t his first entanglement, nor would she be his last.

Anika, though cloaked in naivety, was no fool. The chasm between them was evident - the anarchist and the elite's offspring. A warrior of truth against a seductive deceiver torn between two worlds.

It was her rebellious streak, her defiance against her father's silver-tongued lies, that kept her afloat. But even with her skepticism, it was hard for her to decipher the cryptic truths hidden within Hobie’s talk of justice.

The jolt came to him one fateful day when the void of her absence gnawed at him. He yearned not for the adoration she was always eager to shower him in, but for the fire in her eyes, the storms she conjured when he irked her, and the subsequent calm of her apologies. The memory of her lost in thoughts, playing with her elongated bangs, and her vulnerable moments of fatigue in the HQ lounge haunted him.

A month of icy silence, and the voice in Hobie’s head grew louder. The realization struck him like a dagger - had they truly been shadows to each other for that long? Question marks punctuated his every thought. No shared missions, no stolen moments in the labyrinth of HQ's corridors. It stung, the possibility that Anika might be evading his presence.

The day he trapped her in the corridor, after a relentless chase that only confirmed his doubts, he seized her wrist, pulling her into his grasp. But the Anika he met was a mirage; her once-vivid eyes now held a void, her lips no longer bore traces of their playful banter. The haunting tranquility of her gaze stirred a profound unease within him.

Words were prisoners in his throat, choked by the maelstrom of emotions. Their silent exchange, though brief, was a tempest of unsaid words and buried feelings.

In the shadows, they parted ways.

#into the spider verse #spiderverse #hobie brown #hobie brown fanart #spiderpunk #hobika

[mrfelixfischoeder]

Chesterlypso - 7 >:)

7- Write about one member of your ship asking the other to dance with them.

WEHEHE i love this but also SURPRISE CHALYPSO

The hall is loud – the band the reverend hired were a tad unusual. Mary supposes with the rise of the Unmentionables, musicians are finding it harder to get jobs outside their comfort zone. So what little they had, they made do: be it the strings are far more violent and the drums louder and heavier. She does note that Orlaag’s charge, Olena, stands on stage with her violin. She is good. Unfortunate that her business seems to lie in the unknown than music. She sits at her table, happily sipping her sherry as she listens to Angie discuss her most recent commission from Orlaag.

“You seem to be quite good with him,” her friend points out, and Mary shrugs.

“I find him easy in personality and in temperament.” She excuses. Though it is as if God thinks she cannot have too much of a good thing: Angie nudges her, head angling to their right, and Mary spares a glance, not making it obvious (the pair had made it their duty to be able to peer and peek and not be noticed for maximum information retention and gossip). Chesterfield approaches, snakelike eyes on the women.

“I’m not putting up with this,” Angie mutters behind her fan, “I’ll get you another drink, right?”

“No, Angie, do not leave me!” Mary hisses, trying to bring her back down onto her seat, but Angie is already up and resilient.

“I’m not gettin’ kicked out of another ‘do!” she replies, winking as she hides her smirk behind her fan. Mary grits her teeth, the fabric of Angie’s dress slipping through her fingers. Another meek ‘no!’ escapes before she straightens and clears her throat, feeling the shadow of a predator falling upon her.

“Miss Huggenkiss!” Dr Chesterfield smiles. He’s got a new suit jacket, velour and red. She despises it (it would look good on Charles). “I see you are alone. That simply will not do.”

“Oh, I find it quite adequate, Dr Chesterfield.” Mary scans the room over his shoulder for anyone she might make eye contact with. Unfortunately she already sees Roisin and Magnus sneaking out onto the balcony. Angie is following around a waiter. Finally Chesterfield leans into her vision, as casually as he can.

“Nonsense, you do not know adequacy quite like I do.” Mary wonders how he thinks these words might make any sort of positive impact, if that is even his intention. Suddenly he holds his arm up, “Come, I think a dance. I have not seen you on the floor once. Surely not all your dances are reserved for the Colonel, even in his absence?”

At the mention of Charles, Mary wants to bristle. Wants to know where he is. Wants to write him another letter. But instead she smiles, standing up, eye to eye with the doctor. “No, not only him. I keep all my friends in mind.” She makes a show of looking around, “Though you will do, if it eases your emotional state that I dance with you.”

She isn’t sure if he simply allows the comment or it’s flown over his head. But as soon as he turns, hand gripping hers a bit tightly, he grunts as he walks right into someone. Chesterfield nearly raises his voice, until he stares at the bespectacled man, still in uniform.

“Colonel!”

Charles, she thinks with a sigh of relief. The moment she sees him she slips out of Chesterfield’s hold and to his side, taking hold of Charles’ arm to make sure he is not a mirage.

“I do not mean to interrupt, but I do believe that ah – the first dance is at least reserved for me.” Charles explains, looking at Mary. As their eyes lock, her gaze softens entirely, and she doesn’t even feel the smile that is present on her face. He smiles back at the warm reception. He always feels prosperous when she shows him her beautiful smile. “That has been our deal for a very long time.”

“Yes!” Mary nods, soothing her tone, “Yes. Apologies.”

“Indeed, apologies for the interruption, Mr Chesterfield.”

“Doctor.”

“Hm.”

Charles turns with Mary, the pair effortlessly joining the crowd, leaving Chesterfield in the shadows.

#mtl oc #calypso #amonolith chesterfield #writing prompt #i wish to give chesterfield mr collins energy if he also did a bit of coke #chalypso

[janekfan]

The incessant knocking, knocking, knocking echoed about his brain in time with the pounding of his skull. Sinnoh, he hurt. Achy all over and so exhausted he’d been unable to attend to Lord Electrode in several days.

It would seem perhaps his absence had been notable to a certain Warden inhabiting the Highlands alongside him if the booming voice accompanying the fist doing its level best to hammer down his door was any indication.

“Warden Melli!”

There was worry there. Worry. Imagine that. Someone worrying after him, the Great Melli. In his weakness tears pricked the corners of his eyes. As if he needed anyone to worry. No. Not about him.

And he especially didn’t need attention from the strange faller. An outsider. Sinnoh only knew where he’d been. Literally. Even he didn’t know where he hailed from originally. But Melli could tell you that knowing one’s origin did not necessarily happiness make.

A draft. Chilly, and he shivered, cuddling Skuntank just a bit closer.

“I apologize, Melli. I grew concerned when our paths did not cross ways and then you were not answering the door–”

“Peace, Ingo.” Ugh. His voice. Hoarse and gravely. He waved the man away. “You’ve seen me, now go, lest I pass whatever this is on to you.” He coughed, wincing at the pain in his throat. Ah, if only he hadn’t run out of tea so soon. “We both know you’d probably not survive given your constitution.” Ingo merely settled next to him. Waiting calmly as his Little Lady and Mirage added their warmth to the pile. Skuntank rumbled a greeting.

Worry and now patience. Melli closed his eyes against the unwelcome feelings welling in his chest.

Fool.

Which one of them it was, he couldn’t say.

“So you’re here then. What now?” With effort, he turned to face the drawn, pale face of his Warden counterpart. Despite the persistent frown, Melli could see the relief in his eyes, the barest hint of a smile.

“I brought tea and some of the medicines you taught me how to make in the hopes they might help.” He scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment. “I have to admit, I feared the worst, so I may have arrived over prepared.” Indeed. Melli raised an eyebrow at the basket spilling over still on his shoulders. Tea would be nice.

“Carry on. I won’t stop you.”

Melli drifted on the current of soft, domestic sounds. The even breaths of sleeping Pokemon filled his yurt and soon he joined them.

Cool and soft, a gentle palm settling against his forehead roused him some indeterminate amount of time later.

“Hm. You are very hot.”

Melli blushed. Hoping the flush of fever dusting his cheeks hid it. Ingo couldn’t know what he said.

Could he?

Strong hands levered him up, settled him against a mound of pillows, before pressing a warm cup into his hold. Perfectly steeped. Just a hint of Dazzling Honey and Gentle Mint. Precisely as he liked. It was unexpected. As were the careful hands tying his long hair out of his face. Tucking a stray lock behind his ear and if Melli weren’t mistaken, lingering.

“There, is that more comfortable?” Caught wholly off guard, Melli merely sipped without answer. Ingo didn’t seem to mind. “I made certain to inform Lady Sneasler that I would be away for a time. When I did not see you again today on my rounds, I knew something was amiss. It appears as though I was correct. You would never shirk your duties unless you were out of commission, I know this to be true.” The unwavering confidence rattled around behind Melli’s breastbone and a damp laugh shook itself loose. “M’Melli?” His heart beat heavy, painfully. This wasn’t fair. He was in no state to defend himself. All his many walls in shambles from fever and loneliness.

He chose this. He was supposed to be responsible. He promised Adaman.

“It’s nothing, Ingo.” Yes. Nothing. This was nothing. It could never be anything but. This was a distraction.

Twin sweeps of two calloused thumbs brushed along the bones of his cheeks. Tears. He was crying. Always overdramatic.

“It is alright, Melli. It is alright if it is something.”

And, Sinnoh, could he know?

Could he feel the same?

Did it matter if he did?

“I’m sorry. Don’t know what’s come over me.” Despite being the taller, broader of the two, Ingo somehow managed to fold him up into his lap. Hushing him, hugging him. Kindness all over and around him until he was too exhausted to persist in his foolishness.

“There we are.” A damp cloth ran over his hot, hot face. “You do not feel very well at all, do you?” He wasn’t meant to answer so he didn’t, just accepted the medicine tipped into his mouth. The tea, now cold, but no less perfect.

“M’sorry.” Mumbled against the worn fabric of that absurd coat where he lay listening to the heart beat below. Ingo wouldn’t hear it, instead, soothed him while the sleeping draught dragged him under.

A soft press of lips tested the temperature of his skin as he slipped completely away.

#pokemon legends arceus #nobori #melli #tusbaki #ingo #sick #care #fever #pining #highlandshipping

[oletus-hullabaloo]

What seemed to be a fabric brushing along Quinlan’s shoulder in a gentle tap to gain his attention could be felt before the figure pulled away as soon as they had done the movement, opting to shift and take their top-hat within their hands (one, notably partly stitched by the same fabric from before) instead dipping in the manner of a bow. A single wolf ear flicked as they strained a smile against their own stitchings present on their mouth and snapped.

From seemingly thin air and the golden light lining it together before it seemed to practically manifest before reality, a scroll was present suddenly, donning illuminated ink that shone.

Greetings, Dear Friend. I apologize for I and Wick’s absence, for I presume the Ball has reached its conclusion already?

A tsk at the missed opportunity as the Wick in question fluttered behind Specter’s legs, bouncing with a small bark directed at Quinlan; though the dog in an almost guarded stance around others, she seemed to be more at ease this time around.

Though, do entertain us, what was such celebration like?

Balls were something reminiscent to them, already, it was nothing new to experience aside from the more particular guests invited— but, wherever the shop would go, they would follow, and it would not hurt to take one of the fewer times they left from the shop for a small chat at least.

~ 🪡

🎃 QUINLAN [TEA PARTY] HAS RECEIVED YOUR LETTER! 🎃

Quinlan had been preoccupied, so it proved, bent over a book with his Phoenix-stolen feather in hand. It dripped with a shimmering orange ink before it disappeared, even though there was no inkwell present.

The small rabbit oft perched on his shoulder wasn't around either, instead electing to grow as soon as its feet touched the ground into a far more sizeable creature and begin to chase Wick around. This was standard practice, all in good fun, and it was known that they meant no harm.

This did bring a smile, but one that fell momentarily as the touch was felt. Yes, his visitor... Wick did not often come alone. Pivoting on his heel to face Spectre, Quinlan straightened his bow-tie, bowing almost comically and bringing his own top-hat to his chest in tandem with the flourish.

Quinlan clapped his hands both in a show of joy and to snap himself back to task, taking the quill back from its suddenly materialised ink pot and beginning to write his reply on the parchment that'd unravelled before his eyes. Even if his words faded away, he knew better than to think the wolf-boy wouldn't be able to read them.

Things never worked in such a straightforward way in their land.

"Oh, my dear friend. It's been much too long! Surely my uncle sent you an invitation to the ball? I'd not be surprised if he forgot... In any case, let's not throw accusations about. People are often busy, and those who live for as long as you or I? Time warps and makes deadlines far too easy to disregard.

The ball was a joy to attend, as always, and the Count didn't make too much of a fuss about my antics. You needn't worry about me. I only wish you were there. Silent company is no less delightful, and you provide respite when it gets too loud, much as I'm flamboyant myself.

You'll be glad to know, though, that I saved some tea sets that Miss Eclectic had made from the ball - maybe you'd like to sell them as souvenirs? Dear Uncle wants them gone, but I think they're rather pretty. They'd be a shame to waste."

And with the setting of the feather in its inkwell, the likes of which was present again, Quinlan and his rabbit both faded in a night-borne mirage.

#🎃 treats and trickery / tea party 🎃 #idv #idv askblog #identity v #mike morton #idv mike #🎪 hullabaloo hijinks / ask answered 🎪

[methysos]

This will be my last time addressing this, I’m sorry that you feel like I failed you. I have tried my best to be there for you and for the longest time I felt like I haven’t. I don’t want to ruin our moments but you are actively trying to tarnish how I behaved. I am not responsible for your image of me. I am not responsible for the villain you painted. I know that you are hurting and I know that all of this stems from that but while I do accept my fault in taking a sudden absence, I don’t regret my decision. I didn’t feel comfortable with you, I won’t apologize for that due to the fact that I didn’t cause that. I never spoke ill of you and I never mentioned your name to anybody while you spoke to everyone about me, literally spitting awful things. I didn’t manipulate you or use you or take advantage of you. I don’t recognize you. That phone call affected me more than you realize. I never lied to you. I never intended to. I just didn’t feel like communicating because you wouldn’t have understood. I felt pressured and put in a box by you. I’m not ungrateful. I do acknowledge that %50+ of my whole entirety belongs to you and is shaped by you. I have shown grace to you while you yelled unspeakable things to my face during fits, during episodes and I do not use it against you AT ALL. I just wish I could’ve had the same level of love shown to me when I “fuck up” or at least wasn’t myself. I felt belittled and misunderstood and small. I do not mistake you for a certain parent figure. I have established relations lasting over 10+ years and they have seen every facet of me as well as you have. I’m tired of the way I’m perceived, it fucks with my head. It’s not a delusion nor a mirage. I know my truth. 2023 will be the year I settle. I won’t settle for less. I’m not lying, it is still a journey. I have mishaps but I’ve grown to take self care days for myself. I have conversations within and fully realize and function. I love you. It won’t feel sincere to you but this version of me loves you more than you accept but also loves themselves. I can love me better than you can, love.

[albumwalloffame]

Album Covers Hall (Wall) of Fame 2022 Summer Inductees

Look, long form apology post about my absence is gonna come in a bit, but I’m back and I have obligations. It’s been a while since I been able to share some pieces of one of my favourite forms of art; the album cover. So, let’s get this year wrapped up before we carry on, eh?

1. Public Enemy - It Takes A Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back

2. Blind Melon - Blind Melon

3. Fleetwood Mac - Mirage

4. The Clash - London Calling

5. David Bowie - “Heroes”

#music #music album #music albums #album art #album covers #album cover art #art #public enemy #blind melon #fleetwood mac #the clash #david bowie #rock and roll #pop #pop music #Album Covers Wall (Hall) of Fame

[cygnetofthesea]

Welcome Home, Part 1: Élite Fanfiction

This fic was inspired and dedicated to @sweetpeony200​ and the request for a Guznadia reunion in NYC. Thank you for the inspiration!! It’s not quite what was asked, so apologies for that! (Hopefully @jasminejc4525​ writes her version 👀 ) The writing ran away from me and I couldn’t help but delve into Guzman’s psyche. I love doing character studies so this was a way for me to explore the complexities of Guzman’s mind and emotions. I hope to write a second part with more of their reunion, more of their present-day interaction the day Guzman arrives. Hope this part is still enjoyable until then! <3 Part of the Moments Series.

Guzman sat still with his eyes closed, the picture of calm if anyone looked over at him, but inside his was an anxious mess. He wasn't a nervous flyer by any means as he's gone on countless trips overseas throughout his short life, but this was no ordinary flight and he was no longer that ordinary boy.

This was the flight that was taking him toward the rest of his life.

The past few months without Nadia had been unbearable. He had known it was going to be difficult but he hadn't been prepared for the constant tightness that sat on his chest. The only thing that loosened it was Nadia, talking to her, face-timing her, texting her. Every time he saw her name or face on his screen, his chest swelled with elation instead of pain.

It was with Nadia's absence that Guzman was forced to confront the pain that haunted him from Marina and Polo's death. He felt that out-of-body experience all too often, every morning waking up to a sense of loss and confusion. His sister was dead, his best friend had murdered her, and now that best friend was murdered too. It was too much for him to comprehend, his mind twirling with the reality of it because it just didn't feel real, couldn't be real.

But it was.

Every time he looked in the mirror, he saw the ashen face that became almost unrecognizable to him. He didn't know how it was possible to be still standing in the wake of all this grief.

It was Nadia who had made him feel human, who had centered him, quelled the raging storm inside of him enough to feel alive. Her simple presence felt like a balm to his soul, brought peace to his mind and combated the pain, the incomprehensible thoughts as he tried to make sense of his life.

It was with her Guzman felt like he could deal with everything. She was the tether that brought him  to life and snapped him back to reality. Guzman had always been intrigued by her, since the first moment he set eyes on her simply because of the utter calm and resolve she emitted.

She was this young girl of sixteen and yet he carried herself with a sense of resolve and strength that was unlike anything he had seen in even some adults. Even Lu, who he believed to be tough, wasn't anything like Nadia, didn't nearly compare because it was Lu's privilege that gave her that strength. She was born into a world where everything was handed to her, her every desire was at her fingertips, effortless.

But Nadia wasn't like that. Not by a long shot. She worked hard for everything, every single step she took was a battle for her because of her race, her religion, her gender, her socioeconomic standing. She had everything working against her and yet she weathered through it, pushing her way not by aggression or iniquitous means but with a quiet fierceness, a calm gait.

He had to admit, his attraction to her was instant. That had been quite unexpected in of itself and it caught him completely off guard, but it was undeniable. He was pulled in by her demeanor, completely and utterly intrigued by her. He wanted to unwrap her, metaphorically and literally. He wanted to uncover the complexities of her, what gave her that strength, what made her happy, what made her laugh. And then as soon as that thought entered his mind, he knew he needed to see it, to hear it.

What did Nadia Shana's laughter sound like? What did her smiling eyes look like? Particularly, what did her soft eyes and smile look like when it was directed at him? And when by some miracle he managed to achieve that smile, he was addicted, pulled even deeper into her. He was lost and in love before he even knew it was happening. 

If he thought it was a miracle that he made her smile, he didn’t know what to call her falling in love with him, her actually wanting and agreeing to be with him. Perhaps it was some divine intervention. Perhaps God had decided that he finally earned her love, that he had suffered enough and deserved something beautiful and miraculous. That she was meant to be his savior all along. Nadia Shana saved so many simply by existing. 

And now as the eight hour flight was coming to a close, he couldn’t believe he was going to be reunited with his miracle at long last. He felt like at any moment he would open his eyes and wake up in bed with a heavy heart full of longing and tired, wet eyes. He opens his eyes now at the thought, wanting to get the disappointment over with, but instead of finding himself in bed, he’s met with the sign that reads Fasten Seat belt. 

It flashes red just as a ding overhead sounds. 

“Attention passengers, we are now approaching JFK airport. Please fasten your seat belt in preparation for the descent. Thank you for flying Air Eropa, we hope you had a pleasant trip.”

 Guzman takes a deep breath, his sweaty hands immediately fastening his seatbelt. His heart is racing in anticipation and impatience. His leg bounces erratically as he looks out the window as though somehow he’d be able to spot Nadia from such great heights. He’s momentarily distracted by the view but soon wonders if Nadia was already waiting for him or perhaps she was still on her way. 

He switches out the SIM card from his phone for the one Nadia had mailed him a week before so that he could call her as soon as he landed. He remembered the day he saw it in their mailbox. He knew to expect because Nadia had already given him the heads up, they had been making all the arrangements for weeks at that point, but he wasn’t any less excited when he saw it. 

He had torn through the package that had her neat handwriting on it and wanted to immediately switch out the SIM cards but she had teased him it wouldn’t work. 

“An American SIM isn’t going to do you much good in Madrid,” Nadia had giggled. 

Guzman shrugged with a tilt of his head. “I know but I’m excited. I feel like I’m one step closer to you and I can’t wait until you’re in my arms.”

She had looked at him softly, a wistful smile on her face. “I know what you mean. I can’t wait either.”

Before he knows it, the plane lands and Guzman is out of his seat and grabbing his carry-on in record speed. His strides are long and fast and he feels like he’s practically flying at the rate he’s going. He can’t see anything in his periphery, his eyes ahead and only looking around to make sure he’s going to the right place. 

He calls her as soon as he can, finally putting the new SIM card to use. The phone rings for a long and excruciating minute. His heart begins to sink when he hears the click on her beautiful voice on the other end. 

“Guzman,” she says breathlessly as though she had been running. “Are you here? I just saw your flight landed.”

His stomach does a somersault, a beaming smile across his face. “Yeah, I just picked up my suitcase. Are you here?”

Nadia lets out an astonished laugh. “You’re really here? Where?”

Guzman looks around. “I’m by the Emirates line, where it says terminal 7.”

“I’m looking for you.”

His heart gallops in his chest and he sounds winded when he asks, “You’re here?”

“When you say ‘here’ you better mean JFK airport because that’s where I am now.”

Guzman spins in place, one hand on his suitcase and the other pressing his phone tightly to his ear. He can hear his own heavy breath loud in his ear.

“Yes, this is definitely JFK airport,” he laughs, looking at the crowd. He even spots a film crew on the other side and remembers how Nadia said it was a popular site for tv shows and films. That was probably why it was especially crowded and hard to see around the bodies. 

Nadia lets out her own excited laugh. “I see you! You’re wearing your green jacket, the one with the orange lining inside, the one I gave you.”

The excitement mounts inside of him, he feels like his heart would either burst out of him or he would throw up right then. 

“Yes! Yes, I’m wearing your jacket. You can see me? Where are you?”

“I’m coming toward you. Turn around.”

He whirls around and there she was, his eyes immediately finding her. It was as though time had stopped and everything, everybody had ceased to exist and there was only her. Nadia, Nadia, Nadia….

In every scenario he imagined, he had run toward her. No matter how wild his imagination, In every single version of his reunion with her, there was running involved: he’d see her as soon as he got off the plane, waiting for him at the tarmac and he’d run to her, their eyes would meet across the the luggage pick-up and he’d jump across and run to her, they’d see each other across the airport and run to each other, colliding until they fell to the ground.

But here, in this moment now, he was stunned. He wasn’t prepared for the breadth of her beauty so close to him, just mere steps away. It was almost overwhelming, his senses anticipating her, his mind unable to comprehend that she was here, that in just moments he would be able to not only hear and see her but actually touch her, smell her, feel her, kiss her...even make love to her if she was so inclined. 

His arm falls to his side, limply holding his phone and his breath is caught in his throat as he stares at her in awe. She felt like a mirage but her sparkling eyes are drawing closer, closing the distance between them. She stops just inches away from him, a soft, achingly beautiful smile on her face that he feels his chest hurt at the sight. 

She’s the first one to speak. “Hey.”

And just like that, he’s snapped back to reality, the emotions falling over him in one fell sweep that he feels like he’d buckle under the weight but instead he pulls her into his arms, holding onto her to tether him. 

“Nadia.” His voice comes out in a choked sob and it’s only then he realizes that he’s crying.

He feels her warm body against him, soft and familiar and he finally feels what he’s been missing all along: home. 

He wraps his arms around her tightly, encasing her and holding her close as though trying to meld their bodies together. 

“Nadia.”

“Guzman.”

He buries his face in her neck, feeling the coolness of her silk hijab and the warmth from her skin simultaneously, the sensation so familiar and glorious he can’t help leaning heavily against her.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he croaks. 

“I’ve missed you too.”

He pulls back slightly and catches her glittering eyes. She lets out a wet chuckle and wipes his cheeks with both hands. “I’ve missed this face.”

She leans in and kisses his damp skin and his eyes flutter close as he kisses his eyes next, basking in her touch even as it makes him breathless. 

“Oh god, I love you.”

He lets out a ragged breath and pulls her lips to his before she can even respond, unable to hold off any longer. He needs to feel her, taste her and god, does she taste divine. He doesn’t mean to get carried away but the full weight of reality hits him: she’s really here in his arms, he��s not going to wake up because this isn’t a dream. 

He kisses her hard, cupping the back of her head as it leans back against the force of his lips. His tongue slides against her desperately again and again, needing to breathe her in, needing her taste to fill him up because he has been hungry for so long, starving for her touch and he can’t get enough. 

He wants to slide his lips against more skin, find the soft spot behind her ear that he knows makes her weak, before sliding down her throat, his tongue tracing the skin there. He wants to grip her until her clothes fall away and there’s nothing left but her skin against his.

He’s so desperate for her he feels he could weep and almost does when she pulls away with a gasp. He chases her lips with a soft whine at the back of his throat. “Nadia,” he pants, looking at her with hooded eyes. 

Her eyes are just as intense but with a shyness that he certainly didn’t have. He had no qualms showing all his love for her for the world to see. 

She slides her hand down to his chest to halt any further movement with a soft smile. “I love you too. Let’s go home,” she says.

And he wants to pull her in again, the word home echoing inside him, his body filling with elation. Home, he was home now, with her. He swallows thickly and nods against her. It takes a herculean effort to pull away from her but even then, he pulls away just enough to gather up his large suitcase that had fallen in his haste to embrace Nadia. He keeps an arm firmly around her, plastering her to him.

Nadia giggles at the gesture, shaking her head even as she stands on her tiptoes to kiss his jaw. “Is this all you brought with you? I was expecting more.”

“No, I just brought the essentials and figured Mama can ship the rest as I need them. Plus, I can always get new things here.” 

“How was your flight?” She tries to reach for his carry-on. “Here, let me hold that for you, at least. You must be tired.”

“It’s ok, I’m not tired,” he says, looking at her with a soft smile. He was still reeling but he hooks the carry-on to the suitcase and pulls them forward, keeping his arm tight around her. “How did you get here?”

Her smile turns coy as she looks up at him. This time, she was the one dragging him forward eagerly. “It’s a surprise. Come on!”

She drags him along by the hand, practically skipping with excitement that he can’t help laughing with her. They make it out of the airport and immediately he’s bombarded with noise. He’s not unfamiliar with city life being from Madrid and visiting Barcelona often, but the noise here certainly felt different somehow. People chattering in so many different languages, cars honking, loved ones greeting each other with shouts and squeals.

He barely has time to register it all when Nadia expertly weaves him past the people and cars, crossing what looked like an island to get to a parking lot. He glances behind them at the long line of taxis waiting in a line, confused.

“Isn’t that where we’re supposed to wait for the taxi?” 

But Nadia says nothing, simply squeezing his hand and continuing her trek to the parking lot. 

“Is there a special taxi here?” he asks. 

“Oh I can’t wait to see how this city is going to test your patience,” she says in amusement. 

They finally stop in front of a grey jeep, clearly an older model but still in relatively good shape. Guzman looks at it, noting that it had been recently cleaned, a shiny gleam to the impeccable paint job. He peers inside and sees it’s neat and tidy in there with soft-looking seats and a backpack in the back seat. 

He looks back at Nadia. “What’s this? Is this our uber? Where’s the driver?”

He’s looking around as though the driver was going to stride up any second when Nadia lets go of his hand and heads toward the trunk. She pops open the trunk and looks at him expectantly.

“What, am I going to be your bellhop and your driver? Get your suitcase in here.”

Guzman looks at her stunned, not comprehending what she was implying. He looks between her smug face and the car with new eyes.  He points at the car and lets out an astonished laugh. 

“This is yours? How?” 

Nadia shrugs, dusting off invisible dust from her shoulders with a wink. “I bought it.”

His eyes bug. “But, you don’t even drive?”

She brandishes a card out to him, seemingly from out of nowhere. “I do now.”

He takes the card from her and looks at it in awe, seeing her name, birthday, and picture on it, confirming that Nadia, indeed, could drive. At least according to the state of New York and if his eyes weren’t deceiving him.

“Holy shit,” he laughs. He grabs her up into a hug, lifting her off the ground. “Congratulations, baby, I’m so proud of you! You never said anything when we spoke.”

She returns his happy kiss when he sets her back down. “I wanted to surprise you. Plus, I’d have been embarrassed if I ended up not passing so I didn’t want to get both of our hopes up.”

He shakes his head lovingly at her, placing more quick kisses to her mouth. “Nadia, I’d never be disappointed in you. I’d have been proud of you simply for trying.”

She kisses his nose. “I know you would and I love you all the more for it. I just wanted to surprise you and see the look on your face just now? Worth it.”

“Holy shit,” he says again, in awe. “I can’t believe you managed all this on top of everything else. I mean, I can, but I can’t comprehend how. And the car, I thought money was tight?”

Nadia shrugs. “It’s not the easiest, but I’ve been saving up well before Columbia even happened. I always wanted a car and I always thought college would be the best time to get one, in case I ended up somewhere near home and needed to commute.”

“Wow” He shakes his head again, this time with a dull ache in his chest. All these months Nadia had been painstakingly saving her hard-earned money not just for school but for freedom, she had been studying for her permit, took her test, passed, took driving lessons and then passed that too. All of this had been happening and he had no clue. 

He knew she wasn’t trying to keep him out of the loop intentionally and his heart warmed at the thought of her wanting to surprise him but it made him realize once again how different they were. Not for the first time he wondered what she even saw in him. Would she ever wake up and realize that she could do better than him? Selfishly he prayed that she didn’t.

“You’re amazing,” he says. “So my suitcase can fit in here?”

She scoffs, “Please, it can fit at least three of the same size,” she calculates. She jumps in place and gestures to the open trunk. “Come on, stick it in there! Or do you want to check out more of this parking lot?”

Guzman pretends to look around. “Is a carnival going to pop up somewhere? I’ve heard they do that here.”

Nadia rolls her eyes and shoves him playfully. He catches her hand in his keeping her from pulling away completely. “Someone’s eager to get me home.”

“And someone’s not?” she challenges, sending him a coy look. 

Immediately Guzman throws his suitcase inside haphazardly and slams the trunk shut. “What are we waiting for? I just had a long flight.” 

He shuffles Nadia urgently to the driver's side, her laughter filing his ears pleasantly. He smooches kisses to her cheek as he helps her in before running around to the passenger side. 

The drive is long and somehow short all at the same time. Perhaps Guzman hadn’t yet become jaded from the New York City traffic and he was too amused with Nadia’s bouts of road rage to notice how long they sat on the road. 

“Did you see that idiot? You’re supposed to signal, how do you pass the driver’s test when you don’t even signal?” She mutters under her breath but he hears her anyway. 

He stares at her in bliss for a moment, watching her practiced movements. He’s never seen her drive before. He remembers the one failed attempt at teaching her on one of their dates but she had gotten too nervous with all the functions in his car.

“Why are there so many buttons, where do I put the key?” she had asked nervously, looking around. 

“This car doesn’t need a key. See here? You put your foot on the gas and then push the button?”

She had whipped around to look at him with wide eyes. “What?!” 

“Surely this isn’t the first time you heard of an automatic car?” he asked in amusement.

“Well no but I guess we haven’t been in your car a whole lot for me to notice. I don’t know about this Guzman.” 

“You’re going to be fine,” he soothed. “Press your foot on the gas lightly and then push the button.”

She does so hesitantly and oh so carefully that it’s a shock to both of them when the car roars to life. “No! No, I don’t want to do this anymore, Guzman. Turn it off, make it stop!”

He tried to muffle his laughter as he put a soothing hand to the back of her neck and pushed the engine button so it quieted down once more. 

“That couldn’t have been so scary,” he told her, rubbing his thumb against her skin all the while. He couldn’t help teasing her because she looked so cute but he didn’t want to freak her out either. 

“Um it was and I don’t want to do it again.” She moves to get out of the car before freezing in place as though it was going to blow up with the slightest movement. “It’s off, right?”

“Yes, it’s off.”

He had barely gotten the rest of the words out before she bolted out. 

That had been the first and last attempt at teaching Nadia how to drive, but looking at her now, he wouldn’t have believed she had been petrified at the thought of it just six months ago.

He wants to continue staring at Nadia but she pushes his face to look out the windshield. “You’ll have plenty of time to look at me until you get sick of my face, check out the sights.”

He obediently keeps his face forward but glances at her from the corner of his eyes. “I’ll never get sick of your face.”

But he does finally comply and takes in his surroundings, after all, this was going to be his new home. He has to admit, the pictures don't do New York City justice. He remembers seeing pictures and even videos of the highly populated city, cars stuck in traffic, people walking carelessly across the street, but nothing is quite like being in the midst of it. He is now among those people in the photos and it felt so surreal. 

It was hard to fathom that just a year ago, he had no idea what his future would look like. Had anyone asked him then, he’d have shrugged carelessly and likely joked about sitting on a beach or even sailing in the Balearic Sea or something. But never taking in the sun from New York City and certainly not with the love of his life. He knows he’s supposed to look around and be the wide-eyed tourist, and he will be, but at the moment, all he wants to do is look at the love of his life. 

He tries to be subtle about it, leaning his head back and letting it lol in her direction. He does catch sights of the bridge and the gorgeous water gleaming under the bright sunlight, but he’s more entranced by how the sun makes her look ethereal, almost unreal. Guzman was a man of God so there were moments where he wondered if Nadia was an angel meant to guide him through light. 

But then he’d really look at her, look past the beauty that rendered him speechless, and look at the person she was. She was more than a miracle, she was a person with her own hopes and dreams and he’d do everything in his power to ensure she achieves them. 

Nadia somehow weaves through the bustling roads, carefully and patiently, now that they had left what was the main freeway. They seemed to have reached an area that she was more familiar with and as he paid attention once more to the world outside, he realized it’s vaguely familiar to him too. Nadia had taken pictures on some of these roads and sent them to him, even taking quick little videos to show him the madness that would take place on the streets. They must be getting closer to her apartment—their apartment. 

He looks out the window, up at the tall building before it’s obscured from view as Nadia pulls into an underground parking space. He feels a little breathless suddenly, reality hitting him once more. This new, strange, and unfamiliar place would be his home now for the foreseeable future. All the things that he knew and was familiar with, the grocery stores, the arcades, the beaches, everything he once knew was gone. Well, not gone exactly, but would become a distant memory as he made new ones in a new place. 

There’s a small ache in his chest, a sense of homesickness but more for the innocence of youth. But as he thinks about his future with Nadia, the ache eases and he’s filled with hope and endless possibilities. He once believed he could do anything he wanted but it was more due to an ignorant cockiness he had, born from privilege. Now, though, he knew that the possibilities only existed because of Nadia. Because she was by his side, Guzman felt like he was capable and worthy enough to deserve a beautiful future.

He looks over to her with a smile, “Is this it? Is this the apartment?”

“Our apartment,” she corrects and he feels like his chest would burst. “But yes, we’re here. Welcome home, Guzman.”

#Guznadia #Nuzman #Guzman x Nadia #Nadia x Guzman #Elite #Netflix Élite #cygnetofthesea graphics #cygnetofthesea writings #cygnetofthesea edits

[yesttoheaven]

I SEE YOU – chapter III

pairing – arthur fleck x female!reader

wc – 2.6k

warnings – just fluff and a little bit of angst

English is not my first language. I am getting help from google translator and he is not always a good ally, so I apologize for any typos or grammar errors.

Y/N – your name

Y/L/N – your last name

🔴 chapter one. chapter two. chapter three.

The actress looked around, enjoying the apartment where Arthur lived with his mother. The place was small, very different from what she was used to, but this simplicity was nostalgic and reminded her of her childhood; when everything seemed simple, despite the difficulties.

Unfortunately Arthur was still at work, but Penny assured her that he would be back soon and added that Y/N could wait for him. At first Brian didn't approve of this idea, considering that the actress was going to an important dinner tonight, but he should know that it’s impossible to say no to her puppy eyes. Now Brian is probably driving to Misty's house, ready to take her to Y/N's apartment, exactly as they agreed the day before. The only difference would be the absence of the actress, but this would be justified with: "She's at Angelina's." Although the plan was apparently perfect, leaving her alone with practically unknown people was worrisome. Y/N's safety was his responsibility. If something happened to her, Brian would never forgive himself, but she stated with all the letters that she would stay inside the apartment, waiting for him with Arthur and Penny. And they were not bad people.

Y/N didn't like to involve Brian in this web of lies, but Misty knew how to be stifling when she wanted to. Visiting Arthur was not illegal, but she didn't see it that way. In her conception, to be friends with Y/N Y/N/L you need to have a bank account with many zeros after the comma.

Placing her manager at the bottom of her thoughts, Y/N's eyes fell on the small table next to the couch she was on. A few magazines were spread out and a shy smile crossed her lips. She would probably never get used to it.

Noticing the young woman's interest in magazines, Penny said:

"This actress is so graceful."

"You think? I hear only bad things about her." Y/N replied, taking one of the magazines and placing it next to her face, reproducing the cover.

When the realization reached Arthur's mother, she looked at Y/N with wide eyes, thinking it was a mirage caused by the effects of the medicines she used daily. When she opened the door and found the woman on the other side, Penny didn't imagine that Y/N was Y/N Y/L/N, the same woman who is in all these magazines.

"That was my first cover... six years have passed and I'm still nervous on camera." The actress smiled, leaving the magazine with the other copies.

"You need to excuse me, I'm too old for that... I watch your movies with my son and I was unable to recognize you."

"It's all right, these photos are usually a little bit manipulated. Maybe that's why you didn't recognize me."

The conversation continued pleasantly between them. Penny Fleck didn't feel like she was talking to one of Gotham's biggest actresses; Y/N seemed to be just a nice neighbor, the one who always shows up for a visit at the end of the day. They only knew each other for a few minutes, but it didn't matter, Penny was comfortable, sharing with her a little bit of his life with Arthur, or Happy as she used to call her son. The actress considered this point intriguing, because when she met Arthur, sadness was the only thing that existed on his face like a second skin, but maybe she was just impressed.

...

Every day was exactly the same for Arthur. He went to work, spent the day spinning his sign in front of a store or visited sick children in hospitals – this was his favorite; Carnival loved to bring joy to them. The time to return home represented some relief for the clown. This meant that his co-workers would have to wait for the next day to continue making fun of him. Arthur would always be a joke for everyone.

Tired for another exhausting day at work – or just being who he is – all Arthur wanted at that moment was to relax by smoking a cigarette. Dragging himself out of the elevator, he made his way to his old apartment and took the keys out of his pocket to open the door. He warned that he was back, but his mother did not respond. Arthur suspected she was asleep, but as soon as he put his feet in the living room, his body froze.

The likelihood of them seeing each other again was one in a million, but here she was, surprising him once again. There was no plausible explanation for what he was feeling at the moment. Accelerated heart. Sweaty palms. And the most sincere smile of his entire life. Arthur was genuinely happy. Seeing the actress again was enough to erase all his problems. Y/N was like a breath of fresh air to his lungs. There was something about her, something that you notice from a long distance, but that Arthur can't put into words.

"Happy, your friend was waiting for you." Penny broke the silence, bringing them to reality again.

With a smile, Y/N stood up, running her hands over the dress she wore. She approached the man and greeted him in her soft voice:

"Hi, Arthur. How've you been?" Surprised by her own courage, she touched his shoulder and left a kiss on his cheek.

Arthur felt his cheeks turn into two tomatoes and he automatically looked at the ground, hiding a shy smile in the corner of his lips. But knowing that she was waiting for an answer, he took a deep breath, looking at her again and saying:

"Hey, I'm... I'm good. How about you?"

"I couldn’t be better. I hope I'm not bothering you, your mom said I could stay to wait for you."

"Don't say that, you never bother, dear! Now I'm going to leave you two alone so you can talk." The woman tried to get up and Arthur quickly moved to stand beside her, helping Penny back to the bedroom.

It was easy to see how much he loves his mother.

A few minutes later, Arthur was back in the living room, looking a little nervous about the situation. It was possible to state that the actress felt the same way, remembering the reason that brought her to the other side of the city. She didn't want to say anything in front of Penny, but now she could and the words were stuck in her throat.

"I don't know where to start... I'm so sorry for the way you were treated. They couldn't have done that to you, Arthur."

"How d-did you know?"

"Brian talked to the receptionist..." She said, biting her lower lip in an attempt to control herself, but that was not enough. "I'm so mad at Susan! Who does she think she is to treat you that way?"

"Don't be m-mad at her because of me... It's okay, I'm used to it." Arthur replied, trying to reassure the actress. The last thing he wanted to do was be responsible for erasing her smile, but his words made Y/N even more concerned.

"What are you saying?"

"My life is... different from yours." He murmured, shaking his shoulders as if it didn't matter, but the sad expression on his face showed just the opposite. "I d-don't want to bother you with my stupid problems. This is not worth your time."

"But I have all the time in the world to hear you. Please tell me..." Y/N insisted, still trying to understand what he meant by 'I'm used to it'.

Susan had compared Arthur to a criminal; someone dangerous. She judged him by his appearance. His actions. His somewhat confused way of speaking. No. This is not normal. This is not something that Arthur should just 'get used to'.

"C-Can I get you something to drink?" He asked, shifting the focus of the conversation in the blink of an eye. Just a few more words and he could feel the laughter in the back of his throat, begging to leave. And that was not what he wanted.

"But..." The actress tried again, but acknowledged it was time to stop. She showed one of her beautiful smiles and that was enough to warm the man's heart. "Water, please."

Following Arthur into the kitchen, she stood by the door, watching him. Arthur was not a bad person – and he wasn't a criminal either, as Susan thought. Y/N just wanted to have the opportunity to get to know him better. It was as if the man still has his face paint on; as if he were still Carnival and she desperately wanted to meet the man hiding behind the paint, but Y/N understood that invading his space was not the best way to achieve this.

"Oh, thanks!" She thanked him, holding the cup and drinking, as they walked back to the living room. Pointing to the magazines, she fired: "These magazines are old... Are you a collector or something?"

"Not exactly... It was a few months ago, this guy was throwing the magazines in the trash because nobody wanted to buy, but he sold it to me for half the price..." Arthur's eyes widened when he realized what he had said. He scratched the back of his neck, completely embarrassed, but the actress just started laughing.

"It's okay, Arthur. I like your sincerity." She added, finding the situation funny. "But tell me, what is your favorite?"

The man pointed to the third magazine without thinking twice. Unlike the others, this cover was focused only on Y/N's angelic face. She was holding a white rose; the petals of the flower touching her lips painted in bright red.

"You have the most beautiful smile I've ever seen in my life." He thought aloud, making her blush with his sincere words.

Y/N was constantly praised. Men and women. Different ages. Nationalities. Some were adorable, others completely depraved, but no one was able to make her feel what she was feeling right now.

Arthur was surprised at himself. This trust was not constant in his life, but close to her, it was as if he wanted to try. It was easy, because he was just telling the truth. Her smile was beautiful.

"So... what is this?" After a few minutes of silence, she asked, pointing again at the small table in the center of the living room.

"Oh, this is my journal!" The man picked up his journal and sat down next to her on the couch. "My therapist forced me to have one. I write my thoughts, some new jokes and other things..."

"I love jokes, but I need to confess that clowns are not my point."

"Don't you like clowns?" Arthur was not angry with her, in fact he thought it was funny. "How is this possible?"

"Don't judge me! It's nothing personal... I don't hate them completely, i just get a little nervous." Y/N started to laugh, being accompanied by him. When the laughter stopped, she said: "Now the million dollar question... What did you think of 'Midnight Seduction'? But you need to promise me that you will be honest with your criticism, right?"

The man shook his head in agreement.

"So I can start by saying that the ending was not as I expected, she died..." Arthur knew it was just a fictional death, but Y/N's flawless performance took that scene to another level. He was paralyzed by her talent. Y/N was definitely born to shine. Her filmography was rich.

"My Diana..." The actress spoke fondly about the character, remembering the day she read the script for the first time. Nobody was expecting this. "I like to imagine that she had a second chance. No prostitution. No drugs. Without HIV. And with someone by your side to love."

"This is a good ending, I like it... Rosalind was the only person who cared about her."

"Oh, did you notice?" Y/N asked, leaving the glass of water on the table. "I mentioned this in an interview, but the next day everyone was distorting my words!"

"It's just... love. What's wrong with that?"

"Unfortunately some people will never understand what love is."

Looking at Y/N and Arthur, it was possible to see that they were opposite poles. Their lives were completely different, but it was intriguing how they always found a connection. Time passed quickly, but they were still involved in a long conversation. Y/N loved to hear the man tell about his work as a clown – obviously he didn't mention the bad side. The actress told about NGOs, some trips around the globe and the preparation to play her characters. Each character was a new challenge and Arthur found it fascinating that she lived several lives in just one.

When the conversation followed a delicate path, Y/N considered changing this path, but she gave up and stood up, walking around the living room with a nostalgic smile growing on her lips. Arthur watched a few interviews, but hearing the actress speak directly to him about her childhood in Narrows was different. She lived in a simple house with her mother and brother. The situation was not easy, they did not have much money. Today her mother and brother are living in France, enjoying a wonderful life because of Y/N and her promising career. She missed them. She talked to them on the phone every day, but that was her best decision. Gotham has become a hostile, completely violent city, but it was in the middle of this violent city that her life changed...

"I was working at a restaurant in the downtown when Misty saw me in that hideous uniform..." Y/N couldn't help but laugh. "She said I was too pretty to clean shitty toilets, but cleaning shitty toilets was what puts money on the table at the end of the month... So she said she had an indecent proposal for me. I figured she would offer me a job at a nightclub... I probably would have accepted it. I was desperate to help my family, but she asked if i would like to be famous... A simple answer, "yes" and see how I look six years later. That horrible uniform became the most expensive designer dresses in the world, my mom has a beautiful house and everything she deserves, my little brother is having all the support for his studies and that girl with dreams turned into a famous actress, but..."

Unhappy.

Y/N completed in her mind, she was not strong enough to say that. She was also not ungrateful. Misty turned the girl's life into a fairy tale, but at the same time it took her life. In six years, she never had a break. Her manager was always bringing her a new job. The actress knew this was important for her career, but she didn't have time for anything other than work. She didn't have time to visit her own family. She was stuck.

Arthur heard someone knock on the door, but he kept his eyes on Y/N. The woman was in absolute silence and close to tears. Her smile was gone. She was suffering in front of him and he didn't know what to do to get this pain out of her.

"You should check this out." She murmured and at first he didn't react, but when the person knocked on the door again, Arthur stood up.

The actress took advantage of the moment to compose herself, trying to normalize her breathing, but when she heard that voice, her body just froze. The next minute the redhead appeared in the living room holding her Prada bag and looking at everything with an expression of disgust, but when she saw Y/N, she said:

"Mon cher, why didn't you tell me you wanted to visit your new friend? You know you don't have to lie to me."

--------------------------------------

a/n – likes and reblogs are appreciated but honestly I’d love to know what you all think of this one. really hope you enjoy it and thank you soooo much for reading ♡

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck x female reader #arthur fleck x you #arthur fleck x y/n #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck headcanon #arthur fleck imagine #arthur fleck fanfic #joker arthur fleck #joker #joker 2019 #joker imagine #joker headcanons #joker x female reader #joker x reader #joker x y/n #joker x you #joker movie #phoenix!joker #joaquin phoenix

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Real. His. (250 Drabble)

250 Celebration Masterlist  

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Prompt: “You lie beside me, real and breathing, and yet…I am so unused to company that my eyes still adjust to your shadow, sleeping soundly, blinking disbelievingly that I am not dreaming.”

Word Count: 922

Warnings: Angst (nothing major), fluff, hurt/comfort, soft Ivar

A/N: I hope you like this one! I really do like these kind of drabbles, and I like this one. It’s similar to Tethered, at least to me.

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @1950schick @ietss @peachyboneless @encounterthepast @xceafh @maggiescarborough​

Ivar remembers being a child, sitting on a cart and watching his brothers and other boys play and jump on their way to the sea, and he remembers turning to the man that was a father more than anyone and asking him what running felt like. Floki only smiled in that unstable way of his, but there was sadness in his eyes when he told him not everything is like something else, dear Ivar.

And maybe he wouldn’t know what it was like to be like those other boys, but he wasn’t going to let Fate stop him from motion, from persevering. And so his arms grew stronger than anyone believed possible, and it hurt and chaffed and broke, but he dragged himself and in his own way he walked. And so when the time came he went to Floki and asked him for a favor, and it was terrifying and difficult to control and different, but in his own way he ran, he flew.

Ivar remembers being older, angrier, and grabbing a sword and going after Sigurd; he doesn’t remember why, but he remembers he wanted to stand. His brother mocked him, taunted him, and kept moving away anything he could hold on to. When he dropped to the floor, Sigurd stepped on his wrist and made him drop the sword, his voice venomous and mocking, you’re not a real man, Ivar, stop trying to fight like one.

And maybe he wouldn’t be able to fight like they did, shield in one hand and sword in the other, but the Gods themselves would have to come and stop him from being Viking. And so he learned, and he discarded the sword that gave the other men distance for axes that were quick and light. And so he fought, and he ambushed them while they were on the ground, or twisted the axe into their knee and made them feel a fraction of his pain before he crawled over them and made him look into his eyes as they died.

Nothing in his life was easy, nothing in his life was simple, stable, normal.

And it is many nights just like this one that Ivar lies awake next to you and wonders why is it he is allowed to love like a normal man, to be loved like a normal man. Why, after everything, he is allowed to wake up and find your soft smile, your touch on him as you bring him back to the world with soft caresses, your lips breathing the sound of his name.

Why, after everything, the Gods have allowed him this. It almost feels like a trick, and on his worst days he believes it to be.

A trick, a mirage, a dream. And he dreads the day the Gods make him wake up, make him return to a reality that doesn’t have you in it.

He’s shared this with you, of course he has, you have a reach over his heart that sometimes terrifies him. And each time his voice wavers and he admits the dread he feels each morning to wake up and find it all gone, you only look at him with that warmth in your eyes and tell him the absence of pain does not mean a mirage, Ivar.

But it isn’t that way for him. The pain is what keeps him conscious, tethered to this world, when his eyes turn blue and it feels he is being tortured by Fate. The pain from holding on to that chess piece when he was told his father had died kept him from feeling he was still drowning on that boat.

He can’t imagine a life without pain, can’t imagine a reality without it.

And he can’t help himself when he reaches for you, a shaky breath leaving his lips when he finds you warm and solid under his touch.

But it isn’t enough, doubt creeps in, and fear chokes him, and Ivar murmurs your name with more urgency that he would want to, making you turn to lay on your back and burying his face in the crook of your neck, breathing you in and trying to calm his heart.

“Ivar? Ivar, what is it?” You croak, voice weakened by sleep, but that almost makes this -you- more real, less of something his mind made up.

“Tell me you love me.” He begs against your skin, and gives in, laying all the weight of his body and his heart against you when you put your arms around him.

Your voice is a little anxious, and he almost wants to apologize for scaring you. But still, you promise, “I love you.”

“Tell me this is real.” He asks, his arms going under your body and wrapping around you, holding you tight against him.

“Of course it is real, my love. Real, and yours.”

And with your touch as you make him lift his head and meet your eyes, with your kiss as you seal the promise against his lips, Ivar gives in, Ivar believes you.

Your hands on his skin have never caused pain, but the feel of your touch is almost scalding after being cold for so long; your kiss is always gentle and warm, but the ease with which you steal the breath from his lungs almost makes his chest hurt. It isn’t quite the pain he is used to, and he thanks the Gods every day for that, but it is enough to make this real, make this his.

____

I’m soft, I’m sorry. I’ll write a more ruthless, in character Ivar for tomorrow’s drabbles.

I would love to know what you think of this one! Thank you so much for reading, I love you!

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar #250holyfuckthankyou #250 holy fuck thank you

[percabethfeelsfandom]

Writing Prompt: Nico Visiting Elysium

SPOILERS FOR THE BURNING MAZE AND THE TOWER OF NERO

The walk to Elysium was one that Nico was familiar with. Some days his feet would bring him there subconsciously, hoping to one day find his sister among the souls that resided there. 

That day hadn’t come yet. But the heroes that were there were familiar with his presence, they weren’t bothered by the shadows beneath his feet, the tendrils that clung to his wrists, and winded themselves around his sword handle, ready to shoot out at his command. They didn’t blink an eye at the bags under his eyes, no matter how much sleep he got. When you’re a spirit constantly surrounded by death, you forget what life looks like. The same went for Nico. 

It had been a while since he’d been to the Underworld to see his father and step mother, but the way the rubble crunched beneath his feet was almost comforting. He knew where the dips in the hill were, where to avoid the holes and minor chasms. 

The environment and atmosphere of the Underworld began to shift the closer he got to Elysium. 

Nico’s eyes adjusted to the brightness of Elysium, and the glittering blue lake where The Isles of the Blest resided. He shouldn’t have been able to enter through the gates, but being a child of the Underworld had its perks. The gates opened at Nico’s touch and Nico was greeted with the beautiful view of Elysium. For a home made for the dead, the place exuded a significant amount of life and light, yet it lacked the warmth real life did. It was beautiful in the way jewels were beautiful, sparkly and well-cared for, but not the way flowers were, in their life and their aliveness. 

The trek to the pavilion where he usually met with spirits was hard, it didn’t get easier to see the spirits of heroes Nico had watched or felt die in battles he had also fought in. Every time he saw the familiar gleam of Hunter-silver he had to hold back a flinch. The flowers of Elysium were of gold and silver and Nico had come to the realisation that they were the only plants that didn’t wilt in his presence, it left him feeling an odd sense of pride as he picked one from the ground and placed it in his pocket for later. There was no breeze down here, yet the grass rippled in colours of the rainbow as spirits passed through, wanting to see why the child of Hades was present. Small voices called out to him beyond the gates, wanting to feed on his light, and his life but he pulled up a barrier in his mind, imagining a fortress to protect himself. 

He stood in the middle of the pavilion and held out his hand. He wouldn’t need food to summon who he needed to speak to, he knew that they’d come. 

“Jason Grace.” 

His voice came out stronger than he thought it would. But he still wasn’t mentally prepared enough for the shape of Jason to appear so easily. He knew that Jason had died in his school uniform, but someone had taken the liberty to put him in a purple Camp Jupiter shirt, despite this, the colour was pale, as if all the colour had been bleached out.

Nico caught himself against a pillar as Jason’s form materialised by Nico’s feet. Jason was kneeling as if he was praying, head bowed and arms out trying to hold himself up. 

“Jason?” Nico repeated. 

The silvery outline of Jason seemed to grow brighter, before he rose to his full height. Nico tried not to stare, but it was difficult not to notice the gaping holes in his chest that glowed with silver through the purple shirt. 

“Nico?” 

When he was little, Nico had been taught by his mother and by Bianca that eye contact was important, it was rude if you didn’t meet people’s eyes when you were speaking to them. But over the years he had also learnt that in order to meet people’s eyes constantly, he needed to be prepared for other people to look into his eyes, allow them to see that vulnerability that he knew he showed. 

Nico forced himself not to avert his eyes as Jason looked at him astounded, his wire framed glasses still sat atop his nose but Nico could no longer see his reflection in them. Everything about him looked the same, his voice too. 

“Hi Jason,” Nico breathed, blinking hard. It was getting significantly harder to remain standing as Jason watched him. It had only been a couple of months since- but Nico hadn’t been able to bring himself to come down and search for him. It was a pain that reminded him all too much of the time when he'd just found out he was a demigod and his world had turned upside down. 

“You’re angry with me,” Jason said, a small smile growing on his mouth. Nico let out a choked laugh and shook his head. 

“I’m learning that grudges do me no good, especially against...especially against the dead,” Nico admitted. He waited for Jason’s form to blur into a corporeal version, but he remained in a hazy silvery state, like Nico was in the middle of an Iris message with him and Nico guessed perhaps they were; except instead of being miles apart and trying to communicate, it was the absence of Jason’s life and the existence of Nico’s that enabled them to talk despite Jason’s body being buried at Camp Jupiter. 

“I always thought I wasn’t scared of death…when you’re a demigod of a prophecy you learn to be, and then Leo died, and I knew. I knew that whatever happened I had nothing to be scared of because he’d be here for me…”

“And then he wasn’t,” Nico filled in. Jason nodded, looking beyond the pavilion at the Isles of the Blest. 

“I knew that he wouldn’t be here...yet, I don’t know, maybe it’s selfish to wish that I wasn’t alone-”

“It’s not,” Nico said firmly, standing up straighter to meet Jason’s gaze. With a sharp intake of breath he realised that he had slightly grown since he’d last seen Jason, and now he’d be immortalised at this height. 

Jason seemed to notice at the same time, losing his train of thought as he looked down at Nico. 

“You’ve grown taller,” he said fondly. Jason reached out almost as if he went to pet Nico’s head, but his hand passed through Nico, leaving him with a brain freeze. Jason noticeably winced and muttered an apology. The pain in Nico’s stomach was second to the odd feeling of familiarity. It had been many years since Nico had had an older sibling, and only recently had he become one again, yet Jason, in their small time period of knowing each other had grown closer than Nico would have thought. It was a nice thought, to think he had someone else watching over him, even if it was beyond the life he was currently living. Nico found himself thinking about Bianca again, the way he always did when he felt lost. 

“I saw your plans for the temples,” Nico managed. He gripped the hilt of his sword, using it to ground him as his emotions began to unfurl, curling around him like a dark cloud. 

“Apollo kept his promise?” 

“He was adamant in doing so.”

Jason smiled, and it made him look younger, bringing a light to his face that should’ve been hard to achieve in the Underworld but he made it look easy. 

“Will you try for the Isles?” Nico asked, and though he tried not to, fear laced his words as he watched Jason look at the island in question, a wistful look upon his features. 

“Maybe…” Fear, as hot as lightning struck Nico in the chest, and he thought he was about to say goodbye to another demigod he had looked up to. 

“But not yet. There are heroes here. Heroes that I fought with during the titan war, one’s I didn’t know the name of, same with the giant war. I think it’s time that I learned them.”

"Jason?" 

"Yeah?"

"Are you still scared?" Absentmindedly Nico placed his hand in his pocket where he kept a small token of luck, the familiar groove in the old mythomagic toy bringing him a bittersweet comfort. 

Jason tilted his head to the side for a moment, thinking before he shook his head.

"Not anymore, no."

As he spoke, his light began to flicker, becoming more of a mirage than anything. Nico poured his power into him, praying to his father for more time. He had so much more to say, messages to pass on, and- he just wanted more time. 

“Piper she-”

“Is she happy?” Jason asked, interrupting. Nico thought of Piper with her girlfriend, and the life she was building outside of Camp Half Blood and nodded slowly. 

“And Leo?” He continued. This time Nico thought about Leo’s easy laugh and his constant energy, bouncing off the walls, and his smiles around Calypso. 

“Yeah he’s happy but-”

“And Reyna? Percy and Annabeth? Frank? Hazel? Are they all happy? Right at this moment?” The question almost took Nico by surprise but he wasn’t lying when he said his answer. 

“Yes.” Images of the other demigods, speaking via Iris message, and on visits to each other's camps flashed in Nico’s head. Reyna and her pledge to the Hunters echoed in his head, an almost mirror to Bianca and Thalias. The pictures Annabeth and Percy had sent to Chiron when they had arrived at college, pinned on the board in The Big House. Then of his little sister with her purple cape, matching Franks. 

“They’re happy,” he repeated, more sure of himself when he said it. Jason seemed to relax. 

“And Thalia?” he asked softly. 

“She’ll be okay,” he replied honestly. 

“I never wanted to leave her.”

“She knows.”

“What about you, Nico? Are you happy?” 

The question jarred Nico and he hesitated to answer, thinking hard about it. He thought about the haze he had been in right after Jason’s death. The nightmares that had resurfaced, the voices that called to him from beneath the ground. 

“I want to be.” It was the closest to the truth he could get. Will’s face flashed behind Nico’s closed eyelids, and unconsciously Nico smiled and nodded with more certainty. 

Jason smiled again. 

“Then I’ll be okay.” 

#nico di angelo #jason grace #thalia grace #percy jackson #annabeth chase #frank zhang #leo valdez #piper mclean #reyna avila ramirez arellano #lester papadopoulos #apollo #son of jupiter #rick riordan #one shot #burning maze spoilers #tower of nero spoilers #writing prompt #angst #fanfic #drabbles #trials of apollo #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #hades #underworld #bianca di angelo #elysium #hazel levesque #will solace #solangelo

[katsidhe]

11, 19, 30

Ask game

11. Do you have any favourite writers? Do you have any least favourite writers?

I honestly don’t pay enough attention to specific writers to know or care episode by episode. In terms of showrunners, Gamble is my favorite: the psychological angle in s6-7 and the very clear emphasis on Sam Suffering is absolutely something I can get behind.

19. What does the djinn dream say about Dean? 

Disclaimer that I haven’t watched 2.20 in A Hot Minute.

What I remember most clearly is Dean’s contradictory need to see his happy family thriving, and at the same time to want to be the black sheep, proving he’s the reason they’re miserable. It’s a particular kind of deep, deep self-loathing, but there’s also that weird shape of being drawn to persecution in his dreams (like in 14.10): his happy family and his fictional girlfriend ~don’t understand~ the importance of hunting, of being a hero, and they don’t understand Dean. John, who has always meant hunting and therefore might have complicated that premise, is dead. For similar reasons, Dean’s djinn-fantasy of Sam is disconnected from and even a bit scornful of him.

It also puts forward Dean’s draw to suburban stability/respectability, the simplicity of the thing he wishes for his family, and for himself. He imagines a cookie-cutter kind of happiness. And then Dean discovers that all the people he’s saved are dead: this satisfies his deep-seated need to be a hero, to know that he’s doing tangible good despite his hardships and his loneliness and his sacrifices. That it’s worth it.

30. Is John Winchester redeemable? Is he complex? Is he in love with Azazel?

Well, yes to the third, obviously, the meme is simply too good.

I don’t really think John is a complicated man. I think he’s a Manly Man who lost his wife and became a paranoid gruff emotionally distant father (tm), and honestly that trope simply doesn’t hold my interest very well. The role he plays structurally in the Sam’n’Dean debacle is far more interesting to me than the man himself. I think John is pretty straightforward: he thinks he’s fighting a one-man war; he sees threats to his children everywhere; he plays his cards close to his chest. He’s a conspiracy theorist with the receipts, so is anyone actually surprised that he was a dreadful father?

“Redeemability” is such a strange and sticky question to me, and one that in some respects annoys me in its imprecision. Sorry, but I want to go on a tangent about this.

So, like, confined to fiction, we normally all kinda know what it means to be “redeemed”: there is an arc of realization that your actions were flawed, followed by a dramatic moment of catharsis where you join the good guys, or you make a big apology, or you throw the evil emperor into a pit.

Technically it’s possible for any character to get that. Like, hell, Lucifer’s “redeemable”, and it’s not because his dad was cruel to him or because he loves Jack or whatever. It’s because yes, it’s technically possible for him to be a better person, and even to sincerely offer amends. But it’s all about choice. The degree of effort and time and change that would be necessary to his quote unquote redemption is absurd in its magnitude. Lucifer’s never going to choose to change. He doesn’t want to change. There is not any space in the story SPN is telling for him to change. Thus, he’s functionally irredeemable.

The question, therefore, should be “can John be redeemed within the structural space of the story” rather than “can John as a person hypothetically be redeemed”, because the answer to the second is nearly tautologically yes.

John is dead. What would his cathartic redemption moment be charted as? What would the arc be? I’d argue there have already been two brief attempts at Redemptive Moments in canon, in 2.22 and in 14.13, and that both of them failed. I loathe his appearance in 2.22, because it’s cloyingly saccharine: it’s supposed to demonstrate that he loves his sons so damn much that he crawled out of Hell just to embrace his one true love one last time save them from Azazel. In 14.13, he apologizes. But this is utterly without practical narrative weight; plenty of his sins lie ahead of him, and he isn’t apologizing to his own young sons, but to future mirages of them.

I’m not sure that there is narrative space in SPN for John to be truly redeemed. The role John Winchester plays is not really even as a character per se: he’s a structure in his children’s lives. There is a good reason that in all flashback weechesters episodes, the most we ever see of John are his hands on the wheel, his shadow half-glimpsed in the car, his conspicuous absence. What’s important isn’t that he’s there: what’s important is how he’s shaped his children.

Supernatural is a show about trauma, and the generational trauma from John isn’t something that reads to me as “redeemable” on a character level. Rather, it’s a structural part of the Winchester mythos: the masculine figurehead of hunting/obsession/revenge/inscrutability. An arc in which John apologizes and goes with Sam and Dean to family therapy isn’t really imaginable in the story.

#ask game #2.20 #2.22 #14.13 #john winchester #sorry he just isn’t that interesting 🤷 #johnzazel

[dulcaet]

paint my heart | yoongi

synopsis. you should have known that, over time, paint crumbles, and that time spare no one, not even the colors adorning your heart. 

pairing. yoongi | reader  genre. angst word count. 2,043 warnings. none

initially, there had been only an immensity of white. a simple, but gigantic, empty canvas ready to be offered to those wishing to add to it the most beautiful colors that existed. 

the life you lived was lulled by neutral feelings; your smiles were real but not bright, your eyes lit but not sparkling. the days were passing by, some slowly, others more quickly. they were chaining each other to the rhythm of the clock hands in your kitchen. the work you had managed to get was perfectly supporting you financially and you took great pleasure in learning what the profession of a sound engineer consisted of. everything was fine. but everything could be better. and everything would become soon. unfortunately, you didn’t know that yet.

you'd never consider your life boring, but sometimes monotony could be hard to bear. it, who always stood behind you, like your shadow, to remind you of the lack of laughter, smiles, adventure in an empty, gray life.

weeks, and months passed, that infinity of white still painting your mind. no painter had put his brush on your canvas, not coloring it with pearly, colorful hues, which would form the most beautiful of the artwork: that of a fulfilling life.

then, suddenly, there was an infinite number of colors. a palette covered with paintings all different from each other. blue. green. yellow. red. purple. one had been searched for the most beautiful pigments in the world, carefully making from them colors that all the greatest painters could have envied.

it had started as a normal day, a day tinted in white. you had stopped in the break room to drink your coffee before climbed to the third floor to reach the studio where your superior was waiting for you. the habit having taken over the rest, you had not knocked, judging that your arrival had already been announced a few seconds earlier by a message from your part.

maybe you should have.

“i’m really sorry, i didn’t think this studio would be busy!”

nervousness had taken hold of your heart, dragging it into a frantic waltz. a man sitting on a sofa whose upper body was leaning towards the coffee table had turned to the door squeaking. a pen in the hand, fingers stained with ink, glasses placed on the nose. this face, no, this portrait perfectly drawn by the hand of the most talented painters, you had seen and seen it again. on social media, in advertisements, on youtube. not a day had passed without you noticing this face so beautifully carved.

and he had been standing in front of your astonished face.

he had smiled with all the kindness present in the world and had looked at the time on his watch before apologizing for exceeding the scheduled hour.

“hello.”

“hello.”

this exact moment was your first meeting with min yoongi. the first of dozens of others.

a smile drawn on your two faces, fingers intertwined, the streets of capital had never looked so pretty. the yellow of the streetlights, the orange of the car flashers, the red of the store signs. the moon at its highest point reflected your candid faces, illuminating it in white and pastel blue. she was watching you, smiling at this birth of love.

adoration was a feeling whose aura could almost be seen as powerful as it was. these heartbeats rhythmed in unison, these candid laughs, all these little special touches reinforced the beauty of the idyllic picture that was painting in front of the moon’s eyes.

“yoongi, look!”

one hand holding your straw hat so it wouldn’t fly away, the other pointing to a multi-colored bird on a tree branch whose leaves were colored with a resplendent green hue. the smell of freshly cut grass intoxicated passers-by, plunging them into a euphoria that only summer could provoke. this feeling of being invincible, encouraged by the rays of the sun whose reflections chase away the patches of shadows, the bad memories. the five silk trees formed a globe as enchanting above the park letting these so-called rays of light pass through. the sweet pale pink flowers lowered themselves and rose to the rhythm of the wind oh so quiet.

summer was your favorite season, it was synonymous with holidays, sunshine, tranquility. happy to be able to enjoy the good weather, little laughs escaped from your lips without you noticing.

the characteristic noise of a camera caught your attention. turning your head, eyes obstructed by strands of hair, your gaze rested on the man standing a few meters from you. he was smiling at his screen, fiddling with the buttons of the device. curious, it was with a bouncing step that you walked towards him, making your light white and pink dress twirl. arriving at his height, you lean towards him, tiptoeing to see what seemed to hypnotize him. a grimace on your face, you quickly put a hand on the screen to hide the picture.

“delete it! i’m hideous!”

“don’t say things that are impossible.”

the pupils trembling, you watched the surroundings, hoping to see yoongi’s silhouette. you had begun waiting more than three-quarters of an hour ago on the forecourt of the restaurant where you had booked a table two months ago. there was no apparent reason for this event, if not to celebrate your love. it had been several days since you had seen him because of his rehearsals, so, excited to finally spend an evening with him, you had got all dressed up.

however, the soft light of day had darkened, giving way to this vast world called the night. the delight that had hitherto decorated your face, making it up in the prettiest of ways, for joy had this powerful power, had disappeared, dropping that mask on the concrete ground. as the dim light of the streetlamp illuminated you, all the gravity of your face increased, painting a face of sorrow.

one hand was rubbing your upper arm, the wind chilling you, the other furiously tapping on your phone’s keyboard.

me to yoongi ♡

where are you?

helloooo?

please respond! it’s cold out there.

well????

yoongi ♡ to me 

something came up. don’t wait for me. grab yourself something, i’ll pay.

a lump appeared in your throat, as did the pain that pierced your heart. you remained still, however, letting it spread in the hope that this horrible sensation would go away if not interrupted. what you did not know, for love blinded the heart and confused the thoughts, was that a piece of the first one was now laying at your feet.

a drop of grey paint fell on the canvas, staining the blue sky adorned with white clouds.

the clock above the kitchen counter reminded you how pathetic you were, standing until way too late at night in hope of catching sight of the man’s face you had got into the habit of calling your boyfriend. if you could still define him like this. a silence had taken place in the empty apartment, a silence that even seoul’s frenetic life could not break. you were sitting on the couch with your eyes staring at nothing but void. your pupils previously illuminated by the candor of love were no more than two impenetrable walls. you seemed empty, as empty as a hollow shell. your inner state represented the vision your apartment gave. whether it was the pieces of furniture, the frames hanging on the wall or the decorative plants; all were tinged in the same gouache.

nowadays, the colors had worn out. overtime, you supposed. time was, after all, one of the main enemies of love, especially when it became rare.

oh, how much you hated gray. it colored your life with a monotonous color where everything seemed sad, an impression so different from the explosion of colors that your retina had become accustomed to seeing. there was nothing but grey. grey everywhere. in your body, in your eyes, in your heart. the latter seemed to have been impregnated with it. it would not be surprising to see the normally red carmine liquid flowing through your veins turn into a grey color. a plain grey, without any reflection; there wasn’t light anymore.

no more conversations until late at night. no more encouraging little messages on your nightstand. no more signs of affection, whether expressed in the form of a kiss, an embrace or even a smile.

there was nothing left.

nothing more except a weariness that did not seem to want to leave your life. it was now an integral part of your routine. many times, you had wondered if you had become paranoid. yoongi was a busy man. everyone knew this detail about him, you knew about this and for a long time, this detail had been one of the reasons for your reluctance to engage yourself in this relationship. this fear, which was ubiquitous at each moment of your life. this fear was flowing in your veins. the fear of being sidelined.

for more than a year, he had succeeded in proving you wrong. he had shown you that even though his career was a source of significant demands and that his schedule would always be a delicate thing, the love he had for you would overcome that.

he had forgotten to point out that all these wonders would only last a while, the attractive illusion giving way to the harsh reality.

things had changed.

suddenly, as if in slow motion, your face, which had lowered in defeat, rose up when you heard the door open. without you being able to control your body, your eyes began to sparkle, your pupils dilated, your heart racing. overtime, through missed appointments, repeated absences, nights alone, you had learned to hate these physical reactions. how sad it was to achieve such a critical stage that your only possibility was to hate the love you had for him.

he did not undress nor did he take off his coat, merely heading to your room, whose sheets now seemed constantly frozen. not a look. not a word. it was almost as if you were just a mirage, something that didn’t exist or that wasn’t interesting enough to deserve attention.

“don’t wait for me, i’ll be late.”

the door was slammed, silence set in, a silence that was cut off by your sobs. you were crying, more than you had ever done in your life. in your tears came all the frustration, the sadness but also the pain that a lost love could cause to an already weakened heart. your thoughts were black, blacker than the ocean after a hurricane, your mind filled with disarming memories.

two long minutes passed. the grey darken. you swallowed, holding back a trembling sigh that reflected your sorrow. with your eyes focused again on your stress-bit nails, you ignored him when he came out of the room with a bag on his shoulders. this scene was recurrent, so recurrent that it was certain you could play it in your head. knowing this, no ounce of surprise crossed your mind when he uttered that sentence. that damn sentence.

someone once said, “happiness is screamed, sadness is written.”

you had always known how to transcribe your emotions perfectly on the paper. however, today, for the first time in your life, you faced a writer’s block. the page was blank of words, not strong enough to describe what you were feeling. a page that was soon flooded with tears, the revenge of this sadness that had been held back for too long.

min yoongi had never been yours. not even for a second. you should have known this. it had been obvious. you should have known his heart belonged to music.

with each of the tears that wet the notebook, making the black ink drool, it permeated the immensity of paper until there was only one color left to the eyes of everyone.

the canvas had now become black.

#ficswithluv #min yoongi #yoongi imagine #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #bts fic #bts scenarios #bts suga #suga imagine #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts x you #bts x reader #bts idol au #bts angst #yoongi and jimin #suga angst #min yoongi angst #bts yoongi #yoongi scenarios #bts imagine #kim taehyung #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #jeon jungkook #park jimin #jung hoseok #bts #suga imagines #suga x you

[soren1830]

World of Dreams - Chapter 2, The Disk War

The story written as how I would tell the story to someone with no knowledge of Minecraft.

It began with a prank, followed by a grief done in revenge. Both common occurrences on the SMP, until it went wrong. In retaliation for his house being trashed, Sapnap, set fire to one of Ponk’s lemon trees. Getting too close to the flames, Sapnap was killed, a death of no consequence, if not for what he left behind.

With no one to watch it, the fire spread, destroying far more than intended, and more than what could be easily forgiven. One spark, and the first war was lit.

The sides formed in cascade. Ponk recruiting Alyssa, they fought Sapnap, burning his house. Tubbo, another newcomer stayed neutral, rebuilding what he could. After stealing his armor, Sapnap wagered their return in exchange for Tommy’s assistance. As the war raged on, Dream became concerned, fighting of this duration was unprecedented in the young world. The Admin demanded they stop, his words brushed off by Sapnap and Tommy who turned their eyes to Dream. The Admin was quickly killed, having left his near impenetrable armor at home.

This was the final straw. Viewing Tommy as the catalyst for the fighting, Dream stole his most treasured possessions. Two music disks, Cat and Mellohi. Tommy and Sapnap quickly noticed the disk’s absence, and as Tommy met with Dream to negotiate for their return, Sapnap searched Dream’s house.

It could have ended there, Dream requesting merely an apology for their return, but Sapnap returned with the disks before any deal could be made. With the theft, the deal was off. Sapnap fought the Admin, as Tommy hurriedly hid the disks. With the disks off the table, the pair assumed the conflict had ended, and as such they went their separate ways.

Dream however, was just beginning his war.

The disks were stolen once more. Recruiting Tubbo, Tommy went after Dream once more. The fight over the disks raged. Tommy and Tubbo desperate for their return, Dream a mirage just out of reach. Growing tired of the conflict once more, Dream offered Tommy another deal. He would hand over the disks if Tommy gave him his treasured chest plate .

The crafting in the Dream SMP was the same as the rest of the worlds. The quality of each piece depends more on the base material than the craftsmanship. Netherite, a rare metal from a flaming dimension called the nether, was without equal. Diamond followed it, and was followed in turn by iron and leather. Tommy’s chest plate was crafted from netherite making it an extremely valuable piece of armor.

After a failed trade of diamonds, the pair of teenagers quickly came up with a plan. As Tommy and Dream made the exchange, Tubbo would run in to grab the chest plate before Dream could reach it.

At the meeting ground, the pair faced off with the Admin. Tommy took his chest plate from his inventory pocket, careful to keep his eyes from wandering to where Tubbo was hidden. Dream brought out the disks, and he and Tommy carefully placed their items on the ground. On the count they each left the item they brought. As Dream bent to pick up the armor, Tubbo ran in, stashing the piece in his inventory before sprinting away with Tommy.

Enraged, Dream ran after them. The panicked teens realized what they would have to do to keep the disks safe forever. They would have to build an Ender Chest.

Ender Chests, while useful, had not been created on the Dream SMP. The chests interacted with Player’s magic as well as the magic of the third dimension of the world. The items placed in and one Ender chest could be retrieved out of any other Ender chest on that world. However, due to the interaction between the Player’s magic and the magic contained in the chest, only the only who placed the item in the chest could retrieve it. This barrier created the perfect place to hide the disks. Not even an admin was able to interfere with the magic of the chest.

Tommy and Tubbo split up to search for the items to make the chest, Dream hot on their trail. Hurriedly trading with their allies, they crafted the chest just as Dream came through the door. Tommy dumped his items into it just as he was killed by Dream.

Tommy and Tubbo walked away triumphant, the Admin left to wallow in his defeat. Each believed that the conflict ended. While called a war by those in it, the Disk War would quickly become overshadowed by the conflicts to come.

Tommy and Tubbo came away gleeful, triumphant through their many respawns, confidence in their abilities growing.

Dream looked out on his world, feeling his control loosen with each passing day.

Wilbur Soot, older brother of Tommy, joined the SMP. If Tommy was a spark of change, Wilbur was the explosion that followed.

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#dream smp #world of dreams #my posts