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wandascrush · 1 month

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Let the light in

Summary: The Avengers are separated after being hunted down and forced to live life on the low, causing a painful break up with the love of your life. What happens when she finds you again? Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!reader

A/N: Based off of this request

Warnings: Angst, violence, loneliness, blood, breakup, team separated, depression, kissing, comfort

Song: Let the light in- Lana Del Rey

The team sat around the dark living room, the familiar voice of one of New York's most famous news anchors echoing in through the air, “Good evening New Yorkers, today we open our headline with some shocking news: Former Stark enterprise building, located on the upper east side, exploded earlier today by a missile attack on the Avengers. Sources say Tony Stark was currently using it to house new plans for an updated Avengers training arena and larger compound. Two architects, three investors, and one security manager was injured. Two of the victims later succumbed to their injuries after the explosion. Reports confirming the source of the violence are still unknown, however the Avengers were believed to have been inside the building at the time- hence the attack. The founding members of the Avengers Initiative such as Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Thor Odinson, Y/N L/N, and Clint Barton have yet to speak out. This marks the second targeted attack on our world’s heroes in nearly a month since the Maximoff twins incident in Barbados, where Pietro Maximoff was nearly assassinated. It raises the question for us all: Are our heroes being hunted?”

The screen went black, bye bye news lady. The room was so silent you could hear a pin drop. “What’re we gonna do Tony?” You got no answer.

“Cap?”

For the first time in the decade you’d known the team, (except for the Maximoffs & Peter) you saw uncertainty in all of their eyes. Tony threw his classic sunglasses on the couch, squeezing the middle of his nose in a useless attempt to massage an oncoming headache away, “Fury… thought it’d be wise if we split up for awhile-,” he was quickly shut up with protests from the group.

“It’s too dangerous. This isn't easy for me, but we're facing a threat that's beyond anything we've encountered before. I've crunched the numbers, run simulations – the Avengers need to disband temporarily. We scatter, go off the grid, and regroup when the dust settles.”

“This is bullshit, Tony. You know it is. This is exactly what they want-”

“Tasha,” your gentle touch on her back always softened her heart, but not today. She didn’t even look at you.

“It’s not the end, Nat. It’s like a strategic retreat. We're ensuring we'll live to fight another day. For once, I’m with Stark on this. We play it safe, keep low profiles, and spread out,” Steve sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees and taking a hard look at everyone, “we’re family, we keep each other safe. And this is how we do it.”

As much as the idea made your stomach churn, he was right. He always was. This was your family. Every holiday, happy memory, laugh and cry and battle and bruise was all with them. This team is how you met the love of your life. You loved each other, and if this is what needed to happen, then you’d do it.

But that didn’t sit well with your girlfriend.

“No, end of story. We’re not separating.”

“You know I don’t think it’s just you’re choice, Natasha. I mean we have to decide this together,” your fingers lightly brushed the edge of the bed, nervously playing with the soft sheets you had just bought.

“Exactly, and I. Said. No.” She was acting like a stubborn toddler that didn’t want to eat her veggies, crossing her arms and raising her voice an octave.

It was then when you saw something different in her eyes, those beautiful green orbs that held so much sadness and joy at the same time. But today they were cloudy, like a storm was brewing in her mind. You gently slipped off of the bed and stood in front of her, pressing your forehead to hers, “You know it’s going to be okay, right?” soft palms caressed the side of her cheek, immediately feeling her sigh into your touch. “It’s going to be okay, you’ll see.” You wish your words were true.

Two months later the Avengers were spreading out all across the U.S., saying choked up goodbyes and packing your things. It was agreed upon that there’d be a team meeting once a month, every month, for the next year until you could figure out who the threat was, and how to eliminate them. You thought San Francisco sounded nice, fresh, and a little more peaceful than the hustle and bustle of New York. And it was, for a time. You got a haircut, dyed your gorgeous h/c locks to a rich h/c shade. You bought a sweet little home with a bay window over looking the Golden Gate Bridge, started building an in home gym and library, and kept an extremely low profile. You finished file work and other Avengers paperwork at home, with a high security grade laptop. Natasha on the other hand, refused to dye her hair, or keep a low profile. She didn’t want to admit that she was depressed, but it was glaringly oblivious. Being thrown out of her comforting routine put a wrench in Natasha’s life that not even you, her beautiful girl, could fix. All day she would do her paperwork, workout, and just keep to herself. It was like you weren’t even girlfriends anymore. Finally, in the fifth month of living “undercover,” she finally agreed to go on a low key date with you to a small, cozy bar on the outskirts of the city. You got dressed up for the first time in what felt like forever, did your makeup real pretty, and even did braids on Natasha’s silky hair. She looked happy, finally. Adorning a brown leather jacket, dark blue jeans, and a low cut green top- her classic silver arrow necklace sitting pretty on her chest- your girlfriend looked like her old self again...absolutely perfect.

“You look gorgeous, baby,” swift arms swept you into a gentle kiss, smirking against your lips and pulling you close to her waist.

You thought that night would be perfect, but by 11 pm you two were home and icing her bloody knuckles, static tv voices echoing in the background. You felt hot tears rising to the surface, but you never let them fall. It’s not like you were just mad or angry or disappointed…no this was something more. You were embarrassed. Embarrassed by Natasha. You thought you’d never say that sentence, but then there you were, apologizing to the bartender for your girlfriend's rowdy behavior, and throwing $20 to the guy she completely knocked out before nearly carrying her out of the bar and into a cab. Within the next two weeks she packed her bags, and your home was changing once again, now empty.

8 months later

The team said that you’d only be separated for a year, or less, but you were coming up on a year pretty soon and none of you were any closer to figuring out who the threat is. But you, you moved on, strived forward, and kept going. Your breakup with Nat had been one of the most painful moments of your life, but you didn’t let it stop you. These days you hardly cried over her at all, never even thought of the old days. Well, except for last Tuesday, when you saw one of her old sweaters and lied in bed for the rest of the day, or on Thursday when you heard her favorite song and- well, never mind that. You were at the top of your fucking game.

Ms. Romanoff, on the other hand, had moved out of San Francisco completely and settled in Washington D.C. from the last you heard. She attended the monthly zooms, same as you, but you two never addressed one another. Natasha pushed all of the heartbreak she harbored deep, deep down until she would lie down for bed and reach out next to her…but you were never there.

#natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #avengers x reader #avengers fic

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nadiawritessomething · 1 month

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I think about how the conflicts of Miles 1610 might be the main confrontation with Miles G on a psychological level.

If you remember, one of Miles' main conflicts was how he was seen by others. He wanted to be seen as an equal, full participant. He wanted to be an adult, he believed that he was in fact an adult — and the society that saw him as a teenager did not agree with this. It's very easy to have these thoughts when you're Spider-Man, and you're much younger and less experienced than the person who was before you. It's more than logical to think that Miles just wanted to be taken more seriously. To not be seen as a child.

"I said to not call me that"

And he proved it at the end of the movie.

But on the other hand, we have Miles G. A boy who had to grow up early. He had to survive, to think about crime and lights and money and how it all affects his family at an age when all he had to think about was school grades and milk at night. He pulled on the Prowler costume, every day having the option of just dying under the rubble for the sake of the city and his mother's well-being at an age when all a teenager should care about is fighting with his parents and the newest video game releases. He has had to learn to work and do things around the house: his mother works quite a bit, he spends a lot of time at his uncle's house, and in this environment it is not hard to understand that he has more than likely taken on the role of "second adult" in the house, just to make life easier for his mother as much as he can.

No one has seen him as a child for a long time. New Yorkers don't see the Prowler as a child: very few people would think that a 15-year-old boy would take such a risk. A young man, perhaps, but not a child. No matter how much Rio wants to, no matter how hard she works to ensure that her boy has at least some kind of childhood, he realizes that this is impossible as long as he knows all their water and gas bills by heart. Aaron does everything he can to keep Miles safe, but he can't deny him this: it's the price of being someone important.

Miles G does not see himself as a child. It doesn't change the fact that he is 15, doesn't change the fact that he loves comics, drawing, silly jokes, technology, and leaves his room in complete chaos. He can't be a child anymore, even If he wants to.

But still, he would pay absolutely everything he has to be a child for just one more day.

#across the spiderverse #atsv #miles morales #miles 42 #prowler miles #miles g morales #earth 42 miles #spiderverse #aaron davis #analysis

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ray-jaykub · 7 months

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Hi! I'm a new follower! @hagelpaimon recommended you for this specific request. If you're interested, I was wondering if you could write some Bayverse fluff for me.

F!Reader has a southern accent and even though it isn't thick, there are certain words she says that makes her sound like a country bumpkin. And her turtle S/O (lovingly, of course) teases her for it. You can make it for each turtle or just Donnie. And you can make it NSFW if you wanna. Whatever you think fits! Thank you and happy writing 🐢💙❤️💜🧡

Thought I would crawl out of my adult cave and answer an ask that spoke to me. And as a country bumpkin (hoot hoot, very, very south georgia), I can say this hits the mark. I'm gonna do a little of all the turtles and

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

Now, as someone who grew up around people who talked like me, I assumed I could hide it well. But that wasn't until I started sending audio messages back and forth with @moxfirefly did I realized how bad it was... Now I've never tried writing a southern accent, despite having one, so bear with me.

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Leo:

- He finds it so endearing and sweet and just can't find it in his heart to make fun of you

- Like, the way you call his name? The twang makes him smile because that means time with you

- His brothers and him obviously don't get out and talk to people, so I can imagine they're probably a lil stumped on why you sound the way you do

- Luckily, Leo is an old western movie fan, so at least he knows Cowboys.... please be patient with him

- If you're shy about the way you talk, he won't acknowledge it, but over time, he hopes you two get comfortable enough that you'll express yourself more

- Seriously, can't get over when you call him or his brother's names. Like omg they just said "Dawnie" and the way you pronounce Manhattan?

Raphael:

- Why you sound like that??

- Definitely believes you're from some weird part of New York, or God forbid Jersey

- Won't and will not understand unless you play country music for him and go like "these are my people"

- makes you a country mix, even if you don't like country. He's trying! You can't deny him that

-He says it's to make you feel "closer to home" and honestly, it lowkey works when you're feeling home sick

- He sees a cowboy film??? Prepare for him to throw a cowboy hat on your noggin

-Save a horse ride a cowboy, yeah? (I'm cringing)

Donnie:

- LOVES IT, ADORES IT

- He's really big on dialect and accents, especially for someone he fancies

- Will ask you to say certain words at random times of the day, early mornings when you haven't woken up, late at night when you're sleepy

- When you're angry???

- He has to hold out on bringing the recorder. But he's taking in every word

- Just imagine yelling at him, and he's looking at you with big doe eyes because wow... when was a country accent kinda sexy??

- He has to say one of his favorite things is when you both are whispering, and he leans down to hear you better, woof 😮‍💨

- He needs a southern girl 😤 GIVE HIM A TASTE OF THE SOUTH

Mikey:

- Will tease you, mock you, repeat every word you say... with love of course

- just expect to hear his lil giggle after you've said something particularly southern

- If you're the type to say our phrases (colder than a witches tit, you call undies breeches, you make crazy comparisons) he will adopt them and look stupid doing it

- Just imagine Mikey, surfer dude, New Yorker, saying, "I reckon"

- Like baby... please hush

- lowkey the one that helped Raph make the country mix tape, added a few personal favorites (the fucking wal-mart yodeling kid, for some reason)

- Gets you boots, even if you don't wear them, and tries really hard to convince you to dress like Barbie in her cowgirl outfit

- Never a dull moment with this doofus

........Go Dawgs

#teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt x reader #donatello #leonardo #tmnt #michelangelo #raphael #southern reader #country

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nualaofthefaerie · 10 days

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Holding Hands

Pairing: Death of the Endless x Wanda

Content: SFW

Type: hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, a little bit of both

Content warnings: death (what a surprise)

Author's note: I wrote this in haste. I was entirely possessed by the concept so I rushed to write. Death x Wanda are my top wlw ship and I hope you all will see my vision.

It felt rather numb.

Wanda had always imagined death to be painful - stabbing through one’s soul, tearing at it, then gnawing it until there was nothing left. Life had certainly made her believe so. And death was supposed to be far worse.

In life she had to forge a path for herself, by herself. No one really gave her another choice and she certainly was not going to give those she left behind the satisfaction of complaining. Although she probably should have done so. If she had shouted, if she had resisted, created a mess, they would have had no other choice but to acknowledge her existence.

“Ts.” Her tongue clicked as she hovered over her aunt, crying through gritted teeth. “As if you ever cared.”

It was utterly grotesque to watch all of these people who had decided to burn their bridges with her, now mourn over her grave.

“That’s not even my grave!” she threw her hands in the air. “Alvin Mann is who you assholes are grieving!”

“I do not think they can hear you.”’

Wanda had indeed imagined death to be painful. But she was beautiful. She had a warm smile on her face and an awfully every day New Yorker look about her. The weather was nothing less but suffocatingly hot, yet Death wasn’t even sweating in her leather ensemble.

“I know you, yet I am sure we’ve never met.” Wanda’s brows gathered at the tips.

“We have.” Death laughed. “We have met so many times, Wanda. You are a rather reckless one.”

Wanda retreated back into the green fields away from her own funeral. No, Alvin’s funeral.

“Well, I do not remember you then.”

“Of course.” The tiny wrinkles around Death’s eyes raised and Wanda’s heart, although now certainly dead, skipped a beat. For all that had changed throughout the years the one thing that never truly did was Wanda’s affinity for falling in love with women out of her league. She’d reckon Death was at the top of that list. “Back at the Marquee a few years ago, in that bathroom-“

Wanda’s heart sank. She remembered the night at the Marquee well. Barbie had left for a few days and without her constant supervision, the anxiety had gotten the better of her and Wanda had fallen into old habits, habits she wasn’t particularly proud of.

“They said I was supposed to be dead then, you know.” Wanda sat down in the grass.

“You were.” Death nodded, sitting next to her. “I was supposed to take you away that night.”

“Do you do that for all of us? Take us away?”

“Well, I am a notoriously hard worker.” Death laughed, pulling out a pair of Ray Ban sunnies. “But yes, I try to be there for all of you. If I cannot, I have a small, but diligent group of helpers and subsets of my existence that will take care of any abnormalities…” she stopped mid sentence, turned her head to one side and laughed again. “Except a few special abnormalities. The universe can become a bit boring if we are all to constantly play by the rules, which is why I took you to the hospital instead of taking you with me. You were not completely gone then, so I was presented a choice and I took it.”

“Why?” Wanda interrupted her.

“Why not?” Death’s chin rose to the skies, satisfied with her vague answer.

“I died anyways.” Wanda shrugged.

“We will all die anyway.”

“Even you?”

“Well…I think so, yes.” Death’s booth dug into the dirt, but she kept looking at Wanda. The dead girl

“And who will take you?”

“You are a very nosy one, do you know that?”

Wanda tried picking up a flower but her fingers slipped through it like wind.

“Ha. Yeah, I do actually. At least Barbie always said that I ask too many questions.” Wanda then grew quiet, looking over the splash of black across the green field. Barbie was nowhere to be seen. Did she even know Wanda had died? Had anyone told the only person who was going to mourn Wanda as opposed to whoever’s body was in that damn coffin, she had died? The sun didn’t feel so warm anymore. “You know I always thought death would be painful.”

“Well, I do try to be gentle with you all. Frankly, I’m not even the scariest one of us all.”

“Us?”

“Not of importance.” Wanda nodded distractedly. She was still thinking about Barbie. “It is not so bad. I have seen deaths with a lot less…turnout.”

Wanda shook her head.

“It’s empty to me.”

“You should not leave this world filled with resentment.” Death’s smile dropped. “It’s not good for you.”

Wanda’s blood boiled at the thought. Her head turned sharply to the beautiful, but cruel Death.

“And how else am I supposed to leave? How else are we supposed to leave? I don’t owe them my forgiveness. They are not even here for me! They finally get to mourn the man they wanted but never got! I bet some of them are even glad I’m dead! They won’t have to give anyone awkward pauses anymore after someone asks them ‘And how is Alvin?’.” her jaw clenched. “And it is not only me! There are thousands, millions of people probably who feel the same as I do – abandoned, lonely, ostracised for nothing more than being ourselves. Yet, I am the one who should bestow them my forgiveness?!”

Death’s silence was deafening. She turned her gaze upon the crowd gathered around the Catholic priest whose voice raised above the hills. Quiet hiccups and sharp whispers carried through the winds all the way to Death’s ears. Her sigh sent a chill through the spine of every living creature.

“You are right.” She said at the end with all the seriousness in the world. “They do not deserve your forgiveness. But if your soul is not restful, I cannot take you.”

“Then don’t.”

“That is worse.” Death grabbed her hand. It was warm. Especially for a ghost. “Listen to me. You need to. Not for them. For you.”

“I can’t.” Wanda whispered. “I can’t just leave and let them win.”

Death kept her rules simple. She was not to get attached by any means to anyone, ever. Morpheus’ romantic frivolities were fascinating to watch, no doubt, but they were nothing she could afford. She was the eldest. She held it together so Destiny could remember. Simple. It was simple. That is how an eternity of existence had passed. Death worked alone. It was not her job to fix humanity, it was her job to observe, to learn and take. Enough cheaters existed already.

“You have to.” She whispered back. “I do not wish for you to feel pain.”

Enough cheaters, indeed. Yet, Death found herself holding Wanda’s hand tightly, her eyes firmly set on Wanda’s that shone in a dashing hazel colour. If she had a heart, the woman’s conviction and will would have certainly made it skip a beat. But she didn’t. Death was self aware enough to recognize attraction. She had very rarely felt it herself, but it was not as if she could ever act upon it. ‘Fucking a ghost is like a therapist fucking their client.’ She thought to herself. Still, her ether was moved.

‘There are enough exceptions. Enough cheaters.’ She was reminding herself like a mantra, hoping it would return her own unwavering principles. It did not. It only made her hold onto the dead woman even tighter (if that was even possible).

Then Wanda jumped, pulling up Death with her.

“Barbie!” Emerging from the pit of black clad mortals, was a woman, holding onto the arm of a man Wanda recognized in an instant. “The Mister!” she shouted, looking at Death. “I know this man.”

“I am sure you do.” Death nodded.

“No. I know him. I worked for him when I died.”

“I know.” Death sighed at the sight of her brother.

Morpheus, gallantly dressed as ever, was accompanying Barbie to the Wanda’s grave. His head turned towards the hill only once. He nodded, silently, as he usually did, then turned and re-engaged in a conversation with Barbie.

“I didn’t know they were acquaintances.”

“They are not. Barbie knows him as much as you know me.”

“Who is he really?”

“My stupid idiot of a brother.” Death turned her head to one side again. Wanda couldn’t tell if she did that when she was curious or agitated.

“So he can see us then?”

“Oh, yes. Even if he doesn’t want to.”

“And Barbie?” she asked, filled with hope, quickly shattered by Death’s gentle shake. “I understand.” The words forced themselves past her lips.

A shout interrupted the solemn conversation. Her aunt was shouting at Barbie, who wore the most outraged look on her face.

“You will not besmirch Alvin’s name with your lies!”

“Her name was Wanda.” Barbie’s shout far surpassed anything Wanda’s aunt could muster. She could always outshout anyone, Wanda smiled remembering all the times she had found that trait annoying. Now it felt more than welcomed. “She was a kind, understanding woman, who had all her life in front of her. She only ever did that stupid job because of you!”

“Now,you-“ the old woman raised her hand, prepared to strike Barbie for all her disobedience, but it never landed.

“I would advise against such displays of unnecessary violence.”

Death’s brother, that weird tall and lanky mister, sounded menacing. Wanda swore he did not sound like that mere days ago. The aunt let go without further fuss. The coffin was slid into the ground, covered with dirt and that was it. The crowd dispersed with no excitement, only exacerbated sighs and puffy from crying eyes.

Wanda could not help but roll her own. Death chuckled, then offered her hand once more.

“Come on. I will re-introduce you to him.”

Wanda took it, no questions asked. She thought she would take it dead or alive. Oh, how much she wished she could tell Barbie about this beautiful woman; the young divorcee would certainly find the story amusing.

“Brother!” Death led Wanda by the hand back down the hill and into the crowd.

“Sister.” His response was far calmer than the excited shout of Death and her waving. “Excuse me, miss Barbara.”

“Of course.” Barbie nodded in both directions, sniffling quietly under her nose.

“Wanda?” Death placed her other hand on her shoulder, but Wanda did not move. She watched as Barbie rubbed her tears away violently, smudging her intricate makeup; fell to her knees, while her white stocking rolled in the dirt; pulled out Wanda’s favourite lipstick – a decade old Mac in bright, bright pink, and with all the love in the world dragged it across Alvin Mann’s name, writing “Wanda” instead. Nothing more, just Wanda.

“I love you.” Barbie’s jaw was clenched, but she continued talking. “You were the closest I had ever had to a soulmate. I still think Ruby might have been a better name, but you loved Wanda too much. So, Wanda, don’t you dare leave me, you hear me?! In spirit, as a ghost, whatever. Don’t leave before I leave.” Barbie got up, dusted herself off and without saying goodbye, left.

Wanda couldn’t bear to look after her, but she did feel anger rise in her.

“I deserve my goodbye.” She turned her head to the Endless.

“You get what everyone gets, dear.” Death smiled quietly. “Nobody ever gets to settle all of their affairs.”

“I am not talking to you.” The curls on Wanda’s head bounced as she turned to the King of Dreaming. “You. I am dead because of you.”

Death barely contained the delightful laugh about to escape her. How full of surprises can a ghost be?

“One does not fare well exploiting me.” Death’s brother looked down upon her. For a moment Wanda felt fear, then remembered she is already dead and there was nothing more that could happen to her anyways. So she put her hands on her hips, looked up and with a silent pout demanded. He looked sternly over his sister. “Will you intervene, sister?”

“No.” Death trailed unsure. She felt herself tapping in waters unknown even to her. “I do not think I will, actually.”

The man sighed.

“Your punishment of me is wholly unnecessary.”

“I am not punishing you, Dream.” Death put her hands in her pockets, intrigued to see where the conversation went.

“Hey. I am still here. Here’s what – you let me say my goodbyes with whatever magic is it you have, and I don’t blame you for the rest of eternity.” Wanda held her own. She imagined the stronger she appeared the easier it was going to be convincing the man of her wishes. “All I want, Dream, is to say goodbye.” She bawled her hands in fists, but still refused to look away.

‘I will not die out quietly. I will not.’ Wanda repeated to herself, time and time again.

“Perhaps, I can offer you a different solution.” Dream began with composure. Death knew what he was about to do. He had the habit of picking up strays and she watched them all grow utterly devoted to him, each in their own way, but they were a loyal, close knitted group. She imagined Wanda amongst them. She didn’t like that thought. Her ether was pricked, she felt it as it twisted and turned in a knot.

For the first time in a long, long, long time Death felt the universe come out of its axis, as realisations she had hoped to never think of in their entirety clouded her judgement.

“He can offer you a goodbye, but that would be followed by servitude. I…” what was she doing? “I can offer you something better. You don’t want to go yet, do you?”

“Not if it can be helped.”

“It can be. I need…assistance moving souls from one place to another; delivering some messages of fright and finding missing souls.” She did not look at her brother in that moment, but Death certainly felt his almost mocking gaze upon her. ‘He will never let me live this down.’

“Alright.” Wanda nodded with no hesitation, grabbing onto Death’s hand.

“It is not a job for kind people.”

“I think I will fit the role of a mean ghost quite well.” Wanda rushed to lock their arms, giddy. Frankly, she thought Barbie would understand the desire to follow Death into…well, death, but more importantly she wouldn’t have to say goodbye to Barbie quite yet. She could spent her time with the most beautiful, kind woman to exist and love her from afar, even possibly from up close, while waiting for her soulmate.

“I think so too.” Death whispered.

“Very well, then. Where do we begin?”

“I need to bid my brother farewell.”

“Of course.” She unwrapped herself from Death, pointing at the hill. “I will wait for you there, okay?”

“Yeah.” Death nodded.

Wanda ran, while Death remained, her nightly shadow behind her.

“Do not say anything.”

“I do find it especially amusing considering your strict convictions.”

“Morpheus?”

“Sister.”

“Zip it.”

Morpheus offered a coy smile.

“It is a refreshing moment, indeed.”

“Do you feel vindicated?”

“Very much so. Enjoy the misery of these humane feelings you love talking about so much, big sister. You will quickly find out, they do leave scars.” He finished on a sour note.

“Okay, okay. Don’t you have better things to do?”

“Perhaps.”

“Then go.” Death pulled his ear. “Get out of here.”

“Will you not ask me how she died?”

“No. I do not wish to know. I do not wish to be part of this concoction that is you and Delirium. It is too much. Even for me.”

“Very well, then. Good day sister.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving behind only the ghost of Wanda, who was smiling and waving as if she had been offered a whole new life.

“Come on!”

Death smiled and waved back.

She was perhaps allowed to cheat herself once in a while.

AN: I hope you enjoyed that. I am unsure whether I would do this again, probably not simply because I do wish to keep my blog exclusively about Nuala, however @orionsangel86 offered me kindness in the last week that I am eternally grateful for. So this is my present for them.

#death #death of the endless #death appreciation week #the sandman comic #the sandman #the sandman fic #death fic #wanda #wanda the sandman #death x wanda #sandman angst #sandman fluff #sandman wlw #wlw #wlw fic

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magxit · 11 months

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Just dropped: https://twitter.com/rollingstone/status/1663660316817780745?s=46&t=Jv7EvC8oVb-dKk_gHc29yQ

I haven’t read the full thing. But kinda sad when the media gets it more so than her own fans…

We Wouldn’t Be Having This Conversation If Taylor Swift Was a Man

Publicity stunt or not, Swift can have a sleazeball summer if she damn well pleases.

ON THE FINAL night of Taylor Swift’s MetLife shows this weekend, 80,000 Swifties screamed in the swamps of New Jersey for over three hours. They wore outfits from every era — tinsel fringe dresses, serpent arm cuffs, and heart-shaped sunglasses. I saw countless faces in cowboy hats similar to the emoji — only these cowboys were sobbing uncontrollably while eating foot-long hotdogs. And the bracelets! They were all wearing beaded bracelets coded in Swiftian lyrics, trading them in the parking lot like Deadheads swapping grilled cheeses. (Take my advice: do not try to pay for the bracelets. They will look at you like you’re from outer space.)

It’s hard to believe that while this magical Eras tour is happening — and while Swift is somehow reaching previously-unimaginable heights of popularity, surpassing even the ludicrous highs of 2015 — she is also experiencing a backlash from some corners of the Swiftie community over her supposed new boyfriend, the 1975’s Matt Healy.

Their sentiments were best summed up in an open letter on Twitter using the hashtag #SpeakUpNow (named after Swift’s upcoming re-recording of her 2010 album), which states that Healy’s many controversies “deeply trouble” them. “From engaging in racist remarks, making offensive jokes, and admitting to watching degrading pornography in which people of color are being humiliated and assaulted, his actions contribute to the perpetuation of hate, stereotypes, and objectification, which targets and hurts some people from the Jewish, Black, Chinese, Hawaiian, Inuit, LGBTQ+ communities, as well as women.”

The statement refers to the derogatory comments Healy made about the rapper Ice Spice on The Adam Friedland Show podcast in February and the questionable apology he delivered onstage last month. Fans raised eyebrows when Swift recruited the rapper for her “Karma” remix last week, and on Monday, Healy finally addressed the controversy in a New Yorker profile that only exacerbated the issue. He explained that the whole thing “doesn’t actually matter” and that the backlash he received was merely virtue signaling: “It’s just people going, ‘Oh, there’s a bad thing over there, let me get as close to it as possible so you can see how good I am,’” he said. “And I kind of want them to do that, because they’re demonstrating something so base level.”

If you didn’t catch this quote aggregated on the internet about 137 times (you probably had better things to do than scroll Twitter and hustle children for their handmade bracelets), you aren’t missing much. This is all part of Healy’s artistry: an intricate, tangled web of bits intended to rile you up and piss you off. This is the guy who eats raw meat onstage, gives Nazi salutes, and delivers intelligent observations like, “I’m obsessed with my dick for some reason.” Stupid Shit is his brand. Are we really supposed to take anything he says seriously?

I’m not here to answer that, but I am here to tell you that none of it is Taylor’s problem. For the last 17 years, we’ve held this woman responsible for the actions of men she chooses to spend time with, and it’s time to stop. It would be fair to criticize her for walking out of Electric Lady with the ghost of Pol Pot or wondering why her dad and Matt Lauer are grooving out to her performance of “22.” But this is just a hot sleazeball who wants Oasis back together (I don’t know about you, but I’ve dated a lot of guys who fit that description), and it’s up to Taylor to spend her time as she pleases.

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jennsterjay · 8 months

Text

Lmao so today I was waiting to get picked up from somewhere while I was talking to my friends @bootleg-exe, @king-of-the-rain-and-wolves, and @weirdfishy, and while I was waiting I had a brilliant idea. What if I wrote a Punkflower fic with a prompt from now until the time I got picked up? So I asked them for a word/prompt and Fen said "A Breakfast AU"

Ohoho a Breakfast AU you say? So with my phone notes app, a challenge, time on the clock, and a dream, I finally finished it 😎

Get ready for the unedited, no beta we die like men, writing sprint, crackfic 😂

Punkflower Breakfast AU

----

It was 10 am when Miles was sitting in the booth of McDonald's, waiting nervously for the boy he had a crush on.

Last night, when the two of them had just finished a mission together, and Hobie had walked him home to his dimension, Miles thought about confessing but he didn't have the guts. When he turned to Hobie and started saying something, and Hobie asked him what he wanted to say with an open and sincere look in his eyes, Miles tounge caught on his own words.

"Hobie I…"

Cmon think of something!!

"I …was wondering if you wanted to get breakfast tomorrow?" Miles said with a slight crack in his voice. Did he just ask him on a date???

Hobie perked up and smiled widely at him, like he'd just given him the keys to New York, and Miles couldn't believe that his failed confession somehow finessed him into a date. Ay dios mio.

"I would love to, Miles…so where are we grabbing a bite at?" Hobie walked closer to lean down and ask

And Miles wanted to turn invisible following the next words out of his mouth when he said

"Uhh…McDonald's?"

Hobie had a barely contained full grin on his face and Miles swore he was going to bust out laughing, but then he gently cupped his face in his hands and winked at him, as a portal opened up behind Hobie

"That sounds perfect, love. I'll see you tomorrow for brekkie. Text me tomorrow what time you want to eat together"

And Hobie let him go to walk back towards the portal like the coolest guy on the planet, before the portal closed and disappeared, leaving Miles with a dumbfounded look on his face and his heart running 100 miles moraleses a minute

What just happened?

And now here Miles was, a few blocks away from his house, sitting in the booth of a local McDonald's wondering if his Spiderman luck or teenage crush cringe somehow canceled themselves out into a W It was then that the door on the far side of the McDonald's opened, and Miles eyes found Hobie's from across the room. Suddenly Miles thought this was the best idea he's ever had. Ganke owes him 5 dollars.

"Miles! My guy!!!" Hobie says as everyone in the McDonald's stares at him as he walks across the room to lift Miles up effortlessly in the air and smile at him

"H-Hobie!!!" Miles half shrieks and half laughs as he looks briefly around at the New Yorkers looking at him and not looking at him (because it's too early in the morning for this) and then looks into Hobie's eyes. Hobie looks at him like he's a starving man and Miles is the McDonald's happy meal he's been waiting for all this time. Also Hobie is highlighter pink now.

Hobie puts him down and leads him to the front of the restaurant where the menu is

"Aight love, let's get some grub yeah?" Hobie says as he stands behind him and wraps his arms around Miles shoulders. Miles face is turning red and Miles hopes the people in line behind them aren't getting a seizure with how fast Hobie is cycling between different shades of pink every millisecond.

The twink in front of the register is eyeing the pair up and down with little to no amusement before snapping them out of their thoughts

"Welcome to McDonald's, what would you like to order?" He says

"Uhh we may need a sec" Miles smiles sheepishly

"Ok take your time" He says, clearly wanting them to not take their time Miles and Hobie eye the menu while Miles points and explains the options and Hobie's face is leaning on his while his arms are wrapped around him the whole time and Miles is going to have a heart attack. The two then have a mini argument over capitalism and the price of the 2 for 1 deal and the absence of the McRib before the New Yorker behind them says CMON and then the two walk forward and order a large bag of assorted McGriddles, Breakfast sausage biscuits, Ham and Cheese biscuits, Egg ham and cheese biscuits, two orange juices, and two hash browns. Greasy high calorie, high trans fat perfection

The pair then slide back into the booth and chow down on their shared feast. One sausage biscuit looks like a mini in Hobies large hands. Miles is eating one sandwich biscuit and Hobie is double fisting eating two of them. Miles wonders how Hobie is eating in Earth-138…he might as well give him the remaining batch after this

"Ayy you know what, while I don't agree with the ridiculous coin you had to shell out, this is bloody good!" Hobie says

"Hahah yeah, totally planned all this out by the way" Miles said and totally didn't mean to say. Cringe???

Hobie laughed and drank his orange juice, before eyeing Miles with a smirk. He placed his food and drink down, waiting for Miles to finish his bite as well.

Miles looked into his eyes and Hobie just smiled at him for a moment. He looked so inexplicably happy. Miles smiled easily too, and for a moment all nerves, crackwriting, and cringe aside, Miles and Hobie shared a moment of comfortable silence and happiness.

Hobie then reached for Miles' hands slowly and then held them in his across the table. Miles thought his hands were warm.

"Did you know…" Hobie said as he slowly ran his thumbs over Miles' Knuckles

"Yeah?…" Miles said as he gently squeezed the hands of the 1970's Spider-Anarchist named Hobart Brown

"That I think…" Hobie continued as he captured Miles' eyes in his "Yeah?…" Miles said, his face an open book

"You're…" Hobie stretched on for effect

"Yeah?…" Miles' heart was doing the elliptical

"…" Hobie winked at him

"I think you're pretty damn cute, Brooklyn Boy"

If Miles could replay this scene, he would've done it 50 times. Score 1 for Miles Gonzalo Morales. 50000 exp bonus.

Miles let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in, and smiled and giggled like a schoolgirl, oh my god he just giggled like a schoolgirl.

[And then the author was picked up, end of crackfic]

#Punkflower #across the spiderverse #atsv #miles molares #hobie brown #crack fic #writing sprint #flowerpunk #punkflower fanfic #sdfghjkl #jjs-writing

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apolloanddaphnis · 1 year

Text

Speaking in Tongues

Preface

Synopsis: Timothée is enamored with a woman he has never met, now will he get the chance?

Warnings: Description of body and sexual fantasy. Not proofread.

Timothée's POV

November 2021

I couldn't believe someone was holding a premiere at Houdini's mansion.

Hollywood never ceases to amaze me, I know being a New Yorker everyone expects me to rag on L.A. but I gotta say, I absolutely love this glittery wilderness. Everyone is free here, weirdness doesn't exist, it's the regular, and there was a little European liberation here.

I was invited to the premiere of James Franco's remake on the 80s cult classic Spellbinder, his was called Spellbound, and it starred my good friend Tom Holland as the straight edge, white collar L.A. attorney, Matt Hayes, Austin Butler played the seemingly good but betraying warlock friend, Dan Clayton, and playing the evil seducing lead on the cover Miranda Every, was my current obsession, Minka Farrah.

I remember seeing her for the first time.It was two years ago at Lily's, we put on a movie before getting intimate, she was the one who raved about this young edgy actress who only does indies, with no connection into the entertainment business at all. The movie was Poison, Joel Schumacher's thriller rendition of Snow White. Set in the New York 90s supermodel scene, Minka plays Nieve Bianco, who's a rising star in the modeling world. Her unique beauty and large breasts bring controversy in the current trend of heroin chic, it shows Nieve struggling with body image and battling bulimia, Lily told me Minka had to lose 90 pounds for the film and she said it messed with her mental state badly since her usual body is curvy. I felt protective of her when hearing that, and wanted to have at it with the director even though his intention was to expose the dangers of the modeling world. Minka's character Nieve, had a rival two years older, Reina Reyes, played by Ana de Armas, who Nieve usurped as the supermodel of the world. Nieve even caught the eye and heart of Reina's ex girlfriend who left Reina because she was too obsessed with her vanity and career, a butch fashion photographer, Schuyler "Sky" van Axel played by Ruby Rose. So obsessed with her rivalry with Nieve, Reina throughout the movie tries to kill Nieve in different ways but makes it convincingly look like it's one of Nieves many stalkers, even going as far as to give them a name, Malcolm McQueen. Sending pictures of Nieve of circled parts of her body claiming she has gained weight asking why she's turning into a porker, Nieve takes diet pills from Japan, her bulimia gets worse, Reina swapped Nieve's diet pills out with party drugs and fentanyl, Nieve even overdoses and Sky is afraid Nieve has a drug problem as well as an eating disorder, Nieve feel convinced she has a drug problem too but is doing to well in her career to leave for rehab so Sky promises to help her, thinking it's brought on by her stalker. Nieve is followed him one night from a party by one of the photographers, he tries to rape and stab her but he stops and sobs saying she's always been the only model who has been nice to him, Confessing that he's been having money problems due to his drug abuse, and Reina offered him a half a million to kill Nieve and make it look like she was raped and murdered by the made up stalker, he tells Nieve everything. Nieve is so afraid but she doesn't think anyone will believe her, she no longer cares about her career, she checks herself into a mental hospital thinking she will be safe there and if she gives up Sky and her career she will be safe from Reina. But her fans send her letters and praise, the designers donate the proceeds to foundations for eating disorders in Nieves name, Reina was livid of the outcome.

At the hospital she becomes close to her psychologist, Dr. Paul Dormer, played by Jason Patric, tells him about Reina and he has six nurses guard Nieve moving her room to the glass room. Meanwhile, Sky tries to make sense of Nieves mental recession, follows Reina and finds out everything and starts to collect evidence for the police. She finds out Reinas next plan and heads to the hospital, Reina disguises herself as a nurse and crushes up a bottle of sleeping pills putting it into Nieves apple sauce and has it taken to her room.

Sky gets there too late and they're pumping Nieves' stomach but she doesn't make it. Sky dropped video and written evidence of Reina to the cops and goes to kill Reina but the cops arrest Reina. The movie ends with Dr. Dormer and the six nurses at the funeral, they're renaming the hospital after her. Reina is at another mental hospital in a straight jacket crying and laughing that she won, she's the most beautiful woman alive.

The performance of Minka left me with so many feelings, after that movie I watched all of hers. She's so beautiful, 5'3 with the kind of wide hips that shift side to side distractingly, an hourglass figure and bouncy, juicy breasts, 36DDD, a soft little stomach, I wanted to bite every part of her and do explicit things to her curves. I had the living need to lick every part of her light olive skin that was a beautiful resort of her Black, Arabian, and Eastern European heritage. I wanted to see the look of overstimulated pleasure on her round, heart shaped face, her juicy, thick raspberry lips fall open as she tries to scream my name and Rapture but can't as I stretch her with my cock and have my tip pound into her spot.

I rewind the sex scenes in her movies over and over, my source of ejaculation, I tug hard on my cock watching her big violet eyes hood seductively as the screen siren she is. But after my release, when I'm lying in my sheets naked covered in my own cum and sweat instead of hers, I feel livid, colored in green jealousy of her co stars who touched her. When I found out she was in a relationship with Ruby Rose I was inconsolable. When I saw them on the red carpet together, Ruby's nose was buried in Minka's soft, blunt black bob cut. I wanted so badly to smell her.

Her interviews are my favorite. I took great care in learning about her. She lost her mother 24 from cancer, they were close and even mentioning made my lovely girl tear up. I wanted to choke that interviewer for being so insensitive and asking her about that difficult time, I wanted to run her a bath, lock her away from the world and bundle her up in my blankets.

She's from Woodland Park, New Jersey, her mother was from Poland, her dad is a teacher. They moved to Carmel-by-the-sea when she was in her senior year, she went to an all girls Catholic school. She hated school and she's bisexual. Her brother Stone is trans and he's her assistant, her other brother Jerzy is a pilot. Her favorite color is red. She's older than me by ten months and born on Elizabeth Taylor's birthday, who is her idol. She speaks Polish and is an animal activist as well as a queer activist, 80s punk and dark wave is her favorite music and when I found out she and Ruby ended and she bought a home in Beverly Hills, I bought one in Santa Monica.

It wasn't hard for me to get an invitation to the premiere of Spellbound, I know that sounds gross and cocky but for once I'm so grateful for my status.

I made sure to dress my best, begged my stylist to conjure up something eye-catching and revealing, to make me look as desirable as I could. Erin didn't disappoint. She clothed me in a halter like, sleeveless, waistcoat in white with a black collar, matching trousers almost made like formal joggers, and Chanel combat boots. To top it off, red was splattered on the design to look like blood, it was fitting for the film being premiered. The trousers were a little tight around the crotch area.

The mansion looked incredible, the main event was out in the gardens, thankfully heating lamps were everywhere, it was still chilly in November, even in L.A.. I ran into many familiar faces, sometimes I couldn't believe I was famous and that these amazing legends were talking to me.

Suddenly, I heard a musical laugh, it was giggly and scratchy and I fell in love all over again. I politely excused myself to find the source that I knew it belonged to. Standing in the center of the garden , posing with James Franco in an inappropriately tight, Morticia dress with a neckline that plunged to her navel was…her. Her Mia Wallace hair melted beautifully with the ebony of her dress and framed her picturesque face, she looked like she could be a film siren from the 1910s, her eyes were done in vamp flapper style, lips painted the color of deep cherry red that matched her embroidered gloves with occult imagery. My eyes kept slipping to her cleavage that was falling from her dress, almost, with curious eyes, you could nearly see her nipples.

Stirring occurred in my too well tailored trousers. I licked my lips and decided to bite the bullet and meet the woman of my dreams.

I don't know when but before I knew it, I was close enough to tower over her, close enough to hear her whispering to James that his special friend was looking jealous by the fountain, and close enough to smell the hypnotic sweet and dark scent of her perfume. Before I lost my nerves I cleared my throat and spoke her name like a spell.

"Excuse me..."

@meetmyothersouls @sufferingstarlight

#timothee chamalet #timothée chalamet #timothée chalamet x oc

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basicjetsetter · 2 years

Text

The Trial of Deus; How Peter and the Reader Meet

“Seek not greatness, but seek truth and you will find both.” - Horace Mann

⚖ Pairing: Mob!Peter Parker x BlackFemale!Reader

⚖ Setting: Mid-summer in Manhattan, NYC, New York

⚖ Warnings: Language, Adult Themes, Violence, Mentions of Murder

☆ A/N: Would you guys believe me if I told you I’ve been slow-roasting this idea for over a year? Yep, ever since I finished The Fall and Rise of Deus back in February 2021, my mind stayed fixated on where, how, and why the Reader and Peter met. It’s safe to say my writing process wishes it could match a sloth’s pace. But I made it, at long last! I love it, and I hope you all love it too.

♬ Song Inspo: Sinner & Saint by Beacon Light + Moiba Mustapha (produced by Tommee Profitt)

Preface:

All eyes in the state of New York are glued to any and all screens broadcasting the mid-morning news. Every single person, regardless of age, class, ethnicity, and gender, watches with bated breath as the wearied news anchor takes off his glasses, rubs his eyes, heaves a sigh, then puts his glasses back on.

No one reads the bright red headline at the bottom of the screen. They won’t believe what they see, anyway. Not until they hear it.

The news anchor gathers up a second lungful of air and then exhales it in a crestfallen gust before lifting his solemn eyes to address the audience.

“I don’t know what to say, folks. Truly, I don’t. This is me going off the script here, because none of those words on the teleprompter will capture the magnitude... the gravity... the just, jarring sense of sorrow we are all feeling right now. Yes. Of that, I am utterly certain.”

Breaths choke up. Heads shake in disbelief. Sweaty palms chafe, pierced with fingernails. Mouths screw up, teeth clench, throats constrict, chins wobble. Unblinking eyes burn with the reddening brim of unshed tears.

“I regret to confirm, with the heaviest of hearts, that Manhattan’s most beloved humanitarian, Adrian Toomes, has been shot and killed in his home at around midnight last night. The uhm... suspect... is in custody.”

A dark look clouds over the news anchor’s face but he shakes his head, clears his throat and trundles on. “We’ve lost a hallmark in our community. One of the biggest advocates for workers’ rights. The biggest charity donor to our impoverished neighbors. Right before his untimely death, he even set up a 20 million dollar grant funding orphanages across the entire state of New York. What kind of monster would want to—”

He halts the accusatory words in their tracks, holds them back grudgingly. Collects himself and clears his throat once more. “Look, we don’t have all the facts yet but we don’t need them. We know Adrian Toomes, and we know he did not deserve to be the victim of such a despicable crime. He was a caring man, a doting husband to his wife Doris, and a loving father to his daughter Liz. Our thoughts and prayers go out to them during this terrible time.

Just like his family, we all will be feeling this loss for a very, very, very long time.”

The hearts of all New Yorkers flush with outrage, anger, grief. Clogged with the burgeoning, bludgeoning, blistering desire for one thing and one thing only.

Justice.

♡ The Trial: Part I → TBA

♡ The Trial: Part II → TBA

♡ The Trial: Part III → TBA

✖ please do not copy, repost, or plagiarize my work ✖

#peter parker x black!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker au #peter parker mob!au #mob!au #mob!peter parker #black!reader #tom holland #slow burn #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fic #peter parker x black reader #the fall and rise of deus #the trial of deus #black lawyer reader

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corndoggod · 24 days

Text

I’ve tried to write about my Dad a thousand times. But I was never able to finish any of those stories. Both of us had trouble seeing things through to completion. I thought that perhaps I could finally finish one of these essays about him whenever he passed, because they weren’t necessarily flattering, but they were honest. They were about our messy relationship, which only grew more complicated with age. I have a lot to say about that, and maybe I’ll finally write those essays, but it’ll suffice to say I felt ashamed of my Dad more than I’d like, and felt terribly guilty for feeling shameful, and that lovely pairing eventually hardened into feelings of resentment, often blinding me from his best aspects.

Of course I loved him too. How could I not? He was my Dad and, as with his comedy, even though he wasn’t the best, he never stopped trying.

And I knew how much he loved me. He loved me so much. I don’t know anyone with a bigger heart. Me and Ethan were his pride and joy and he made sure we knew it every chance he could. He was an amazing father in that way.

Our relationship grew more complicated with age, but it became really simple last May when he had a life-changing stroke and then again this Sunday when he had a life-ending stroke. At the end of the day, he was my Dad and I was his son, and there was nothing but love between us. Nothing to do but hold his hand and stroke his head and update him on the latest March Madness games and betting odds. I tried to say something profound to him on his deathbed, but all I really wanted to do was talk about the shit we usually talked about: the NBA, my bowling league, what we’ve been reading, his latest book idea for me or himself.

That simplicity didn’t last long, because he’s gone now and I’ve been doing a lot of thinking this week. A lot of rethinking actually, and I’ve started to see how much I underestimated my Dad. I worried about my Dad constantly for most of my adult life. I worried for his happiness, but have you ever met a firmer optimist? My Dad had a lot of tough breaks, but he never felt sorry for himself, never became bitter with the world.

I worried about his loneliness, but just look at all of you here today - what a warm crowd. And I want to give a special thanks to Lisa, RJ, Mike, Anita and Joe. You guys showed up for my Dad when me and my brother couldn’t, and you kept showing up when he probably would’ve driven the two of us crazy.

I worried about his health and, well, I was right to worry about his health. The man was crumbling before our eyes and could hardly see with his own. The first time he met Celina we had barely sat down for lunch when, much to my horror, he told us the doctor said they might have to carve out his eye and he wanted to know how we thought he’d look in an eye patch.

I worried for his quality of life. I could never square his unwavering good nature with his life circumstances. It’s become increasingly clear my Dad didn’t measure life the same way I do, but I’m beginning to see his wisdom. It’s a wisdom rooted in the heart, and that wisdom says: friends and family come first, and that includes dogs. It says never presume and live with humility - you never know what the person next to you has gone through and laughing at yourself brightens any moment. It says laughing and crying are powerful medicines.

But I never once worried that my Dad didn’t believe in me. He believed in me with all his heart, no matter the task. He believed I could write for The New Yorker. He believed I could qualify for the Boston Marathon. And I took that for granted, and I wish I thanked him more.

I think we all fear becoming like our parents. I know I did and I tried, consciously or not, to be different or better than my Dad. But I can see now how the qualities he gifted me are fundamental to my being. There’s my love of reading of course. We both slept with books in bed. My ambitions to write. My aversion to driving. My affinity for sports and, a parting gift, my budding obsession with sports gambling.

Moving forward I want to lean into his wisdom, confident that my life will be enriched because of it.

I couldn’t find these words Sunday night, but I hope they find you now, Dad. I want you to know how proud I am to be your son and how proud I am of you. Thank you for teaching me, in your gentle way, what matters most in life: friends, family, laughter, books and dogs.

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ladypeonies · 2 years

Note

Do you think there was a shift in their relationship after Phuket? I don’t know if it’s just me but Apo’s behavior(?) around or concerning Mile has changed a lot. Right now, they’re apart from one another again and Apo just posted how he misses New York. He may just be reminiscent of his time there where he was free to be who he wants without anyone analyzing his every moment (kinda like what I’m doing atm 😭😭😭 bye I hate myself) but would you consider this as “acting up” like what Mile used to do?

Hello,

In my opinion, the real and meaningful shift happened already, the earthquake occurred and now we may see little aftershocks, now and then. Is Phuket one? Perhaps, but I don’t find it any different than the ten-day camp. They will get even closer thanks to the world tour.

The thing is, Apo will always miss New York. That city will forever hold a precious place in his heart. People tend to forget that he didn’t get the chance to experience it fully, it was cut short by the pandemic. I understand why he’s nostalgic. There will always be a part of him who will wonder, what if? And when he says he misses New York, it’s probably a reference to the people he met there, his experiences, his studies, etc. Anyone who has been to NYC would understand him.

I loved NY, my friends and family thought it was not a safe city, but I felt so safe there, I never felt in any danger, and New Yorkers were so welcoming. Apo was made to live in NY, for a while, forever, who knows? It suits his personality, his artistry, he probably felt at home, etc. We often find how strong we are, what we are capable of, away from home, I did. It’s normal for him to miss it, and miss the changes within himself he would have experienced there, if he had remained one more year. I think he intends to go back, one day. And it’s not like he can just go there right now, and that’s why he’s nostalgic. He has movies, series to film, brands to represent, and there is no way, Pond and Mile would just let him take a plane to NY, lol. And the most important part, he’s back to his first love, acting, and he can’t just let it go.

I got messages about that post being linked to the fact Mile was busy. Mile and Apo have a great bond but not everything is linked to the other. IMHO Apo wouldn’t use NY to act up, it’s too personal, it’s probably still a sore spot since he didn’t get to do everything he wanted. It was a time of insouciance for him and when he could be at peace away from the chaos and cruelties of the entertainment industry.

Apo doesn’t act up the same way Mile does, he would use KinnPorsche, be a tattletale. If he mentions hiking somewhere for instance, you know he’s acting up because he knows within the next 30mn, Mile will probably stop what he’s doing and call/message/twit/Instagram to tell him to be safe and the cast and crew would probably as well because they don’t trust him not to get lost or adopt wild animals. I believe Apo handles loneliness and missing someone better than Mile does. Mile is chaotic, Apo is methodical, when he acts up, he plans it well lol. It wouldn’t be ONE post but a well-ordered mess.

Hugs,

Ps: Don’t hate yourself, you are far too cute.

#Mileapo #apo nattawin #mile phakphum #LPanswers

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ash-and-books · 7 months

Text

Rating: 3.5/5

Book Blurb:

"Action-packed and utterly vivid, Nightbreaker leaps to life with its formidable world and spirited protagonist. As soon as you start reading, you won’t want to stop." —Chloe Gong, #1 NYT bestselling author of These Violent Delights Fifteen years ago, The Vanishing thrust Manhattan into darkness, forever changing the City That Never Sleeps. By day, resilient New Yorkers have adapted, clinging to the vestiges of their cosmopolitan lives. By night—well, you never go out at night unless you have a death wish. Or unless you're Rei Reynolds.

Rei attends an exclusive New York prep school, but unlike her classmates, she welcomes nightfall. That's when she can secretly hunt Deathlings, the deadly creatures that have prowled Manhattan's subway tunnels and blood-soaked streets since the Vanishing. After they brutally slaughtered her parents years ago, Rei is desperate for vengeance.

To get it, Rei must qualify for—and win—the Tournament, a competition to join the ranks of the city’s legendary Deathling hunters. Rei’s nightly pursuits should give her an advantage, but the other competitors are fierce, and in some cases familiar: enter Kieran Cross, Rei’s most infuriating rival . . . and ex-boyfriend.

As the Tournament progresses—and the cutthroat competition escalates—everything Rei believed about who she can trust is called into question. Soon enough, she’s caught in the crosshairs of the elite who want to keep the city's ruling class in power, as well as those who will stop at nothing to bring it down. Because sometimes it's not the monsters waiting in the dark you should fear . . . it's the ones who dare to walk into the light.

Coco Ma's exhilarating urban fantasy thrusts readers into an immersive world of thrills and chills, featuring the smart, sardonic post-apocalyptic heroine you’ll soon wish you could be.

Review:

In a city taken over by monsters, teens train to become hunters of these monsters... but one girl's training leads her down a darker path than she could have ever imagined. Fifteen years ago, The Vanishing happened in Manhattan, New York. The city was plunged into darkness and monsters known as Deathlings have plagued the city ever since. To defeat these monsters, people are trained to rigorously fight and kill them and they must compete and win the Tournament to make it amongst the ranks of the prestigious Deathling Hunters. Rei Reynolds has dreamed all her life of becoming a hunter, she's been hunting illegally outside of school hours, but her skills have not gone unnoticed. When the tournament comes around she finds herself face to face with her ex, Kieran Cross, a skilled rival and the ex-boyfriend who broke her heart out of nowhere. Rei's parents were murdered and she's been living with her aunt, a Master of the prestigious school that is involved in the Tournament... and the person who has hired Kieran to be her new assistant. As the tournament progresses Rei finds herself questioning everyone and everything she's every known as the secret of the Deathlings and how they came to be and what exactly is happening to the city begins to cause her to unravel. Who can she trust? Can she trust the system that she thought was meant to protect her or will the secrets of those in power cause her to break free? Will she finally find out Kieran's secrets and why he is so determined to protect her but why he broke her heart? This is the first book in a series and it gives off Hunger Games x Maze Runner vibes. The story is a urban fantasy that involves teens joining a deadly competition to fight against monsters while there is a group of higherups who run society watching them. The book has a pretty slow start and doesn't pick up until the 40% mark and I honestly didn't care much for the second chance romance between Kieran and Rei. The world building is really interesting and I am intrigued by the monsters/society structure that the story has going on. I liked the tournament aspect but I felt like a lot of the characters could have been fleshed out better because not a lot of them were all that memorable. I am curious to see where the next book goes and how the story progresses for Rei after the events of this book. Overall if you like urban fantasy novels with young adult tournaments and monster survival fights, definitely give this a go!

*Spoiler: Rei discovers that her sister is a halfling ( she consumed some of the deathling) and she ate their father (he sacrificed himself) and that her aunt (adopted mom) knew that her sister has turned. Rei also discovers that the deathlings can be part human. Kieran broke up with her because he wanted to protect her and he had a lot of other stuff going on but he's always loved her and is still in love with her. Rei also has her Token ( a magical artifact) taken by the board of Directors and they threaten to kill her if she exposes what she's learned about the things happening. *

*Thanks Netgalley and PENGUIN GROUP Penguin Young Readers Group, Viking Books for Young Readers for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

#book review #bookish #nightbreaker

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catcrescent · 9 months

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The New TMNT Mutant Mayham Got Me Thinking About Why I Like the Turtles

So, I finished watching the latest movie Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem and it got me thinking about what it is that I like about the franchise. Although, not necessarily because I liked the movie. In fact, I found it kind of difficult to watch at points and I was having trouble understanding why at first. It had really good animation and really good voice actors, and I really liked the third act where a bunch of New Yorkers worked together to help the turtles take down the massive monster.

But I found myself not really enjoying it as a standalone movie and I really didn't find a lot that I liked as a TMNT fan. Consider this post as my way of trying to understand this.

The first way I'd like to think about this movie is as something on its own, regardless of the franchise it represents. After all, TMNT has had a lot of different interpretations with different flavors, so, what did this one have to offer? As I mentioned, really good animation and voice acting...but also a LOT of pop culture references and gross out humor. This franchise is not new to this kind of thing, but I was noticing that a lot of scenes would spend about 1-2 minutes every 5 minutes on drawing out a joke that seemed to reiterate "teenagers are cringy and gross". Perhaps the arguement could be made that, the film is labeled as a comedy, so it is excusable, but I don't quite agree with that. Comedy that is well-written is not simply a long string of goofiness; it's a punchline. A punch is something that needs to be planned and well-timed, and rapid punches can only be done effectively with focus and endurance, otherwise, it turns into a less effective equivalent of flailing your hand trying to slap someone, in which it is more annoying than impactful. There's not a lot of moments or jokes that stand out because a lot of them blurred together for me.

The heart of the message is important for any story. Each iteration of the Turtles seems to tie into the idea of trying to deal with how impressionable teenagers are, including Mutant Mayhem. With this recent film, the turtles are obsessed with earning a name for themsleves because they feel outcasted. It was interesting of a concept because this kind of thing was actually explored in the 1990 turtles movie, where the Shredder was recruiting teenagers throughout New York who felt misunderstood and convincing them that the only way they could live freely was to take from others. One of the human characters was a teenager who was following Shredder at first, but he changed his mind after Splinter and the turtles convinced him that there was no honor or true happiness in that path. The turtles were the role models in that situation, though the 2011 TMNT cartoon was an instance where the turtles had to learn hard lessons that helped them grow. Technically, Mutant Mayhem addresses this by saying the turtles needed to be confident in themselves and trust others, since trusting April and choosing to help her when her bike got stolen was what ultimately led her to doing a news report to convince New York to help them. The message is there, but it just felt muddled. In the first episode of the 2011 TMNT show, they saw April get kidnapped and failed to save her, Splinter makes a comment that the turtles will have to wait until next year to go outside again (though, I personally believe Splinter was just pretending to be dismissive of April's fate so as to spur the turtles) and Donnie responds "You didn't see into her eyes. The way she looked at me. Helpless. She needed my...our help." It's a small moment in a short episode, but it's a clear moment of empathy, even with very slight but subtle humor woven in, but not enough that distracts from the seriousness of the situation. Mutant Mayhem had chances to do this, like when Mikey thought Mando Gecko was buried under rubble but it turned out to just be his severed tail. It was a funny reveal, but I think it would have been more effective if there had even been a few seconds to show Mikey's panic and maybe even scratching at the rubble to allow for a moment of seriousness, that would have actually made the punchline hit more effectively.

In terms of the message, of having the turtles and other mutants feel like outcasts, I do feel like this particular story has been told a lot in movies nowadays (though I don't want to blame the movie for that, it's simply the current trend) but I do think there are movies where this kind of story has been told better. As far as films I look to as a personal golden standard, I think of the Iron Giant, who had to prove himself a hero by choosing not to be a weapon, but there are more recent films I think tackled this well, such as the Bad Guys, which had anthropormorphic animals trying to redefine their cultural stereotyping and personal beliefs about themselves as bad guys by choosing to do good. Technically, Mutant Mayhem does this same story, but I think it lacked a moment of respect for its message. And I don't think it's fair to comedy and storytelling to say "It's a comedy, it doesn't need to take itself seriously" because, for example, Bad Guys is technically a comedy too yet still manages to stirke a balance of comedy and character conflicts that showed you can have fun in the bad times, but mistakes do still have consequences. Mutant Mayhem had small moments like this, but it lacked a confidence in itself.

I think lack of confidence in itself was what I felt most with this movie. That was the main theme between the turtles and April, and technicallly that did get resolved as they worked together with the New York populace, though it all felt like a side story to Splinter's arc about not trusting humans. In a way, the turtles never quite got their big stand-out moment in their own movie. I guess that was the point of this movie, where the turtles aren't supposed to be important, since trying to attain that is what got them in trouble. It all technically works narratively, but I still had a hard time feeling satisfied.

Admittedly, perhaps some of this comes from my history with TMNT. One of my favorite Turtles media is the 1990 movie with a close second being the 2011 Nick cartoon, though I didn't get around to all of the other propteries, I still tried to stay informed. By the end of Mutant Mayhem, I was thinking about these other versions and trying to remember what I enjoyed about them so much and I really do enjoy those past versions. But I wanted to be cautious about not liking Mutant Mayhem just for interpreting things differently, since doing something different doesn't make it bad, but I think it still needs to be done well in order for the changes to work.

When dealing with so many iterations, it may not be fair to compare Mutant Mayhem to those before it, but I do wonder at what kind of identity that it offered of its own. As mentioned, these turtles lacked confidence in themselves and leaned very heavily on their jokes, to the point that I had trouble telling them apart personality wise. Even the old 80's cartoon was very careful in making the turtles distinct in how they reacted to situations despite their identical designs (like you could always rely on Raph making a snappy comment). Even with the other mutants, I liked that they were given the opprotunity to befriend the turtles, but they all blended together character-wise as well, since their motivations were all the same with only minor differences in how they behaved. For the turtles, things like Leo's over-responsibility and crush on April or Ralph's glee for violence felt more like sidenotes, and I'll try to explain why. Throughout Mutant Mayhem for instance, Ralph's anger was a running joke, saying he had anger issues...but I never got the sense he was angry. He was actually quite happy all the time and never took anything seriously, he just so happened to really like punching things and Splinter even lost his temper more than Ralph. A lot of the movie was like this, in telling things but not really showing it. And I think showing the personality traits rather than telling has been done well in the past. This is where I think it would be best to make comparisons: In other iterations, like the 1990 film, Ralph's anger is more apparent because we got to see how it resulted in him losing more than one fight he tried to do alone and almost dying, how he had to learn to manage his anger to help his brothers. In the TMNT 2011 cartoon, Ralph had a mean-streak, which caused problems with Mikey not feeling secure, but they would eventually work it through, and it was clear that Ralph's anger just stemmed from his immense passion for things, which sometimes led him to befriending pets or being the most empathetic of others in certain situations.

There were a variety of changes to the turtle's with their personality and backstory. As mentioned, change isn't bad but it should be done with a clear vision and executed well, especially when dealing with such a long-running franchise. I wasn't sure what to think of Leo's crush on April, in part because it didn't really have an impact on the story (as the turtles would have likely retrieved her stolen bike regardless--and if the only reason they helped April was because of Leo's crush then I think it reflects poorly on the turtles. One might argue Donnie had a crush on April before they went to save her in the 2011 TMNT cartoon but I think it was clear that Donnie's crush in the first episode was treated more as a fun joke and he expressed wanting to save her because they were the only ones who could help her and had a responsibility to). The other thing with Leo's crush in Mutant Mayhem was that it felt like it didn't add to the experience, not really being treated as a joke or committed to being explored like with TMNT's Donnie, and it didn't feel like Leo and April were given moments to even get chemistry. There were a lot of little decisions like this that made it feel added on rather than woven in. Other changes involving the backstory had a bigger impact on my experience and it relates to the fight scenes.

A lot of these past versions delivered when it came to the fight scenes, even the the live action 1990 movie. Part of the appreciation for it I felt like had to do with the fact that the turtles, no matter how young and fun-loving, do still have a level of seriousness for their craft. Mutant Mayhem had fights, but they kind of went by fast. There was some cool editing but not really a lot of moments that stood out. They largely felt like street fights, something chaotic and just scrambling to hit something. The only time I can really play back a fight in my head was also the one time it felt like a ninja was fighting, when Splinter was saving the turtles, but even that felt a little off, I think because of this Splinter's backstory. I might be biased in saying this, but I found myself missing the backstory of Splinter being either a pet of Hamato Yoshi or even the man himself, as it gave more creedance to the turtle's ninjustu. Even the Rise of the TMNT, which was before this movie and considered one of the more comedic of the recent iterations, still had Splinter originate as an honorable master of martial arts who got turned into a rat and raised the turtles to protect them. It was comedically portrayed but still faithful. It was to my surprise that the 1990 live action film was actually very faithful to the original comic adaption, in which Splinter was a pet rat who was close to Hamato and had a grudge against Shredder. Either backstory works I think because it has a level of believability. The only time I had heard of the turtles being trained by self-defense books was from the Micheal Bay 2011 movie. It is a goofy explanation, and it could work, but I'm not sure if Mutant Mayhem managed to make it work, as I feel it didn't quite work in the 2011 film either. It's not to say that Splinter has to be a martial arts master, but I feel like him and turtles learning ninjitsu from a legitimate source then gives more respect to ninjitsu. There's no sense of history and it makes it feel like, if Splinter found a book on boxing, then they could have just as likely become the Teenage Mutant Boxer Turtles and calling themselves ninja was just a means to an end.

I suppose all this to say, Mutant Mayhem was not a bad movie, but it is not one I would recommend, as I feel there are other films and even other Turtles media that can provide more refined versions of what this movie wanted to offer. I appreciate anyone who read to the end of this and allowing me to share my thoughts. Have an excellent day.

#tmnt #a rant i guess #movie review

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loneberry · 2 years

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time's up

Thursday is my last day in psychoanalysis with my analyst of 7.5 years. I’ve been weeping all month preparing for this moment. It’s shocking to me. How hard this is. Like a death that can’t be assimilated through language. I feel totally aphasic in the face of this rupture, an infant, a soon-to-be psychic orphan. I wasted so much time on bullshit, recounting the meaningless trivia of my days, denying the finitude of time. I didn’t go deep enough and now it’s too late. The unanalyzed dreams. I didn’t pay attention. But now I want to remember everything, every word that was said, every detail of my analyst’s office. Endings have a way of igniting, in our hearts, a longing for everything that was, and sadness for all that will never be, what we were too afraid to say.

I'll miss this office-womb. Not pictured: the leather couch off to the right.

I started psychoanalysis because I wanted to choose life, but I couldn’t do it on my own. I was losing that fight. Who was I when I washed up on the shores of my analyst’s office, a shattered thing, my life in pieces. There was a powerful voice in my head that said, there’s no hope for me—I see no future for myself. Every step I took toward life was in defiance of that voice. Fighting that voice every waking moment siphoned all my energy. How could I get out from under that yoke? It seemed I never would. But I had to try. After a string of crappy therapists, failed neurofeedback and general disillusionment with psychiatry, I took the plunge and signed up for analysis 4 days a week. My friend who was studying the history of psychoanalysis told me about the availability of sliding scale analysis with candidates at the Boston Psychoanalytic Society and Institute. Some doubted it would do me any good, as I was an inveterate ruminator, prone to over-analyzing and getting stuck in thought loops. Even when I was partially hospitalized at McLean, my caseworker told me that psychoanalysis would do me no good, that it was an “excuse” for me to stay unwell. The caseworker was a partisan of behaviorism who believed that trauma could be overcome by memorizing a list of cognitive distortions. I stuck with analysis anyway. Gradually, the voice that had caused me so much suffering went away. It’s curious to hear traces of that voice when I read old journals now.

I’m not who I was when I began. I remember the very beginning, before I was on the couch, the box of tissues, the orchids, the drapes, the meticulously arranged copies of the New Yorker on the table in the waiting area, the woman who went before me, who I nicknamed The Melancholic Jogger. I remember the commute to my analyst’s office—by bus, train, and bicycle, over the Charles River—the funkily dressed commuter who was always reading a good book at the central square bus stop, how I wanted to talk to her, but never did, thinking there was time to do it later (then the pandemic hit). I remember the crocuses and snowdrops of Commonwealth Ave, the first hint of spring, the walks along the Muddy River to the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum after analysis, the reeds swaying in the breeze, my tears, the seeds of the cottonwoods blowing across the sky while I listened to Arvo Pärt’s De Profundis.

vimeo

I cannot convey how desperate I was in those days. It sounds like hyperbole when I run around saying “psychoanalysis saved my life,” but it did and I’ll forever be an evangelist. Words are inadequate to the task of expressing my gratitude. I know we’re primed to think of our analysts as mere screens to receive the transference, but fuck, I’m gonna really miss my analyst. She’s been my rock. She’s shepherded me through difficult times. She’s smart and witty, with a sense of humor well-suited to my disposition. I can hear her voice when she says zingers like, “When it comes to yourself, you’re like a judge in a Kafka novel!” I sob trying to look up analysts in LA. Who could ever replace The Crame (as A and I affectionately call her)? She says I can take her with me. I know I will but in the moment it’s hard for me to hear such things. I’ve never been good at losing my objects, can’t seem to do it with grace, to let go with equanimity. On Thursday I’ll close the computer screen for the last time. At the end of every session, since the first day, I’ve said, “I’ll see you [insert day].” Something about this ritual of continuity comforts me. God, I’m sobbing my eyes out writing this. Today I said, “I’ll see you Thursday.” It was the last time.

#psychoanalysis #termination #time #endings #Vimeo

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doublel27 · 2 years

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Would love to know more about TK Gwyn conversations and also the SC 6.12 coda pls!

YAY! Two questions! Thanks friend!

TK Gwyn conversations...One, I miss Gwyn and two, we know how important Gwyn is to TK now. And so I wonder, what Gwyn knew, potentially, during TK's time in Austin. Like, we know Owen didn't know anything about Carlos before the shooting, but did Gwyn? So...

“What incident at the police station?” she interrupts. Silence greets her from the other end. “TK?”

He lets out a sigh, the kind that has been known to feel like a dagger to her heart. She can almost see the hand he’s lifting in front of his mouth. “Mom. It was—it’s nothing. It was a misunderstanding. No charges were filed.”

Gwyn bites at her lip. She wants to be on a plane to Austin tomorrow instead of the one she is supposed to board to Osaka. She closes her eyes and wishes TK was three again and she could permanently keep him in that harness contraption she’d used to keep him from wandering off. Sucking in a breath, she says the thing she’s wanted to say since Owen informed her that they were moving. “Maybe you should come home. I know your father has this whole idea that New York is part of the problem and he’s uprooted your entire life but if there are incidents at police stations—”

“Mom, I’m fine,” TK reassures her, and she wishes she believed him. “Besides, who in New York would hire me? It’s not a secret why we left.”

“You are more than your job, TK. And you’re more than your biggest mistakes.”

“Texas isn’t that bad. I really like the team. Mostly, there’s this one guy who keeps coming at me. I think he has a thing against city people, and New Yorkers.”

“They’re just jealous,” Gwyn says, as TK says it with her in tandem. His voice has taken on that light and sing-songy tone she adores. ~*~ As for the 6.12 Coda - I started this whenseason six aired back in 2020...it's old but I have a soft spot. 6.12 is a great episode and I wanted to explore the conversation between David and Patrick and what got them from the store to sitting out in front of the motel waiting for the Rose Motel Group to return in the light of revelations from 6.13 where we learn that Patrick wanted to buy a whole ass house for David (YES I HAVE A TYPE OF COUPLE AND IT INVOLVES SURPRISE PROPERTY DECISIONS). Because that had to be what he was thinking of in that moment. The house David wanted that Patrick wanted to give him and finding out that David wante dto move back to New York...UGH...dangerous levels of introspection ahead. ~*~

Schitt’s Creek may have been a small town with a sign that made it look like a man was fucking his sister and filled with nosey people, but it was also the place Patrick had found himself. Sometimes he thought of leaving [home] as running away and sometimes, more so lately, he thought of it as going home. If he hadn’t come, he never would have met David, started Rose Apothecary, realized he was gay, fallen in love, come out.

Never was a strong word, but if Rachel had been reaching out to him and Patrick hadn’t come to know himself so well, to know David, he might have fallen right back into it. They might have gotten married. He could have a kid. And he would be ruining their lives because he wouldn’t be himself.

Coming here transformed him, remade him. Patrick loves Schitt’s Creek entirely. He loves the Cafe Tropical baseball team, the way Twyla under or over steeps his tea every time but always has a smile and a story, doing community theater: being a part of a place rather than keeping himself apart. New York could remake him, too, but into what? Patrick was more settled here in Schitt’s Creek than he ever was back in [name Patrick’s home town]. Here he had developed roots.

His half of the muffin disappears slowly but surely as Patrick tries to dismantle the various dreams and plans he’s been building into their future. At the very least he tries to turn them into ones that fit in the city that never sleeps. Instead, Patrick thought back to the discussion they had about adding in friends from New York that Patrick was fairly certain never text or call, let alone know who David’s fiance is. David had been insistent though, demanding that these supposed friends come. Patrick had relented, because in the end he’d gotten another table of family out of the whole compromise. Who would these people be and would any of them be as supportive as the friends they already have?

#schitt's creek #911 lone star #tarlos #david x patrick #doublel27 writes #doublel27 talks #thanks for the ask friend #glad to answer this

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