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fiapartridge · 2 months

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intro (end of the world) ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ | jack hughes

“how can i tell if im in the right relationship?”

☼ pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader

☼ summary: after seeing jack for the first time since your breakup, you’re left seeking advice from your nonna…

☼ fia’s note 💌: first part of the series! thx for joining us on this 13-part-series, i’m very excited for what’s to come <3 pls enjoy “intro (end of the world)” ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

eternal sunshine hq ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

next part: bye ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

*₊ ° .　. • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

For the past two months, you’ve felt your chest tighten and your throat well up whenever you went to bed. The other side of the mattress felt absent and empty, like the space was waiting idly for a person who would never return.

But today felt different. You saw him for the first time since your breakup. His arm was slung around Nico’s shoulder at the cafe downtown as they talked about their next game against the Pittsburgh Penguins. You didn’t feel like curling up into a ball and rolling out of there before he could see you. No, you felt like breaking into a full-on sob, letting the tears rack through your body and shake you up until you were at his feet, begging him to take you back.

Yet you stood there and you watched Jack talk with Nico, and you clung to your chest, and you stretched the suffocating collar of your scratchy sweater, and you watched him meet your eyes—and you watched him look away. It was like your two-year-relationship was never a thing, as if he had erased all memories of you from his mind. It was like you were no one to him.

Looking around, the cafe seemed smaller, as if the walls were closing in on you and you had to get out quickly before you were trapped.

You sprinted back to your apartment in record time, and upon opening the door, your back hit the wooden slab as you slid down to the ground, pulling out your phone from your pocket. Your hands were shaking, your chest was rising up and down without fail, and your vision was blurred with the amount of tears falling down your pale cheeks.

You waited two rings until your grandmother picked up. She was your safe haven for all things in life. She always knew exactly what wise words to say, and while she was thousands of miles away, you imagined her stroking your hair as you laid your head down on her lap, asking her how life was so easy for her. She would say that her life was everything but that and then go on a long speech about her younger days. That was all you needed now, and all you wanted in the future: to have her, to hear her advice and life lessons, and to pretend she’s still there stroking your hair, wiping your tears, and humming her perfect girl to sleep.

“Nonna?” your voice was shaky and tired, and she could sense it immediately. You could hear her tell your grandfather that she would be in the bedroom if he needed her.

“Sweets? Are you alright?” You missed her voice. It felt like you were calling her less and less nowadays. You hoped she would forgive you for that.

“I,” you stammered, clinging to the silver pendant around your neck. “I feel like every time something good happens to me, it all just…fades away and I hate feeling this way. I hate it, but I don’t know what to do,” you whispered. It all just felt impossible, like feeling happy held this small entity in the back of your mind, telling you that it could all be over in just a matter of seconds. You felt that in your relationship with Jack, you felt that when you saw him earlier, you’ve been feeling that way ever since you walked out of his life.

Being with him wasn’t a solution, but not being with him also wasn’t a solution to your problem. You were stuck and you were clueless as to what to do next.

“Oh, honey,” Nonna’s voice was soft and full of empathy. “Life has a way of tossing us into turbulent seas, but remember that storms eventually pass, and the sun always rises again. You’re feeling the weight of loss now, but that doesn’t mean happiness won’t find its way back to you.”

“But that’s what I’m afraid of. I’m afraid of the happiness, of finding someone new and getting hurt again.” You paused, sniffling before asking, “How can I tell if I’m in the right relationship? I feel like…like you’re supposed to know that type of stuff but I’ve never felt that, or maybe I’ve felt that too much and it’s never been true. I just… I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

#eternal sunshine ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚#jack hughes x reader #jack hughes au #jack hughes series #jack hughes #new jersey devils #eternal sunshine #eternal sunshine of the spotless mind #ariana grande #jack hughes imagines #jack hughes imagine

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pretzel-box · 2 months

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Good Morning Sunshine Chapter 1 snippet [Leon x Neighbour!reader series]

Tags: Female Reader! | Stangers to Lovers | Slowburn | Neighbour AU x Wrong Number AU | Strong language, fluff, mention of trauma late on. Tags will get updated. Slightly Mean Leon!

PROLOGUE here!

TAGLIST: @woofwoofwolf @galactict3a

The days passed, time really flies by when you are busy unboxing stuff and looking at low-quality job ads that could have been designed by a child. There was nothing that spiked your interest yet and it frustrated you. The old laptop that Claire gave you got put aside and you relaxed into the couch cushions, just staring at the ceiling lost in thoughts.

Maybe it was worth a thought to sell a kidney or an eye, there is no doubt that you would look great with an eye patch. How iconic would it be to start being a modern pirate? The ideas in your mind casted a smile onto your lips and you shook your head at your own silliness.

The sound of your phone pulled you quickly out of your daydreams and the bright name of your new message friend flashed up. Leon. Ada’s pseudo lover with relationship issues. You actually didn’t know what relationship this guy had with the woman called Ada, but based on the first impression it was a troubled relationship.

You haven't heard of Leon since that day, thinking that he actually deleted the conversation and moved on from his mistake.

“Hey Claire, can I ask you something??” For a short second you forgot that you’re pretending to be Claire. The actual guy that you should dump for Claire was already taken care of. It was a very disgusting guy that doesn’t understand the word boundaries.

“‘Sup Mr.I’m Sorry.” Fake Claire and Leon are back in contact it seems. “Whatcha need?" Love advice? Buy her roses but not the cheap ones ofc.”

Leon kept typing for some time, then he stopped only to start writing again a few minutes later. You laughed to yourself, this guy reminds you of elderly people who get their first phone.

“God no-” The man needed half an eternity for this short message. Maybe you should teach this poor soul the magic of text to speech. He started to write again and you lowkey prepared yourself to stand up and make some food in the meantime but his next message popped up on the screen quickly. There’s no reason to lie, having him text you was kinda exciting. There was no hint if this is a normal American citizen or a puppy eating monster, perhaps even both. “How do you usually apologize to someone?”

Still the same topic probably, the mysterious lady named Ada didn’t forgive him yet but left him in distress. You could either play his savior and write something useful or rely on your laziness to leave him on read. It wasn’t really your business after all and it was only right to assume that Leon was a grown man with the ability to fix his own problems.

“Idk ask google man” Most useful help, you should really give yourself a proud pat on the shoulder. At least this would be Claire's reaction if it wasn’t for the fact that she’s at work. The woman would laugh her heart out and pat your shoulder in amusement.

Truth to be told, you didn’t tell Claire about Leon. There was no reason to since you thought it was a one time thing. She would definitely nudge you to get to know Leon better, ask him about his hobbies, his favorite food and most importantly. “Are you single?”

The color left your face in an instant as you accidentally sent him such a message. You didn’t even know why you typed out your thoughts with the phone in hand, and even pressed the send button with an absent mind. Maybe the demonic spirit of Claire possessed you for a second. This would be an amazing moment to throw away the phone, move out and leave the country. Change your name. Wait, he doesn’t know your real name so you don’t need a new personal ID but leaving the country was a need now. Panic and embarrassment took over your mind.

“Why?” His message was simple and of course he would be curious. Your question came up randomly without context so there was no way he wouldn’t just accept that.

Now it was now or never. You had to fix this somehow. “Is Ada not your girlfriend?” This was either the best or the worst reply you could have given this man. Leon didn’t reply after that.

You only let out a sigh and stood up from the comfort of the couch, a sudden pain struck inside your back. This is definitely the aftermath of being in a bad position for a long time. The comfortable couch is to blame.

“Not really, we're business associates or something similar I guess.” You huff at his reply. You were wrong about the whole psycho lover thing or it's some korean drama version of a secret office affair. You don't know a single thing about Leon.

You use the moment where he types his next message to get some cheap food delivery. Why leave the house, when the food can come to you? Your body moved too much today after all that unboxing and there's no way you go down the endless staircase for a mere pizza or a sad noodle box. But you make sure to give the poor delivery guy a tip for getting up all the stairs to reach Claire's apartment.

“Yo, Leon. Pizza or noodles?” You pray he won't choose pizza and tell you to add pineapples.

“Personally more of a pizza person.” The guy actually gave a good answer. You finished ordering a big pizza with your favorite toppings. You're hungry after all and when there's something left then Claire can have it. Sharing is caring.

“Foods arriving in 30 minutes.” Leon only gave you a thumbs up for that message. At least he knows how to use emojis.

The rest of the time that you waited for your food got spend with watching some more TV and looking at more job ads. You were about to call it a day till a message popped up.

“Delivery is downstairs in the ground floor.” Well, someone doesn't deserve a tip after all. You let out a sigh and put on your shoes, apparently fate wants you to go down the staircase and it's unavoidable. You quickly sprinted downstairs or at least tried since your stamina quit halfways and when you finally reached the ground floor you needed a minute. The delivery guy hands you your lukewarm pizza, that has probably seen better days, and disappears angrily since there wasn't a tip.

From now on it only could get better, have some pizza once you are upstairs, watch a movie and maybe have a girls night with Claire when she's not out with a guy she picked up. A grin appears on your face as you make your way upstairs. Maybe Leon has time and you two could talk more? The thoughts occupied your brain and you missed the tall handsome man that you ran into. The pizza box you previously held fell down on the ground and your eyes widened. Your precious food! “Can't you see where you're going?” A grumpy voice catched your attention and you snapped your gaze back up. If it wasn’t for his rude first impression then you would crush on him for his appearance alone. He had a navy blue button up that hugged his chest nicely and the black leather jacket added a certain touch. The way his blonde hair frames his face was breathtaking and his eyes are even more a kind of an artw- “Earth to stranger, you're blocking the way.” The man snaps his fine looking hands in your face. Time to stop your teenage crush. “Excuse you, you can ask nicely.” He certainly hit not only your heart with his good looks but also your nerves with his attitude. “Fine princess, move out of the way.” He pushes you out of the way, stepping onto your pizza box and rushing down the staircase. The guy must have been in a hurry.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil fanfiction #leon kenendy fluff #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy x you

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chaithetics · 1 year

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Sunshine

Pairing: Javier Peña x f reader

Word count: 2.5K

Chapter/content warning: 18+ MINORS DNI, barely even any fluff, very teeny angst maybe? But it'll get spicier in future chapters besties! Also this has not been proofread and I apologise if parts of it are bad. I'm at the start of another lupus and ME/CFS flare up and I'm not feeling great. This was a nice little distraction though. I hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think Comments/reblogs/messages welcome :) and happy to add to a taglist, I'll just be keeping it for everything though rather than individual series etc.

Javier had been back in Laredo for just over a week now. He’d spent the first week with a sporadic sleep schedule, he barely slept but his mind was always running a million miles an hour. But blaming his isolation and long, inhuman hours in his room on jet lag was easy. Who’d have expected the day that Javier Peña would retire? He certainly hadn’t. He wasn’t too sure what to do with his life as retirement didn’t really sound appealing but he figured that being back home and helping his father on the family ranch wasn’t the worst start for deciding.

Javier had been doing fence work in one of the fields and had come inside for a coffee break. He was making a fresh pot of coffee as his father talked about his day so far. Chucho had gotten into the habit of volunteering at the local school, the one that Javier had attended what felt like an eternity ago. Chucho would go there to help with the school community vegetable garden with the children and he’d bring in any extra produce from his own ranch in for the children. Chucho had spoken about the teacher for the class he volunteered with, While Javier was extremely observant, he’d hardly paid attention to those details.

Chucho continued to talk as Javier absently nodded along, Chucho knew he wasn’t listening but it didn’t really bother him, he was just glad to have his son back. The door knocked, loudly at first then softly, and Chucho smiled and tilted his head, raising his eyebrow for Javier to answer it. Javier sighed and went to the door, he opened it and his brow furrowed slightly at the stranger. He’d never seen the pretty woman standing there before.

***********

You weren’t a local but had moved to Laredo to teach, you had done teaching in cities but you just preferred teaching and the environments of small towns. You’d come from a small town yourself and you wanted the benefits of a small town without necessarily feeling constrained to your own small home town, Laredo was perfect for this.

You were also aware from your upbringing of how tight-knit small towns could be, for a newbie like you who had moved here for work and didn’t have a partner it could be a bit isolating at times. You made friends, most of your colleagues were nice, the kids were lovely and you’d almost been adopted by a local. Chucho, he volunteered with helping the kids learn about horticulture and agriculture. You now regularly had dinners together and you would often do additional baking for him. He was kind and it was quite homely, you knew he was lonely, his wife had died years ago and his only child, a son had been in Colombia for years working for the DEA.

It was the school break, so you’d done some reading and class prep but you had spent most of the day baking. You loved citrus and Chucho had given you a basket of lemons, so you thought it was fitting to bake a lemon and orange cake as a thank you. It was an easy type of arrangement that felt natural between you and Chucho at this stage. You had a basket of baked goods, Chucho had no trouble finishing your baking but you knew his son was back now as well so you’d made sure to bake extra.

You hopped out of the car and brought the basket with you, humming as you made your way up the patio to the front door and knocked. After a brief moment, the door opened but it wasn’t Chucho’s warm face welcoming you in.

It was a younger man, he looked about your age, maybe a couple of years older. He was extremely handsome with big warm brown eyes, golden skin, dark brown hair, and an aquiline nose, he had broad shoulders and wore tight jeans to show off his legs. You’d never seen him before but you knew he was Chucho’s son, Javier. Chucho spoke of him fondly and you were aware he was back, you just hadn’t met him yet.

“Hi,” you said softly, you put out your free hand for him to shake, he had a stern look on his face still, he looked over his shoulder at his father and then back at you. You found his tenseness a bit confusing but also endearing.

“Hi?” He said with a slight look of confusion that softened the stern look in some ways but not others. You quickly introduced yourself as he shook your hand, you noticed quickly how large and firm his hand was, the contact sent a slight tingle up your arms and you tried your best to not let your cheeks heat up. When you introduced yourself it clicked for Javier, “the teacher?” he asked. You smiled warmly at him and nodded, his expression changed slightly and you swear you caught him looking you up and down.

“I come with goods,” you said smiling warmly at him and you lifted the basket up. He looked down at the basket in your hand and nodded, stepping aside so you could come in. You took your shoes off and then walked in slightly ahead of him “I baked extra, Chucho said you were here, I didn’t realise you’d be here, well here-here today. I hope I didn’t interrupt you?” you asked him softly, which he just politely shook his head at. You knew your way around the ranchhouse having been there a million times and it showed, which slightly shocked him.

When his father had mentioned a teacher, Javier had just never imagined somebody around his age, or somebody as pretty as you. He’d taken your form in when you stood in the doorway and he now had a pretty good view behind you. He was trying not to look at you like that but he was intrigued by you, to say the least. You had a soft-spoken voice, he swore it was the softest voice he’d ever heard but it was still a bit bubbly. There was a glint in your eyes that he didn’t see in his whenever he glanced at his reflection and your smile was warm, it was like sunshine. Being in your presence and watching you was like sitting outside in sunshine on a perfect day.

You greeted Chucho, and Javier noticed how much his father lit up at seeing you and he didn’t blame the older man for feeling that way. Javier stood off, leaning against the kitchen bench watching as you and Chucho small talked and you talked him through what was in the basket. Javier was naturally a flirt and had no shame in it, he hadn’t been with anyone since being back home and he just felt tired. It also felt slightly wrong to try something with you in the kitchen when you were his father’s guest and friend even if you were completely age appropriate for Javier.

“Javi?” His father said, Javier’s eyes snapped up to look at his father, he saw Chucho and you facing him looking at him, he’d been lost in his thoughts. “Hmm?” He asked as he pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes flickered to you briefly before meeting his father’s eyes. “Are you going to eat mijo?” Chucho asked.

“What is it?” Javier had a sweet tooth and he would’ve eaten it no matter what it was, he knew this and so did Chucho.

“Orange and lemon-” You started to say but you were cut off by Javier, he came closer to you, “hmmm?” He hated himself for it as it felt like flirting with how he was now hovering just to the side of you. But you were so softly spoken that he wanted to hear every syllable you said but it was hard to without needing to lean in, being drawn in by your warmth and tone. His body was still a bit tense which you noticed but his eyes seemed slightly warmer, you realised he’d struggled to hear you, you knew that your soft tone made you sometimes quiet, so you made a habit of projecting only while teaching. “Oh, sorry,” you said with a soft giggle and it was so sweet and melodic, “Chucho’s started into the orange and lemon cake, the fruit’s from the ranch, there’s some chocolate chip cookies and a batch of scones,” you continued.

“Cake sounds good, thanks.” You nodded and cut a generous slice for him. “What do you like?” You asked, tilting your head to look at him from the side as he took the piece of cake “I just have a sweet tooth, a pretty big one, chocolate’s always good. I’m easy to please.” he said as he then bit into the cake. You looked up at him with another award-winning smile “that’s good to know.”

He wondered what you meant, his sweet tooth or knowing that he was easy to please? He knew it could’ve been taken with double-meaning, he didn’t intend that at first but it just flowed out of him naturally. You looked over at Chucho “let me know how the rest of it is, I should go now. I’m sorry for imposing-”

“Nonsense mija, please stay? Eat with us, we were just making some coffee.” Chucho said with a warm smile. You shook your head politely, “raincheck? I have plans soon. Thank you though.” He nodded and Chucho walked you out. Javier stayed in the kitchen, finishing his slice of cake. It was perfect and he thought the flavours made perfect sense with what he knew of you.

After a couple of minutes Chucho came back into the kitchen looking at Javier expectantly, he raised an eyebrow at the younger man. “It’s really good.” Javier said matter of factly. Chucho nodded, “she’s a great baker. Walking sunshine really.” He looked at Javier who narrowed his eyes at his father, Javier felt like he’d hidden his expressions well. Chucho couldn’t be reading his mind could he?

“Single as well…” Chucho said with a smirk on his face.

“Why?”

“I don’t imagine many want to move to a small town like this and I guess she doesn’t have as many options in a small town like here. She actually can be a bit shy.” Chucho remarked as he dug into one of your scones.

“Why are you saying this?”

“She’s pretty.”

“And?”

“I saw how you looked at her.” Javier didn’t say anything, “she’s lovely, I think it would do some good for you to be around her. Platonic or not. But just no heart-breaking mijo.”

“You’re too old for set ups.” Javier huffed out, as he finished off his slice of cake and went up to shower. He didn’t want to think about you, it just added to the constant hurricane of thoughts in his head. He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t stop though, he’d just met you and barely knew anything about you.

*******

This was your first time back at the ranch since you met Javier, it had only been a couple of days. You were in the kitchen baking while Chucho was in one of the gardens. Sometimes you’d bake at the ranch and it was a nice change, it was certainly a nicer view than what your suburban kitchen window offered. You felt a pair of eyes on you, you knew it wouldn’t be Chucho as his presence would’ve been immediately announced with friendly chatter.

“Hey,” you said turning around smiling, you could immediately tell he’d come from outside, he has his yellow aviators tucked into his shirt and he had sweat glistening on his neck and forehead. He came more into the kitchen, “hi” he said, almost matching your quieter tone.

“In the business of jump scares?” You asked with a larger smile on your face, feeling a bit more playful today than usual, there was something comforting about being in his presence, even if he was hard to read.

“Hmm?” he asked with a look of confusion, his brows pulled together and you couldn’t help but think how cute the expression was, you felt your cheeks start to heat up so you turned back to your organised mess on the bench. “You almost gave me a fright, a jump scare, standing there like that.” You softly said, “oh, shit, I’m sorry,” he responded with as he went to get a glass of water.

“It’s fine,” you offered him a smile. As he drank from the glass he walked over, closer to you.

“What are you baking?”

“A chocolate and cinnamon flan.” He let out a soft chuckle at that and leaned against the kitchen bench watching you. He was so close, once again drawn in by the warmth just oozing out, “that sounds like a good combo.” was all that he could let out, barely above a whisper but loud enough for you to hear.

“Yeah, you said you like chocolate and well cinnamon reminds me of you, they tend to work well together.” He studied you closer, surprised at that. “Cinnamon reminds you of me?” He asked with a teasing tone but a curious smirk plastered onto his attractive face.

You tilted your head to look at him briefly for a moment, you felt your cheeks flush up. You’d thought about it and wanting to bake something memorable that he’d like. He had gorgeous brown eyes that you knew most people would compare to chocolate and you wouldn’t say they were wrong but there was a warmth there, that reminded you more of cinnamon. It made perfect sense to you and you weren’t sure if you could articulate that, let alone without sounding super intense as this was your second conversation with him.

“Yeah,” You answered with a pause as he patiently waited, “your eyes, they’re a lovely brown. There’s a warmth in them, reminds me of cinnamon.” You said it in your usual soft voice, you imagined it was maybe even quieter than usual and you tried to get the words out matter of factly. He seemed softer, more present today than when you’d met him. You liked it, it felt more safer to be around and just brought out the warmthness you could already sense was there.

“Huh,” was all he said to that, he’d never had anybody observe anything like that about him before, let alone try to turn that observation into something nice and tangible. You changed the subject and he seemed to notice maybe you were anxious over the implication of what you’d said. He obliged though as the more you obviously observed and well complimented him it would be so much harder to be in this room with you without teenage-esque puppy eyes. He didn’t want to get close to you, it wouldn’t be good for either of you. But he couldn’t help but lean a little closer and study you more, how your hands and eyes moved, how concentration adorably etched itself into your face as you focused on your task.

Javier bit his lip as he tried to push back all these thoughts of you away, although he was happy to bask in your kitchen sunshine for a moment, it was a respite from everything else in his life.

tags: @thesapphirequeen @read4funz

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña narcos #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #javier peña x you

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izar-tarazed · 3 days

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𝟐-𝟓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐄 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘

COLORS

#1 … Blue, deep and rich—a variety of blues, really, that are Izar’s guiding colors. The blue of the night sky; the intense Carian blue; the darker one that she calls the Sellian blue, color of night sorceries. The blue of Liurnia, softened through the mist, but lit up by sunshine. The eternal gloam of Raya Lucaria’s great library.

#2 … Purple. The color of Izar’s eyes and the mark she bears on her brow. She doesn’t know how either of those came to be.

#3 … Brass, both polished and weathered. This is the color of treasure and precision, for most of her tools are made of this: the telescope she bought from Kalé before purchasing anything else, the small armillary sphere she retrieved from Raya Lucaria, the compass and the sextant. Her most prized possessions—apart from that small bottle of ink—because they are the tools of her profession: the keys to her identity.

SCENTS

#1 … The scent of old books: leather and yellowed paper.

#2 … The memory of wild grass and crisp mountain winds—the scent of a place fit for stargazing.

#3 … A hint of pepper and minty herba; not out of nowhere, but from the sweet spiced tea beloved among the nomadic merchants that Izar now loves as well.

FASHION

#1 … The Carian Knight Armor. Blue, silver and gold; fabric and metal. This is the armor she feels most comfortable in—as if belonging to it in a way she could never explain. She was reluctant to put it on when she first found it, but now donning it feels oddly like coming home.

#2 … The Astrologer’s Robe. Brown and creme-white; simple and durable fabrics, yet more comfortable than one would imagine. This is the garb she woke up in; the beginning of her journey. Lightweight, with pockets she quickly went filling with herbs and rainbow stones, feathers and crystal buds. Sometimes, at the Roundtable Hold, she’ll still put the robe on—to be comfortable and without worries, nothing but an astrologer, allowed to indulge in her curiosity.

#3 … The Blue Cloth Vest … Its color reminds her of Liurnia, and Izar likes it a lot. Its chestpiece of hardened leather offers better protection than her Astrologer’s Robe while still being lighter than her Carian Knight Armor. It’s another attire she feels extremely comfortable in.

#4 … The Navy Hood. She still carries it with her wherever she goes; she doesn’t even remember where she found it, but the blue, of course, called to her immediately. With the hood pulled up, she feels strangely protected. She’ll bring the cloak out on chill nights and snuggle up underneath when she rests.

OBJECTS

#1 … A bottle of ink, and a quill made of a stormhawk’s feather, but with a brass tip.

Technically two objects, yes, but they go together: ink and quill, essential to Izar’s map-making. She uses them for the most precise lines, for notes and calculations that mustn’t smudge like those made with charcoal possibly could.

She also draws her maps’ ornaments with them: small crests and compass dials, and tiny illustrations of what she concludes certain constellations might represent. A jewel-eyed dragon; a fox chasing its own tail; the hand holding a candle in its palm: with simple lines, she calls forth the forgotten stories.

#2 … The telescope. Always on her belt, to be grabbed with one swift motion—not that watching the night sky would require hurry. But Izar likes to keep it close.

#3 … The Carian Regal Scepter … Once again, silver and blue, the night sky and its stars. Izar’s favorite staff and her most frequent weapon of choice. A reminder of what she’s already accomplished, and a promise of what still may come.

BODY LANGUAGE

#1 … the occasional glance skywards—even in daylight—, fingers brushing her telescope

#2 … a series of springy steps when she’s both in good spirits and absent minded; almost as if dancing to a tune in her mind

#3 … slightly lifting her hand as if she’s about to reach out, or point at something (not necessarily something tangible, it can also be a thought, maybe… or a memory)

#4 ... straightening her shoulders, tightening her fingers around her staff–bracing herself for confrontation

AESTHETICS

#1 … the scholarly ones: hand-drawn maps, the inky lines still dark or already fading; dark wood and stacks of tomes, cartography tools; the twilight of a vast library, and its silence.

#2 … the astrologer’s ones: the infinity of the night sky, the certainty of one’s own smallness; shadows and a hint of golden light against the immensity of the darkest shades of blue and the silver of the stars; a landscape lost in darkness.

#3 … the stars in all their aspects—sketched, drawn, real; unmoving and far away; pure fury when wielded in combat—deadly comets, a meteor shower, a whirl of darkness and sparkling light.

SONGS

#1 … Láska neumiera (Jana Kirschner)

#2 Les choristes / Vois sur ton chemin (Les Petits Chanteurs de Saint-Marc/Bruno Coulais)

(une lumière dorée brille sans fin tout au bout du chemin |

a golden light forever shines at the end of the road )

#3 … Le vent nous portera (Scala & Kolacny Brothers)*

(je n’ai pas peur de la route … Tout disparaîtra, mais le vent nous portera |

I’m not afraid of the road ... Everything will disappear, but the wind will carry us)

#4 … Běžela jsem lesem (Vesna)

(bojím se lesem sama jít | mužeš mě prosím ochránit? |

I’m afraid to walk through the woods alone | can you please protect me?)

#5 ... Korzenie (Echo Rodu)

___

*A cover version, but more fitting for Izar than the original by Noir Désir.

Tagged by @hexenjagd–thank you so much, going through these has been a great exercise and so much fun.

Tagging ... well, if you've made your way all through this long post, you deserve a treat! consider yourself tagged if you'd like to!

#tag game #izar headcanon #izar tarazed #elden ring oc

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nodirectionhome-ao3 · 1 year

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The Bubble Written for @jilymicrofics - April Prompt 14: Pop (432 words)

The differences between James and Lily are never more prevalent than when they’re in hiding.

James is an optimist. A dreamer. A happy soul. He is the sunshine that burns through Lily’s storm cloud. The smile that brightens the dullest of days. He revels in the little bubble of serenity they discovered in their Godric’s Hollow home. The sanctuary they’d carved out in the middle of an endless war.

He lives for every babble and giggle and grin he can coax out of their perfect, perfect son. And sure, he gets restless sometimes. He is a Gryffindor, after all. Some part of him will always long to be out there, in the thick of the action…slaying dragons with his very best friends.

But Harry needs him, he knows. His little boy, his greatest treasure. And here, in this bubble, they’ve got all of the time in the world together.

James never worries about when the bubble will pop. The thought never even crosses his mind. He knows Peter will protect their secret. He knows Sirius will protect their Peter. His only worry is for Remus…hoping beyond hope that his absent friend will find his way home.

Lily, on the other hand…Lily is melancholy. And wary. And worn down from the war.

She spends most of her remaining days wondering when their bubble is going to pop.

She writes letters, feigns ease. Hopes her fears won’t shine through in the happy words she dashes off.

Dear Padfoot, she writes, thank you, thank you for Harry’s birthday present!

When what she really wants to say is Dear Padfoot, get us the fuck out of this country.

She lays awake at night listening to her husband breathing, wishing she could soak up his confidence through osmosis, but knowing some part of her, something innate she cannot quash, will always be doubtful of lasting peace.

The other shoe has to drop sometime, she thinks. They cannot stay this happy forever.

But she holds back her doubts, swallows her fears. She cannot be the one to dim James Potter’s shine.

And then…it happens. The monster comes. The bubble pops.

Lily watches James collapse on the stairs, a glass-shattering scream ripping itself from her throat, and she knows –– she knows –– that this unraveling was her own doing.

That maybe, maybe, if she’d had the strength to say something…to voice the fears she couldn’t shake…

She wouldn’t be standing here right now…one spell away from the eternal darkness. Praying to every deity she’s never believed in…

A futile plea…a dying wish…that her little Harry won’t meet the same fate.

#jily #jily microfic #lily evans potter #james potter #jily angst #he was sunshine i was midnight rain #sorry for this one

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ominoose · 8 months

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Can anyone give me some Moon Knight fic recommendations that are quite deep and focus on Marc, Steven and Jake and their relationships with each other? Can be centric to any of those three.

Looking for things similar to Eternal Sunshine of the Absent Mind, but it doesn't need to be as long.

#moon knight #jake lockley #steven grant #marc spector #i made a post like this missions ago and got some amazing recs #now i need more!#omimuse

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residentdormouse · 1 year

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Find the Word Tag

Thank you for the tag @verba-writing!! I love these games too!!

This one was a challenge to be honest. Plus, I don't really have the projects right now to insert what I couldn't find. But you know what I did find? Clinger typos 🤦‍♀️ - a work is never truly done, is it?

My Words Were: Eternal, Whisper, Present, Sunshine/Sun, & Leather.

If you would like to play - No Pressure Tagging: @asirensrage , @imagine-you , @mrsmungus , @darsynia , @scienceoftheidiot & open tag to anybody who would like to join. Please '@' me.

Your words are: Playful, Energy/Energized, Exhausted, Delight/Delightful, Sorrow

(Answers below the cut cause brevity - not my strong suit. Also, slight spoilers in being that they're mostly from Diving and not Spiral.)

Eternity

(I have no instances of “Eternal”. Can you believe that shit?! Closest I came was eternity, so I hope you don’t mind if I substitute.)

“It’s nothing, Dinny. He’s trying to get me to go home.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s trying to protect me.”

“Why?”

“Because…”

‘Because I care about you.’ The admission, along with Nick’s current expression, broke her up inside, and caused her own animated signed response.

‘And that’s why I’m here!’

It was the first signed response that she did in the heat of the moment. Watching him process the declaration felt like both an eternity and a second. The progression from confusion to acceptance to caring to worry, the slight changes in his expressions read clearly to her by this point. The combination of this image along with the increased adrenaline from the situation as a whole, it pushed her to act where she normally would have stood still, lips pressing against his, arms around his neck, holding him to that moment, to that spot.

“Ewww, you kissed.”

“Yeah, we did.”

“Why?”

Whisper

"This isn't just paranoia, is it?"

"No. I don't think it is."

Nothing more was said as they continued their walk through the lobby, corridors, shared spaces… for the first time since Max arrived here all those years ago, it felt off. Everything rang as wrong, and her instincts were screaming to get out. Glaring eyes, whispered voices…

Eye contact avoided, head hung low, Max powered through the building with a quick pace towards the suites with Harold close beside, mimicking her actions. The only thankful feeling came from making it to their hallway without incident, but even that was short lived.

Crying was the first sound she recognized, and nothing further was needed to have her pick up speed.

"Dinny! Dinny, what happened?!"

The words started forming before she even got to the door. Before she could see it hanging open. Before she spotted Nick and Steph inside comforting the small child. Lloyd, however, was noticeably absent.

Present

Meandering around the edge of camp, she spotted a decent sized stick resting in the tall grass. A perfect walking stick and as good as anything to poke about. She snatched it up and quickly got a decent rhythm of walking support to explorative poke in darker areas. No growls were heard. No red eyes glared.

She got most of the way around their base setup when she heard footsteps behind her.

"Had a bad one, huh?" She took a deep breath before she turned to face him; well, as close to facing him as she could muster. Her eyes locked on the ground, and she only noticed out of her peripherals that Glen was offering his vape. It took a second to shake herself back to the present, but she accepted the offer once she finally felt in control again. He was giving her a smile, but all she felt was pain. Guilt in the center of her chest. Eating at her. She needed to focus elsewhere.

"Did you tell him to 'fuck off'?"

Sunshine/Sun

The sun poked through the scattered breaks in the green canopy above them, and Hayden felt herself leaning into Glen from her spot on the polished metal bench.

It wasn’t hard to find picturesque views in the area, and she was pretty sure that was a deliberate design. She wasn’t going to complain though, and she was sure Glen didn’t have any concerns on that front. The thought was confirmed as his arm wrapped around her shoulders comfortably, allowing her to fall further against him.

The need for a slight reprieve was felt by all of them, and no one, not even Glen, could object when Nick jotted down the suggestion in his notepad. Food was addressed, and they had a safe space they could go back to for the night. That was enough to earn the time to relax and process. For Hayden and Glen, that meant finding a private spot to adjust and contemplate everything that happened in a tranquil setting.

“How’d we get here, Giggles?”

“Right?”

They shared a laugh as a light breeze went through the peaceful grove they found for a sanctuary.

Leather

"Alright, well if that's all over, I'm gonna head out here until we all find our clothes. Cover it up, Grandpa. You two. Full judgment here. Fucking gross…"

Max sent a wink towards Hayden indicating it was just her way of playfully giving them shit. Tactless? Maybe. Did she really care? Meh…

Abrasiveness was one of her many features. It was her way of weeding out the weak. You wanted to be worthy of her inner circle, you were getting the full version of her. Fuckery was another fine tactic in her personal arsenal. Both were used on the regular. Why bother wasting time, nobody had it to spare.

She strode out of the bedroom and off to the entryway, not hesitating to open the closet and dig out a brown leather jacket.

“Nice style…”

“I’ll be sure to pass that along to its owner next time I see her...” Hayden came out from the bedroom, still in the process of throwing on a warmer sweater. Right on her heels was Lloyd, still harnessing a highly anxious energy. Glen was the last to come out, buttoning up the flannel over his plain white t-shirt.

“Alright, let’s get this shit over with.” Max adjusted the position of the jacket on her shoulders, and nodded her head at the group, eyebrows flashing up to highlight the excitement that was building up behind the aloof facade.

#mouse's tag games & reblogs #they're not the best excerpts #but I thought that about all options #tbf it's after 9pm #and you know - the horrors #can't trust them

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theonlyratinalberta · 1 year

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The ramblings from a woman who just cleaned her depression apartment

The sky isn’t going to open up

And beam iridescent light straight into your chest

fill you with Divine warmth until you’re bleeding out sunshine on the sidewalk

You won’t collide with an intriguing stranger

two supernova stars that have spent an eternity hurtling through space alone

finally colliding into a storm of infinite, violent, irresistible heat

You wont stretch those willowy arms and reach just high enough to scoop up sunbeams

and store them in 750ml bottles that burn your chest

but fill your mind with potent and eternal fortitude

So much joy you have to puke it up to make more space

There’s always a chase, a sacrifice,

You know this

you’ll always need more and

And

Be fucking real, you’re always going to feel this way

You decided before you could vote that miracles and God don’t exist so what are you waiting for?

Get up off the concrete and wipe the blood and snot and tears off yourself

Stop festering in your own sickness on the off chance that someone will see the gentleness, the soft pink flesh under the sore that you are and pick you up and wash you down, all clean and fresh and new

Get up, get up, get up

Get up and scrub out the wounds

Or just lay there with your scabs and pus and plasma leaking out of your brittle body

Feeling sorry for yourself like and convincing yourself it’s haunting and beautiful because this has to be worth something

Crawl and claw your way up, until your fingers are raw and bleeding,

if you have to

move through the world with aching limbs that crack and joints that lock and give out from under you

so be it

Use some damn crutches if you must

Get up, you’re always going to feel like this

At least a little bit, at least sometimes, possibly most of the time even

But you’re living like an open wound

Rinse yourself out

Anything is better than festering

Anything is better than gangrene

Get up before you’re necrotic

You’re pretty much doomed to feel this way

Whether you’re rotting alone on your living room floor

Or hobbling outside on your sad little crutches all helpless and pathetic in front of the whole world

so just stand up, there might even be something out there, there certainly isn’t anything where you are

There might be something out there

even for an open wound like yourself

Maybe just a few days here and there

Where you’ll dig your way out of the cave you’ve made for yourself from linen

(more a mummification than a chrysalis)

And with an absent mind, set that feeling down on the countertop

bus stop

lecture hall

between couch cushions

the same way you’re always losing your keys

And sit across from someone, and through the ridiculousness, the drama of it all

Just smile to each other over coffee

#poetry #ramblings #writing #idc if I’m cringe

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sorryimananti-romantic · 2 years

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i was rereading dazzling light (angel!yeosang x reader) and bruh. the cringefest- goodbye. it's one of my oldest fics here and it's only a year old at most but i've been writing a lot and the way i write now vs the way i wrote at that time is so different and what can i say? that fic is cringey asf but also kinda candid and nice and i want to rewrite it but i don't think i will be able to so i guess i'll pretend it doesn't exist :') idk why y'all liked it ajdhajkfh i'll write a better yeosang fic soon i promise. my yeosang fics are both the oldest and cringey asf and the beginning of my writing career here LOL and it SHOWS BYE.

which yeosang fic would you all like first? archer!yeosang royal fic where the reader could be a noble/princess, orrr a complicated fic where yeosang and the reader are a part of an experiment which makes them forget that they were lovers but coincidentally meet again and fall in love again (eternal sunshine of the spotless mind iykyk)? i'm going to write both eventually, but i'd like to hear what you would like to read first :)

also update: currently writing a bodyguard!jongho fic and waiting to finish it- i'll post the take me home spinoff after that bc i'll be completely absent from mid november to december and i'll schedule it because it's almost complete. so currently struggling with both of these :')

#cringefest fr #rereading your own fics always means cringefest #i want to rewrite at least 5 of my fics #i even want to rewrite the whole take me home series #i want to erase them from existence sometimes too but eh they're kinda cute in a cringey way #fuyumi rants #yumi.txt

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vaduvaisms · 1 year

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----- 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕕𝕦𝕔𝕚𝕟𝕘: 𝚖𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚜 𝚟𝚊𝚍𝚞𝚟𝚊

"yeah i know. dracula’s daughter. everyone freaks out at first.”

𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎: mavis kate vaduva. 𝚊𝚐𝚎 / 𝚍.𝚘.𝚋: twenty-four/eternal, june 27th. 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 / 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚜: cisfemale, she/her. 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢: bisexual, biromantic. 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚗: transylvania, romania. 𝚘𝚌𝚌𝚞𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: pit stop waitress. 𝚎𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: homeschooled for one hundred and eighteen years. 𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚜: vampire, flight, shapeshifting.

𝚣𝚘𝚍𝚒𝚊𝚌: cancer sun, aries moon, gemini rising. 𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝: sanguine. 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝: neutral good. 𝚖𝚋𝚝𝚒: enfp. 𝚑𝚘𝚐𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎: hufflepuff. 𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚓𝚒𝚜: 🖤🕸🦇🌑

𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢: mavis (hotel translyvania) / lady bird (lady bird), sabrina spellman (sabrina the teenage witch), ellie (the last of us), jo march (little women), alice cullen (twilight), agnes (despicable me), kimmy (unbreakable kimmy schmidt).

+ 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚜: flying during a full moon, the way the dew feels in the early morning hours, cuddling up in her coffin with a good book, texting her friends, striped stockings, walks through the cemetery, chilpotle burritos, painting her nails, sleepovers. - 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚜: garlic, ‘bleh bleh bleh’, sunshine without her amulet, stepping on cracks, twilight, and waking up before 6pm.

╰ * 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝 (trigger warning: bullying, absent parents)

growing up in translyvania mavis knew nothing of the outside world except what her father told her and the stories from the books she had read. it terrified her to leave the hotel... not that she was allowed either way.

growing up in hotel transylavania was fantastically fun until she turned 118. that’s when she got the courage to ask her father if she could please go down to the village and see what the human world was like. so in the early morning hours while most of the villagers were asleep she flew into the city to see what she had been missing. little did she know of her father’s elaborate plan to scare her into never leaving the hotel again.

mavis thought she had been attacked but in one small swoop her father saved her from the evil humans and she vowed to never leave again. her father was so content with her staying but mavis longed for more out of life than being stuck working for her father at the hotel. her dream was not to cater to other monsters for the rest of her life.

then one day when she was 122 a guy by the name johnny came into the hotel. he was unlike any monster she had ever seen. and it was like a light switch went off in her head as soon as they locked eyes. she was certain she met her zing.. the thing is johnny was a human. and her father could never let her go away with him.

mavis was more terrified than anything of humans but when she met johnny she knew that maybe they all weren’t so bad. he changed her mind as he told her of his travels and he wasn’t frightened of her even tho she was a vampire.

quickly mavis knew she had to take her chance and run away with johnny to see the world. he promised her he would help her fulfill her dream of getting out... and he did just that. dracula was furious with them both when he found out what was happening but mavis had already made it to the village.

her father was quick to try and take her back but mavis fought back. pleading for her father to let his little girl go. that she was capable of coming back safe. with much convincing he decided to let her go with johnny as long as she promised to always wear her amulet for protection.

mavis had travled for two years with johnny around the world. they saw so many countries and she tried so many knew things. she quickly learned that not all humans were as bad as her father had told her. she just had to be careful with her trust.

not too long after their trip from africa they landed in elias. johnny decided that he was going to go on one more adventure and he would meet her back. mavis was fine with it because something about elias just made her happy... maybe it was because their were more people like her. people with powers.

╰ * 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝

mavis is currently a year into being in elias. she enjoys her time here a lot. johnny has yet to return but she’s alright with it.

she now waitresses at the pitstop during evening shifts and on the weekends. mainly to help pay the rent at appartment 666.

currently she is crushing on logan but wont tell anyone because she thought she already met her zing with johnny so she is a bit confused.

╰ * 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎

mavis one day with marry logan and have lots of sweet vampire babies. plans for plots until then are undecided but i am thinking about involving a plot with her father coming to elias. so we shall see.

╰ * 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜

roxas & beatrix // apt 666 roomies.

logan teague // crush.

victoria everglot // friend.

serena fain // friend.

╰ * 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜

tba.

pinterest . playlist . edits . full biography .

#watask

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pokimoko · 2 years

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Just reached 20K words on my next Moon Knight fic! It’s looking like it’ll end up being another 30K fic, so it’s still a little way off from being posted. And most of the snippets I want to share (and god I want to share them so bad) are kind of spoilery for the overarching plot, so for now I will simply pique your interest with what I have deemed the story’s “vibe moodboard”:

Make of it what you will.

#my fic stuff #moon knight #esotam series #eternal sunshine of the absent mind series #not gonna announce the name yet BUT i will do the acronym for it and you'll just have to ponder what it could stand for #IYA(RTMOGD)#(i'll give you a clue: one of the words is absence...gotta keep that naming scheme consistent)#feel free to make some guesses #okay so there's a lot of things shown here so from left to right top to bottom it's *deep breath*:#mr robot. adventure time. doctor who. eternal sunshine of the spotless mind. madeline miller. before i forget (game). homecoming (tv).#in the mood for love (movie). finding nemo. the magnus archives. omori (game). michael in the bathroom (song). frankenstein (book).#palimpsest (podcast). steven william (photo). waiting in the wings (song). jeremy miranda (painting).#ocean vuong. love like you (song). the invisible life of addie larue (book)#alright that's all of it woof #some of those repeat by the way I put mr robot & adventure time & doctor who in a few times #a few of these are just quotes that clicked but most were things i 'researched' (love 'researching' tv shows and moves')#(it's both a. great way to trick my brain into watching stuff because it's for 'educational purposes' and b. a good way to procrastinate)#(or the secret third thing c. crying over something because i've now made the mental connnection between it and moon knight)#(*cough* magnus archives episode 170 recollection *cough*)#anyway....this one's gonna hurt

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tilbageidanmark · 23 days

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Movies I watched this week (#170):

2 with French-Algerian actor Ramzy Bedia:

🍿 Youssef Salem Is Successful is a broad French comedy about a failed Algerian writer, who suddenly becomes famous when his tell-all book about his family wins The Prix Goncourt for literature. I liked the score made up of electronic Berber beats, and the two strong female characters, unorthodox and feisty. 7/10.

/ Female Director

🍿 Pecan pie is a 2003 Michel Gondry short-short, made at the same time as 'Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind'. Jim Carrey in pajamas drives a bedmobile while singing an Elvis tune.

🍿

2 more by unique Austrian documentarian Nikolaus Geyrhalter:

🍿 Homo Sapiens (2016) is an eerie, wordless and scoreless vision of post-human abandonment. Without explanations and with a static camera, it visits deserted locations around the world years after the people had given up on them. Derelict concert halls, prison cells, bank vaults and train cabins, from Fukushima, and Chernobyl, and the many other disaster areas people have left behind, surrounding them to the elements, letting the birds and the rain and the weeds take over again. It's hypnotic and transcendental.

It's as if Edward Burtynsky and the Koyaanisqatsi guys had sex with Werner Herzog, but decided not to give the new baby any clues. 💯 score on Rotten Tomatoes. 9/10.

🍿 His 2005 Our daily bread was similar: Without voice over narration or subjectivity, it looks at the insides of giant agriculture factories, massive industrialized farms and high-tech conveyor belt food processing. How do the packages on the supermarket shelves get there? Who picks the tomatoes, the olives, the apples and peaches? Who inseminates the pigs, slaughters the cows, guts the salmons, collects the chickens and the salt in the ginormous mines? Endlessly fascinating. Makes you want to stop eating food.

🍿

Steve Martin X 6:

🍿 STEVE! (Martin), the new 2-part in-depth documentary about this smart and melancholic comedian-musician. A warm and wonderful run-down through his rich life. He accomplished so much during his extraordinary career, and much of it so well. 9/10.

🍿 My third re-watch of his warm and funny An Evening You Will Forget for the Rest of Your Life again, a riff on friendship. With friend Martin Short (Excellent in his 'Stepbrother to Jesus' number!). Impeccable comic timing. ♻️

🍿 Shopgirl, a wistful love-triangle, based on his novella and script, about class and romance. A lonely woman living in a Silverlake apartment, works at the glove counter of Saks Fifth Avenue. She is being wooed by two different men, an immature slacker and a sophisticated older Martin. Jason Schwartzman is generally unbearable to watch, but here he is an insufferable loser. Eventually, it's too slight, a perverted fantasy of a rich, white, old man. However, it's always nice to find Screenwriting Symmetry 101 touches, f. ex. when Martin kisses Claire Danes for the first time, it happens exactly at 46:00, one hour before the end of the story. 5/10.

🍿"Excuse me. May I go to the bathroom first?..." Another re-watch: Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, an old-fashioned story with 60's sensibilities, which was indeed faithfully re-made of a 1964 Marlon Brando / David Niven vehicle. Mick Jagger and David Bowie were originally supposed to play the Steve Martin and Michael Caine roles. ♻️

🍿 The Absent Minded Waiter short (1977) was his first produced screenplay, directed by his friend and 'Jaws' co-writer Carl Gottlieb.

🍿 All of me, a lame "comedy" that aged poorly. Were the supernatural-themed 1980's nonsense the worst decade for movies? Just terrible. 1/10.

🍿

2 more by Jean Vigo:

🍿 First watch: L'Atalante, the classic enigma about barge dwellers and incompatible newly-weds and an old skipper who loves cats. I'll need to watch it a second time in order to fully appreciate its beauty. 💯 score on Rotten Tomatoes.

🍿 Jean Vigo directed only 4 movies before dying of TB at the age of 29. His Jean Taris, Swimming Champion was an innovative documentary that introduced some poetic avant-garde effects, slow-mo, underwater reverse shots, innovative freeze frames. (Photo Above).

🍿

2 Eastern European classics from 1965:

🍿 The Oscar-winning WW2 drama The Shop on Main Street, still considered one of the best Czechoslovakian films. A dim-witted, henpecked carpenter in the Fascist Slovak State is appointed "Aryan controller" of a Jewish widow's store. With Ida Kamińska as the confused old lady. Another 💯 score on Rotten Tomatoes.

🍿 Operation Y and Shurik's Other Adventures was the highest-grossing Soviet comedy in 1965, with 70 million tickets sold. 3 unrelated episodes of weird slapstick featuring some nerdy student named 'Shurik'. Tom & Jerry meet Richard Lester meet The Three Stooges. 2/10.

🍿

2 thrillers with lovely Paraguayan actress Lali González:

🍿 Rest in peace, a new, engaging Argentinian thriller about a debt-ridden industrialist who leaves his loving family behind in order to escape from a dangerous loan shark. Here Lali González plays a sexy young widow. The fancy Jewish wedding reminded me of a similar one in Damián Szifron's terrific film 'Wild Tales'. The ending was weak. 💯 score on Rotten Tomatoes. 7/10.

🍿 "Run, Victor, run!" 7 Boxes (2012), my first thriller from Paraguay. Like the Brazilian 'City of God', it describes a world of acute poverty, which made it a tense watch. It tells of a young pushcart boy at the sprawling Asunción market who has to deliver some wooden boxes with unknown content. This Lali González was a cute teenager here. 6/10.

🍿

3 Temporal Loops:

🍿 Instead of watching my favorite rom-com 'Palm Spring' for the 14th or 15th time, I tried the other acclaimed time-loop story Russian doll, my first anything with Natasha Lyonne. But there was no comparison. The tired NYC hipster atmosphere didn't hold a candle to the sunny flow of Tala and Abe's wedding, and none of the characters were as lovable as Sarah & Nyles. Not even Greta Lee! The first season was hard enough to stay awake through. 2/10.

/ Female Director

🍿 Repeat Performance (1947) is the earliest film featuring the Time Loop Trop. But it works more with the Hollywood concept of 'Destiny', the idea that "If you wish upon a star, all your dreams will become true", no matter how unlikely. However, it's based on a second rate Noir script, made by an unremarkable director, and with uninspiring actors. 3/10.

🍿 12:01 PM came out before 'Groundhog Day', and set up many of the rules for playing 'Time Bounces' from that point forward. An ordinary office Nobody gets stuck but only during the one hour of his lunch break. It was nominated for the 1991 Oscars. 4/10.

🍿

3 shorts by surrealist Kansas City artist Suzan Pitt:

🍿 Asparagus, an avant-garde feminist film, which was shown together with Lynch's Eraserhead. Strangely erotic, psychedelically-fetishist, and politically-ambiguous. A 'Planète sauvage' / R. Crumb sensual nightmare, full of (literal) shit and swallowed phallus symbols.

🍿 Joy Street (1995), a journey of a depressed woman from suicide to a colorful healing.

🍿 Pinball (2013), a drug induced, dissonant, nearly-abstract headache, played fast to the discordant Ballet Mecanique (1952 revision).

/ Female Director

🍿

My second (after 'The Bigamist') directed by film pioneer Ida Lupino, The Hitch-Hiker. It was "the first American mainstream film noir directed by a woman" and, interestingly, portrayed the two men who were taken hostages by a psychotic killer as helpless and emasculated.

/ Female Director

🍿

2 directed by Demetri Martin:

🍿 "Crest Atheist Formula..." Demetri Martin: Demetri Deconstructed, his latest stand up. The first five minutes were weak, but the rest was hilarious and funny.

🍿 Dean, his 2016 directorial debut, a low-key comedy about overcoming loss, was apparently a semi-biographical attempt to deal with the death of his father. Similar Indie vibes to 'People, Places, Things' and many other stories about young Brooklynite illustrators grappling with love, parents, and growing up. His clever drawings (here and elsewhere) are really lovely. 7/10.

🍿

2 Danish Oscar contender shorts:

🍿 This Charming Man won the 2003 Oscar for best shorts. It's a terribly outdated comedy of errors about racism and micro-aggressions and about a Dane who got mistaken for an Pakistani immigrant. 1/10.

🍿 The sentimental On my mind was nominated in 2022 for the Best Live Action Short. I actually forgot that I've seen it before. ♻️

🍿

The Mad Adventures of Rabbi Jacob, my second (and last!) flimsy, nervous comedy with Louis de Funès. When I was 10, I thought he was the funniest man alive, but in hindsight, he's just not. 1/10.

🍿

The Orchard End Murder (1981), a uneasy and unpleasant English story about two weirdos complicit in the senseless murder of an innocent girl on top of a heap of apples. 1/10.

🍿

(My complete movie list is here)

#jean vigo #movies

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ofangelsanddevils · 1 year

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Beloved - book 1 Illusion -Prologue

Liana and her sister May were walking home from school together. Under their feet the gold and red leaves on the ground sang their crunching crackling song. The pressure of their shoes released the smell of decay. The backdrop of the sky was a painted slate blue grey while faded sunshine played hide and seek behind a curtain of clouds. The sparkling cool air and late fall afternoon were lost on the pair. May and Liana screamed at each other. Liana’s blood boiled hot and terrible as she yelled;

“I wish you'd never been born!” The vicious words echoed. May didn't say a word. Her eyes glittered diamond-like as the tears ran down her face leaving trails of mascara on their way.

May's page boy, blonde hair curled around her face. Her tall slender frame shook with emotion.

Liana slapped her sister in a fit of rage, then walked away like the coward that she was. May remained alone on the sidewalk, inconsolable. May’s sweet voice broke as she tried in vain to call her sister back. “I said I was sorry! You didn’t need to hit me.”

Liana glanced back to check on May. Her sister was still crying and hadn’t moved from her position of isolation in the middle of the sidewalk.

In the distance a car emerged from around the corner. It was a white sedan with black tinted windows. It barralled forward. Behind the wheel sat a dark haired man with large sunglasses. He was wearing a hoodie. The sun glinted evilly off of the car as it raced forward. It veered closer to the spot where May stood statuesque in sadness.

“Watch out, May!” Liana shrieked . May turned too late. The driver floored the gas and swerved into her.

The sound of breaking bones reverberated along the street and resonated through Liana's shocked mind. Her sister was thrown several feet forward onto the cement. The car lurched off the curb and sped off down the road. The acrid smell of burning rubber mixed with the scent of blood. Too shocked by the moment, Liana neglected to read the license plate as the numbers faded into obscurity.

Liana flew to where her sister was sprawled on the ground. May wasn't breathing. She lay unmoving on the cracked grey cement. Her skin was chalk white in sharp contrast to the flamboyant colors of the autumn leaves that lay around her. Liana crumpled in surrender as she caressed her sister’s serene forehead, moving the blonde hair away from the unresponsive visage of her sister.

“May hold on! Don’t go! I’m sorry!” Tears of shame streamed down her face and fell onto the pavement leaving small wet circles. Liana would never be able to apologise for the hurtful things she'd just said.

The bleak tranquility of that moment soon blurred into frenetic action as an ambulance and cops arrived.

Then she gave her story to the police. Next came the funeral preparations, which went by in a deliriously fast manner.

Rain was the main guest on the day of the burial. Liana ignored the priest's trite speech, and she focused all her energy on the moment when her sister was lowered down into the ground for her eternal sleep.

Liana held an umbrella in one hand as she bent down and retrieved a handful of soft wet dirt. The scent of iron and clay filled her nostrils when she threw the soil. It landed with a hollow pattering, joining it’s sound to that of the drizzling rain. Remnants of dirt clung to her hand and she absently-mindedly brushed it off onto her black dress where it left wet grime.

On the journey home, the rain beat down on the car windows. Liana sat numb in the backseat watching the drops of water race each other down the windowpane. She and May had raced rain drops together during long car trips in their youth.

After the guests had expressed their condolences and then left to rejoin the land of the living, Liana had sat rocking gently on her sister’s bed. She clutched May’s pink flowered pillow to her body in a vain attempt to shield herself from the searing pain.

Her mother's hesitant knock interrupted her tragic reverie.

“Come in.” Liana choked out between her sobs.

Her mom stood in the entrance of the bedchamber. She still wore her black silk dress from the funeral. It fitted her like it'd been sprayed on, and her narrow frame moved and rippled with the fabric of the dress. Her eyes were red and swollen, and she had a red bag thrown over her left shoulder. The two colors reminded Liana of a black widow. Her mom was speaking, it took a moment for Liana to register what her mom was trying to tell her;

“You’re leaving?” Liana sniffled in shock, her tears stopped cold, one drop perched precariously on her brown lashes.

“Yes, but only for a few days. I’ll be back soon I promise.” Her mom reassured her.

She strode over and hugged Liana tightly, her action seemed half-hearted and insincere. Then her mom quietly closed the door behind her leaving Liana alone to face the devastating loss.

Liana stretched her weary body across the pink and white coverlet of her sister’s bed. At some point she fell asleep and she dreamt of an evil face that leered out at her from behind the wheel of a car.

#my writing #Prologue

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libbee · 2 years

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Character analysis of Clementine from Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and 8th house in astrology

This movie is written by someone who has themselves had BPD. This I am sure of. When I watched this movie, it was like someone took my mind and made a movie out of it. Only someone who actually suffers from BPD and has gone through a similar situationship in life can write this story. Period.

Clementine is into witchcraft. She changes her hair color because it transforms her identity like someone with moon in 8th house. Her emotions are volatile, she is quick to anger and easily irritated. She must have inherited this emotional instability from her maternal bloodline. She has intergenerational trauma and psychological instability.

She writes a lot of letters, takes Joel to Charles river, gives him a lot of gifts and makes his life so exciting because she has idealized him. She has a mental image of a perfect boyfriend and cannot see the real person in front of her. She projects the same mental image on every boy she dates. She repeats the same thing with everyone. She must have an absent or unavailable father. She wants a caregiver who will love her unconditionally. She forces intimacy on the first date because she craves union of soul and deep connection like that of a parent and child.

This is why Patrick goes through the exact same storyline in place of Joel because Clem idealizes every person she dates, does the exact same things with them to PLEASE them so that they will not leave her. She has intense fear of abandonment and rejection. She brings excitement to life because she fears rejection. She constantly creates drama because stability feels scary to her. This is someone with 8th house Moon.

She idealizes every man who gives her attention, does things for him to impress him and please him, repeats same letters/drawings/dancing with everyone. When some months have passed she fears engulfment and boredom. She fears that now she has exhausted her supply of excitement. She is not fun and colorful anymore. Before the guy dumps her, she will dump him. Her sense of self depends on the guy she is dating. She purposely chooses guys with low self esteem and adds excitement to their life because she wants to control them so that they cannot leave her. But then she sees their flaws after some time that the man she is dating is actually a mediocre person with low self esteem and poor character traits. She has pattern of choosing similar guys.

Out of sight out of mind. pwBPD forget people in a snap. It is like the whole relationship never happened. This is why they did not show Clem going through the procedure because her mental illness automatically erases the whole relationship from her mind after she is done devaluing Joel. She has not gone through the procedure. Her mental illness BPD has erased her memory.

Idealization, rushing into relationship, projecting a perfect image of boyfriend and relationship, intensity. Then devaluation, seeing the flaws in the person, fearing abandonment. Black and white thinking, extremely defensive, a lot of arguments. She has no self concept, no self image, no self esteem.

She mentions “I’m crawling under my skin". This is Moon in 8th house. Intense emotions, so deep and so strong that you feel like you will explode. I have suffered with this my entire life until diagnosis.

She is promiscuous and has sex with every man because she feels like her only value is sex. She forces intimacy with men by oversharing every single embarrassing thing with them and having sex with them so that they won’t leave her. She wants security and stability in her life. Which is why when Joel says “my life is not that interesting. I go to work come home", she licks her lips because she wants this stability, consistency, pillar of strength in her life to hold her through the storm and chaos in her life. She tells him that when she was young she wanted to transform her girl doll so that it would magically transform her and then she says “never leave me". She has no self image. She is intentionally creating intimacy and self pity so that Joel will feel like a caregiver. Joel feels like a man, strong, protective. She wants this rock figure in her life. Clem has an endless pit of emotional needs that no man ever can satisfy.

Notice how Joel says “I met this girl Clementine, she is amazing”, “I thought you were nuts but you were exciting", “I love you", “How cool I am attracted to someone’s back”, “and then you just took it without waiting for an answer. It was like we were already lovers", "you are lucky you have Clementice. She is cool". These are not the words of Joel. I repeat. These are not the words of Joel. Clementine is doing maladaptive daydreaming. She has MDD disorder. She is thinking these words about herself from Joel's POV because she can only see herself in relation to someone else. She has no self identity at all. She feels invisible, like a void unless she is being seen by someone else like an audience. Clem is thinking these things about herself in her daydream. She wants to be praised. She wants to be seen and appreciated.

This whole movie might just be her Maladaptive Daydreaming episode. Perhaps this whole movie is just an MDD thing. This is why they add science to it because Clem is daydreaming the whole movie and making things up. MDD coexists with BPD. The person cannot distinguish between real life and fantasy. They are so engrossed in it. They repeat the same scene until perfection. They especially repeat the “good" scenes many times because it gives them kick and rush.

Notice how the same scene is repeated many times in the end? This is because Clementine is doing maladaptive daydreaming. A maladaptive daydreamer repeats the same story in her head 100 times again and again like mad. It gives her dopamine. This is a compulsion. She is addicted to it. The “science" involved in this movie is not real. Clem is daydreaming everything and making things up.

Clem also has a drinking problem.

This whole movie is a MDD episode of a person with BPD. I have daydreamed similar love stories in my head throughout my childhood, teenage and early 20s and then I went through a similar situationship. Then I was diagnosed with BPD. After which I found out I am gifted in astrology, occult. I have calmed down now and have done deep soul searching and have a self concept. I have treated my BPD to a large extent.

Notice how every guy in the movie has had some relationship with Clementine? Clem idealizes men. She is daydreaming that all these men desire her, want her, everybody loves her, she is so cool and different. She wants to be loved and fucked by every man because they gives her security, validation, safety, self confidence.

Notice how Joel is already in relationship with Naomi? The other girl in the movie who is receptionist is in love with Howard who is married? This proves that not only Clem but even the receptionist also has BPD. Girls with BPD are intensely attracted to committed men because it gives them a sense of stability, caregiver, protection, father figure, rock figure. When I was 5 or so, I used to fancy marrying/dating men who were 50+

Notice how Clem and Joel are near the sea and Clem is jumping like a child while Joel walks beside her like a father figure? This is a fantasy in Clem's mind. She sees herself as a little girl. She has not grown up. This is why she is so exciting because she is literally a child mentally. This is why they also show them going to Joel's childhood because both of them are stuck in their childhood trauma and never grew up past it. Childhood traumas are signs of 8th house. Both of them are doing shadow work. They hate each other by the end of relationship because this is a karmic relationship to reveal their shadows to them.

When these people erase Joel's memory, Clem is daydreaming it all happening. Notice how the receptionist girl only talks about Howard? Because she is obsessed with him. She also has BPD. But she flirts and has sex with this computer guy because she wants validation, attention but she idealized Howard in her mind. While Howard has a messed up married life, she cannot see that because she only thinks in all perfect/all bad worldview.

Clem has an emotional meltdown where she feels like her skin is coming off and she is getting old. Nothing makes any sense. She cannot distinguish between feelings and facts.

Clem gets offended whenever Joel says something against her. She gets extremely defensive and insults him. She fears rejection and criticism. She also makes double braids because she is a child emotionally. She is impulsive and takes decision without thinking anything.

I can go on and on. But this is it for now.

#astrology observations #astrology #astro community #shadow self #astro observations #8th house #astroblr #movie review #hollywood #movie art #movie scenes #movie stars #filmography #eternal sunshine of the spotless mind

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kiyodu · 3 years

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The Letters of Vincent van Gogh (Part II)

Quotes I Enjoy:

• When one lives with others and is bound by feelings of affection, then one realises that one has a reason for living, that one may not be utterly worthless and expendable, but it is perhaps good for something, since we need one another and are journeying together as compagnons de voyage.

• I find it hard to bear this thought and even harder to bear the thought that so much dissension, misery and sorrow between us, and in our home, may have been caused by me. Should that indeed be the case, then I might wish it were granted me not to have much longer to live.

Yet when this thought sometimes depresses me beyond measure, far too deeply, then after a long time another occurs too: 'Perhaps it is only an awful, frightening dream and later we may learn to see and understand it more clearly.'

• It is sometimes so bitterly cold in the winter that one says, 'The cold is too awful for me to care whether summer is coming or not; the harm outdoes the good.' But with or without our approval, the severe weather does come to an end eventually and one fine morning the wind changes and there is a thaw. When I compare the state of weather to our state of mind and our circumstances, subject to change and fluctuation like the weather, then I still have some hope that things may get better.

• It is true that I have forfeited the trust of various people, it is true that my financial affairs are in a sorry state, it is true that my future looks rather bleak, it is true that I might have done better, it is true I have wasted time when it comes to earning a living, it is true that my studies are in a fairly lamentable and appalling state, and that my needs are greater, infinitely greater than my resources. But does that mean going downhill and doing nothing?

• If I do nothing, if I study nothing, if I cease searching, then, woe is me. I am lost. That is how I look at it - keep going, keep going come what may. But what is your final goal, you may ask. That goal will become clearer, will emerge slowly but surely, much as the draft turns into the sketch and the sketch into the painting through the serious work done on it, through the elaboration of the original vague idea and through the consolidation of the first fleeting and passing thought.

• You said, we used to agree about many things, but, you added, 'You have changed since then, you are no longer the same.' Well, that is not entirely true. What has changed is that my life then was less difficult and my future seemingly less gloomy, but as far as my inner self, my way of looking at things and of thinking is concerned, that has not changed.

But if there has indeed been a change, then it is that I think, believe and love more seriously now what I thought, believed and loved even then.

• Can you tell what goes on within by looking at what happens without? There may be a great fire in your soul, but no one ever comes to warm himself by it, all that passers-by can see is a little smoke coming out of the chimney and they walk on.

• You may never have thought what your country really is, he continued, placing his hand on my shoulder; it is everything around you, everything that has raised and nourished you, everything that you have loved. This countryside that you see, these houses, these trees, these young girls laughing as they pass, that is your country!

The laws that protect you, the bread that rewards your labour, the words you speak, the joy and sorrow that come from the people and things in whose midst you live, that is your country! The little room where you used in days gone by to see your mother, the memories she left you, the earth in which she rests, that is your country!

You see it, you breathe it, everywhere! Imagine your rights and your duties, your affections and your needs, your memories and your gratitude, gather all that together under a single name and that name will be your country.

• Sometimes he is a person whose right to exist has a justification that is not always immediately obvious to you, or more usually, you may absent-mindedly allow it to slip from your mind. Someone who has been wandering about for a long time, tossed to and fro on a stormy sea, will in the end reach his destination. Someone who has seemed to be good for nothing, unable to fill any job, any appointment, will find one in the end and, energetic and capable, will prove himself quite different from what he seemed at first.

• I should be very happy if you could see in me something more than a kind of ne'er-do-well. For there is a great difference between one ne'er-do-well and another ne'er-do-well. There is someone who is a ne'er-do-well out of laziness and lack of character, owing to the baseness of his nature. If you like, you may take me for one of those.

Then there is the other kind of ne'er-do-well, the ne'er-do-well despite himself, who is inwardly consumed by a great longing for action, who does nothing because his hands are tied, because he is, so to speak, imprisoned somewhere, because he lacks what he needs to be productive, because disastrous circumstances have brought him forcibly to this end.

Such a one does not always know what he can do, but he nevertheless instinctively feels, I am good for something! My existence is not without reason! I know that I could be a quite different person! How can I be of use, how can I be of service? There is something inside me, but what can it be? He is quite another ne'er-do-well. If you like you may take me for one of those.

• A caged bird in spring knows perfectly well that there is some way in which he should be able to serve. He is well aware that there is something to be done, but he is unable to do it. What is it? He cannot quite remember, but then he gets a vague inkling and he says to himself, "The others are building their nests and hatching their young and bringing them up," and then he bangs his head against the bars of the cage.

But the cage does not give way and the bird is maddened by pain. 'What a ne'er-do-well,' says another bird passing by - what an idler. Yet the prisoner lives and does not die. There are no outward signs of what is going on inside him, he is doing well, he is quite cheerful in the sunshine.

But then the season of the great migration arrives: an attack of melancholy. He has everything he needs, say the children who tend him in his cage - but he looks out, the heavy thundery sky, and in his heart of hearts he rebels against his fate. I am caged and you say I need nothing, you idiots! I have everything I need, indeed! Oh, please give me the freedom to be a bird like other birds.

• A justly or unjustly ruined reputation, poverty, disastrous circumstances, misfortune, they all turn you into a prisoner. You cannot always tell what keeps you confined, what immures you, what seems to bury you, and yet you can feel those elusive bars, railings, walls. Is all this illusion, imagination? I don't think so. And then one asks: my God, will it be for long, will it be forever, will it be for eternity?

Do you know what makes the prison disappear? Every deep, genuine affection. Being friends, being brothers, loving, that is what opens the prison, with supreme power, by some magic force. Without these one stays dead. But wherever affection is revived, there life revives. Moreover, the prison is sometimes called prejudice, misunderstanding, fatal ignorance of one thing or another, suspicion, fake modesty.

• If you ever fall in love, do so without reservation, or rather, if you should fall in love simply give no thought to any reservation. Moreover, when you do fall in love, you will not 'feel certain' of success beforehand. You will be a lost soul and yet you will smile.

• When he reads something profound, he doesn't immediately come out with: that man means this or that. For poetry is so deep and intangible that one cannot define it systematically. But Mauve has a keen sensibility and, you see, I find that sensibility worth a great deal more than definitions and criticisms.

• Books like that are filled with reality, but what is more real than reality itself and where is there more life than in life itself? And we who are doing our best to live, if only we lived a great deal more!

• Who is the master, logic or I, does logic exist for me or do I exist for logic, and is there no reason or sense in my unreasonableness or my lack of sense?

• I am anything but a man of learning, and I am so amazingly ignorant, oh, just like so many others and even more so than others, but I am unable to judge that myself and can judge others even less than myself and am often mistaken. But we pick up the scent as we wander about and there is some good in every movement.

• The world, however, does not reason like that and never sees or respects man's 'humanity' but only the greater or lesser value of the money or goods he carries with him so long as he is on this side of the grave. The world takes no account at all of what happens beyond the grave. That is why the world goes no further than its feet will take it.

#vincent van gogh #the letters of vincent van gogh

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