#which is why the end line of the other poem was so *%"@^)! (you love / what you are) because patrice does. like he is a whole ass good huma

[crossbackpoke-check]

Substance, Shadow, and Spirit [remixed, abridged] by Tao Yuanming

#liv in the replies #patrice bergeron #boston bruins #brad marchand #do you ever think about how brad marchand said that when bergy retired he would retire or are you capable of normal thought i'm not at all #please say a gratitude for both my sanity& y'all that this poem (which has been saved in my camera roll with the vague idea of using it for #??? ​long) & not one of the poems i had saved for carey for a really long time & remixed & everything with another poem until i found a poem #that absolutely murdered me in cold blood but there is an alternate universe where i did& then had to explain my unhinged thoughts to you. #anyway how are we feeling about bergy retirement. pspspspsp sara & luna are y'all doing okay like. the doc title for this one was #patrice the hockey player means a lot to me but patrice the person means so much more #which is why the end line of the other poem was so *%"@^)! (you love / what you are) because patrice does. like he is a whole ass good huma #& now since no one asked i need to tell you all the details about everything also y'all please clap i made an edit with NO baby pictures #although i did find one & save it & minimal genres of photo i always use in edits because they're my taste & aesthetic but anyway. #when i saved the first photo and marked it as one i wanted i accidentally wrote “how will he know they love him” which is not the line but #makes me feel feral about patrice & the rest of them all had hurtful names too but also. the third picture is literally a CELLY like brad #just scored a goal & he is clinging to bergy for dear life with that shit i saved that as “oh the agony on his face for unendurable” #& yes it is one of my cliches to have a draft day picture but in my defense the lifelong bond that patrice has/d with boston deserved to be #there even if i put in the love story & YES that picture is from the 2011 playoff right below it shared joy & pain & i couldn't tell you #when the brad marchy photo for together forever is except for the fact that i saw it & just the gut punch of oh my god the way he looks at #things men will praise you for is the stanley cup. duh. but i love the contrast of “some deed” being the stanley cup but then #bergy's choice to do noble deeds (ends up still earning praise &that's my note to his efforts outside of hockey we love a supportive captai #should also mention the first two i came up with & had the photos i knew i wanted for were the first and last one alskaldk but i KNEW i #wanted chara somewhere in the paragraph about leaving & then while i was looking found the one of bergy playing tuukka on accident & yes #i do have to make goalie jokes every time. no reprieve . no dice/no deal/no goal goalies have no rest/reprieve etc etc the one that killed #me though was looking for a patrice award pic & i wanted basically the one that i got for “how will you know any will praise you” & instead #also got the picture of patrice winning the some community hero award for charity work that he does & i love him mama & of COURSE that puck #is from bergy's 1000 game who do you think I am (if you guessed sleepy and emotional about patrice you'd be right) and ALSO please be ready #for all the patrice posts/bruins posts that have been sitting in my drafts to be released on this occasion of patrice retirement #I FORGOT TO MENTION THAT TUUKKA ALSO RETIRED THAT’S WHY HE WAS ON WISE OR SIMPLE NO REPRIEVE AND THAT LATE OR SOON WAS ALWAYS GOING TO BE #CHARA BECAUSE CHARA LEFT FIRST TO GO TO THE CAPS AND THEN LEFT IN RETIRMENT HE LEFT SOON BUT NOT FOR REAL THEN LATER LEFT FOR REAL (RETIRED)

[firstfullmoon]

SOLMAZ SHARIF: I was recently reminded of a story of a political prisoner—I don’t know if I want to share this. . . This political prisoner, who had been convicted and was facing the death penalty, was in a large cell with about twenty other political prisoners. Periodically, the guards would come and call one of their names and take that person out to be executed. When this political prisoner’s name was called, the prisoner stood up and started singing “The Internationale.” The whole cell sang along, and that was their farewell. But when the prisoner went into the hallway, the guards told them that they weren’t going to the gallows. They were being transferred to a different prison. The guards took them to the latrine, and while the prisoner was in there, they realized they wouldn’t have wanted “The Internationale” to be their last song, and started reciting a poem by, I believe, Hafez from memory.

For me, the why of poetry has become the reason revolution must happen to begin with. It’s no longer the conditions that make revolution inevitable, but what’s waiting for us on the other side of it. That required me to be more vulnerable—removing the conceptual frame was an act of that allowed vulnerability. . .

ALINA STEFANESCU: That reminds me of how my parents made me memorize poetry. They said: If you find yourself in prison, if you lose your home, family, livelihood, everything, the poems you remember will keep you whole. At the end of the day, alone in a cell, no one can steal the stanzas you remembered. The recitation itself is a radical act of refusal. Maybe poems sustain the hope and selfhood that carceral systems aim to extinguish.

SOLMAZ SHARIF: I love that. I was reminded of poetry’s capacities at the beginning of the pandemic. When lockdown started, some of my artist friends who work in other mediums suddenly couldn’t do any work. I remembered, for readers a poem is something you can carry with you anywhere, and for poets, writing a poem is an action that you can undertake anywhere. You don’t need physical materials. I hadn’t decided to turn my attention toward those qualities, however; I was forced to. My idea of poetry is tied inextricably to my early understanding of carcerality and war—both of which evaporate all that seems solid. And poetry seems especially able to survive these things. I bristle at the word hope, but the poem’s scrappy thereness is enough for me. In an interview late in his life, Mahmoud Darwish says, “poetry changes only the poet.” Some people understand that statement as pessimistic or cynical or jaded. Or maybe see it in line with Auden’s choppily quoted “poetry makes nothing happen”—a quote betrayed in the two words that follow: “it survives.” Auden is often quoted to fall neatly into that neoliberal ethical bypass of so much American literature. But I see the Darwish quote as honoring that even when a poem can’t be anything else, that it will be enough. I’m surprised by this turn in my own work, but the lived practice of poetry in my life made it inevitable.

— Solmaz Sharif and Alina Stefanescu, in conversation for BOMB Magazine

#maybe poems sustain the hope and selfhood that carceral systems aim to extinguish ! #w #interview #solmaz sharif #all beautiful poetry is an act of resistance

[colleendoran]

The Secret Language of a Page of Chivalry: The Pre-Raphaelite Connection

Adapting Neil Gaiman’s Chivalry is a decades-long dream fulfilled. The story as text can be enjoyed on multiple levels, and so can the art. You look at the pages and see the pretty pictures, but the pictures also have meta-textual meaning. Knowing this secret language adds to the experience.

Some people pick up the references quickly, but I’ll share with you some more of what’s going on under the surface.

In Ye Olden Days of Art Making, most painters made pictures that contained visual narrative cues. Flowers in a picture might be heraldic signs that signaled political affiliations, or could indicate purity, anger, or love. Purple was the color of kings. A dog in a picture might represent faithfulness, and butterflies could represent the soul.

There are Pre-Raphaelite paintings with so many symbols and ideas in them that you need a deep working knowledge of Victorian and Edwardian social mores to understand what’s going on.

For example, Ford Madox Brown’s Work, a painting which took some 13 years to complete, was first exhibited in 1865 with a catalogue explaining all its symbols and elements. There is nothing in that picture that doesn’t mean something.

I brought some of that visual meta-textual sensibility to Chivalry, (and I’ve written about the symbolism and meanings in the work in other essays.)

I also brought into the work direct Pre-Raphaelite art references.

From 1868-1870, Sir Edward Coley Burne-Jones created four paintings illuminating the tale of Pygmalion and Galatea, entitled Pygmalion and the Image, and wrote a poem with each line titling one painting:

The heart desires

The hand refrains

The godhead fires

The soul attains.

A perfect little poem for Chivalry, and I think of it often when some people present me with what I think is a very strange question: why didn’t Galaad just take the Holy Grail from Mrs. Whitaker?

It kind of breaks my heart that people would even ask that.

Burne-Jones painted two versions of this series of which this is the second.

In the first panel of this page, Sir Galaad kneeling before the Grail is derived from the figure of Pygmalion kneeling before Galatea: The Soul Attains.

Sir Galaad’s restraint even in the face of his greatest desire makes him worthy of his prize.

There are two Pre-Raphalite references in this page, the most obvious being in panel 2: it’s Sir John Everett Millais’s 1857 work A Dream of the Past: Sir Isumbras at the Ford.

The painting was very poorly received on first exhibition, compelling Millais to redo significant portions of it. It was caricatured and ridiculed, and then ended up becoming influential and popular, and isn’t that the way it goes.

That’s an art career in a nutshell, really.

The Sir Isumbras image also influenced John Tenniel’s illustrations for the Lewis Carroll Alice in Wonderland novels.

Sir Isumbras derives from a 13th century Medieval romance poem about a good knight whose pride causes him to fail in his Christian duty. He is presented with a series of difficult challenges before he can find happiness again, reunite with his family, and be forgiven his sins. The painting by Millais is based less explicitly on the poem than it is on a later parody of the poem. (It’s complicated.)

My using Sir Isumbras as the base for the shot of Galaad with the children is obvious here. In the Millais painting, Sir Isumbras carries a woodcutter’s children across the ford. In Chivalry, Sir Galaad carries the children of Mrs. Whitaker’s neighborhood down the street.

While Sir Isumbras spent many years learning humility and Christian duty, Galaad has a long quest to fulfill before he can achieve his goal. And on the way to that goal, he’s humble and nice to children, too.

That the Millais painting was such a huge influence on many a depiction of knighthood over the years made it a perfect reference point here, and the story behind both the painting and the poem give it further layers of meaning.

The next panel has a far less obvious reference, but the source is Arthur Hughes’s painting The Rescue.

Arthur Hughes is one of the lesser-known Pre-Raphaelites, but his art is widely seen and influential. He’s certainly been a big influence on me, as many of his paintings appear again and again in Arthuriana references, as he was a prolific King Arthur picture tale teller.

The Rescue (1907-1908) was originally part of a diptych which was separated and sold back in the 1920’s. His style was becoming unpopular by the time Hughes painted the work, and little is known about this work except that one panel was in the collection of Andrew Lloyd Webber at some point. Maybe still is. Dunno.

Anyway, the diptych depicts a little child kneeling in prayer menaced by a dragon in one panel, and in the next, safely trotting away with a knight on horseback. I like that this is a diptych, a kind of proto-comic art form common in medieval religious art, so this was perfect to use here.

Another reference to Arthur Hughes is in this double page splash from later in the book as Galaad on his quest encounters the Hesperides.

I didn’t set out to reference this Arthur Hughes piece at first, but it’s one of my favorite paintings. When I realized my sketches for this scene kept echoing the Hughes composition, I went with it. The Hughes painting of Galahad is one of the most famous depictions of the character, so it makes me happy to have this referenced in Chivalry.

Kindly ask for CHIVALRY, published by Dark Horse Comics in the USA and by Headline Books in the UK at your local comic shops or bookstore. Written by Neil Gaiman. Adaptation and art by me.

For further reading on this project, go HERE.

HERE.

And HERE.

Thank you to my Patreon patrons for sponsoring my work and this post.

Colleen Doran Illustrates Neil Gaiman will be a solo exhibit at the Society of Illustrators in New York City this spring. Watch this space for updates.

Have a wonderful holiday season.

#neil gaiman #dark horse comics #king arthur #Sir Galahad #Comics #graphic novel #fantasy graphic novel #watercolor #pre raphaelite #pre raphaelism

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

this was for an ask but it became something different from the ask but I still wanted to post it cuz cute (tm)

Rated M (im just being safe)

taglist: @ghostinvenus

The kiss is terrible, you tremble, lips just pressing on his; it's so bad. Astarion has had his share of terrible kisses, inexperienced kisses, and ones that left him out of breath (rarely). Yours easily tells him everything about you, from why your hands try to figure out what to do, to why you try angling your face, and pressing your lips on his. You retreat with heated cheeks, eyes looking everywhere but his face.

"That… Wasn't good, was it?"

He laughed, "If you have to ask, it was bad." It is cute truthfully seeing you sulk followed by throwing your hands in the air, "You are overthinking this." His hand reached and cupped the side of your face, "Look at me." Your eyes can't stay on his face, shy and nervous. "Look." When your red eyes meet his red eyes, "Build up the anticipation," His thumb traces your lips, lightly brushing your bottom lip, "You are in control." When he pushes his thumb ever so lightly past your lips, you don't know why but you welcome it parting your lips and your tongue licking flesh.

His lips form a smirk as you easily get enchanted then lead in as his thumb keeps your mouth open, "Do as I do." Like a spell, spoken and you obey.

This is a kiss.

His hand remains on your face caressing your cheek, the other around your waist supporting you. You are still confused about what to do yet where your mind lacks, your body reacts; instinctively seeking him. Your hands gripping the back of his poet blouse, your body leaning as if sculptured to fit with his, mouth meshing with his and tongue tasting him. 

Wine and blood, strange that excites you.

The kiss is still inexperienced but not as terrible as before. His eyes are half shut while yours are completely closed. Seeing the way you struggle to match him, the relief when he welcomes your tongue in his mouth.

Happy. You look happy when the kiss ends.

"So this is why there are so many love poems." The observation blurted out of your mouth, "This is inspiring."

"Oh, should I expect a flowery love song tomorrow evening?" Teasing you as he releases his hold on you, physically leaving your warmth is getting harder to do as these days pass.

"A song? Astarion, you inspire a symposium with only the way you look."

He laughs, that narcissistic laugh which given your words is deserving, "Go on."

"Kissing you or talking." Your hands didn't leave his body, they rested on his waist as if fearing him escaping into the moonlight, swept away by Selunê's glow.

"Either one is quite interesting."

You are on that high of your first kiss with him, "Can I have more?" Lowering your head with eyes looking up at him, "Kisses, I mean."

"So polite," Oh, how he enjoys you discovering the pleasures of the flesh. "Of course." Once more he moves to take charge only to stop as you copy his movements from before, though your fingers tracing the shape of his face then his ear.

A lyrical tone follows your next words, "Hot blood begets hot thoughts," Recalling words from a book your mother gave you, "And hot thoughts beget hot deeds," Your nose brushes against his. "And hot deeds is love." When the kiss happens, you are slow. Methodical.

Astarion makes adjustments along the way even as his mind is on that line you sang to him.

One could say there is nothing behind those words or one could see it as a confession. Well, another confession as you do not hide your heart from him.

When you both end up on the ground under the stars of clear night, he has you singing his name. A siren's charm ensnares him.

It is you who starts greeting him with silly flowery words. With the tune of a lute, violin, or flute at night serenading him over a meal of wine, bread, and cheese. In love, helplessly and innocently.

The only good side of this is that he isn't using the charms to hand you off to Cazador, you are his.

And that slips out.

Vampires cannot love, they are creatures of the night blessed by Kanchelsis to feed on blood and debauchery (as stated in the books from your old master's library).

Yet, he feels its grip! The way you care for him, respect him, seek him as a person and not a tool.

Things he lacked towards you— you are just another sorry spawn who will help him achieve his goal…

Clumsy.

He tries to list what he would change about you, flaws that bother him. And there are many as he makes a mental list while currently watching you from the shadows. You are providing a distraction as he steals something you need for some ridiculous quest.

Too helpful.

Maybe that is good for him when he has you in his service upon his ascension.

Nice.

Definitely too nice for your own good. It makes him want to be nice to you back, God. Even now he had to threaten someone because you froze because someone didn't feed before getting here, saw the way your eyes glowed with the hunger. Probably will kill that patron after he returns to your side with the stolen documents.

Those eyes follow you, studying the body he knows quite well, then to the way the low-cut blouse exposes your neck and from his view the hickey he left from yesterday morning.

"Thank you, Astarion." Breathing slowly to tame the beast. "Guess you were right."

"Trust the one who has been at this for two hundred years, darling." The smile you give is downright blinding. He turns his head away, "Here." The evidence you take and read over.

Nice…

“Hm?” You do not stop him when he kisses you. In this smelly, loud, and dirty tavern; you felt the world fall away with Astarion’s lips on yours, a feeling shared.

#reader insert #fanfiction #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3

[volturiprincess]

To love You in an Old Way

Jasper Hale x human mate reader

Summary: Reader is a fan of old school love Warnings: None, just pure fluff A/N: This one-shot was inspired by this song I been listening on repeat lately, its called "Amarte a la Antigua" or "To Love You in an Old Way" by Eslabon Armado. I added lyrics from the song onto this (Spanish is my first language so translating was easy) From just that song theres another song I listen from this group and another one shot idea came to idea. There will be another A/N in the end. Enjoy :)

(You can never forget your first love for a Vampire)

“Today we no longer write letters to fall in love

Today the flowers are no longer seen”

I have never been serenaded by gifts or even experienced all those old school love gestures. I always said I had no interest in being serenaded but secretly I wished that everything you see in the movies could happen to me. The endless romance books I have drowned myself in so that I could try to picture myself in those romantic scenes leaves me with an unsaid desire. But it is an unrequired thing, guys at school just don't work like that anymore 

“Where has that romance gone?

There are no longer poems to conquer each other

Now only emails are sent”

That is until a certain cowboy came into my life, Jasper Hale. I always admired him from a distance and didn't really approach him in any way until he awkwardly but oh so adorable came up to me one day and said “Hello y/n would you like to go out with me to a bookstore in Port Angeles”. The way he had a hint of anxiety in his eyes and how he flexed his arms behind his back left me curious as to why he was so nervous to talk to me. From that moment 2 years ago today, we have been together ever since, and yes I do know about him and his family being vampires and his past even. There are days where he has to be away from me to control his thirst but I never feel disappointed or hurt. I do always praise him for how far he has come to being able to be around me without the feeling of wanting to drain my blood in a second. 

But the thing I absolutely love about Jasper is he is an old school lover, makes sense since he is old but he does everything you would see in the movies. At first it started with just short poem phrases left inside my locker or in the books I would read, 

“Loving you the old way, stealing your smiles

Hold your hand, open the door for you, write you poems

love like before”

And from that he started to write full on poems, one of them being called “To love you in old way”, which just hits my heart in every way. He then started to give me little gifts, nothing fancy yet unless you count chocolates but he would give me little drawings he's done throughout the day or once he gave me a bracelet he made that had a small heart and rose charm. I still wear that bracelet to this day. 

“Fill you with roses, sing you songs, paint you caresses”

When he writes me poems, he leaves them in my bedroom with a bouquet of my favorite flowers each time. The way he loves me is something I never knew could exist, he's so suave with his southern charm  and the way he can sit for hours listening to me talk just makes my heart swell. Many would assume just because he's the reserve type he lacks being a romantic type, but when me and him are alone he says some of the most dazzling and mesmerizing things that can put any poet to shame

Like just a minute ago he said this line 

“In you, I have found the love that fills my soul”

And with his Texan accent, it made it more personal.

“Was that an Edgar Allan Poe quote?”

“It was, I figured you would like it for the reason being you love his works”

“Oh you know me so well cowboy”

He smirked slightly and pulled me into his embrace so my back was against his chest while he was leaning against a tree. 

“I like how you learned quotes from his works to woe me, even if he focuses more on the dark and terror of life”

“Well one thing I have grown to know about you is books are a key to your heart”

“Yes true, and food, don't forget food”

The way he laughs makes me melt into him more, his laugh is quiet like the sounds of small bells ringing, so angelic yet at the same time so bewitching.

“I could never forget that about you darlin”

I thought about our first date, I was internally panicking and was overthinking constantly of what to say to him, I was debating to just be myself or my quiet self. What made me loosen up with him was he gave me this aura of calm, at the time I didn't understand how but with that feeling I relaxed and was able to finally be myself. Since our first date was at a bookstore, he held all the books I wanted and he didn't protest or anything, actually he would recommend books or I would catch him sneaking books into my growing pile. After that date, we just knew we fit like a puzzle, it was then confirmed later that Jasper and I are mates which confused me since I am human. 

We would spend hours either in his room or mine reading and then talking about it afterwards. He really is my missing piece to my soul. My parents even approved of Jasper and would be happy to have him over or even letting him stay the night or vice versa. They knew Jasper was the perfect gentleman and wouldn't do anything to hurt me, which is true in every way, even if he does have his days where he struggles with his thirst control.

“Penny for thoughts?”

At hearing his voice through my mist of memories I answered “I was just thinking about our first date”

“What about it?”

“Just thinking how we fit like two puzzle pieces”

He kissed the top of my head and mumbled quietly

“You have no idea how true that is”

I grabbed his hand and traced his visible veins. I would often do that to make him relax more and in a way it comforted me. As for him I noticed he would bury his face into my hair, he says my hair smells like flowers and I could feel him melt everytime he did that. 

“Can I ask you something”

His sudden voice in our quiet bliss startled me

“Yea? What's up?”

“Well I have a supplication for you”

I raised an eyebrow at that word but pulled away from him so I could face him.

“Supplication? You never fail to amuse me with your formal words but continue with your supplication”

His radiantly affectionate smirk spread onto his face. He reached into his pocket and pulled a small box out, seeing that box my eyes widened slightly, is it what i think it is? With opening the box I can already see the twinkling diamond shining through 

“Darlin’ the moment I meet you I felt I could finally breathe again, I felt somewhat human once again and my dark past did not cloud my mind as much, I don't know what I would do if I were to ever lose you or let you do, that might sound selfish but damn dang it I love you doll, Will you do me the honor and marry me?”

My tears were already building up when he barely said his first words. The man of my dreams is asking for my hand in marriage and the way the sunlight was hitting him made him look so surreal, it felt like we were in a dream at that moment.

“YES Jas, YES!!”

His smile widened and he placed the ring on my finger in an instant and pulled me into a deep kiss. This kiss didn't feel like any other kiss we had in the past, it felt like all our past deception vanished and it was just me and him in this whole world. And to think this all started with me craving for that old antique love gestures. 

“Love you the old way, love you like before”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I love Jasper, as I said in one of my past post, he was my first Vampire love until well I discovered Felix but I still love him never less. I have another idea for a one shot with another song but this time it will be about Caius, hence to why I have one of his quotes in my bio.

#jasper hale #jasper hale x reader #jasper whitlock #the cullens #jasper hale imagine #twilight renaissance #twilight fanfiction #twilight imagine #jasper whitlock x reader

[katakaluptastrophy]

TLT meta post suggestion: explain the biblical significance of Paul to someone who knows jackshit about Christianity?

Paul is what happens when a clever person with establishment clout has a searing moment of metaphysical transformation that allows them to become a real nuisance...

The very TL;DNR version of Paul in Christianity (Bible!Paul, if you will) is that he was once an observant Jew called Saul who was involved in persecuting the early church. But one day, while enthusiastically doing this, he is struck blind by a huge flash of light and hears the voice of Jesus. From that point on he is known as "Paul", becomes an enthusiastic follower of Jesus, and helps to spread the gospel. Specifically, he is referred to as the 'apostle to the gentiles', taking the teachings of Jesus beyond its early Jewish roots to the wider Mediterranean world.

On a basic level, Necro!Paul being 'Paul' is probably a reference to that blazing moment of transformation - Bible!Paul is both continuity and change: the same passion, but expressed very differently. Well-educated, willing to cause trouble, and energised by something beyond the human norm.

But it's their speech to Ianthe where the Biblical stuff really starts to come through. It's worth noting that letters written by Bible!Paul (or 'written by him') account for nearly half of the books of the Christian New Testament and are hugely foundational in Christian theology.

And Necro!Paul's speech to Ianthe is full of Biblical references:

"I know how hard it is for you to kick against the goad," said the new person. "But there are more worlds than this. Come with us. We are the love that is perfected by death - but even death will be no more; death can also die."

That first line, 'kick against the goad', is a direct reference to Paul's 'Road to Damascus' moment where he hears Jesus:

I saw in the way a light from heaven above the brightness of the sun, shining round about me, and them that were in company with me. And when we were all fallen down on the ground, I heard a voice speaking to me in the Hebrew tongue: Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me? It is hard for thee to kick against the goad. And I said: Who art thou, Lord? And the Lord answered: I am Jesus whom thou persecutest. - Acts 26:13-15

To kick against the goad (or, in the slightly more colourful language of the KJV 'kick against the pricks') is to engage in an excercise in futility. It's a reference to an ox goad, a sharp instrument used to steer oxen in farming, which would hurt the animal if it tried to kick against it instead of following where it was being directed.

It's an acknowledgement that Ianthe is doing something that rubs profoundly up against the metaphysical grain, that her own proud self-direction will only hurt her in the end.

'More worlds than this' is a reference to Hamlet, which Dulcie of course also quotes in TUG. (Hamlet rather seems to haunt the question of the River Beyond, but that's not what we're discussing right now...)

'We are the love that is perfected by death' is, I suspect, meant to reference two different Bible verses. The first is:

Put me as a seal upon thy heart, as a seal upon thy arm, for love is strong as death, jealousy as hard as hell, the lamps thereof are fire and flames. - Song of Solomon 8:6

Despite centuries of the church trying to claim that it's about the spiritual relationship between God and man, the Song of Solomon is now generally accepted to be a sexy poem about sex. So that's an interesting thing for the fusion of Palamedes and Camilla to quote... But perhaps more salient here is what's contrasted to the strength of love and death, which is jealousy and hell. Ianthe is being offered a chance at redemption - which is of course Bible!Paul's whole thing - which she summarily rejects. I'm sure, given NTN ending with Harrow going off to, one assumes, er, harrow hell, that this won't be relevant at all...

The other verse that 'love that is perfected by death' may be referencing is:

In this is the charity of God perfected with us, that we may have confidence in the day of judgment: because as he is, we also are in this world. Fear is not in charity: but perfect charity casteth out fear, because fear hath pain. And he that feareth, is not perfected in charity. Let us therefore love God, because God first hath loved us. If any man say, I love God, and hateth his brother; he is a liar. For he that loveth not his brother, whom he seeth, how can he love God, whom he seeth not? And this commandment we have from God, that he, who loveth God, love also his brother. - 1 John 4:17-21

The quotation in the Douay-Rhiems translation (apparently the preferred translation of lesbian necromancers in space, if Gideon the Ninth is anything to go by) is a little opaque, but 'charity' is an old timey way of translating 'love'. Essentially, this passage says that those who love God and are loved by God do not need to fear the day of judgement, and clarifies a bit about what it means to love God.

There are two things that are important.

The first is that this is from 1 John. There are five Biblical texts associated with St John: the Gospel of John, the Book of Revelation, and three Epistles (letters). Revelation is John's vision of the end of the world - and if you're wondering whether it's relevant that The Locked Tomb features a guy called John who ends the world, yes, it is - but the Epistles were written right at the end of his life. And 1 John has two themes that might be relevant to The Locked Tomb: the first is the question of what it means to love god (spoiler: the answer is not 'dinner and a movie'), and the second is whether your actions matter.

The second thing that might be relevant here is that just before this in 1 John 4, there is a warning about not heeding false prophets. Specifically, it warns about the antichrist. You know, the thing Necro!John says he was repeatedly accused of being? The point is that love - love properly understood - can protect you from the wiles of the antichrist. Probably not a relevant theme as we head off into the 'you have not yet begun to witness the horrors of love' book where people are presumably facing down a pretender god...

The final part of Paul's speech to Ianthe - 'death will be no more' - is also Johannine: this time from Revelation:

And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes: and death shall be no more, nor mourning, nor crying, nor sorrow shall be any more, for the former things are passed away. - Revelation 21:4

This comes from a section where the Biblical John watches as the old world is destroyed and the new Jerusalem descends from Heaven. Death and sorrow are ended, and the righteous will rule with God. The sinful have a less fun time of it, involving fire and brimstone and 'the second death'. If that sounds familiar, it's because Necro!John cribbed that particular bit when making up his shoddy Space Catholicism (TM). (The implications of this really deserves a much longer treatment, so watch this space...)

One of the nice things about Tamsyn Muir's Biblical parallels is they're not generally exact. But it's perhaps relevant to note that amongst Bible!Paul's rather dramatic adventures are quite a few instances of casting demons out of people, starting at least one riot, shipwreck, and an "Incident at Antioch". Also...it's probably not relevant that the writings of St Paul were the turning point in the conversion of St Augustine...specifically a section about how the end of the world is nigh so you'd better get your act together...

All in all, Paul is...a very niche joke about Plato, hopefully not a joke about Dune, and mostly very, very apocalyptic. A new beginning at the end of the world! An offer of redemption to those swimming against the current! A warning to false gods! A sign that the end is nigh! All of which suggests Alecto the Ninth is going to be a wild ride (as if we didn't know that already).

#the locked tomb #tlt meta #tlt paul #john gaius

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Wishbone.

You meet Bucky and Steve while on the run. The three of you quickly learn that nothing is more violent than love.

Based on the poem Wishbone by Richard Siken. Lines taken directly from the poem are in bold. If you're interested, you can read the full poem here.

Pairing - Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes x female reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - 18+ - blood, cursing, guns, sexual content. this is a little dark. your media consumption is your own responsibility.

Word Count - 3617

Author's Note - my god I had fun writing this. wishbone is my favourite poem ever, and I reread it a few days ago and had a vision of nomad steve and bucky on the run and just had to turn it into something. if you haven't read the full poem, I'd highly recommend!! this is darker and a bit more jagged than my usual fluff but you know, versatility and all that. I strongly believe that Steve was feral while on the run - he has to crack at some point. I mean you can only be squeaky clean for so long, right? as always, thoughts, questions or requests, send them my way! feedback is massively appreciated always <3

Masterlist. Requests.

You saved my life he says I owe you everything. You don’t, I say, you don’t owe me squat, let’s just get going, let’s just get gone.

You met them on a bridge in the middle of the night somewhere in Europe.

All three of you running from your sins.

Steve and Bucky had bolted the minute they refused to sign the accords. They were under the impression they’d all go together – Team Cap, side by side.

Wanda and Vision left them first. Natasha next. Lastly, Sam.

Steve and Bucky were the only ones remaining. It started with just the two of them. It would end with just the two of them.

Your ankle cracks and splinters as you barrel forwards over the bridge. Gunshots rain down around you, like some sort of lethal meteor shower. You don’t know how they found you. These remainders of the past won’t leave you alone. They’re shooting at you, four of them, these grown men firing their guns at this runaway girl.

The broken bones finally give way, and you slam into the concrete, head bouncing off the surface. The road is warm under you, and you relax into it, ready to surrender to your fate.

A fate which never comes. A strong, metal arm grabs you by the bicep and pulls you up, your ankle sending strokes of pain lashing through your whole body. You’re screaming, and you’re thrashing, and there’s blood pouring into your boots. Your cries for help are ignored as the man throws you over his shoulder and starts running at an inhuman speed.

He keeps sprinting, heavy shoes hitting the ground with every step, the impact rattling up into your bones. Everything is hazy and nothing makes sense and the lights of the city are blinding you as you’re carried by the stranger. You don’t know if he’s saving you or kidnapping you or both or neither.

A blond man appears, running next to the brunette with the metal arm. You’re thrown from one man’s shoulder to the others, as if you weigh nothing. As if you’re worth nothing. Just a girl caught in the crossfire. A victim. If only they knew.

Your shoes are filling with your own damn blood.

You passed out sometime on the journey, the men’s heavy steps lulling you into unconsciousness.

One minute, you’re being thrown around like a ragdoll, and the next you’re waking up on the floor of a dingy motel. You think you might be in Berlin. Or was it Brussels? It didn’t matter anyway. Doesn’t make a difference.

The carpet is sticky and caked in dirt and patterned like it was made in the 70’s. You wake with a jolt, gasping for air. The blond man is nowhere to be seen. The brunette is sat on the edge of the bed, watching you with careful blue eyes.

“Why am I on the floor?" you ask, venom dripping from each word. “You couldn’t throw me down on the fucking bed?”

He scoffs and shakes his head.

“Your boots are filled with blood,” he spits. “Better on the carpet than the sheets.”

He crosses the room and kneels down in front of you. He cautiously unties your left boot and pulls it off. Then he unties the right one, the broken one, and yanks it off with a careless hand. You grit your teeth and hiss, hand flying out to fist into his shirt.

“Asshole,” you mutter. “That fuckin’ hurts.”

“Yeah, no shit,” he replies. “It’s fractured. Smashed to pieces, actually.”

He grabs your boot and walks over to the tiny sink in the corner of the room. Turning it upside down, he watches as your blood pours out.

“Shit, girl,” he mumbles. “How are you still fightin’?”

You think you hear a New York accent. Brooklyn, maybe. It seems to come out in waves, a slight twang every now and again. His raspy drawl vibrates through your stomach, right into your core. He’s handsome. He’s battered and bruised, clothes ripped, hair mussed. But he’s handsome.

“I’m tougher than I look,” you retort.

He chuckles, and it makes you want to rip your clothes off.

He comes back to your place on the floor and yanks you up by your arms. He throws you onto the bed unceremoniously, ignoring your groans and protests. He grabs you by your chin and forces you to look at him.

“Stop fuckin’ wincing,” he snarls. “I’m trying to help you.”

You figure his help is better than nothing. You go pliant, and let him assess you, only whining when he presses his thumbs into a sore spot.

I’m always saving and you’re always owing and I’m tired of asking to settle the debt.

Steve has always loved playing the hero. It’s the role he falls into naturally. Bucky does too. After everything he’s done – been forced to do – it makes him feel good to save people now.

Maybe that’s why they saved you.

They watched you run from those men, four vigilantes out for blood. Bucky and Steve had gone out to kill them, to get them off their backs. As soon as Bucky had seen you fall, he was moving at the speed of light, barrelling across the bridge to scoop you up and out of the crossfire. Steve just watched, shaking his head. Buck had always been a sucker for a pretty girl.

They don’t question why you were out there, fighting men with your bare hands. They don’t wanna know. Frankly, they don’t care.

“What the fuck?” Steve asks when he swings open the door to the motel room. “She’s still here?”

“Her ankle is all messed up,” Bucky replies. “There’s no way she’s walking. We can’t throw her onto the street. The rest of them will come for her.”

Steve’s rolling his eyes as he walks over to where you’re unconscious on the bed. He grabs the front of your shirt and pulls you up level with him. You startle awake, and stare daggers into his pretty face.

“What did they want with you?” he spits.

You glare at him for a solid minute, but he doesn’t crack. He wants answers.

“Pissed them off, I guess,” you snicker. “They tried to hurt me. Hurt them right back but harder. They didn’t like it.”

Bucky’s watching the two of you interact, his head tilted to the side. He’s not quite sure how this is going to play out. He can’t wait to see.

Steve surveys you, eyes scanning your face methodically. God, he’s tired of playing nice.

He grabs your chin firmly, forcing you to open your mouth. He stares into your soul, as if daring you to defy him, before he spits onto your tongue, never once breaking eye contact. You swallow, holding his gaze – goading him into making another move. He slams his lips onto yours, shoving his tongue into your mouth, claiming you as his. You suppose you owe him this, at least. He did save your life, after all.

I say I want you inside me and you hold my head underwater, I say I want you inside me and you split me open with a knife.

This is how it always goes. Your new normal.

The three of you run from city to city, country to country, never staying in one place for too long.

They marked their claim on you that day. All of you without a place to call a home – so you found it in each other. And what a fucked up home it was.

Somewhere along the way, you realise you’ve changed. Not just mentally, or emotionally. But physically. You’re taller, stronger, able to run faster. You’ve gone through some sort of metamorphosis and you don’t know what it is but you like it.

You’re in Colombia, in a motel room, naked from the waist up and sat in Bucky’s lap. You can’t tell where you end and he begins. Just the way you like it.

“I’m different,” you tell him, and he nods his head.

“Why do you think we saved you?” he replies.

He straightens up to sink his teeth into your shoulder, right next to the bite mark left by one of them the day before.

“You are different,” Steve tells you as he walks through the door. “It’s our fault. Sorry, sweetheart,” he says, with no real apology in his voice.

Both you and Bucky turn to look at him. Where did that cut on his cheekbone come from? Blood is dripping down his face, and your mouth waters. You want to lick it off.

You crawl to the end of the bed and rise onto your knees, before grabbing Steve, both hands twisted in the front of his shirt. You run your tongue from his jaw to his temple, savouring the taste of copper. Fuck, he tastes so sweet. They both do. You’d drink it if you could.

Steve moans, and the sound makes your legs weak. He fists a hand into the back of your hair and yanks, exposing your throat to him. Then, with no gentleness whatsoever, he scrapes his teeth along the side of your neck, bruising as he goes. You’re purple and red and tender and sore and your big doe eyes are looking at him like you want him to eat you alive. It takes everything in him not to devour you whole.

Bucky doesn’t possess the same amount of self control.

He yanks you back by your wrists, pinning you underneath him. He crawls along your body, and catches your underwear in his teeth, dragging them down and off. He looks hungry. No, he looks feral. It’s animalistic, this connection the three of you have. It’s sharp and bloody and jagged and raw and it makes you want to cut them open from head to toe so you can live inside them forever.

You hate this life and the fact everything is temporary and you hate that you have nothing. Not really. You’re not even one hundred percent sure that these two men wouldn’t leave you if they got offered something better.

But for now, you let them get lost in you. In each other. It’s all you can do to stay sane, in this life spent running and hiding.

Will you let me kiss your neck, baby? Do I have to tie your arms down? Do I have to stick my tongue in your mouth like the hand of a thief, like a burglary like it’s just another petty theft?

You’re in another motel room. This time, Argentina.

The three of you are sat on the bed. The wound in your side is gushing, and Steve has his hand practically in your rib cage, trying to quell the opening.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmurs. “It’s alright, it’ll stop soon. The advanced healing will kick in any minute now.”

Advanced healing.

It’s something you’d known for a while. Something you’d never brought up with them, just in case. But here he was, telling you like it was nothing.

“I’m a super soldier, aren’t I?” you gasp out between raspy breaths. You’re not actually in that much pain, you’re just panicking. No one should be able to lose this much blood and heal like nothing ever happened.

Bucky nods his head from where he’s sat behind you, chest pressed to your back. His strong arms are keeping you still while Steve plays doctor.

“We didn’t mean for it to happen, sweetheart,” he whispers in your ear.

“It was probably Brazil that did it,” Steve chimes in.

Brazil.

Bucky had been shot and you’d been stabbed and Steve was bleeding for some reason too.

You’d crawled to Buck, throwing yourself on top of his body. Your wounds were both open and your blood was mixing together and you couldn’t tell whose flesh was whose.

You’d stuck your tongue in his mouth and he drank you down, blood and dirt and sweat be damned. Steve yanked you both up and threw an arm under each of you, practically dragging you to safety. You were painted in crimson and dripping with the evidence of your love.

Yes. It was definitely Brazil that did it.

“I didn’t even know that was possible,” you utter in disbelief.

“Honestly, neither did we,” Steve replies.

“But now you’re one of us,” Bucky murmurs. “The three of us. The same.”

He’s kissing your shoulder and you’re squirming because you can feel your skin healing, patching itself back together slowly.

“Let him kiss you, baby,” Steve urges. “Do I have to tie your arms down?”

“Yes,” you beg. “Please. Do it. Please.”

Bucky twists your arms behind you and locks them into place with his metal hand. You can’t go anywhere. You don’t want to.

Did he find that one last tender place to sink his teeth in? 

One day, somewhere in Alaska, Steve finds you crying in the bathroom.

You’re staring at yourself in the mirror, and you don’t recognise what you see. You have scars scattered across your face, your hair is darker than it’s ever been, and it’s shorter from where Bucky took the scissors to it. Who are you? What have you become?

“Now isn’t the time to have an identity crisis, darling,” Steve says when he enters the room in his boxers.

You nod, and smile, and sniffle, taking a deep breath.

Steve walks over to you, placing you effortlessly to sit on the counter. He stands between your legs and cradles your face in his gun calloused hands.

“Most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he reassures into your mouth.

Leaning forward, he runs his tongue up your cheek, catching the tears as they fall. He grabs your chin with one hand, and tugs your pants off with the other.

“You’re so fucking pretty when you cry.”

It feels like love when he sinks his teeth into your neck so hard, he draws blood.

and with this bullet lodged in my chest, covered with your name, I will turn myself into a gun, because it’s all I have, because I’m hungry and hollow and just want something to call my own.

You crack on a random Tuesday afternoon in Bulgaria.

You’ve been shot at one too many times. It’s not something anyone should ever have to endure. The bullets have carved you out and left you hollow. There’s only so much blood you can lose.

The three of you are sat with your backs against the door of the dingy motel room. Just minutes prior, there had been men banging on the wood, demanding to know where Captain America was hiding.

You hadn’t heard that title in a while.

America’s Golden Boy. If only they knew.

If only they knew how he craved the taste of blood now.

If only they knew how he’d lick the sweat from your neck and keep on going.

If only they knew how the fear turned him on.

Being on the run had taken Steve’s golden blood and turned it black. He didn’t mind. Neither did Bucky. Neither did you.

This was out of your wheelhouse, though. Bucky had gone through wars, been on the run more times than he could count. Steve, too. You, however, were different.

You weren’t 100 years old. You’d been a super soldier for a matter of months. You’d gotten into trouble, pissed off the wrong guys, and it had spiralled out of control. Now, you’re hiding from six armed men with Captain America on your left and The Winter Soldier on your right. How times change.

It all explodes suddenly, and you can’t contain it anymore. You jump up, gun in hand, tears sprinting down your cheeks. You’re pointing the weapon at them, and you’re not sure why. But you’re angry. And upset. And so in love with the both of them it’s driving you crazy.

“Tell me you’re not going to leave me,” you threaten, pressing the barrel of the gun against Steve’s chest.

“Sweetheart-“ he starts, but you cut him off.

“No. Tell me you’re mine. Promise me you’re not going to leave me.”

You’ve still got the gun pointed at Steve, but now you’re grabbing Bucky by his hair, forcing him to look up at you.

“Both of you. Promise me.”

They aren’t looking at you like you’re crazy, or unhinged. They’re looking at you like they’re proud of you. Like they want you. Like they love you.

Steve kicks you hard in the shin, making your legs give way. You’re flat on your back now, and Bucky’s moved to pin your arms above your head. His full weight is pressing into you, and his blond counterpart has crawled to yank your head into his lap.

“We’re yours, baby,” Bucky murmurs against your lips.

“We’re not leaving,” Steve adds from where his forehead is pressed against yours.

“And you look really fucking hot pointing a gun at Steve,” Bucky smirks as he kisses along your neck, sucking a bruise as he goes.

“Asshole,” Steve retorts, but he’s smiling. Not that golden, Captain America smile that everyone’s used to. No, this is different. This is a dark, jagged smile, that’s equal parts cunning and broken. It makes you shiver. But you’re not scared. Quite the opposite, actually.

I’ll be your slaughterhouse, your killing floor, your morgue and final resting, walking around with this bullet inside me ‘cause I couldn’t make you love me and I’m tired of pulling your teeth.

Somewhere in Croatia, you watch Steve and Bucky almost die.

Bullets are raining down, and you’re surrounded on all sides. You can’t see past the swarms of armed men, and you’re bleeding but you’re not sure where from. Steve and Bucky are trying their best, but they’re losing. You’re all losing.

You don’t know where it comes from, the rage. One minute, you’re down on your knees, breathless and sweating. Next minute, you’ve elbowed a man in the face and stolen his machine gun. You’re gunning down men left and right, ignoring their pleas for mercy. The ceiling is raining blood and you’re dripping crimson. You’ve never looked more beautiful.

By the time you get to Bucky and Steve, the abandoned garage looks like a slaughterhouse. You’re stepping over bodies like you’re in a cemetery, your eyes glued to the two people you did all of this for. They’re looking at you like they’re scared of you. Finally, you think. They see me.

If you love me, Henry, you don’t love me in a way I understand. Do you know how it ends? Do you feel lucky? Do you want to go home now? There’s a bottle of whiskey in the trunk of the Chevy and a dead man at our feet staring up at us like we’re something interesting.

The three of you hijack a cabin in rural Canada.

You’ve been walking through the forests for days when you come upon a small wooden lodge with smoke pummelling out of the chimney. Respite.

Bucky shoots the man point blank when he answers the door. You leave him dead on the porch and make your way inside. It’s cosy, all flannel patterns and fur rugs. You could get comfortable here.

You shower while Steve cooks you dinner. Buck finds decent whiskey in a cabinet, and the three of you take turns drinking it straight from the bottle. You all sit on the floor, legs tangled, warming up by the fireplace. Steve falls asleep, and you step outside to get a breath of fresh air.

The dead man is still on the porch, staring up at you.

“He looks peaceful,” you say to Bucky, who’s appeared silently behind you in the doorway.

“He probably is,” he replies. “God knows anything is more peaceful than this life.”

You charge at him, and bite his lip so hard he whimpers. He takes you right up against the front door, frosty cold biting into your back. Steve watches through the window.

This is where the evening splits in half, Henry, love or death. Grab an end, pull hard, and make a wish.

When Steve and Bucky get called back to SHIELD, you get scared.

You’re not exactly an upstanding citizen. You’re the furthest thing from an Avenger. SHIELD are going to take one look at you and lock you up for the rest of your life, you’re sure of it.

The boys won’t let that happen.

The two of them argue about going back for days. You get caught in the crossfire. You’re used as an excuse, a bargaining chip, a distraction. You’re a tactic, both of them trying to use you against the other.

Eventually, Bucky cracks. Maybe it’s because your lips are on his neck and Steve’s are on his stomach. Maybe it’s because he’s tired of fighting.

“Fine, Stevie. Fine,” he sighs. “But if it all goes wrong, I’m taking her, and we’re running. I ain’t dealing with all that shit again.”

Steve nods in agreement, and shoves his tongue in Bucky’s mouth.

The three of you decide you’ll go back together. You make a deal – you’ll refuse to be separated. If you have to fight, you’ll fight as one. No one’s going to tear you apart. Not even death.

Steve cuts his palm first, then yours, then Bucky’s. You join hands, and promise that no matter what happens, you’ll always choose each other.

Blood drips down your wrist, and Steve catches it with his tongue.

Both men look at you with their big blue eyes, and you know nothing is ever going to hurt you as much as love does.

#reader insert #fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #steve rogers x bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #stucky x reader #stucky imagine #stucky fic #stucky smut #stucky x reader smut #stucky x reader imagine #bucky barnes smut #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers smut #stucky #bucky barnes x steve rogers x reader #stucky x you #stucky x y/n #wishbone richard siken #richard siken #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader x steve #steve rogers x bucky barnes #steve rogers #bucky barnes #marvel imagine #dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky Barnes

[scatterbrainedart]

Alright, if we're still doing the winners' poem, let's talk through some Scar ideas I've seen floating around (and some of my own). But first, see this post breaking down the poem as a whole and explaining why Martyn is definitely mars, if you want.

The Earth:

Probably the most popular. And it makes sense. Scar, full of life, so full of tragedy. Forever growing, like the sunflowers of sunflower valley, and the flowers on his cape. The earth, revolving around the sun and having its tides pulled by the moon. Both of whom he fought to the death, one of whom he won.

A Solar Eclipse:

Ah, more sun and moon. The moon blocking out the sun. Something could be said for parallels of the fight. Of a denied sacrifice followed by a fight already over before it had even begun. A fight that was always going to end the way it did.

Or, perhaps, if we take it another direction. The secret keepers blacking out all his light. He won as a forced villain.

And of course, an eclipse just generally being a bad omen, which also fits into his villainy. It also slightly ties into the sunflowers of sunflower valley. Just a bit. A sliver.

A Black Hole:

Similarly to the eclipse, the black hole is also devoid of light. Even more dramatically so. But still, he has a gravity that managed to pull people in during their last moments.

Mercury:

If I use the same thought process as I did for Martyn's "mars", I must mention the roman god. Mercury was the Roman equivalent of Hermes. He was also the god of thievery, wealth, trading and language. And what is Scar known for, if not for his silver tounge and swindling? Mercury is also the god of luck. And although Scar hasn't really had all that good luck this season, it still drives me to think about the first episode. The hard task, that wasn't all that hard. And the warden, and wither. How he just couldn't seem to die. Luck, maybe.

Mercury is a small planet, often overlooked. I don't think many people expected Scar to be a threat this season, not when he initially struggled to keep both secrets and hearts.

It also has no moons. Scar has no allies. And yes, of course, it's the closest planet to the sun.

The Void:

This is the first season where the end has been unlocked. A cold, lonely place. Makes me think of the word "devoid", and how many things haven't Scar had taken away from him? Potential allies, a home burnt and blown to smithereens.

Pluto:

Barely even a planet. People wouldn't think he'd even be included in the line of notable celestial bodies for this poem. But then again, most people didn't think they'd see Scar win either. And definitely not in the season where taking any damage had lasting consequences. Similar to the point I made about mercury, but when more pointed tbh.

Pluto is the furthest away from the other planets. Pluto is lonely, terribly so. Pluto, who has been told time and time again what he is and what he isn't (planet status, villain tasks), which has alienated him from the other planet (still, it has that little heart looking shape on it. Like a scar. Like a wish to be loved).

Now, of course, the Roman god. Pluto is the god of wealth. Fitting for a man whose whole thing this season was trading (and who, in every other season, also had a thing for material goods and negotiating). Pluto is also the god of the dead. Scar is the only winner to have been killed (by another player, in the cactus ring) and the only winner to have survived.

#if you can't tell #i'm a pluto voucher #or mercury...... mercury is cool #but please feel free to add to this! #your own suggestions or motivations #our counter arguments #goodtimeswithscar #gtwscar #gtws #secret life gtws #secret life scar #secret life spoilers #secret life smp #life series #trafficblr #life series smp #secret life

[sukunasbabygirl]

What do you think are Yuuji and Sukuna’s greatest personality strengths and weaknesses? Why? What do you love about their dynamic?

A little bit of a late reply because it took me a while to gather and organise my thoughts which I have many of! I love talking about Yuji and Sukuna, especially the two of them together, and even moreso with the fact their strengths and weaknesses are so intertwined, which makes sense, considering they’re foil characters.

In regards to personality, I’ve spoken a lot about Sukuna’s end of things, and his flawed hedonistic mindset. The idea of change is something he cannot accept, and he, as the supposed pinnacle of Jujutsu, represents the old ways - the past - and Jujutsu Sorcerers in the past notoriously rejected their humanity to be stronger, as though some twisted form of enlightenment. Sukuna is an extreme of this, the most inhuman looking of all.

His strengths I think mostly lie in his thoughtfulness and consideration, the way he’s always planning and analysing the situation, never mindlessly swinging. He’s very good at measuring his opponents skill, rarely underestimating anyone (this is what makes his treatment of Yuji ever the more interesting). However, this thoughtful mindset is often held back by his rejection of humanity and change, and I don’t think that’s something he realises at all. His view on life is narrowed, he believes that humans live for pleasure and seek to avoid pain (hedonism), and he makes no room for any other belief. Anything that challenges his mindset is a threat to him (Yuji), and he’s so deep in this way or thinking that he just can’t comprehend that fact. His rejection of humanity is what supposedly makes him strong, yet it is also his greatest weakness - how ironic is that?

Then, there’s Yuji, his polar opposite. Yuji, who is unbreakable, who pushes through despite the suffering he’s undergone, who has such a strong sense of humanity and compassion, all these are his greatest strengths, though sometimes his compassion is also his downfall. The fact he also accepts change, and grows throughout every encounter, unlike Sukuna, is also another key strength. As a whole, Yuji is someone I’d call selfishly selfless, which sounds like a contradiction, but what I mean is he acts outwardly selfless on internally selfish principles. Truly, he wants to help people, he doesn’t want others to die horrible deaths, and he will act without reason if it means he can do that, life on the line and all. This is selfless. However, there’s always that selfish motivation, that desire to be known, to die surrounded by others, to have purpose. Yuji, despite how he seems, is a very lonely person, and it’s easy to forget this. He knows so many people, but very few truly know him, and he loses those that finally start to.

Yuji’s biggest flaw in my eyes stems from this loneliness, for a lonely person will often seek some kind of reason, of purpose, and will centre their life around this: Sukuna’s vessel, the only one who can save Megumi etc.

Yuji needs purpose, Sukuna needs no purpose: these are both flaws in context of their characters. I’m hoping this makes sense.

I think this Leads well into why I love their dynamic. They’re designed to complement each other, to be villain to the other’s hero. They are narratively cut from the same cloth: where one is the kind, the other is cruel, and where one is unbreakable, the other is fragile. You could say that neither could exist as they do now without the other, I mean, Yuji’s birth is connected with Sukuna somehow, and Sukuna could not have been incarnated without Yuji. They both drive the narrative because of this fact.

I think about that one Cain and Abel poem a lot in regards to them, I think it sums it up perfectly. “I want to kill him sometimes. I think sometimes he wants to die.” especially makes me think of them.

Apologies if this is messy, I’d usually try and structure something like this but I’m just passionately gushing here for the most part!

#asks #JJK #jjk spoilers #manga spoilers #Jujutsu kaisen #yuji itadori #itadori yuji #Sukuna #ryomen sukuna #they are so brothers to me in the WORST way

[wordbunch]

the fellowship tries to set you up on a date

a/n: i'm skipping the line of requests for a bit to post this for @queenmeriadoc 's birthday since it was my wife's request hihi 💛 anyway it's probably chaotic but I hope you enjoy regardless! It's platonic between you and the characters, but your crush is gender neutral ☺️

Aragorn & Boromir: now these two have sort of opposite kinds of advice and plans… while Aragorn is a very “what is meant to happen will happen” kind of romantic, Boromir likes to go out and make things happen, and they can’t really agree on how to get you together with that one person you have great chemistry with… Aragorn will hint, either in conversation with you or with your crush, that you should write a poem to each other, or just ‘accidentally’ happen to be in the same place at the same time, especially if it’s a more secluded or romantic place. And Aragorn will also somehow try to arrange this for you. Boromir, on the other hand, is more the kind to go for it and to advise you to do the same. However, rejection is SCARY so maybe you’re a bit hesitant, but Boromir certainly won’t hesitate to not-so-subtly drop your name in the conversation with your crush, or to just be like, “oh, you like them? just go and say so” … maybe it’s best to listen to both of their advice to a certain extent.

Legolas & Gimli: they might not agree on too many things, but they do agree that you should go and braid your crush’s hair, or ask them to braid yours, which can definitely turn out to be an intimate moment. but, like I said, they agree on little else - Legolas will try to get you to go on a walk in the woods with your crush, and the darker forest the better because then you have an excuse to be close to that person and be protective/be protected. Gimli would much prefer if you went and asked them if they want to practice sparring with you or help you better your sword fighting or something of the like. Actually Legolas would do an almost disastrous job when he goes to talk to your crush and drop hints that they should ask you for a walk or something… the crush isn’t even sure what Legolas is playing at, but Gimli on the other hand can be quite a sweet-talker (remember Galadriel), and he ends up smoothly persuading your crush to ask you to do something together. Furthermore, he doesn’t let Legolas live it down.

Sam + Frodo: okay they’re both maybe a little shy so they wouldn’t instantly want to pull the strings too much, directly, between you and your crush, but they’re more than willing to help you drop some hints about how you feel! Sam is definitely going to suggest to you that maybe you give flowers to your crush or cook them their favorite meal, and eventually he will, every now and then, mention your favorite flower/food/dessert to your crush in order to nudge them a little bit to get it for you. Frodo is also for sure in favor of small gifts, especially the ones that show that you know your crush and that you listen to them when they talk about their interests. Sometimes in front of that person Frodo will drop a small compliment about you like, “Oh, [Y/N] looks really lovely today, don’t you think?” overall both of them would be so supportive of you and sweet, but they wouldn’t meddle too much and try to influence the actions of your crush directly, but they will always encourage you and hype you up!

Merry & Pippin: BESTIE. good luck, that’s all I’m gonna say. Number one suggestion they’d have for you to get your crush’s attention is PULL A PRANK ON THEM. Or they would go to that person and suggest that they pull a prank on you, because why not? At one point, one of them would definitely accidentally slip up and say something among the lines of “[Y/N] really likes you” and then oops… something that they would do a lot is shamelessly compliment you in front of your crush, whether it’s your looks, humor, strength, intelligence; but you had to tell them to tone it down because it seemed like they were in love with you at one point. For sure they would somehow arrange for a little situation in which oh-so-accidentally you and your crush end up locked in the same room together or something. And you can’t even be mad when you hear them laughing from behind the door! 

✨ taglist my beloved ✨ @lotrnonsense​​​​​​ @starlady66​​​​​​ @queenmeriadoc​​ @entishramblings​​​​​​ @thesolarangel​​​​​​ @silversword7000​​​​​​ @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog​​​​​​ @averys-place​​​​​​ @valkyriepirate​​​​​​ @emmaarenstarr​​​​​​ @noldorinpainter​​​​​​ @asianbutnotjapanese​​​​​​ @adamgetawaydriver​​​​​​ @fenharel-enaste​​​​​​ @ironmandeficiency​​​​​​      @starryeyedrogue​​ @dinofromspac3​​  @wisheduponastar​ @lady-of-imladris​ @frodo-cinnamonroll​

#lotr fanfic #lotr x reader #lord of the rings x reader #lord of the rings fanfiction #aragorn x reader #legolas x reader #boromir x reader #frodo baggins x reader #merry brandybuck x reader #pippin took x reader #samwise gamgee x reader #sam gamgee x reader #gimli x reader #lotr headcanons #lord of the rings #legolas fanfiction #aragorn fanfiction #boromir fanfiction #from my pocketses

[escuellasceramicdollie]

TOO SWEET // HONEYPIE ! ( john marston x fem reader )

warnings: john being a big old softie for reader

no one in the gang appeared delightful & kind-hearted due to all the situations they indulged in were no good and a definitive one way ticket to hell ── however they had their moments of weakness and vulnerability. most of those times were caused by your affection & concern you withheld for each and everyone of the outlaws.

loads of confusion was risen around camp , not as a result of your mother duck persona but as to why a graciously pure lassie like you would want anything do with your significant other : them being the one and only john marston.

not once did it cross your mind that it bothered the others ( change of word, bewilder not bother ) because as you saw it, opposites attract . in this case being a vicious outlaw determined to survive no matter what paired with an angelic sympath determined to have everyone under her wings.

so not once in a blue moon did the gang expect john ( a heartless ladies man ) to commit to a lady who is the complete and utter opposite. not to mention secretly slipping the lady love notes !?

upon re-reading the poem word for word and asking john how his brain managed to write such a beauty. "a piece of cake that was" was his response. it indeed was not. truth being . . our not so cold-heartedly callous john marston actually had a helping hand which he begged for long and hard. for once in his life john was befuddled about the topic of impressing a lady , not many times did he actually have to think he just did what was in his nature.

so as expected the whole idea of sonnets was as fresh as a daisy to him ; in this case this was where javier came into john's masterclass plan. afterall, the mexican flaunted his talent of having an exquisite way with words & that came in handy. yet after many nights of writing & scribbling nonsense to finally compile it together was worth it. but seeing your effortlessly sweet beam when scanning the lines of his hardwork paid off.

"you wrote me a sonnet.. what are you shakespeare?" you attempted to hide your excitement but your colossal grin gave it away. the sun shone down on the pair of you which laid in a meadow not too far deserted from camp, adding a jolly incilnation to the tranquil setting.

"yeah i figured you might enjoy it .. because i wanted to appreciate you having to put up with me." he rolled over onto his side to appreciate your focused beauties staring at the writing. everytime he glanced at you with out fail it felt as if you were pretty as a picture . others may not feel the same towards you but in the end the beauty was in the eye of the beholder

"oh come on! it's not as hard as you think." you roll your eyes playfully, not being able to take your eyes off the piece of parchment that rested in your palms all whilst tackling to avoid john's eyes breathing in every feature on your face.

a comfortable silence drowned the meadow with nothing but the soft sound of trees ruffling against one another & birds whistling sweet melodies.

"i obviously did not mean that in a horrible way by implying that you are hard to put up with i was just saying that-" your apologetic rambling was cut to the chase with a smooch that john wanted to do since he saw your face light up at the sight of the love note.

"you talk too much .. it's cute."

#credits to v6que for divider #rdr2 #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #john marston #john marston x reader #john marston blurb #blurb #john marston fanfic

[kaleb-is-definitely-sane]

Now it's your turn :))

orchid ⇢ what’s a song you consider to be perfect?

cactus ⇢ something you’re currently learning (about)?

bamboo ⇢ do you change into a different outfit when you get home?

abelia ⇢ do you have a particular piece of jewelry you always wear or can’t part with?

daffodil ⇢ do you have siblings? if yes, in what ways do you think you’re similar to or different from them?

mahonia ⇢ what place, thing, activity inspires you most and how do you express yourself when it does?

chia ⇢ what’s an inside joke you have with someone else?

sage ⇢ what ‘medium’ of art (poetry, music, fiction, paintings, statues etc.) is the most touching to you? why do you think that is?

edelweiss ⇢ how’d you think of your url/username? what’s it associated with to you?

camellia ⇢ what were you like when you were younger? do you think you’ve changed a lot?

jasmine ⇢ do you have a movie or book you loved but will never watch/read again?

ivy ⇢ what are your ‘tells’ for your emotions and moods? how can someone tell you’re happy, annoyed, upset or tired?

chamomile ⇢ what kind of things do you like receiving as gifts?

aloe vera ⇢ what’s something (mundane) you really want to experience in life?

palm tree ⇢ do you have a fictional villain you shouldn’t like but love regardless?

nutmeg ⇢ how’s your room/home decorated? do you have a specific theme or style going on?

papyrus ⇢ if you put your ‘on repeat’ playlist on shuffle, what’s the first song that comes up? what do you like about it / associate it with?

taro ⇢ if someone called you right now to catch up, what’re the things you’d tell them about?

orchid ⇢ Oh gosh, I love sooooo many songs. A song I consider to be perfect... idk. I'll have to say Always Be My Baby by Mariah Carey because it's my current obsession lol.

cactus ⇢ The Philosophy of Love. It's so cool. The Biblical Philosophy of Desire and Knowledge, Plato's Theory of Love and Becoming, The Medieval/Arabian concept of Courtly Love. They are all sooooo cool and sooooo fascinating and I love them all dearly.

bamboo ⇢ I go to school at home so I never really leave. And when I do leave to go somewhere on the weekend or such, I take a shower when I come home.

abelia ⇢ Not really, aside from this sterling silver cross necklace I got for my birthday last year. It's really cool and I love it hehehe

daffodil ⇢ So I have 3, all sisters. I don't really think i'm that similar to my older sister. Aside from sharing the same father, we're pretty different. With my two younger sisters, I look like the older of the two, however I'm nicer like the younger one.

mahonia ⇢ I try to take inspiration from literally everything. So... anything you can imagine lol. Whenever inspriation hits me I just start talking out loud. Usually it becomes a line for a poem. And i just recite that line out loud over and over until i get more lines. And then repeat. Usually i end up with a couple stanzas, constantly editing and revising in my mind the entire time until it's perfect. Or, near perfect as it can get.

chia ⇢ Me and my baby sister (she's 8 but always the baby) will constantly recite Benedick and Beatrice's lines to each other. Especially their first conversation in the play. Much Ado About Nothing is soooooo good loll. And then with @jordie-is-definitely-sane, we have incest is wincest lol. Because I love traumatizing her hehehe

sage ⇢ haha. I can't choose either. How could anyone??? I'm an aspiring actor, poet, and author, so obviously my favorites are theatre, poetry and prose fiction. But also music, paintings, sculpting, dance, et cetera all have such splendid things to offer as well. And i would love to learn how to do them all! They're all art and they all touch somewhere hands can't: into the deepest most inner part of your being. How one can say which is individually more touching? I can't fathom.

edelweiss ⇢ It's just my name + is definitely sane. Which is definitely a lie lol. My older one's were a lot more interesting but because of that i also constantly changed them lol. This one's more basic, but i'm never changing it

camellia ⇢ I'm not sure. I was happier as a kid, I used to run around more and talk more and I had a lot more friends irl. Now? I don't really know how to hold a conversation (T-T), I definitely talk less (not because i have less to say tho lol. Trust me I could talk for hours and I do when i'm alone), I definitely don't run around as much. Tho i'm not as sad about that last one. I have started dancing in the rain again like I used to so that's good :). I still read and write, in fact I do both of those even more then when i was younger. I still find beauty in everything. I still have an incredibly idealized view of nature and childhood. I still have a deep sense of needing to be myself (who that is? idk. but i need to find it) I think deep down I'm the same person. Just, kind of mellowed. I can't think of childhood and growing up without think of Trenton Lee Stewart's Riddle of Ages; he says that he doesn’t believe we become different people as we age. No, he says he believes that we become more people. We’re still the kids we were, but we’re also the people who’ve lived all the different ages since that time. And I think that's a beautiful sentiment.

jasmine ⇢ No. Absolutely not. If I loved it, im going to watch/reread it a thousand more times.

ivy ⇢ Body language, eyes, mouth, tone, the language they use (are they talking differently then usual), hands, etc.

chamomile ⇢ Books, chocolates, sweaters/hoodies, necklaces and bracelets (i love expensive shiny stuff but also that homey handmade stuff. I eat it up), MONEY$$$$$ lol. But like seriously.

aloe vera ⇢ I just want to know and be known. Which, though it sounds really mundane to others, I think is actually one of the most special, transcendental and divine things one can do in life (can you tell I've been studying the philosophy of love lol?). I genuinely believe in the Avicenna's concept of the ennobling power of love. With all of my heart.

palm tree ⇢ I mean... I can't really think of one? I love the Percy Jackson series and I love Luke so, i guess him? I have strong thoughts about him (bbg hates the West so much but is such a western tragic hero lol), he's so fascinating as a character and even moreso as a concept lol

nutmeg ⇢ My rooms pretty basic so no lol.

papyrus ⇢ I don't have one T-T. So i just picked a random song: ICU by Coco Jones. I associate it with @mera-mann-kehne-laga. No context.

taro ⇢ I'd probably tell them that I'm writing poetry, I'm working on 2 books, and that I scored a 28 on the ACT. I'm very bad at conversation so I probably just let them talk and listen to them, ask them questions to prod them, etc.

Thank you for the ask @memory-the-unconscious <333

#ask game #this is me #personal aesthetic #kaleb aesthetic

[fandomtherapy44]

Dean x reader So American One-shot

Summary: A vague plot based off this incredible song and my love for Dean Winchester

Paring: Dean Winchester x reader

Word count: 2,011

Song: So American-Oliva Rodrigo

Divider

saradika

Drivin' on the right-side road

He says I'm pretty wearin' his clothes

And he's got hands that make Hell seem cold

Feet on the dashboard, he's like a poem I wish I wrote

I wish I wrote

Dean Winchester the guy that stole my heart and shattered my heart in the span of three months. It was my last year of high school. In the last stretch I was the top of my class. Going to Harvard, I never went out of line, always on time for curfew. My parents expected me to be perfect. So I never went out with friends or party’s I was asked out but the answer was always no. My whole goal was to get there and to continue to be perfect but then I met him.

It was the last three months of school. A normal school day with me focused on my work and my teacher announcing that we were getting a new student. All of my classmates were talking about who would join a school in the last three months. Then everyone went quiet when he walked in I wondered why so l looked up and it was the most handsome guy I had ever seen. “Uh hey my name is Dean Winchester and I'm looking forward to all the party’s for the end of senior year!�� He fist bumped the air and everyone whopped and clapped in agreement but me. “Dean, why don’t you take a seat next to Y/n.” Damnit. He walks over to me with an egoist bob of his head. “Hey I’m Dean.” He held out his hand with a smirk. “I know.” “Well miss Knowitall what’s your name.” “Look dude can you leave me alone and focus on your work.” “Gesse I was just trying to be friendly.” 

Couple weeks had passed and Dean did not stop try to talk to me which got really annoying. “Hey Y/n you going to the football party this weekend?” “No” “Why?” “Because Dean I have to work on the Graduation speech.”  “Ooh you're the valedictorian smart and pretty.” I was a little too flabbergasted to respond so I just kept working as I always did.

The bell rang and I got up quickly to not have to look at Dean but my teacher had other plans. “Y/n just one minute You too Dean.” Why me!? “Yes Mr.Baker” Dean and I were now at the front. “Dean these last few weeks your grades have not been the greatest.” “Mr. Baker, what's the big deal? It's almost the end of the year.” “That’s exactly the problem Mr.Winchester if you do not pass the next test you won’t graduate.” Damn that sucks but why am I here. “Seriously!?” “Yes Seriously but I think a tutor would really help you.” Oh no no no. “That’s why I have Miss L/n here.” NO “If she is willing to take you on I think you can pass she’s top of the class.” Both of them look at me in questioning. I looked at Dean’s face and for some reason I did something I never thought I would I said yes.

That was over ten years ago I went to college and continued to be perfect but I never forgot that Damn handsome Dean Winchester. I got my dream job at the top too. I never really dated after Dean. I couldn't, I couldn't give my heart again. 

And he says I'm so American

Oh God, I'm gonna marry him

If he keeps this shit up

I might just be in lo-lo-, lo-lo-, lo-lo-, lo-lo-lo-lo-lo

“Thank you for doing this.” We were at the coffee shop early in the morning before school. “Yeah sure but you have to be committed, that means no party’s no girls…” “Hey I am going to be Mr.School I might even go above you.” “Okay Mr.school when you get more than a c then we'll talk.” I tapped his book. “Damn ok so Miss scholar has jokes.” He gave me his smile and that was the first time that my heart quicked a little bit. 

I was getting drinks with friends. The music was loud and lights blinding but I could still see him through all of that. I was sure it was him even though we were both eighteen when we last saw each other. That golden brown hair the green in his eyes looked like the sun mixed together with the tops of pine trees. The freckles dusted over his face like glitter. It didn’t matter if it had been ten years since I had seen him, I memorized every detail of him. He was chatting up some beautiful blonde woman and it was like I was back in highschool before he and I got together. 

I gave my friends an excuse that I had to work early the next morning and got up at a quick pace and shuffled my bag over my arm and I practically ran to the exit. When I entered the dance floor there were so many people that I couldn't see my footing and I tripped over my own foot. But luckily someone caught me. 

I was pacing back and forth in the hallway sweat running down my forehead looking at the clock every minute. The door opened very slowly and Dean walked out with head hung low. “Oh Dean, maybe I can talk to the teacher for you and you can retake it.” He holds up his head and brings a smile on his face. “No need cause I passed!” I paused for a second and I hit his shoulder. “Dean Wincheseter! Don’t you ever do that again!” He was laughing at my fake hits now. “OKAY okay I won’t teach now let’s go celebrate me gradienting highschool.”

I start to follow him and then think about how it’s almost eight. “Wait Dean, it's almost eight and I have curfew.” “Come on Y/n this is a big accomplishment on both of us. And you deserve it more than any of us.” He was right, I had worked my ass off. I deserve this. “Okay well if I'm going to break a rule then we are going to do it right.” “Great what’d you have in mind?”

We were on this cliff that overlooked the city that I found when I was a freshman and that was probably the last time that I was here. I looked over to Dean biting into his burger and the juice dripping down his lips and I couldn't stop thinking about… “Y/n y/n?” Dean was waving his hand in front of me. “Huh sorry.” “So how does it feel to break a rule miss perfect?” I sipped my drink to really think about his question.

“I haven't been here in years because I wanted to put my all in school work so my parents could know that their sacrifices meant something. I haven't had a damn burger in so long so I could only eat “brain food” my parents would say. I haven't breathed in the night cold air in the fear that I would get a cold. So to answer your question Dean it feels fucking amazing.” I grabbed my burger and took a huge bite. Dean looked a little shocked at that but happy too.

“Well it looks like we both taught something to each other. I’m glad I can leave you like this.” “Leave? You're leaving?” “Yeah my brother and I only went to school here while our Dad was doing … work.” “So this is kind of also a send off for me and I couldn't imagine spending it with anyone else. I just wanted to thank you for helping me.” “It was nothing really.” “No Y/n you are the first person who’s looked at me and saw more.” “Well you saw more then miss perfect.” “As I said before smart and beautiful.” At this point we had gotten closer on top of the old chevy impala and he leaned in and kissed me.

I apologize if it's a little too much, just a little too soon

But if the conversation ever were to come up

I don't wanna assume this stuff

But ain't it wrong?

I think I'm in love

I looked up and it was a very tall handsome man with shaggy brown hair. If a moose had a human from this would be him. “Are you okay?” I stopped to shake my head. “Yeah I’m fine thank you.” “Here, why don’t you sit down.” He brought me over to the bar. “Hey can I please get some water for…?” He looked at me for my name. “Y/n.” “Here you go.” “Thanks.” “No problem.” I glugged down my water. “Oh I didn't even get your name.” “It’s-” “Sam!” A voice called out from behind him. I looked up and nearly choked it.was.DEAN. I got up quickly and spilled the water all over me but that didn't matter. “Ah thank you but I got to go!” I got up and ran out. Dean came up to Sam. “Who was that huh Sammy?” Dean raised his eyebrows up and down. “No, just some girl needed help.” “What was her name?” “Y/n” “Y/n? Huh”

It was the next morning and the whole night my head was filled with sweet fluffy dreams of him and that's how I knew I woke up because it's not reality. I went to my regular coffee shop. It was the same one from those years ago. I turned with my drink in my hand and I collided with a hard chest. “AHH Im so sorry.” I grabbed napkins and started to wipe and I looked up and it was the man I had been trying to avoid. “Y/n?” “Dean Hi” I wanted the earth to swallow me. “How are you doing?’” “Good look Dean I got to-” “Go work of course well if you want to catch up I'll be in our spot tonight.” Dean walks out. And I'm left to wonder what to do.

I drove to the spot it was still abandoned as the last time we left it and just as breathtaking. I got out of my car and I saw that old chevy Impala and Dean standing there. I breath in deeply to prepare myself. “Hey.” “Hi.” “So how’s life?” He asked me. “Uh good you?” “I wish I had the same answer.” He leaned against the Impala. “That bad huh.” “You have no Idea.” “And I'm guessing you went through college being the badass you are.” He always made me laugh. “Badass I don’t know about that but yeah college you?” “Yeah, college was never really for me. I went into my dad’s business.” “Well, whatever makes you happy, but college is missing out on one of the smartest people I've ever met.” He laughs.

“Wow, that coming from miss.Scholar is huge.” “Oh, shut up.” I pushed on his shoulder. “Look I'm really sorry how we left things.” “It's okay Dean you to go.” “No, it's not I regret it every day.” “We were kids we couldn't control our situation.” “Still.” “Well, were adults now so how do you feel now after seeing each other again.” I said standing closer to him like all those years ago. “I feel like I should have held the girl tighter who changed my life closer.” “And I feel like I should have held the boy closer.” At this point we were right up against each other. And I did something I thought I never would do again. I kissed him. 

And he laughs at all my jokes

And he says I'm so American

Oh God, it's just not fair of him

To make me feel this much

I'd go anywhere he goes

And he says I'm so American

Oh God, I'm gonna marry him

If he keeps this shit up

I might just be in lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-love

#dean winchester #supernatural #team free will #sam winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester supernatural #dean x reader #olivia rodrigo #oliva rodrigo #guts olivia rodrigo #guts olivia rodrigo album #Olivia Rodrigo so american #Spotify

[catiuskaa]

new task: valentine’s day (ACTS)

A/N: reposting by acts! [see full version here]. wanted to see if this format works better (and yes i will squeeze everything in this one right here cause its amazing and i 100% worked my ass off on it)

PAIRING! seungmin x reader ; enemies/rivals2lovers!

SUMMARY: boring classes, boring classmates, boring assignments…to seungmin, everyone is boring even if he’s used to pretend otherwise, but you seem to get on his nerves. you, your stupid poem, and his stupid letter.

WC: 3.150k

CW: fluffy comfort, use of spanglish (not relevant to the plot, dw), use of text format, the reader is stupidly short (which i know all about), academic rivals, bad student reader x good student seungmin, mentions of the unability to deal with complicated feelings, mentions of masking feelings, slight hint of bullying, mentions of being followed, (pet)names: little one, shortie, shortcake, smallable, pretty, hyunjin as a walking therapist, and the ending is kind of a reference to a show i'm obsessed with (not gonna say it so i don't spoil it for you guys hehehe)

|PROLOGUE| |ACT 1| |ACT 2| |ACT 3|

[☆★🌷★☆]

{ACT 1: NOT A LOVEFOOL… YET}

To be in the same class group than him was slightly tolerable.

Is what you’d like to say if you were in a good mood. But it wasn’t the case.

You were mad. As fuck.

“I just need you to give it a chance,” Miss Fernández stated once more, and you had to hold back to not roll your eyes at her.

“But Miss. I know that this subject is difficult and that he could, uh, help me out with the project,” you muttered reluctantly, because on normal circumstances, you wouldn’t go as far as to let Kim Seungmin help you with chemistry. Not ever.

You weren’t in need of help that desperatly.

And that was a fact, not a matter of ifs, buts, or maybes. That was an absolute. Something that lovely-yet-not-so-much teacher Lucía Fernández, spanish accent and all, was not getting.

“Listen. We both know that your grade is the best I can offer considering your behaviour in my class, despite of your average knowledge of the subject. And in this case, I am offering to set that aside if you work on these following assignments with your classmate Seungmin.”

Her harsh tone was also an absolute, and that made you clench your jaw. You blamed Lucas for her attitude towards you —after all, that one accident with a Bunsen Burner had been mostly his fault—, but you breathed in, trying to offer your most pity-inducing grin.

Judging by her glare, it wasn’t working.

“Miss, I—”

“I’m sorry.” She didn’t look like she was. “It’s my last word. And I think that after coming three days to my office on each of your free periods, this is getting a bit tiring.” She sighed, adjusting her glasses by a soft push of her finger.

Nope. She definetely wasn’t sorry.

Witholding a groan you left her office, and huffed as the door closed behind you, swiftly heading to meet your group of friends when they got out of their Biology lesson in other building within the school grounds.

It was a chilly evening, maybe not too much from what one could expect for the first week of February, still one that made you hide your face in your scarf and you hands in your jacket pockets.

You settled your headphones where they belonged, humming to the music to hold back the need to rant and rave against your chemistry teacher, when your phone dinged.

< henry li🫧: everything ok? saw you in lucifer’s office rn

< henry li🫧: did you do smth again? you cheekyyy 🙊

You gingerly laughed, and started typing out your answer, when, out of nowhere, you bumped against someone, making all of the books that they were carrying fall down of their grasp.

You pursed your lips, then pressed them in a thin line. Staring at their— his back, you saw that his backpack was almost empty. Why the fuck would he carry all of his books on his hands then?

The guy had quickly bent down to get his books back, and you followed too, taking your headphones off and quickly trying to prevent the papers from getting wet because of the floor, that was damp from the rain before, when your hands softly brushed against each other, still, you forced yourself to ignore it.

“I’m so…” the word dissapeared in your mouth.

“It’s ok, don’t… oh.” He blinked, his face showing nothing. For fuck’s sake.

Why did it always have to be him?

He swiftly took all of the things from you, as if your touch could be worse than the wet floor. You frowned, feeling a cold shiver trail up your spine, and you crossed your arms in front of you, struggling to seek some warmth.

“Watch it, little one.” He mocked with a light smirk. “I might accidentally step on you one day.”

You looked at him through your eyelashes. What. An. Idiot. You passed a hand through your hair, chuckling dryly.

“I-,” you sighed, shaking your head sideways. “Nah, you know what? I don’t have time for this crap.” You smiled at him widely, full of sarcasm.

But just when you were about to leave, you felt a tug at your sleeve, the fabric of your shirt not thick enough to hide the warmth of Seungmin’s grasp on your forearm. You frowned, confused at the lack of any uncomfortable feelings because of it. There was none, but rather a need to cover yourself with it and wear it like a jacket.

“Did you fix it?”

You blinked, trying to get your brain to focus on his words.

“Huh?”

He rolled his eyes, but his hand didn’t move an inch. “You said you were going to talk to Miss Fernández so we wouldn’t be partners, which is, well, so mature, congratulations,” he tsked, but then continued. “But did it work?”

You licked your lips and swallowed, your throat feeling dry. What was going on? You needed to focus.

In a harsh motion, you moved your arm away from his grasp. You forced yourself to ignore how your skin missed it.

“I… no. She settled. You- I mean… we…” the word felt awkward when it rolled off your tongue.

We? There was no such thing in between Seungmin and you. No we, no us, no nothing. And it was like that for a reason. One that you had almost forgotten with how softly his slender and warm hand had been holding your forearm. Ugh.

As you struggled to say those infamous words, your phone dinged again, and you mumbled a short “oh, wait,” and unlocked it.

< henry li🫧: leaving me on read, shortcake?

Seungmin stared at your phone, shoving his hands on his pockets when he saw you smile at the bright screen. He bit his lower lip. He hadn't taken all of his stuff out of his backpack just for this.

“So,” he licked his lips, and it almost shocked you the sudden roughness on his tone and demeanour. “Chemistry is easy. We can meet up on Friday in the public library. An hour or two should be enough, even for someone with a fun-sized brain like yours.” He chuckled meanly, the motherfucker.

Ever since that stupid text from him, you had made it your mission to surpass him, or at least reach his level, and to be honest, you were even succeding in some cases, like philosophy, art history, spanish, technical drawing and business studies. But Chemistry?

Chemistry would always kick you in the ass.

Before you were able to come up with a comeback for his stupid snicker, the bell rang, and you felt an arm laying its weight on your shoulders.

“Smallable!” Lucas laughed, then realized that you were talking to a certain someone and ful Ty ly gasped. “Oh my god. Are you two finally dating and I interrupted— AH!” He was interrupted by your elbow hitting his side. Noa and Atenea chuckled behind him.

“No. Seungmin was just leaving.” You huffed with a frown, but then you smiled, almost excessively, like a small maniac. “Right?”

But before he was able to reply or mock you, Atenea spoke, ruining your chances of kicking him away.

“But we all have English now,” she said, and if it had been someone else, like Lucas, you would’ve stepped on his shoe or something. “We’re going to the same place, we can go together.”

Seungmin felt you stare intensively at him. He smiled at Atenea, finding that he enjoyed having you look at him, reason why he loved annoying the shit out of you.

“Sure!” He smiled politely, almost sheepishly, and you bit your lip to hold back the need to scoff at his 'obviously fake' kindness.

Because except for you, the rest of your class —heck, probably the rest of the school— were smitten with Kim Seungmin.

Top of the class, funny, kind, and cutely introverted Kim Seungmin was just a dorky student who tried to get along with everyone.

But that was wrong. And you may not have any proof aside from his mean attitude towards you and only you, but you knew it.

Seungmin had to be more than just a pretty boy with high grades, and it was only with you that he proved you right.

You stayed next to Lucas, hoping that Seungmin would at least stay with your friends and ignore you.

But to your horror, he smiled at you, a pink dust on his cheeks. “If you don’t mind?”

Oh, son of a bitch.

“No… it’s whatever.” You huffed.

Because against his dorky self, to the rest of your class —heck, to the rest of the school— you were the quote on quote “bad student.”

Troublesome, mean, class clown? Check. You laughed at teachers in class with Lucas far more than what could be ignored, the dresscode had always been more of a guide in what to wear, unlike what most students usually followed, and you may have been expelled a bunch of times.

Even if you were somewhat kind to the people in school, and even if they all knew your rivalry with Seungmin, God forbid you were mean to him.

You wouldn’t see the end of it.

And he knew it.

Bitch.

So there you were, walking to English class with your friends plus innocent Seungmin —who no one had called, not even the ghostbusters—, who was snickering and giggling with Atenea about who-gives-a-shit. Something class-related. You couldn’t be bothered to listen.

Lucas chuckled next to you.

“Careful, Spongebob.” He laughed. “Some could say you seem jealous.”

…WHAT?!

“Of… of Kim Seungmin?” You snorted. “Are you on drugs?”

He ruffled your hair. “Sure, sure, keep lying to yourself, shortie.”

Finally, you arrived to class, but before you stepped inside, Seungmin stopped you, whispering in your ear.

“Yeah, shortie.” He teased, his lips almost grazing the shell of your ear. “Don’t be too jealous. We wouldn’t want everyone to know you love me.”

His whisper would’ve been almost enticing if it weren’t for the fact that it was Kim Seungmin the man in question, and he snickered, pushing his glasses back.

But then someone cleared his throat behind you two.

“Care to sit down? I don’t have all day.” Mister Holmes grunted, carrying a monster drink and a coffe at the same time.

That mas was slightly terryifing.

You squinted at Seungmin and then walked to your place at the back of the class, hoping that your cheeks felt warm because of how the teacher had startled you and definetely not your classmate’s honey-like voice.

“Pssst. Heeey,” Noa smiled teasingly, whispering with a smirk. “Pssst. You’re blushing…!”

“Shut up!” You frowned at her, but you were unable to hold back a smile. But it was because of your friend Noa. Not Kim Seungmin.

Mr Holmes cleared his throat, and finished off his monster, throwing it to the bin.

“So. I’ve been hearing from some students in the hallways that you’re all excited for saint valentines’ day.” He stated in a strong voice, one that filled the class with little to no effort. “And sadly so, I was thinking of putting an exam that Wednesday…” he faked a sigh, and you had to hold back a laugh, contrary to the frowns and groans that appeared in your classmates faces. Pfft, what a character. “Unless… you guys want to do something in true valentines fashion.”

Mr Holmes crossed his arms, laying back on his chair, his stare cold and face lacking any kind of emotions.

“Say… any ideas, Mr… Kim?”

Seungmin sat up straight at his name being mentioned, and you rolled your eyes, holding back a mocking smirk.

“I ugh… I wouldn’t want to bother my classmates with a lot of work, sir… but maybe… maybe a writing assingment related to the topic would be… enough?” Seungmin stated, his tone soft and shy, and there was even a blush that trailed up from his neck, but he stayed staight and firm as he spoke.

“A valentine-themed task.” Mr Holmes enunciated as he pondered. “It’s a… decent idea. Any complaints?”

You felt some of your classmates’ eyes on you, and you sighed, crossing your arms in front of you, remaining silent. As long as it wasn’t an exam, you’d accept whatever.

“With that settled, I’ll upload the task online this afternoon, but it’ll have to be written by hand. Be sure to hand in a picture of your assignment on time, or your final grade will be affected.” The teacher turned on his laptop, and started taking assistance.

[☆★🌷★☆]

Time had passed dreadfully slowly, until the bell rang and Mr Holmes dissmissed all of you so everyone could leave for the day.

“A valentine-themed task.” You huffed in annoyance as you stuffed your locker with books you weren’t going to take home.

“I thought it was original.” A voice snickered lowly behind you, and you slapped your locker close, smiling at him.

“Well, Henry. It’s no surprise your taste sucks.”

You chuckled when he rolled his eyes.

“I was waiting for your reply,” he mentioned with a soft tone.

You closed your locker, and you two started walking together. “Oh, sorry, I totally forgot,” you apologized with a smile, but he brushed it off. “Yeah, I was with Lucifer earlier. She’s making me work with Seungmin for this term’s assignments.”

Henry frowned. “And we hate that guy… right…” you chuckled.

“Exactly. We don’t like him.”

“So then, don’t do it. You were going to meet him to study, right?” You nodded, smirking slightly at him.

“We agreeded to meet on Friday to start, in the library.” You added, watching his smirk widen. “What are you thinking?”

He stopped walking, smiling at you. “There’s this club that opened recently. Been wanting to go have a look. Apparently, it’s like exclusive and shit. And it’s Friday.” His light-coloured eyes shined as he looked at you. “Meet me there?”

You grinned cheekily.

“Sure. Can’t wait.”

[☆★🌷★☆]

You hadn’t noticed Seungmin on the school bus until this year.

Because he had made himself noticeable, sitting at the back of the bus, a couple seats away from you, but oh, dorky Seungmin was always friend of everyone, sheepishly starting conversation with any kinds of people in the bus, no matter the year they were in.

Before his text, you had even thought he was cute as he gingerly chatted with a group of kids who were probably starting high school.

“Is it too difficult?” A little girl asked.

And it surprised you how he turned to her and smiled, almost tugging at your heart strings, eyes like crescent moons.

“It’s only difficult if you stop trying. And we don’t give up, right?” He stated cheerfuly, and all the kids shined at his sheepish and bashful brightness, high-fiving the girl that talked to him.

You forced yourself to shove those memories to the back of your mind. That Seungmin wasn’t real. And you didn’t like him. The real him. Right?

“Oi, Kim Seungmin.” You called, as it was only you two left on the bus.

He was surprised at your call, but only side-eyed at you, lazily raising his brows, signalling that he was listening. You frowned.

See? You thought to yourself. He’s mean. He isn’t sweet, nor cute. Focus.

“What kind of lame ass idea was that?” You huffed with a mean smile. “A valentine-themed assignment.” You snorted.

His bus stop was close, so he ignored you as he picked up his coat and backpack, but you kept on talking. “You know? Hallmark office called, they want their boring clichés back,” you mocked, laughing.

Backpack on and coat hanging on his arm, he stared at you, and waited for a red light to walk to your seat.

He settled next to you, still staring at you as you chimed mean remarks about his originality and such and such.

“Anything else to mumble? I couldn’t hear you from down there.” He snorted meanly, and you were too focused on annoying him that you didn’t notice his stare at your lips as he licked his own.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re such a lame guy. He gave you the chance to choose, and you chose that piece of—?!”

His lips tasted as sweet as his voice that day with those little kids.

You felt his hand slowly creep up and cradle your face, his eyes closed as he kissed you, and slowly, your eyes closed too.

It was sweet. So sweet. But what was it? It was a flavour that you knew. Its sweetness was so familiar, but you couldn’t seem to figure out what was it.

You kissed him back, and he let out a surprised whine as you sighed, your hands, which had been frozen on his shoulders, waiting for your order to push him away, slowly followed up and remained on his face, your thumbs almost stroking his cheeks.

You wanted needed to know what he tasted like.

But it was when your hands went into his hair that he sighed too, melting under your touch, that your brain clicked.

…

what were you doing?

…

WHAT WERE YOU DOING?!

You pushed him away, and your breath hitched.

He didn’t look like fake Seungmin.

In front of you was not the innocent boy who had straight A’s and was shy enough to not be able to say no to a lot of things, who sheepishly spoke up in class, or who treated everyone with a bashful kindness that was so endearing.

This Seungmin was different. His glasses had a bit of a fog in them, his hair was all messed up, and his lips were plush, pink from your tinted gloss and slightly swollen from your kiss.

This Seungmin was a wreck, all flustered and kissable, and he looked like a mess.

But it felt real.

And for a second, you wanted to kiss him again, yearning to figure what that kiss tasted like, the word for it almost in the tip of your tongue.

He panted, struggling to catch his breath.

“Finally,” he huffed with a smile, but his dark eyes didn’t match the mocking in his tone. A small part of your mind thought that they looked prettier than any light eyes you had ever seen. “So you were able to shut up, after all.” He gulped, still panting.

He moved away from you slowly, as you remained there, frozen, like a piece of art in front of him, cheeks blushed, lips flushed and parted as your eyes stared at him, an emotion much different from this evening.

He found himself enjoying this one even more.

“Eh… T-this is my bus stop.” He muttered when the bus stopped. Maybe it wasn’t, but he didn’t care. He felt like he would have the energy to run home if needed. “I-I’ll… see you tomorrow.”

You blinked as he stood up and walked away.

What…

What had just happened?

[☆★🌷★☆]

#stray kids x reader #stray kids #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #skz scenarios #soft hours #kim seungmin x reader #skz seungmin #seungmin fluff #kim seungmin fluff #skz headcanons #skz x reader #seungmin skz #kim seungmin x y/n #kim seungmin x you #kim seungmin headcanons #kim seungmin fic #kim seungmin #skz soft thoughts #skz imagines #skz fics #skz fanfic #skz fluff

[kydoesthings1]

McGillis and the Pied Piper

because February 24th’s Wordle was piper and I am procrastinating on school work

At 16:57 of S2E21 (E46) Gaelio says this to McGillis before charging him.

(Gaelio is speaking through the comms offscreen.)

(Apparently this line was also used in a game. I forgot which one. I don't play Gundam games.)

Gaelio literally says something along the lines of "Are you still going to play the pipe of Hamelin even when the battle is going like this?" Not sure why this is the subtitle. But they mostly mean the same thing so maybe I'm just nitpicking.

To refresh your memory a little, this is when the Revolutionary Fleet is very clearly losing to Arianrhod, and McGillis just made his pep talk and this iconic frame. They are preparing to retreat and regroup when Gaelio shows up to fight McGillis.

Gaelio referencing the Pied Piper of Hamelin (Hameln, same thing) is of course connected to McGillis's and thus his love of myth/folk tales. Because of McGillis's influence, Gaelio also has a strong liking for stories. He names himself and Gundam Vidar/Kimaris Vidar after Vidar, the Norse god of revenge and silence, son of Odin and slayer of Fenrir (Fenris, same thing but IBO uses Fenrir) the monster wolf son of Loki during Ragnarok. The same side story 'Eve of Vidar' also tells us he used to hit on girls using Norse mythology fun facts, including Yamazin Toka when he was a test pilot for the Schwalbe Graze.

Although these are relatively common knowledge for us, the viewers, they are probably niche facts however many years in the future the Post Disaster timeline is (in UC0079 Hitler and WW2 is considered "middle ages" despite being historically quite recent for us). This is one thing Gaelio and McGillis have in common and it is because of McGillis.

(Also this is kind of a weak diss? Like if you're gonna insult McGillis why compare him to something so cool. "Snake on the moon" - now that's an insult. But I digress.)

But what is the Pied Piper exactly? The Pied Piper, or the Ratcatcher (der Rattenfänger) is a legend of the town Hamelin in Lower Saxony of Germany. There are dozens of variations of this tale, but I'll only be talking about the most popular versions that relate to the events of IBO.

In 1284, Hamelin had a rat problem. Basically there were a whole bunch of rats, and they made life suck for the townspeople, as large numbers of rats tend to do. According to Robert Browning's poem, the people were mad at the mayor for not being able to solve the problem, and were about to kick him out. Then a man wearing a coat of many bright colors (Browning's version says yellow and red, both in McGillis's palette at some point) and holding a pipe showed up. The Piper promised to get rid of all the rats in exchange for 1000 guilders. He then played his pipe and all the rats came out and followed him into the river Weser and drowned.

The townspeople did not follow through on their end, however, and came up with all sorts of excuses to not give him the promised 1000 guilders. This angered the Piper, and he played his pipe again, and this time all 130 of the town's children came out and followed him away dancing and they never returned, nor were they ever seen again. Versions disagree on what happened to the children. In the Grimm Brothers and Browning's versions they went to Transylvania. Others say they went to a land like paradise in a cave. Others say they drowned in the river like the rats.

So how does this relate to McGillis and IBO? Well actually it's pretty obvious - Gaelio is simply saying McGillis is luring Isurugi, the Revolutionary Fleet and Tekkadan to their doom with false promises.

However, the point of this post is to point out some interesting details of this parallel. The Piper lured the children of Hamelin away as an act of revenge on the adults of the town because they didn't pay him what was rightfully his for his service. McGillis's coup can be framed as revenge on the corrupt system of the world Gjallarhorn maintains, and those who personally victimized him.

Interestingly, some accounts describe the Piper as "a miracle of God" and that he was sent to test the townspeople, and punish them when they didn't keep their word. Others call him the devil in disguise, who intended to trick the people and take their children. This is like how McGillis can be seen as a charismatic leader aiming to change the world for the better, or a ruthless, cold-blooded, lying, backstabbing, power-hungry traitor who will stop at nothing.

Additionally, Bael, the demon king, is a fallen angel who was cast out with Lucifer for rebelling against God, and Gundam Bael's gunpla box describes it as "a demon with the appearance of an angel" (this could also apply to McGillis himself).

In many versions of the story, some children are left behind. Which ones exactly vary, but Browning's focuses on a boy with a broken leg who couldn't keep up with the other children, so he was able to tell the villagers where he saw them go. The boy said they went into a portal on the side of the mountain, and on the other side was a paradise where everything was beautiful and peaceful. The boy was very sad he couldn't join his friends there because now he was all alone and couldn't return to that land.

Sounds kind of familiar, doesn't it?

In the epilogue, Gaelio is in a wheelchair and his bandaged neck suggests that his Alaya-Vijnana implants had been removed fairly recently. Supplemental info reveals that McGillis injured his spine during their fight at Edmonton, and Gaelio was only able to be up and about in S2 thanks to his AVS.

If the land the Piper and the children went to is Heaven, then this could be read as Gaelio being the only one not to follow McGillis into death, and being the sole survivor of his friends (for the sake of this argument Julieta doesn't count because Gaelio wasn't fighting for or against her).

An important difference is the boy longed to follow the Piper, while Gaelio rejected McGillis because he schemed to kill him and his friends.

The Piper's other name, the Ratcatcher? Tekkadan are space rats?

Also McGillis's true name Montag, presumably his surname before Iznario's adoption, is German for Monday, hinting at his heritage, and the Piper is a German story (obviously).

The Pied Piper is a legend that originated in the Middle Ages, and Gjallarhorn's leadership, ideology and overall aesthetic is reminiscent of that.

There is a version of the story that the Piper will return in 300 years. Which he did not do, but 300 years? McGillis, the self-proclaimed successor to Agnika Kaieru after 300 years?

I can't be bothered to write a separate piece on Gaelio's legs so I should also mention that Vidar, the Norse god defeats Fenrir by stepping on his lower jaw with his shoe made from all the collected pieces of leather people cut from their own shoes, and grabbing his upper jaw and ripping him apart at the mouth.

Vidar's special shoes are like how Gaelio says he’s carrying all the wishes of Carta and Ein, and the AVS Type-E also serves as his literal feet. (Also he wears very striking white thigh-high boots that are very hot. What they're not is part of the Gjallarhorn uniform, just to make this connection, in addition to exacting revenge in style.)

In many carvings, Vidar is shown stabbing Fenrir through the heart also, and Gaelio/Kimaris Vidar defeats McGillis by pinning him against the Arianrhod flagship and stabbing him/Bael through the torso.

Proposed origins of the Pied Piper

Now obviously there was no piper guy dressed in goofy clothes that stole all the children of a town with magic music. There are several theories about what the legend is based on. This has nothing to do with IBO anymore and I just thought it was fun so feel free to stop reading if you don't agree.

Plague: According to this theory, all the children died because of illness and the place they went to is a mass grave. The Piper's many-colored clothing represents the sores and discoloration of skin of those who contracted the illness, and he is the personification of the plague/death. Rats are carriers of fleas, which spread the plague. 1284 is a bit too early for the Bubonic Plague (Black Death) though, so it may have been something else.

Emigration: The emigration theory suggests that much of the people of Hamelin moved to eastern Europe in search of better opportunities as only the eldest son had inheritance and the others could only be serfs. In this theory, "children of Hamelin" are not actual children, and it's just a figure of speech to say they were of a certain place. This correlates with some versions where the Piper and the children he took were sighted in Transylvania.

Human trafficking/the Children's Crusades: In these two theories the Piper is the recruiter/trafficker and the story was made up by the town to please their officials.

Dancing mania: There have been records of dancing mania in about the same time period in the surrounding region, and children were among the affected. Dancing mania can sometimes result in death due to exhaustion. It was originally attributed to a curse by a saint (St. John or St. Vitus) and you had to pray to them to lift the curse. Modern explanations for dancing mania are neurological disorders or collective mental disorders.

Pagan ritual: supposedly the pipe music and dancing children are part of this ritual that took place in the mountains, and the children died from a landslide or similar accident.

"You're reading way too much into Gaelio's one line" no actually I am reading exactly the right amount into it and everyone else isn't reading into it enough

#mcgillis fareed #gaelio bauduin #iron blooded orphans #gundam iron blooded orphans #gundam ibo

[porcelainmortal]

Several Sentence Sunday

Thank you to @myheartalivewrites for the tag!

I have been simultaneously working on a few different fics, but I'm not telling which one this snippet is from because it's more fun that way. 😆 This is a phone conversation between Alex & Nora.

“I think he deserves to know,” Nora says, as if it’s simple. But when you’re someone who deals in numbers and statistics and facts, Alex supposes it probably seems fairly simple. The simple fact is that he loves Henry. Maybe it is as simple as making sure Henry knows it, too. He sighs. “I know, Nora, but I just don’t think he’s ready yet.” “I think you mean that you’re not ready. Which is fine, obviously. But from what you’ve told me, I think there’s a good chance he already knows.” “Well, I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m straight, so…” “Only if he hasn’t been paying attention,” Nora laughs. “Shut up,” Alex says, smiling in spite of himself. He lays back against his headboard, grabbing the fidget cube he keeps on his nightstand and putting the phone on speaker so he can play with it. The clicking sounds and satisfyingly squishy feel of the buttons immediately help to calm him down.  “I’m serious, dude. I’ll bet Henry has a finely tuned gaydar. He probably clocked you the day you met.”  “Yeah but I’m not gay,” Alex says, knowing that he probably sounds a little defensive. “Alex, how can you be so smart and so stupid at the same time?” Nora sighs heavily over the line. “Look, maybe he doesn’t know, but that’s why you have to tell him. You can even write him a poem, I bet he’d love that! Something like; Roses are red, violets are blue. Henry, I’m horny, but only for you.” Alex rolls his eyes as Nora cackles on the other end of the phone, which is when he clocks movement in his peripheral. He turns his head to see Henry standing just outside his open bedroom door, eyes wide. Alex feels his heart drop into his stomach.

Tagging @iboatedhere @itsmaybitheway @firenati0n @rmd-writes @bitbybitwrites

@anchoredarchangel @theprinceandagcd and an open tag for whoever wants it!

#rwrb fanfic #alex x henry #fanfic #ao3 #wip #several sentence sunday