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loveburrowx · 3 months

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Performance

Request - Y/N performs with her group and Joe is her biggest supporter

A/N - This is my first fluff story! Enjoy!

As the first note of the bass drum echoed through the cavernous arena, Y/N felt a surge of adrenaline course through her veins. She took a deep breath, steadying herself as she prepared to step out onto the center of the stage. This was it; the moment she had been training for her entire life. She was the main dancer and rapper in a group of four ladies, and tonight's performance was going to be one for the books. Little did she know, her boyfriend Joe was in the audience, about to witness the show of a lifetime.

Her heart raced as she glanced around at the sea of faces, the lights reflecting off of their eager expressions. She couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and accomplishment wash over her as she took in the enormity of the moment. The group's choreographer had outdone herself with their latest routine; it was sexy, sultry, and full of energy. Y/N knew she was going to absolutely kill it tonight.

As the first verse of their latest single began, she stepped forward, moving her body in perfect synchronization with the music. The crowd erupted into cheers, and she felt a smile tug at the corners of her lips. This was what she was born to do; this was her purpose. And as she caught a glimpse of Joe's beaming face in the crowd, she knew that he felt it too. He was the reason she danced, the reason she rapped; he was her everything.

The choreography grew more complex as the song progressed, and Y/N found herself lost in the movement, lost in the music, lost in the moment. She felt a rush of adrenaline course through her veins as she executed a series of intricate dance moves, her body glistening under the stage lights. The audience was on their feet now, shouting and screaming, their energy feeding off of hers. She could feel her heart racing, but it only seemed to make her dance better.

The solo performance was finally upon her, and she took a deep breath, stepping forward once again. The music switched to a slow, seductive beat, and she began to unleash her inner siren. Her hips swayed, her body undulated, and her movements were both fluid and powerful. Every move was for Joe, every breath was for him. She could feel his eyes on her, burning into her skin, and it only made her dance with more passion, more fire.

As the final notes of the song faded away, she stood before the crowd, her chest heaving, her heart racing. The cheers were deafening, but all she could focus on was Joe's face, his beaming smile, and the way his eyes never left hers. In that moment, she knew that she had given him everything she had, and that he was proud of her. And in that moment, she realized that no matter what happened in the future, she would always have this memory; the memory of dancing for Joe, and the feeling of his love surrounding her like a warm, protective blanket.

The rest of the concert flew by in a blur of music, lights, and movement, but for Y/N, it was as if she were still standing alone on that stage, her heart beating in time with Joe's. Even as she shared the spotlight with her fellow group members, she couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment and peace wash over her. This was where she belonged; with them, and with Joe.

The final encore came and went, and as the crowd began to file out of the arena, Y/N made her way backstage, her body aching from the exertion of the performance but her heart full to bursting with joy. She found Joe waiting for her, a huge grin on his face, and she couldn't help but laugh as she collapsed into his arms, feeling the warmth of his body and the strength of his embrace.

"I knew you were going to be amazing," he whispered into her ear, nibbling gently on her lobe. "You are incredible, you know that?"

Y/N leaned back, looking up into his eyes. "I couldn't have done it without you," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "You're my everything, Joe."

He smiled down at her, his eyes shining with love and admiration. "And you're mine," he said, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "Always."

And as they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, they knew that no matter what the future held, they would always have this moment; this memory of the night they danced together, their love burning bright on the stage.

The afterparty was a blur of music, laughter, and champagne, but for Y/N and Joe, it was a quiet oasis where they could escape the chaos and revel in their own little world. They danced together, slow and sensual, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. They ate and drank, savoring every bite and every sip, knowing that it was a celebration of not only their success, but their love.

As the night wore on, they found a quiet corner of the room and collapsed onto a plush couch. Y/N nestled herself into Joe's side, feeling the warmth of his body against her own. He ran his fingers through her hair, tugging gently on the ends as he watched her, his eyes filled with tenderness.

"I love you so much," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the music.

He smiled down at her, his expression softening. "I love you more." And even though she knew it was impossible, she felt her heart swell with happiness at the thought.

They spent the rest of the night like that, lost in each other's company, lost in the moment. As the sun began to rise, signaling the end of the party and the beginning of a new day, they knew that they had created a memory that would last a lifetime; a memory of love, of passion, of two souls intertwined forever.

Hand in hand, they made their way through the crowds of revelers, stepping out into the cool morning air. The city lay before them, still asleep but bustling with life, and for a moment, they stood there, taking it all in. Y/N leaned into Joe, her head resting on his shoulder, and she felt the warmth of his body, the beat of his heart, and she knew that she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

As they started to walk, their fingers laced together, she glanced up at him, her eyes shining with love. "Where to now, handsome?" she asked with a grin.

He smiled down at her, his gaze never leaving hers. "Well," he said, "I was thinking we could grab some breakfast, maybe take a walk along the beach...?"

She laughed, her head tilting to the side. "Sounds perfect," she replied, squeezing his hand. "Just you and me, huh?"

He nodded, a fond smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Just us," he said. "Always." And in that moment, as they walked together through the city, their future stretching out before them like a blank canvas, they knew that no matter what challenges they faced or how the world might change, they would always have each other. They would always have this love.

#joe burrow #joe burrow fan fic #nfl #nfl football #nfl imagine #explore #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x y/n #aesthetic #y/n

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chloedrewitt · 4 months

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The Lakes - Hannibal Lecter x Reader

summary: You are a promising young actress currently cast as the leading role in an Italian opera. When Dr. Hannibal Lecter, an admirer that has been visiting you occasionally, invites you to his house for dinner, you accept, not knowing the emotions it would evoke.

pairing: Hannibal Lecter x F!Reader

word count: 3.1k

warnings: some making out, age gap

a/n: Another part of my Swift series! Where I write one shots based on Taylor Swift songs. This one is based on the song of the same name. And I have decided to do a similar series but with Florence + The Machine songs after finishing this one, so stay tuned!

Masterlist - Discord Server - Request Info - Taylor Swift Series

Take me to the Lakes where all the poets went to die I don't belong and, my beloved, neither do you

You smiled as you took a deep bow, a bouquet of roses in your arm. Applause erupted from all corners of the theater, and headlights blinded your view, causing the audience to merge into a single sea of darkness. Some people threw single flowers at your feet, and you kneeled to pick some of them up, adding them to your bouquet.

The long gown you wore made it hard for you to move much, but you had spent enough evenings dressed in dresses like this one to navigate the tight corset and voluminous skirt that hung from your waist, stretching to the wooden floor of the stage.

Scanning the sea of standing people in front of you, you could only distinguish those in the first row, but the person you sought always sat as close to the stage as possible.

Your smile softened when your eyes landed on the man who had attended every one of your shows for weeks. Your fingertips rested against your lips before you extended your arm towards the audience and blew them a kiss, not coincidentally in the man’s direction.

His face was darkened by shadow, his sharp features accentuated by the little light that shone on the audience as he turned his head towards you. He was clapping, his sole attention lying on you. Although a thousand faces were staring right at you, you met the man’s gaze only until the curtain closed before you, separating you from the audience.

“That was beautiful, (y/n),” Antonio, the director of the opera you had performed, said as he approached you, his face brightened by a toothy smile and his hands clasped in excitement. “Truly beautiful. A magnificent ending to a tragic story.”

You turned to him, handing your flowers to an assistant who passed by. “How many times do you want to say ‘beautiful’?” you chuckled. He always became very articulate after a successful show, which amused you.

“I believe your admirer will be waiting for you in your dressing room,” he said, shortly before turning his attention to a tech person behind you. “No! No! What are you doing? We need those lights for the encore!”

You watched as Antonio maneuvered around you, his eyes set on the man carrying a headlight in the wings. You sighed, trying to ignore how your stomach tingled at the thought of who was waiting for you behind the stage. You brushed it aside and left the stage, raising the skirt of your dress with your hands so you wouldn't trip and fall.

He stood in front of the room, its door slightly ajar. You could barely make out the large mirror of your dressing table behind it, the lights on it barely illuminating the otherwise darkened room. Dressed in a suit with his hair slicked back and a bouquet in his hands, Dr. Hannibal Lecter smiled at you, his gaze finding yours when you came to a halt in front of him. The gown suddenly seemed to weigh you down; it was somehow heavier than before.

“Miss (y/l/n),” he said, offering you the bouquet. It was made of white lilies and lots of green. You had told him weeks ago that they were your favorite when he first asked for you after the opera. Ever since Antonio had allowed him behind the stage to express his admiration for your singing, you had been keeping in touch here and there. Almost every evening you could count on seeing his face in one of the first rows. Usually, he would have sat in the rear seats, wanting a moment to simply enjoy the music— a private moment amongst a crowd. Ever since he had come into contact with you, though, he chose to sit as close to the stage as possible. It honored you.

“Dr. Lecter,” you nodded as you took the bouquet, a vase inside already prepared for it; he always brought you flowers when he had time to pay you a visit backstage. “They are lovely.” Smiling, you pushed the door open and left it so, allowing him to enter if he wanted. He only stood in the doorframe, watching as you placed the bouquet inside the vase on your dressing table.

“I would like to invite you to dinner, Miss (y/l/n),” he then said, causing you to stop in your tracks and turn to look at him. He had never properly invited you out before; his company had always been limited to his aftershow visits. Color rose to your cheeks.

After a pause, you replied, “Let me know when and where, and I shall be sure to clear my schedule.”

“Tomorrow at eight,” he said almost instantly. “My place. I would like to cook for you.”

You stood there, a bit taken aback by the abruptness of his invitation. However, you could not deny that you had dreamed about this at least once in the past weeks. There was something about the man that compelled you, that drew you in despite the fine hairs on your neck standing on end almost every time you laid eyes on him. He was quite a bit older than you. You had only finished musical school a few years ago while he was already an established doctor. His profession intrigued you too, as he had told you that he aids his psychological knowledge to the FBI at times.

Then, your lips curled into a smile, hands clasped together in front of your abdomen. “Send me the address, and I shall be there.”

—

You stood before the house with an umbrella in your hand, shielding yourself from the pouring November rain. The house almost resembled a small mansion, and you wondered just how wealthy he really was. You knew he used to be a surgeon, and his work in psychiatry was revolutionary for the field, but you had not considered the materialistic aspects that came with it.

Two pillars held a small roof above the front door, allowing you to step underneath and keep dry as you closed your umbrella, rustling the excess water from it. You pressed the doorbell, and did not have to wait long before Hannibal opened it for you, greeting you with a smile and stepping aside to let you in.

“Good evening,” he said, taking your coat and hanging it on the coat rack next to the door. “Please, do make yourself at home. I am only finishing up in the kitchen. Dinner will be served soon.”

You smiled in response, entering the room he gestured towards. It was the living room, you quickly realized, decorated with large bookshelves that stretched from the floor up to the ceiling and had almost no empty spots. Rows and rows of books had been placed inside it, together with curiosities and pictures.

You approached one of the shelves, your eyes drawn to the bird skull displayed on the right, before studying the titles engraved into leather spines. A few of them you recognized, but others rang no bell.

“I see you are a fan of classics,” you remarked when you felt him enter the room. A quick glance over your shoulder told you he was still wearing the white dress shirt and black vest, protected from oil by an apron which he was now taking off.

“No wonder then why you visit the opera so often. Although I must admit, I was beginning to wonder whether you enjoyed Tosca that much or my singing. You have been to almost every performance.”

“It is a favorite opera of mine,” he admitted. “But your performance was intriguing. I have never seen a production of Tosca quite like that before. Your vocals have such depth—it's riveting. I wanted to properly enjoy it before it is taken out of the theater’s repertoire.”

You half-smiled, running your hand along the bookshelf to your right. There was not a single hint of dust anywhere. It was clear this man took care of his books, which told you just how much he valued them.

“Well, I hope you thoroughly enjoyed the performances. Tonight was the last one.”

Hannibal turned his back toward you to take a bottle of wine and pour two glasses. You watched him approach you, one glass in each hand. You took one of them as he offered it.

"You're still relatively young," Hannibal said, raising his glass as he kept his eyes locked on you. "I find that as an opera singer approaches the peak of her career, the performance becomes more poignant; the voice becomes more seasoned and rounded. I imagine you have a long, flourishing career ahead of you."

“To flourishing careers,” you proposed a toast, raising your own glass to meet his, stopping mere millimeters before they could touch.

“To flourishing careers,” he repeated, clinking his glass with yours before taking a sip from the wine.

The taste of the bitter-sweet liquid filled your mouth, and you raised your brows in surprise at the quality. You were by no means an expert on wine, but you did not have to be to recognize how much finer this quality was compared to the wine you usually drank.

“Château Haut-Batailley. It is a French wine, one I keep for special occasions.”

“Well, in that case, I am honored, Dr. Lecter.”

“Please, no need for such formalities.” He chuckled a little, taking the apron from the chair he had hung it over. “I will finish up in the kitchen. In the meantime, please make use of my book collection if you wish.”

You watched him exit the room, leaving the door open behind him before you turned your attention back to the shelf, browsing the various titles one by one. You mainly looked at the fiction section and noticed that although he seemed to have a fondness for the classics, there was some modern literature as well, namely thrillers and historical fiction.

A while later, Hannibal entered the living room, his eyes finding you sitting in one of his leather armchairs, a copy of the Iliad in your hands. You had taken off your shoes a while ago to avoid getting dirt on his carpet, and they were standing behind you where the carpet did not cover the wooden tiles.

You had become so engrossed in your reading that you did not notice him at first. Your lips were slightly parted, and your breathing was even. You did not see it, but the faint hint of a smile pulled at the corners of his lips. He cleared his throat to get your attention.

You looked up, the book still in your hands as you met his eyes. “I do enjoy Greek myths a lot. This is a beautiful copy at that,” you said, raising the book a little to underline your words before you closed it and set it aside on the glass table next to you.

“It is a rare copy. Dating back to the 18th century,” he mentioned, wiping his hands with a white paper towel before tossing it into a garbage can nearby. You swallowed, pulling your hand back from the book as if it had burned you.

“That is very fascinating,” you said, standing from your seat and rubbing your palms against each other. You left the empty wine glass and the precious book behind on the glass table, approaching him. “I hope you are not bothered by me touching it? I didn't mean to pick such a valuable one.”

Hannibal chuckled, his eyes watching you in an almost predatory way as you showed a sign of uncertainty. You flinched a little when you saw him reach out, his hand ghosting over your cheek as he observed you. “Not at all,” he said softly. “It is not as fragile as its nature might suggest. The book is meant to be read, not locked away.”

“As music is supposed to be heard,” you added, letting Hannibal lead you out of the living room and past the kitchen until you reached the dining hall. The table had been elegantly set, one plate at the very end of it, and one to its left. You looked at the plants hanging from the wall to your right, touching the leaves gently to see if they were real. A classical piece played, though you saw no speakers anywhere. Hannibal invited you to sit, holding the chair out for you.

You thanked him and lowered yourself into the chair, in awe of the beautiful floral decoration that had been placed in the center of the table. The plate, you realized, was decorative only; it was golden and large, framing the white one Hannibal brought from his kitchen like a halo.

You looked at the carefully placed meat and the salad that accompanied it, the smell enveloping your nose. He poured you a new glass of wine, and you thanked him, waiting to ask about the dish until he had taken his seat.

“Venison backstrap with blackberry sauce and Italian salad. I hope you enjoy,” he said, holding his knife and fork, waiting for you to take a bite before doing so himself. There was a satisfied smile on his lips when he watched your eyes widen. It tasted truly divine, unlike anything you had ever had. It was savory, sweetened by the blackberry sauce, and just the right amount of well-done to still keep a juicy softness to it.

“You are truly an exceptional cook,” you said, cutting another piece of the meat before tasting the salad. It, too, seemed to have been made with the freshest ingredients available. The salad was crunchy, and the tomatoes were too.

He smiled as he cut off a piece of the meat himself. “I am glad you enjoy it. I can give you the recipe if you like.”

You only shook your head as you took a sip of your wine, laughing softly when you placed the glass down. “Oh, no need. I fear I would only butcher it. I have never been an exceptionally good cook.”

“Yet your singing would make Orpheus envious.” He met your eyes as he said the words, causing you to suddenly feel a bit warmer than before. Swallowing, you lowered your head for a moment, the comparison making you somewhat nervous. You were used to compliments, but you knew men like him did not give them lightly. They weighed more than what critics and other admirers had to say.

When you finished your meal, he put the dirty dishes in the kitchen, leaving you alone to wander around the dining hall. There was a painting on the other side which you had not noticed when you entered; an image of the sea in the background, and white sand in the foreground, framed by single branches that were scarcely adorned by any green.

You only noticed Hannibal behind you when you heard his voice. The deepness of it, the vibrations and warmth of his breath on your naked shoulder, revealed by your off-shoulder top.

“Windermere,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “The largest lake in England. William Wordsworth wrote many of his poems overlooking it.”

You tried to ignore how your heartbeat increased when you heard his deep voice right in your ear, goosebumps appearing on your skin. He was so close you could smell his cologne, an earthy, musky scent.

“Do you always surround yourself with so much poetry?” you asked, your breath almost catching in your throat as you stared at the painting in front of you, not daring to move even the slightest bit. You could feel his chest against your back simply by doing as much as breathing.

“I like to surround myself with beautiful things,” he replied. A pause followed. “Momento Mori.” He read aloud, and you instinctively touched your shoulder blade, right where the words had been pierced into your skin by a needle. You tensed. He leaned even closer to look at it, and you felt his finger ghost over the delicate tattoo. “Remember you must die. Quite morbid, is it not?”

"It serves as a reminder to live each day to the fullest," you explained, turning your head slightly to watch him from the corner of your eye.

"A certain reminder, yet so unnecessary." There was a subtle cruelty in his voice you barely picked up on as you furrowed your brows, sucking in a breath in response to his thumb brushing over your bare shoulder, just above where the tattoo started.

"Unnecessary, how?" you asked with a hint of edge to your voice, which quickly faded as you felt his thumb on your skin. A shiver ran through your body.

"Death is a constant, something you can never avoid. It seems senseless to remind yourself of something inevitable," he said softly, his thumb running in small circles on your skin. He knew his touch was making you shiver, and he was enjoying every second of it.

"Or perhaps it is a way to ensure one is never foolish enough to forget." You pressed your lips together to prevent a sigh of pleasure from escaping you. You did not know why you did it. Perhaps you were embarrassed by how little it took for him to make you produce such a sound. Nevertheless, you turned your head in his direction so that you could look into his eyes, your lips mere inches apart.

“I suppose that depends on whether one is afraid of death,” he whispered, his voice laced with a deep, sensuous tone. Briefly, you saw his eyes drop to your lips before meeting your gaze again.

“Well, I am not,” you said, just before pressing your lips to his softly, your hand burying itself in his neatly brushed back hair. You felt him respond almost immediately, gently trapping your bottom lip between his teeth, which made you moan against his lips.

Not breaking the kiss, you turned to face him, hand wandering down his face until you rested it on his shoulder. He had now taken the lead, his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you in place as he deepened the kiss and you parted your lips in response.

You could still taste the wine on his lips, the bitter-sweetness having an almost intoxicating effect on you as you pulled him closer to you by the shoulder. It was then that he dared to be a bit rougher, pushing you against the wall with the painting hanging just above your head. He had grabbed a handful of your hair, yanking it back, though with a certain gentleness as if you could break in his embrace any second. He pressed kisses on your now exposed neck. You gasped when he bit you, sure it would leave a mark tomorrow.

“Perhaps, we should continue this elsewhere,” Hannibal whispered against your neck with a raspy voice. You searched his gaze, smiling once your eyes locked.

“Lead the way.”

Those Windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry I'm setting off, but not without my muse

#hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader #nbc hannibal #mads mikkelsen

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rainswept · 5 months

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# THE MOON IS BEAUTIFUL, ISN’T IT?

— lyney, freminet, navia : 272, 213, 206 words respectively. these don’t really make much sense tbh.

# LYNEY : love. bouts of flattery overflowing from a mouth full of bleeding gums, bouquets of rainbow roses neatly tied together in a pretty silk bow; words slipped like cards between fingers past his teeth that are pleasing to the ear but do naught to soothe the ache beneath the skin. stiff movement, perfected performance, smile lines on a face that has seen nothing but tragedy; swooning, blushing, grinning; bright spotlights, pried open eyes blind to it all. cries for an encore are like a bandage over a profusely bleeding wound that just won’t stop, won’t quiet down. gods, he’s so tired of encores.

but he is not tired of performing. the desire to still swells beneath his skin like the blood that sustains him — it always has. but it is beginning to feel like a cut forcing that deep-seated thing to the surface instead of passion, forming a wound instead of flushed cheeks, painful and slow and agonizing as it bleeds him dry. but at least now it is familiar.

dreams that leave him in a haze, warmth settling in the pit of his belly instead of knives, bread as a peace offering, hands held tight in the face of peril, soft breaths entwined without a single kiss and gentle touches to gnawing wounds. moving away from a fireplace when it gets too hot only to return moments later when you forget the feeling of being singed; a garden overgrown with rainbow roses to the point where they almost look as if they began growing wild, unbridled and free and passionate and imperfect.

which is love to him? he doesn’t quite know.

# FREMINET : tears. he thinks his tears threaten to overflow the rushing sea, bleed into the waves until he dies in a water that cannot drown him. marks that linger as memories fade, reflections on the surface of the sun; the deteriorating seashells picked up from the shaking sand at the bottom of the ocean, forever moved by the presence of another. soft touches and fleeting wishes, dry lips with sobs seeping between the cracks like water, begging for a reprieve from the loneliness that strives to swallow him whole unlike like the sea he loves so dearly — a threat versus a plea, a soft embrace instead of a bruising hold. he doesn’t know which is which.

shaky hands held beneath a star-filled sky, glistening teardrops so plentiful they mimic the galaxies and the sea alike. currents swelling beneath fingertips and seeping beneath skin as he sinks until he can no longer see. screaming, yelling, silence, cries and wails of anything but sorrow, knives to throats and blood spilling beneath a red moon to taint shallows that were never pristine in the first place. tender flesh, calloused fingers, sharp nails digging so deep into each other you could nearly get cut. you pray to the archons that the indents in your unwounded skin scar.

# NAVIA : comfort. a warm dessert melting on the tongue, meringues, saccharine and soft; a hazy memory doused in vanilla and egg whites. beds of flowers whistling in the wind, head leaned against the base of a tree, soft strands of golden hair twirled between fingers and tangling in the grass; forehead kisses, sunsets, lighthearted giggles turned to laughs so plentiful they make your chest ache.

navia wraps her fingers around yours like she never wants to let you go — it’s tender, loving, sweet, and oh so far away. the look in her eyes is distant, clouded, guilty; she gazes at the floor, the ceiling, the corner of your mouth. anywhere she can find and grasp onto but your eyes, or your lips, or your heart, or your soul — her eyes are like the moon over the water, you always told her, and the moon’s view of anything you truly want it to see has been hidden away by a fog rolling in on the horizon.

a doomed ship sails straight into the fog blanketing the sky like it wants to protect the moon to a fault. as you hold her hand tight, aware you’re watching it, there’s an innate sense it will not come back.

#⟢ rainswept ⊹#lyney x reader #freminet x reader #navia x reader #idk what this is goodnight

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venusstorm · 1 year

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Backflips

Bucky finds your awkwardness adorable.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, flirting

w/c: 700 | masterlist |

﹤୨♡୧﹥

Your eyebrows furrow in concern as Bucky attempts to bend his dislocated shoulder back in place. He releases a loud grunt as it pops, the sound making you wince and hastily backpedal.

"Told you to stop falling off of shit!" Sam shouts, jokingly.

"Gotta get you in a dance class or something to work on coordination because your body does not like you."

Bucky rolls his eyes as Sam bursts into a fit of laughter. "This is how you look," he begins.

A smile grows on your face as Sam mimics Bucky's bird-like movements, which is slightly ironic because he's the same person who wore a literal bird as his superhero suit.

Sam dramatically tumbles to the ground as Bucky watches, mumbling something underneath his breath before preparing to turn around and leave the room entirely. He almost makes it too, well…until Sam physically drags him back in.

"Ahhh don't be so cranky Barnes. Look, even Y/N’s laughing."

Your small smile falls quickly. "Nope. Leave me outta this."

“Don’t act like you didn’t boomerang your shield back into your nose the other day,” Bucky quips.

“Touché,” Sam grins. “Fair point. I’ll enroll us both in a ballet class next week.”

“Sam! Bucky grunts, “please don’t.”

Sam begins to walk backward, heading towards the door. “Too late. You’ve already convinced me!”

“Goodbye Y/N, goodbye Buckkk. Don't fall off the couch or anything while I'm gone."

You wave goodbye to Sam who was stifling a sea of laughter as he shuts the door.

Turning to Bucky, your eyes broaden at the sight of his bruised skin. You knew the serum meant it looked worse than it probably felt but still your heart tugged at the sight. "Does it hurt?" You ask softly.

He shrugs. "I've had worse."

You got up anyway, adamant about helping him in any way possible. You placed your hands around his shoulders, pressing your palms gently against his skin before rubbing softly.

"This okay, Buck?" You inquire. He nods, his eyes closing shut as your soft hands dance around his shoulder.

The up-close view of his back left you stunned. The intricate outlines of his muscles protruded without him even moving. You could spend hours exploring, touching him in hopes that he'd finally wrap you into a warm hug just like you've always wanted.

"Fuck, you're pretty," you murmur underneath your breath. It was hardly a whisper, so faint that you hadn't realized you said it aloud.

But Bucky did.

Curse superhuman abilities.

His eyes flicker open as a smirk forms on his lips. "What was that?" He questions.

"Oh! I said Fun. Yep. Fun. This is soooo fun."

Bucky chuckles, "I'm glad my misery's fun for you."

Immediately your smile drops. "Oh my god, Buck. I didn't mean it like that, I'm so sorry." Your hands fall to your side, your stomach doing backflips as he turns around to meet your eyes.

“That’s not actually what I said,” you whisper, fiddling with your fingers nervously.

He grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers in between yours. “Yea?” he smiles. “And what exactly did you say, sweetheart?”

The corner of your lips upturned from hearing the pet name, the backflips in your stomach returning for an encore.

“I said...uhm. I said nothing. Yea.” You speak quickly, unsure of yourself as he watches you squirm.

You always became a mess around Bucky. His presence was intoxicating and quickly your words would become jumbled and mind hazy with adoration. You don’t even realize that you’re squeezing his hand a bit too hard but nothing that he can’t handle.

He rubs your hands softly, drawing them against his chest in preparation for what he wants to do next.

You yelp as he drags you down into his lap, his burly arms wrapping around your waist. His scent overwhelms you and naturally you sink into him, a deep sigh escaping your lips as you finally feel the warm hug you’ve both been seeking.

He smiles as you rest your head on his chest, kissing your temple gently before peppering kisses across your nose.

"I think you're very pretty too,” he murmurs.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fics #Bucky Barnes #backflips

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penini-art · 8 months

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Fanart for a scene in the fic Deep-Sea Encore by ToastedFishDish on AO3!

Fic here:

#genshin impact #Lyney #Lynette #freminet #pers #because pers deserves a tag too #I know this is not my usual content but this fic got me #literally give me any content of Lyney and Lynette being protective big siblings for freminet and I explode #in a good way though #otherwise I would not have drawn this #anyways go read the fic!! it’s just started but I like where it’s headed

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lavender-tea-dragon · 8 days

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Some fanart for the fantastic fic, Deep Sea Encore! ^^

#my art #not my oc #fanart #genshin freminet #freminet gi #gi freminet #freminet genshin #genshin impact freminet #gi fanart #genshin fanart #freminet #genshin impact fanart #fan fiction fanart #au

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virgoilluminati · 11 months

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Belongings

(Series Masterlist)

Chapter 1: “We’ll be a fine line.”

Idea: After performing to 70,000 people, Harry wants nothing more than to spend his night with his muse. Problem is, she isn’t technically his. (In all honesty that was supposed to be a very short fic!!? And I went overboard)

A/N: Hiya, so I went and saw Harry a couple of days ago in Edinburgh (I was also fortunate to go to Glasgow last year, but don’t worry I am not one of those people who are prepared to go to various cities across the world to see him. I just live in Scotland and luckily had the opportunity to see him twice). and OML HE IS THE MOST ADORABLE AND FITTEST MAN I HAVE EVER MET. In all honesty I have been in and out of Harry fazes as I have grown up to realise that I like too many men. But rn I am very much stuck in a Harry faze and Idc.

Warnings: toxic relationships, slow burn angst and a whole lotta tension.

Word Count: 2356

____________________________________________________

As Harry stands on stage, basking in the adoration of 70,000 people, his mind can't help but wander to his love interest, Y/N. Despite the overwhelming attention surrounding him, his thoughts remain fixated on the person he yearns to be with.

As the lights dazzle and the crowd roars, Harry's heart feels heavy with longing. Every lyric he sings, every note he plays, is infused with his unspoken desire for Y/N. In his mind, he envisions a future where they share their lives together, where their connection is stronger than any bond he's ever known.

Yet, Harry's hopes are currently overshadowed by the presence of his best friend, who occupies Y/N's attention. It weighs on his spirit, aching him inside. He wonders if his feelings will ever be reciprocated, if Y/N will ever see him in the same light he sees them.

But Harry knows he must persevere. He pours his emotions into his performance, channeling his yearning into every word, every gesture. Perhaps, through the power of his music, he can convey the depth of his feelings to Y/N, even if they remain unaware of his internal struggle.

Offstage, he longs for a moment to speak with Y/N, to lay bare his emotions and reveal the love that burns within him. But until then, he must continue his journey, both as a musician and as a hopeful lover, hoping that fate will eventually align their paths.

As the applause fills the arena and Harry takes his final bow, he glances out into the sea of faces, searching for Y/N's eyes among the multitude. And deep down, he holds onto the hope that one day, his love will be reciprocated, and they will find their way to each other's arms. Harry Styles was accustomed to being surrounded by adoring fans and captivated audiences. With his soulful voice and mesmerizing stage presence, whenever he took the spotlight, he had a gift for capturing emotions through his songs and making people feel connected to his music. Yet, amidst the whirlwind of fame and success, his heart yearned for something more.

His thoughts were consumed by her infectious laughter and the sparkle in her eyes. His thoughts were consumed only by her.

Y/N, a vibrant and compassionate woman who shared his love for music. They had been inseparable since childhood, spending countless hours jamming together, exchanging lyrics, and dreaming of making it big in the music industry. Their bond was unbreakable, and they supported each other through thick and thin.

“Thank you so everything.” He shouted to his fans, after a heavy encore, leaving him breathless. Every song sang today was for y/n. Who sat backstage watching his every move. On his way back to backstage, Harry found himself alone with his heart aching from the weight of his unspoken adoration, and he knew he couldn't keep it hidden for much longer.

In all honesty, that wasn’t the first time Harry had wanted to go straight to y/n and tell her how he felt. The more he performed songs, which had been written for y/n (without her knowledge) the more he felt himself opening up and shouting it out to her, hoping that maybe she would feel the same.

It was fine line which had really set it off that night. The song was about two lovers, neither one could explain how they felt for each other. And really it was always a in between stage of love and friendship. That’s how he truly felt about Y/N. That’s how he had always felt.

Whilst singing kiwi and medicine, all he kept thinking about was the things he wanted to do to y/n. He wanted to pin her down, tie her up with ropes and force her to stay still as he sucked and kissed all over her body.

He wanted to hear her moans as he bit on her neck, hickies covering her body. He wanted to make her cum, numerous times, with everyone being able to hear her from miles away. He wanted her to be his.

****************

In a crowded room, amidst a sea of people, there she stood, captivating all those who catch a glimpse of her. She was in a red dress, and exuded an air of elegance and confidence that is simply mesmerizing. Harry ran over to her, as soon as the show ending, wanted to waste no time but to be alone with her.

Her dress, a vivid shade of crimson, drapes gracefully over her figure, accentuating her every curve. The fabric, silky and smooth, catches the light and shimmers with every subtle movement she makes. It hugs her slender frame, embracing her with its timeless charm.

Her presence is commanding yet gentle, drawing attention effortlessly. With each step she takes, the fabric gracefully sways, hinting at her graceful and poised demeanor. The dress falls to a modest length, just below the knee, allowing her to maintain an aura of sophistication and class.

Her dark, lustrous hair cascades down her shoulders, framing a face that radiates both beauty and intelligence. Her eyes, a mesmerizing shade of hazel, hold a glint of mystery and intrigue, inviting you to unravel the secrets within her soul. A subtle smile graces her lips, capturing the hearts of those who dare to meet her gaze.

Confidence emanates from every pore, as if she is aware of her own allure. She moves through the room with grace and poise, effortlessly navigating the social landscape. Conversations pause as she passes, heads turning to catch another glimpse of this enigmatic woman.

In her red dress, she embodies passion and power, unafraid to make a statement. She carries herself with an air of self-assurance, leaving an indelible impression on all those fortunate enough to witness her presence. She is a vision, a symbol of strength and femininity, leaving an unforgettable mark in the hearts and minds of those who encounter her.

As she opened her eyes and saw Harry standing before her, joy flickered across her face."Harry, that was beautiful " she asked, her voice laced with happiness and aspiration. Her voice, made his heart flutter.

He smiles gently before sitting down beside her and letting her hug him. As she does this, he sniffs her perfume a beautiful mix of cinnamon and vanilla, one of his favourites. “The fans were crazy. I didn’t know what to do.”

“Well, I had so much fun back here. You’re a special man Harry. And they knew that. They were crazy because they love you.”

I love you he hoped she’d said. But in reality she didn’t. And rather she sat there mesmerised by the amount of people whose eyes never left Harry’s figure.

“Harry this world-. This is your world. I am so proud-“. Harry smiled again, before gesturing over a towel to wipe the sweat which had formed on his back.

“It could be your world too-“

“Har-“

“No, I’m serious. You have to show people your talent love! Get out of London, go big! We could even do it together!”

Y/N was a small time singer. Known only for her small gigs in England, and occasionally being pictured next to Harry styles. She’d performed in countless small venues, receiving applause from intimate audiences who recognize her brilliance, but the world at large remains unaware of her incredible gift. To Harry, her songs were filled with raw emotion and poignant lyrics, tell tales of love, loss, and the struggles of the human spirit. Though her talent is undeniable, fate has conspired to keep her hidden from the spotlight. She was a star, and needed her own break.

Y/N loved to sing and, if she was being truthful - ever since she was much younger - the prospect of being able to just sing as a full time career was a desirable plan. But after her mother died in her early teens, and she was forced to help out more at home - that dream also slowly died. Instead she got used to being humble with the smaller things, like having a best friend like Harry, or having a small apartment in Brighton - which was directly opposite her family owned bakery, which she loved.

That was where Harry and Y/N had met, so many years ago to count. He had gone in to her store during X factor days to buy an iced bun to proove to Liam at the time that it was the top tier dessert.

In a cozy bakery nestled in the heart of a bustling city, the alluring aroma of freshly baked goods fills the air. The sound of a soft melody accompanies the rhythmic clinks of utensils against mixing bowls as a talented singer, dressed in a vintage-inspired ensemble, steps into the warm haven. Behind the counter stands a young y/n, her hands adorned with flour, and a smile that radiates warmth and joy. Next to her was her father, a bearded man, whose eyes were pierced like a dragon.

The singers approaches the counter, Liam and Harry’s eyes lighting up as he takes in the delightful treats displayed before her. Unable to resist the allure of the bakery's offerings, Liam turns to the baker with an enthusiastic gleam in her eyes.

“What’s your favourite thing to bake?” Liam asks.

Y/Ns father laughs warmly "Oh, that's a tough question! But if I had to pick just one, it would be doughnuts

Harry laughs slightly before quickly paying attention to the young y/n who, had began to look down at the ground uninterested. “I told you Harry! The best ones in the business!” Liam responds shaking his shoulders

“Ok, but what about the iced buns. Iced buns have got to be up there too!”

“Iced buns? Yes we have iced buns, they are delicious also. Would you like me to get you both up to choose from?” Y/Ns father asked eager for an extra sale.

“What do you like?” Harry asks y/n who is shocked by the question. Not because she doesn’t know what was her favourite more so, she hasn’t expected him to notice her.

“I-I’d probably say, the iced buns. It’s a British classic.”

“Then we’ll get 5 iced buns please,”. Harry responds not waiting for Liam to protest. Y/Ns father nods his head before going to the back room to find some more iced buns. Y/N stood at the till, placing their order in the cashier.

“The iced buns aren’t just for us by the way. Our band, all wanted to have something.”

“Your band? What are you called?”

“One direction.” Liam proudly stated. Expecting y/n to suddenly start fangirling. Like other girls had done prior.

“Oh. Cool. Whereabouts are you guys playing, I presume you’re not from around here.” She responds. Her eyes only focused on Harry.

“Down by the beach. It’s a one off thing - for a friends birthday. We promised we’d do it.” Harry responds before handing her the money. Y/N smiles before handing over the iced buns.

“Well, I hope you have a nice time.”

Both the boys say thank you before leaving. Unlike Liam who went back to himself resolutely, Harry remained eclipsed with that conversation. Wondering if ever she would see him again. Funnily enough they would, and that would be at the friends birthday party. Because the friend was Will….

Will had been Harry’s friend since pre school, and had moved to Brighton when he was 15 which is where he met y/n. Through will, they both met at his birthday party, and together they became an inseparable trio. However this also meant that Will and Harry both ultimately became attached to y/n. And whilst Will believed y/n was the perfect fit for her given his thriving law career and being able to have someone who would be able to create a family with. Harry also desired a life with y/n, both being able to travel the world and share music.

Y/N came from a very strict family. One whom focused entirely on making sure she had someone that could help her to run her baking business and also create another generation of children. They cared enough for her to be with someone she loved, but they also needed to be able to provide, despite y/ns beliefs being totally against needing to rely on a man. Will fit that box. He was able to provide a wealthy life, with a lot of opportunities to grow and it allowed y/n to stay with everyone she knew.

Harry was too rogue, able to spread months away from home. And ultimately meaning he was not the right fit in her fathers eyes to marry him. Nonetheless this did not prevent Harry from wanting her.

Will stood as constant presence in their world, a bridge between their pasts and an embodiment of their shared history. Yet, his role as the y/n/ partner fuels an insidious flame of resentment within the Harry’s heart. Each encounter between them drips with tension, colored by the seething undercurrent of jealousy and disdain. Every smile shared, every touch exchanged, stirs a storm of conflicting emotions.

And overtime a silent battle rages within him, torn between loyalty and desire, unable to escape the torment of witnessing their connection blossom. In this intricate dance of love, friendship, and unrequited longing, the boy's heart bears the weight of an unyielding enmity, casting a shadow upon the delicate balance of their intertwined lives. He remained the most difficult thing to prevent Harry from telling y/n how he truly felt.

“Just imagine it, you’re my opening act. You, me touring the world. Will could come too if he wanted-“

Before he could say anymore, Will walked through, offering both a pint of beer. Harry inside grunts, knowing again that his time with y/n was limited. Will smiled before coming over handing over them each a pint. “You know what?, £5 for a pint this size, ain’t even half bad.” Will responded sitting next to y/n forcing Harry to stand up.

“Thank you.” Y/N responded, taking a hold of the pint before kissing him on the cheek. That kiss made Harry want to throw up.

“Have you told him yet-“

“Will-“

“Told me what?” Harry asked. Staring at y/n who had suddenly become uncomfortable under Wills skin.

“I was going to tell you later, I didn’t want to steal the show-“

“Tell me what?”

She looks down at the floor before looking back up to Harry. “We- we are-“

“We’re engaged!” Will stated. Interrupting y/n and leaving Harry numb.

As the words escape Will's lips, revealing his engagement to Y/N, a flicker of disbelief dances across Harry's face, quickly morphing into shock and aching disappointment. The weight of his unrequited love settles upon his shoulders like a heavy burden, threatening to suffocate the joy he once felt for his friend. In that bittersweet moment, Harry is caught between genuine happiness for Will's newfound happiness and the piercing ache of shattered dreams. Each word hangs in the air, pregnant with unspoken emotions, as the fragile dynamics of their friendship tremble on the precipice of a heart-wrenching realization.

He knew that this moment had been coming for a while, Will had often spoken to Harry and Niall about finally tying the knot with Y/N. However he never realised how it would truly feel if he actually did tie the knot. He’d never be able to look at Y/N the same. Dating is one thing, but marriage and then the possibility of children is a whole other ball park.

“That’s amazing! Congratulations!” He responded immediately hugging Will, before hugging y/n even tighter. He felt his heart fall to the bottom of his lungs, before smiling forcefully, allowing y/n to announce the words to the rest of the band.

The room seemed to spin as, Y/N, joyfully announced their engagement to, Will to Mitch and Sarah. A mixture of shock, disappointment, and a tinge of envy washed over him, threatening to drown him in a sea of unrequited love. Harry forced a smile, concealing his true emotions behind a facade of happiness, while his heart shattered into a thousand fractured pieces. In that moment, he realized that he had to come to terms with the fact that Y/N's happiness lay in the arms of another, and he would have to find a way to navigate the treacherous path of friendship, masking the pain that gnawed at his soul.

But in all honesty, he would never be able to get over the pain of losing the love of his life. Especially someone who seemed like his perfect match.

#harry styles #one direction #harry styles x reader #harrys house #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles concept #harry styles smut #harry styles x singer!reader #Harry styles x baker reader #harry styles fanfic rec #one direction fanfiction #harrystyles cute

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cheynovak · 8 days

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A new addiction - Encore

Jensen x F/reader Y/N

Warnings: none I guess?

English isn't my first language.

This idea came after hearing Jensen sing 'wondering why.' Just a little something something for those who liked the 'a new addiction' series.

Jensen and Y/N have been together for a little while now. Everything went smoothly after they finally chose to be with each other. But how will they cope with their first real fight?

As they sat across from each other in their cozy apartment, Y/N's excitement bubbled over as she shared her plans for a new job opportunity that had come her way. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation, her words filled with dreams of new beginnings and adventure.

However, Jensen's reaction was not what she expected. He listened quietly at first, his brow furrowed in thought. As Y/N finished speaking, there was a noticeable tension in the air, the weight of his silence hanging heavily between them.

Finally, Jensen spoke, his voice laced with uncertainty. He expressed his concerns about the timing of Y/N's decision, pointing out the challenges it could pose for their relationship and his own career commitments.

What had begun as a conversation filled with hope and excitement quickly turned into a clash of priorities and fears.

Y/N felt a wave of frustration wash over her. She had hoped for Jensen's support and encouragement, but instead, she found herself facing resistance and doubt. Hurt by his lack of enthusiasm, she lashed out with words fueled by emotion rather than reason.

Their voices rose in a crescendo of anger and frustration, each word cutting deeper than the last. In the heat of the moment, they said things they didn't mean, wounds inflicted by the sharp edges of their own insecurities.

By the time their argument had reached its peak, the damage was done. Jensen's heart ached with regret as he watched Y/N retreat into herself, her eyes clouded with tears of frustration and disappointment.

But deep down, he knew he couldn't leave over seas while having this fight. And so, with a heavy heart and a determination to make things right, he suggested they take a trip together, hoping that a change of scenery would provide the space and perspective they needed to mend what had been broken.

And so, they found themselves in Rome, a city steeped in history and romance.

The Roman air felt charged with tension. Jensen had a convention to attend, and Y/N had insisted on accompanying him, hoping the change of scenery would help them reconnect.

Their first fight had left a bitter taste in their mouths, each word spoken in anger leaving scars on their hearts.

As the convention kicked off, Jensen took the stage, the spotlight bathing him in a warm glow. His eyes searched the crowd until they found Y/N, sitting in the back, her gaze a mixture of uncertainty and longing. With a deep breath, he began to sing, his voice carrying the weight of his emotions.

The melody was familiar to Y/N, a song she had heard countless times before, but not by him. Jensen poured his heart into each note, like always, but she realized that this time was different.

This time, the song was for her.

Tears welled up in her eyes as the lyrics washed over her, each word a promise of love and forgiveness. In that moment, all the hurt and anger melted away, leaving only the raw, unfiltered truth of their connection.

By the time Jensen finished his song, Y/N was already making her way to the backstage, her heart pounding in her chest.

After Jensen's heartfelt performance, he stepped down from the stage, his heart heavy with emotion. Y/N approached him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

Without a word, she threw her arms around him, holding him close as if afraid he would disappear.

Feeling the warmth of his embrace and hearing the sincerity in his voice, Y/N's heart softened.

"I'm so sorry sweetheart, please let's never fight again."

"Never." she smiled softly.

She lifted her head to meet his gaze, and without hesitation, she pressed her lips to his, a silent reassurance of forgiveness and love.

In that kiss, they found a renewed sense of connection. As they pulled away, Jensen's eyes shone with gratitude, his hand reaching out to gently wipe away Y/N's tears.

"I love you, Jay."

"Love you too, sweetheart."

This is part of the ' a new addiction' series

Please check out my masterlist. And feel free to like comment or share.

Taglist:

@mayafatimakhan @anundyingfidelity

@yvonneeeee @suckitands33

@mostlymarvelgirl

#fanfic #fluff #jensen ackles #x reader #the boys #soldier boy #dean winchester #the boys amazon #spn #light angst #lovers #jensen ackles singing #jensen fucking ackles

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lucydoodlessometimes · 13 days

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alright friends. more deep-sea encore hydro dragon freminet. GO read it rn i am BiTING you with my rabies teeth. none of this is in there i just have brainrot because it bangs that hard mwah

#lucy doodles #my art #fanart #genshin freminet #lynette genshin #genshin lynette #genshin impact fanart #genshin impact #genshin fanart #genshin impact au #hydro dragon freminet's design is from their twt #genshin #deep sea encore #toastedfishdish

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cerise-grenadine · 3 months

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Summer 1996, or later. Severus & Muireann are spending some time on the coast of France.

---

It was another of those bright, lazy summer mornings. A gentle warm breeze was coming through the open window, carrying scents of pine and salt, and the song of waves and joyful birds.

He had gotten up a bit earlier. She hazily remembered him planting a soft kiss on the corner of her lips as she was dozing back to sleep. A grin split open her freckled face as she stretched like a cat; she put on a light robe, shook the duvet and folded it back neatly to let the marine atmosphere freshen the sheets.

As she walked down the stairs, she caught a sweet and tasty whiff wafting from the kitchen. He was making pancakes again. She stopped as she reached the threshold, to take in the scene. He hadn’t noticed her come down, focused as he was on the pan. Somehow he had gotten flour on his cheek. From the hi-fi came Ferrat’s deep and mellow voice, and he was whistling along what was his favourite song these days.

Tout ce que j'ai failli perdre, tout ce qui m'est redonné Aujourd'hui me monte aux lèvres en cette fin de journée Pouvoir encore partager ma jeunesse, mes idées Avec l'amour retrouvé, que c'est beau, c'est beau la vie. Pouvoir encore te parler, pouvoir encore t'embrasser Te le dire et le chanter, oui c'est beau, c'est beau la vie !

He looked happy.

Rough translation:

All I nearly lost, all that is given back to me is coming to my lips tonight Still being able to share my youth, my ideas With the newfound love* How beautiful, how beautiful life is Still being able to talk to you, to kiss you, To tell you so and sing it, How beautiful, how beautiful life is!

*technically, the original text says "a love that has been found again"

Here is an explanation of the lyrics in English! And the other song he was listening to just before, do yourself a favour i beg you (it’s about young lovers on a sunny beach, bathing in the warm sea with thyme and pine and pebbles and birds and waves and-)

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emilthe1diot · 1 month

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Fandom: Genshin Impact

Title: Deep-Sea Encore

Writer: ToastedFishDish

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50108533/chapters/126541744

Status: OnGoing/ Incomplete

Main Characters: Freminet

Description: For Freminet, taking the brunt of what he thought was an acid attack aimed towards Spina di Rosula's boss was nothing more than a split second decision. He wouldn't call himself a hero by any stretch of the imagination-he's skittish and meek and tragically pathetic on almost every level-and he wouldn't say he led his life with noble and virtuous intentions either.

-But when the urge to help someone comes to him, he ponders little over it. That's just what a good person would do, and Freminet desperately wants that: to be a good person.

(Still, maybe he should have paid more attention to just what was being splashed.)

Freminet dissolves into water. That really should have been the end of it, but it seems like the ocean wasn't keen on letting him go just yet.

(HydroDragonHatchling!Freminet, Updates Biweekly!)

#fanfic #fanfiction #genshin fanfiction #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #freminet #genshin freminet #freminet fanfic #neuvillette #genshin neuvillette #lyney #genshin lyney #lynette #genshin lynette

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indietourney · 4 months

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Hey, is there a list of competitors that has there names instead of icons? Some of these I want to check out but, I don't recognize them by their icons.

Hiya! You're in luck :D

I've been keeping a list of titles to keep track of the competitors since the beginning, for my sake and now for yours too. Feast your eyes!

Logic & Optics The Witness, Monument Valley, The Room (series), FEZ

It Takes a Village Owlboy, Night in the Woods, Bug Fables, Spiritfarer

Like Clockwork Cook, Serve, Delicious! (trilogy), Bejeweled 3, Satisfactory, Creeper World (series)

Darkness Falls The End is Nigh, Rainworld, LISA: The Painful, Brutal Orchestra

The “Flash”backs FireBoy & WaterGirl (series), The Bart Bonte Collection, Duck Life (series), Learn to Fly (trilogy)

The Walls are Written GRIS, Titan Souls, Flower, FAR: Lone Sails

Four Square Fair Just Shapes & Beats, thomas was alone, 140, Super Hexagon

The Gun Show Deep Rock Galactic, ShellShock Live, Risk of Rain 2, Nuclear Throne

Heart of the Cards One Step From Eden, 100% Orange Juice!, Dicey Dungeons, Rounds

My Home Away From Home Cult of the Lamb, Aground, Stardew Valley, Forager

Test of Temperament Give Up (series), I Wanna Be The Guy, Jump King, The Impossible Quiz (series)

Team-Building Exercises ibb & obb, Sky: Children of the Light, Vitamin Connection, Pico Park

Retrogradation Creepy Castle, Tower of Heaven, The Messenger, Old School Musical

Speed Menace Freedom Planet (duology), Spark the Electric Jester (trilogy), SpeedRunners, Azure Striker Gunvolt (trilogy)

Blood for the Blood God They Bleed Pixels, Dead Cells, Hotline Miami (duology), ULTRAKILL

Jump Up, Super Stars! Electronic Super Joy (duology), Umihara Kawase (series), Woodle Tree (series), Yooka-Laylee (series)

Traveling Companions Alto's Adventure (series), Fruit Ninja (series), Plants VS. Zombies (classic), Canabalt

The Chessmasters Bloons TD (series), GemCraft (series), Wargroove (duology), Pit People

Just Plain Adorable Sushi Cat (series), Pikuniku, A Short Hike, Petal Crash

LevelWare D.I.Y. osu!, Baba is You, Levelhead, Crayon Physics Deluxe

“Flash”bang Deep Sea Hunter (duology), Age of War (duology), Raft Wars (series), Bubble Tanks (series)

Untold Horrors LIMBO, Fran Bow, Dread X Collection (series), Yume Nikki (series)

Answer: Fisticuffs Tunche, Skullgirls: 2nd Encore, Guacamelee (duology), Them's Fightin' Herds

Neverending Dungeons Darkest Dungeon (duology), Rogue Glitch, Loop Hero, Noita

Please check each of these games out as time allows and as you desire. Use the divisions to roughly sort the competitors by genre and theme :)

And happy new year to everyone! I'm in the midst of winter break, and as such I can happily say I intend to resume progress on this project after an unpredictably indefinite hiatus. Thank you all for staying tuned!

- Zettaflake

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barthel · 10 months

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Radiohead, "Creep" (Live in Oxford, 2001)

youtube

As a band, Radiohead has always been legible. They tell you how to think about them: what their story is, what their music means. And if you were a Radiohead fan in the 90's, you knew they hated their first hit, "Creep." You knew this because they told you, but also because they made a series of albums that were aggressively the opposite of "Creep"'s anglo-grunge angst; because tour documentary Meeting People is Easy made clear their disgust with the kind of mindless fame a song like "Creep" engendered. "I want to have control," Thom had sung in the song, and now they were taking control of their narrative. They wanted to be smart, and "Creep" was not smart.

The problem was, if you were a Radiohead fan in the 90's, you yourself probably loved "Creep." When I first heard the song, I was just the kind of teen to feel that crunchy angst deep in my soul, and even as I went to college and wanted to seem smart and do smart things myself (OK Computer, Kid A, and Amnesiac are all very "I went to college" sort of albums), every moment of "Creep," from its chiming beginning to its jet-takeoff chorus to its transparent self-loathing, was a blast. My gross teenage soul felt seen. And anyway, wasn't Radiohead's rejection of the song exactly the kind of self-loathing that "Creep" itself had managed to capture so perfectly? I was a creep, I was a weirdo; what the hell were we doing there? Let's not do that again, guys. Come on.

After college, I spent a lot of time online arguing with past versions of myself. I was embarrassed about the college-age Radiohead superfan who'd spent hours decoding the band's inscrutable website updates, convinced that they contained some galaxy-brain higher message, some greater masterpiece. When In Rainbows came out, given away at the band's website for whatever you wished to pay, the fan narrative became that Radiohead had boldly pioneered a new economic model that would save the music industry. But by that point, I'd become knowledgeable enough about both music and the music industry that I could smugly point out to you the many ways in which that was wrong. (And, even today, I can do a solid 7 minutes on how In Rainbows devalued digital music.) I didn't listen to the album for years, even though, when I did, I liked it well enough. Your old self can get in your head, can become a region on your internal map filled with sea dragons and smoke. Don't go here.

When you're in your 40's, like I am now, you can't just react to your last identity; you have too many to choose from. It's easier to look back with regret on the many old selves you've lost than to boldly forge a new identity opposed to your last one. I was a writer for a couple decades, then got a professional job that didn't allow me to write. Since leaving it, I've been trying to put my writer-self back together, but in assembling my last bio, I noted that many of my publications were in outlets that no longer exist. It's easy to fall into regret; to feel illegible, your self-perception out of sync with how others see you. You can't afford these arguments with your past self anymore. You have to find a way to embrace them.

In 2001, after releasing Amnesiac, Radiohead played a triumphant homecoming gig in Oxford, where they'd all met at university. (Like I said: a very "I went to college" band.) At that point, they hadn't played "Creep" in four years, even as they'd put out two confirmed masterpieces, and all signs pointed to them never playing the song again. They weren't planning on playing it that day, either. At the end of their final encore, they began to play "Motion Picture Soundtrack," the bleak love song that closes "Kid A." It was written around the same time as "Creep," but where "Creep" is easily legible, guitars and lyrics united in message, "MPS" pushes against itself, a cozy organ contrasting harshly with Thom Yorke's declaration that he'll never be with the object of his desire, and will only "see you in the next life." But the crowd wouldn't hear MPS that day. The band flubbed the intro, and instead of starting again, Thom says, "Okay, I've got a better idea. This is a slightly older song."

As the first note of "Creep" hits, a sound erupts from the crowd: not just a cheer, not just a scream, but the clearest expression of release I've ever heard. It is a true surprise, a fulfillment of their heart's desire; one diehard Radiohead fans never expected to happen, or at least not that day. They sing along to every word. And the band shows no signs of the embarrassment they'd felt so strongly for the song since releasing OK Computer. Jonny launches into the first roaring chord of the chorus audibly out of tune, and you can hear a moment of hesitancy, the old embarrassment threatening to creep in, before he gives in to the song's pull. Thom sings it with a gleeful lightness. It's a reunion, a band realizing, in a flash, that they've had enough distance from their past self to love them again. You need that distance, need to see your earlier selves were right, or at least not wrong; not smart, maybe, but maybe smart isn't what really matters. Maybe what really matters isn't being smart or right but that feeling, that release, the crowd and the band together, in perfect purpose, deciding to love the sound itself and its adored history rather than the barren meaning of the words. The explicit legibility slips away into something richer and more complex, and together, they find joy in having made it far enough from that angst to view it with affection.

#radiohead #creep #Youtube

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