#Love you forever darling

[elvispresleywife]

Just a small amount of photos of my baby doing Karate!! Oh boy I'd let him protect me using Karate any old day!!! He just looks so...I can't explain in words. I'M BLUSHING As usual. 😂💗💗💗🥵

He did Karate from 1958 up until his passing in 77. As we all know it was a very important part of his life, and he loved it! He became top of his class and even taught a few of his classes. By the time of his passing he had gained a seventh degree black belt. That's INSANE! I'm so proud of my darling. He even used his skills when those four guys came to attack him on stage. He was so riled up people had to hold him back. He kicked on of the guys so hard that it flew the attacker of the stage and even kicked on of the audience women in the jaw. Talk about strength.

He also saved people quite a few times with his karate skills. It was in late 1977 a few weeks before he died he saved a man at a petrol station from being attacked. He jumped out of the car, while they had stopped in traffic and went over to the 17 year old boy who was being ganged up on and pinned to the ground. Once he got there he said to the two guys "I'll take you two on." and his extra security guard said "He was willing to fight, that was the bad thing." luckily nothing happened. Eventually Elvis being Elvis always had a way with people so he calmed them down and then shook their hands asking "Is everything settled now?" At this point a crowd had gathered and so he obviously signed autographs took photos did what he did best. When he got back to the hotel he instantly told Kathy Westmorland his "Little girl with a high pitched voice." And was over the moon with himself. I've always loved and memorized this story, he was such a protector and defender. I love him.

Love you baby forever and ever, your my everything!!! 💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💕💕💕💕💕💕💕🥋🥋🥋🥋🥋

[ghouljams]

A Weight Off His Shoulders

cw: Ghost x f!reader/f!oc, Ghost pov, m!oc, demon au, mild implications of self harm, interrogation techniques, exposition, Ghost grappling with his trauma, depersonalization, I'm holding Ghost at gun point and making him talk about his feelings

Summary: Ghost does not adjust to the few hours he spends without you hanging around. Actually it seems to make things worse.

It’s a strange feeling, Ghost’s shoulders feel weightless, eased of their infernal burden. Yet they’re still heavy. Guilty. He almost misses the pressure, the tightness. It’s like wearing a bulletproof vest, there was something almost comforting about having you weigh down his shadow, and it’s gone now. Ghost grits his teeth, coaxes his nerves away from the edge, hits the punching back in the gym harder than he intended to. He shakes the blow out of his knuckles, readjusts his wraps with a mumbled swear.

“Ghost,” Price calls behind him. Ghost shakes his head, he’s not in the mood for it. A lecture is the last thing he needs. Teamwork and all that bullshit means nothing when he’s- He clenches his hands tightly and throws another punch, he feels full to bursting with energy he doesn’t want to put a name to. Price calls his name again and he ignores it.

Right hook, left jab, right jab, left hook, uppercut. He switches his footing and throws a hard kick, catching the punching back with his shin. Textbook. Price catches the bag, his eyes hard. Ghost settles his foot back onto the matt floor and adjusts his wraps again.

“Know what you’re goin’ to say,” Ghost grumbles.

“Enlighten me,” Price sounds unamused, Ghost knows better than anyone how much he hates to be ignored.

“Team only works if we all do,” Ghost throws another jab, stopping short of the bag. Price doesn’t flinch. “Never needed to be friendly to do my job.”

“So I hear,” Price crosses his arms over his chest, rolls his shoulders back, watching the door. There’s something easy in the motion, unimpeded. Ghost’s eyes flick to the shadows on the wall, then back to Price. The gym is strangely empty, all the life filtered out and the shadows silent. He hadn’t noticed how alone they were until now.

“Where’s your dog?”

Price turns his attention back to him, there’s something sharp in his eyes, something warning. “Thankfully somewhere they can’t hear you call ‘em that.” Price’s tone is even, but dangerous. Ghost clenches his jaw, biting back the words he wants to say. He doesn’t know how Price can’t feel the same rolling disgust about their situation. He’s in the same boat, deemed too dangerous by Hell to exist without an escort. Monster enough to need another monster keeping him company. “They’re off with yours,” Price says finally, “looking over your contract.”

“Which one,” He knows which one, but Price still humors him.

“Not the one you’re hoping for, but if you really want a discharge-”

“I don’t.”

Ghost turns his attention back to the punching bag. He rolls his shoulders, the ease of motion doesn’t sit right. He ignores it. Price lets him wallow in silence, lighting a cigar while Ghost avoids the elephant in the room. Contract. He shouldn’t be beholden to something he never signed. He didn’t mean to summon a demon, he didn’t mean to attach himself to you, he didn’t mean for or want any of this. For God's sake he was barely holding on to his humanity as it was.

Maybe this is good, showing him what he still has to lose, how desperately he still clings to the hope that he could go back. Back to being Simon, to being human, to being something more than a machine part, the teeth on a meat grinder meant to rend flesh apart. He’d always hoped Ghost was just the shell, but maybe he’d spent too long hollowing himself out. Maybe Hell was right and there was nothing left to go back to.

Price lets out a long hard breath, waving his hand to clear the smoke so it doesn’t set off the alarm. He tucks his lighter back in his pocket while Ghost digs his nails into the wraps covering his palms. There’s a ringing in his ears that grows louder as Price smokes. 

There’s something wrong with him, something dark and twisted that he was managing, plying with corpses to keep quiet. He was doing well, he was handling it. He was handling having a demon, it wasn’t ideal, but it was manageable. You were a useful tool, he could work with tools. He was a tool, and you were a tool. An unfortunately matching set. He squeezes his fists tighter.

You were so warm.

“So what’s wrong with ‘er?” Price’s voice jerks him out of his thoughts.

“Who?”

“You know who.”

Ghost is quiet. There are a million ways he could explain it. Price would understand, he’d sympathize, maybe he’d even have some advice. There are a million ways he knows he could explain it, but he doesn’t have the words for any of them. He’s never had the words for anything. Probably why he didn’t finish his schooling.

What’s wrong with you? You pushed him, you did something to him during sex that made him want to hurt you. No. He’d already wanted to hurt you, had those awful thoughts festering in the recesses of his brain where he knew they couldn’t hurt anyone, and he’d acted on it. He yelled at you, he slammed drawers and made a fuss. He wanted to hurt you. He did hurt you. You made him feel- 

You made him feel like his father, like Roba, like none of the good he’d done meant anything. Hearing you beg- he’s heard those words from too many people: his mother, Tommy, himself. He thought he was better than that. He was kidding himself.

“S’like lookin’ in a mirror,” Ghost rumbles, his voice low enough he isn’t sure Price heard it.

“A mirror,” Price repeats with a disbelieving hum.

“Everything I- Christ-” Ghost drags a hand down his face, feels the friction of his hand wraps against the balaclava and frowns. “I see her and I can feel my old man putting his ideas in my head.”

“His ideas?”

“Wantin’ ta hurt ‘er, wantin’ ta-” It hits him quick, needles his brain. He knows this technique, knows it because he’s heard Price use it enough times before handing Ghost the pliers. He’s too trusting of Price. He’s being interrogated.

Ghost growls and rips the velcro on his wraps, tugging the canvas off his hands with quick motions. The gentle burn of it unraveling from between his fingers barely doing anything to ground him. Price watches him, his smoke filling the room, heavy where it touches his shadow. There’s something crawling in the air, something choking that Ghost can’t attribute to the cigar. The gym is empty, oppressively empty. Ghost’s skin crawls, Price’s stance hasn’t changed, but he’s different, his eyes are harder, challenging Ghost to make a wrong move. His shadow has grown horns.

“We’re not done,” Price tells him evenly. Fire licks at the ice of his irises, sparking anger in Ghost before he can stop it. Even the most docile dog bites its master when cornered.

Ghost cools his fury, fixes Price with a glare as he rolls his shoulders to try and ease some of the tension. Briefly he wonders if he’d feel the same stomach churning pressure with you hanging off of his shoulders. Your weight always seems to negate any other that tries to hold him down.

Price tips his head, and Ghost hears a softer voice tell him, “We’re done.” It bites into Ghost’s blood. He trusts Price, but this? This is pushing it. He’s always hoped to be doing enough good in the grand scheme of things to negate a fraction of the death and destruction. Was that wrong? Were they all being puppeteered by Hell? Was it all for nothing? Should he have felt it; that he’d become worse than his father?

“They got you on a short leash,” Ghost challenges, unable to stop the bite in his tone. Price’s eyes narrow, warning, but all Ghost can feel is the white hot burn of anger.

“I’m tryin’ to help you,” Price assures him, but it feels hollow. Something shifts in Price’s eyes, some twitch in his brow that feels too fleetingly soft. It’s the sort of look that tells Simon, “I got you into this mess, let me get you out of it.” It feels like his ribs could collapse in on themselves, like his lungs are suddenly too empty to fill again. 

“You can’t,” Ghost assures him, shoving Simon back into the dark, “there’s nothin’ left to ‘elp.”

Price hums. “You’re a bad liar Simon, always have been,” He takes a drag from his cigar and waves away the smoke of his exhale, “Skip mess and be in my office by 1800.”

-

It’s not your weight in his shadow that alerts him to your presence. It’s your laughter. Bubbling and just slightly at the edge of raspy, watery, almost. It twists the knife in Ghost’s chest. You shouldn’t sound happier when you’re away from him. You shouldn’t- Actually you shouldn’t be out of your shadows. You never seemed eager to pull yourself out of the darkness before, but here you were loud and bright as ever. Ghost stops his stalk through the hall, parks himself at the corner to listen. Your ever present babble of speech makes his heart flip. He didn’t realize how quiet everything felt without you murmuring in his ear.

“Maybe it’d be best if you stayed with us for a while,” A newly familiar male voice says, the concern is evident in his tone, but it sparks in Ghost’s stomach. Annoyance, must be. The product of disregarding direct orders, not offering advice to someone that isn’t wanted. What a pair they must make.

“Dinnae ken if my back can take tha’,” Soap groans, “May as well have Gaz’s shoulder the way Ahm clickin’.”

Ghost closes his eyes, knocks his head against the concrete wall. Soap. Fine, count him off the list of people he could gripe to, if you’re riding his shadow there’s no reason to go seeking the man out.

“Should have his fuckin’ pelt the way he’s treating you,” Hush grumbles.

“Ghost’s alrigh’,” Soap defends, “just a li’l rough around the edges, dinnae let him get to ya.”

Another flip, his stomach this time. Ghost shakes his head, more than rough around the edges, he’s rough all the way down. No reason to defend a man who’s already proven himself to be demon enough for Hell to keep an eye on. Ghost pushes off the wall and tries not to glance down the hall as he continues his way past the junction. A difficult task when you’re at the other end of it made even worse with the way Hush touches you.

Just a hand on your shoulder, thumb stroking over the army green tee you’re wearing, but it boils in his blood, sings through his ribs like a howling wolf. It pisses him the fuck off seeing you smile at that man. Hush glances his way with a glare. You follow his gaze and your smile drops seeing Ghost staring.

Why does it feel so much like he’s caught you in the act? You’re just standing there, holding his gaze, daring him to look away first.

You’re cute in fatigues.

He tears his eyes off of you to glare at Hush. “Try to keep the insubordination to a minimum, yeah?”

“Ghost,” You sound concerned, on the edge of an explanation that doesn’t come. He doesn’t like it. He turns away, keeps walking.

“Coward,” Hush mumbles.

It stings, but the truth so often does.

-

You fill his thoughts. An unbidden, contagious, line of thinking that ruins his focus. He thinks of everything but fucking you. Thinks of the way you’d purred, and the way you’d laid against him. He thinks of your voice in his ear, the diagrams drawn in thin air, the weight of shadowed weapons. He thinks of the softness of your hips, the dig of his fingers into your thighs.

He thinks of the way his hands had wrapped around your neck in disgust. Thinks of the way you’d gasped and clawed at him. He thinks of how he’d felt doing it, the wash of guilt and shame that it brought. He’d liked it, and you’d done nothing to stop him.

He thinks of the way you’d smiled at him, the way you’d smiled at Hush. How could they feel so different? How could he feel so different? 

He tapes his hands too tight when he goes to beat the bag in the gym for a second time. It hurts each time his fist collides with the stiff fabric. It’s good, deserved even. Men like him don’t get softness.

He remembers the way you’d pressed your lips to his jaw, and whispered for him to get some sleep.

He hadn’t slept so well in years.

-

Ghost doesn’t bother knocking on the door to Price’s office until he’s already got his hand on the handle. Barely waits to be told ‘enter’ before he’s opening the door. He shouldn’t be surprised to see you, can feel the weight of you starting to slip onto his shoulders just by proximity. It makes him tired, warmth seeps into his bones like a heavy quilt and 

“There are three ways humans can acquire demons,” Price’s demon explains, “People like Price who summon them are more traditional by human standards.” Ghost’s eyes fix on Price, what do they mean summoned? Price catches his eye and nods once, short.

“Heard the rumors, figured as long as I was getting blood on my hands I’d do it properly,” Price sniffs, “we do what we have to, to make the world safer. Nothing else to think about.”

“But-” The demon interjects, obviously not happy about the interruption, Price shrugs, “Cases like yours aren’t that uncommon. Plenty of soldiers out there have to compartmentalize their humanity in order to do what’s necessary, you were just a little better at it.”

“Suppose’ to be a compliment?” Ghost narrows his eyes at the demon, they seem unphased.

“It’s a fact. You’ve compartmentalized the humanity most people wear publicly, you’re a dead-man-walking. No time for human emotion, no desire to share your secrets, no desire to learn anyone else’s. You only care about getting closer to the kill you’re tasked with, here to do one job and one job alone.” The demon takes a breath, lets it out and shakes their head. “You take pleasure in your work, some unknown force is paying for what happened to Simon with every enemy you kill. Well, this is what you get-” They gesture to you, “a weapon to help you keep exacting your revenge, with enough humanity to help you sleep at night.”

“Didn’t ask for your ‘elp.” Ghost growls, “was doin’ just fine wi’out ‘er.”

“And humanity was doing just fine killing each other without the atomic bomb,” The demon shrugs, “You adapt, you find better ways to kill each other, and we update our recruitment tactics.”

“The contract sweet’eart,” Price rumbles.

“It’s Hell, the fine print has fine print,” The demon sighs, pinching the bridge of their nose, “If you were expecting a termination clause there isn’t one, the best we can do is revise it.”

“I actually-” Ghost’s head jerks at your voice, it sounds so much smaller than the last time he heard it, you seem smaller, it tugs at something he buried long ago, “-had a thought on that.”

“Let’s hear it,” Ghost prompts. You glance at him, there’s an emotion in your eyes that he can’t put a name to. He knows it well enough, felt it enough times to know when it’s staring him down. It chafes at him, he doesn’t want you to look at him like that. “Good for you to get away from me too, don’t wanna be around a woman that think’s I’m gonna hurt ‘er.” That only seems to make it worse, your smile is so forced that you may as well have a gun to your head.

“You could’ve told me, I wouldn’t have-”

“But I did,” hurt you, Ghost cuts himself off, forcing the correction, “you did.”

He couldn’t have told you. Wouldn’t have told you. What did you need to know about him that you couldn’t see? He was a machine made for slaughter, and you wanted to be the butcher’s knife. That was all you needed to be. He didn’t know why you tried so hard to get closer. He didn’t like-

“If the contract is to provide him some humanity, we just need to get him to a point where he doesn’t need me anymore.” You smile at the other demon. Their eye twitches, their expression impassable.

“If you were unable to fulfill the contract,” Price’s demon starts, before shaking their head, “No, revisions are the best bet.”

“Let ‘er try,” Price decides, “Simon can make adjustments in the meantime.”

-

“This is exciting,” You chirp, “like a really intense mandated therapy sort of thing.”

Ghost hums, does his best to ignore the way you stretch out on his bed. It’s been less than 48 hours without you and somehow it settles the squirming in his chest to see you making yourself comfortable. It also churns in his stomach. You smile to yourself, pleased. He doesn’t know how you can be happy with the way things are shaking out. Don’t you want to get away from him?

“I was thinking we could start with something really easy, and you could share some music or something,” You say, rolling onto your side, “you know you can really learn a lot about someone from the music they listen to. Me, I like all that techno stuff, the real bee-boop-y crap that you can feel in your chest.”

Ghost tries to focus on the damage he took in the gym earlier, the bruised knuckles, the split that’s broken his skin where the wraps cut too tight. Your voice is so nice to hear again, the softness of it cradles him in a way he can’t explain. Your weight in his shadow presses onto his shoulders, pressure points he didn’t know he could miss until they were gone.

“You look like a metal kind of guy,” You continue, “I don’t mind metal, maybe you we could listen to some of your favorite songs some time, like a date-”

Ghost flinches and you shut your mouth with an audible click. Ghost swallows, digs his blunt nail into the split skin on his knuckle until it bleeds. He needs something to ground him, to keep him from feeling the flush that spreads over his neck. You’d be better off- He’d be better off without you.

“Maybe favorite foods are better!” You try, your voice taking on too much excitement for him to cut out, “I bet you have something really sweet you like, did your mom bake? Mine did and I-”

“Would you stop being so damn cheerful?” Ghost snaps, you flinch to sit up straight and he lowers his voice, “I-” He stops himself, looking away. Silence lapses between you.

“What would you have me do Ghost?” You ask, shoving down the hurt until it cools in your stomach. He shakes his head, avoiding your eye. “You don’t like when I’m upset, you don’t like when I’m happy. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

“I don’t know,” He admits, the feeling sours in his throat like bile. He can’t swallow it down, can’t put it on a shelf like he always does. He feels the question he always wanted to ask but never had the courage to hear the answer to biting into him. “Aren’t you angry?”

You blink at him, your brows pulling down as your lips do. He doesn’t see where the confusion is coming from, if it’s confusion at all. Your mouth moves as you swallow, working through the words he’s sure you have bubbling in your throat. “No,” you say finally, “I might be later, but right now-” you shake your head, “I’m just drained.”

It kills him. He knows the feeling, the way shutting the door to his room always seemed to take all the air out of him. Anger seemed like such a constant companion these days, he’d assumed it was just that, a constant. “Are you angry?” You ask, the softness in your voice cuts him too deeply. It makes him want to turn and run. Fuck he’s always run from these things, it’s in his nature. Run until he can figure out how to solve the problem. Run away and join the army until he can get his shit together. Run away when his family’s destroyed, run from his name and his face, bury the man that died in Mexico deep in his soul.

“No,” He admits, though that admission feels like iron against his teeth, he’d rather gut himself than put his emotions to words, but he has to start somewhere if he’s going to get rid of you, “I’m scared.”

“I know,” You hum, “can feel it.” You pat the bed next to you, and somehow it feels settling. Ghost takes the steps he needs and perches on the edge of the mattress next to you. The springs creak, dip under his weight, and you lean against his side.

“I’m sorry,” You tell him, “I don’t know how to be good for you.”

“Me neither,” Simon mumbles, feeling your head rest against his shoulder. Your fingers lace with his, thumb swiping over his bruised knuckles. He doesn’t know how to be good for you either. All he knows is you’re the one person he can’t run away from, and it scares the shit out of him.

[daisiesonafield-blog]

I love this man so much I can’t even explain it

[coloriza]

Petrichor // 2023

[beatleswings]

Jimmy, Linda, and Denny. ♡

[mostofthingsmostofthetime]

My thoughts on The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes movie

I don’t know if I liked it as much as the original films (maybe Mockingjay 1 & 2 as they are pretty emotionally draining), but I still enjoyed it.

I think where it fell a little flat for me is 1. The beginning was a bit slow (tbh I only really started getting interested when Lucy Gray stuck that snake down that girl’s dress & even then I enjoyed the story more when the setting changed from the Capitol to the district) 2. I knew Snow would survive 3. I’d already been spoiled online for a lot of stuff that happens & 4. while I know the director did his best to make Snow as “likeable” as he could for as long as possible, even before he started getting “a little too comfortable” with killing & snitching I didn’t find him as sympathetic as Katniss or Peeta (but that is probably again down to the fact that I know what he goes onto do & there’s no real way around that), this made engaging with him difficult for me.

The world is fascinating. Getting to see all the new locations we never had access to before as well as old locations now in a totally different light (for example district 12 which, while still clearly suffering, seemed like such a bustling industrial town compared to how it is in Katniss’s time). It might have a much more retro aesthetic but there's also just a more vibrant, natural, wild & lawless atmosphere to this movie compared to the others in the franchise. The whole scope of the film just felt more cinematic then I remember the others being yet also weirdly intimate. Maybe because it was one contained story & we knew the main character’s fate from the start. I also loved the title cards signifying the start of each section of the story like from the books & wished they'd done something similar for the other films. It just added a certain flair to the whole thing. Almost gave it the vibe of a tragic play.

The costuming was great. The bright red of the academy uniforms.  Flickerman’s snazzy suits. Snow’s dapper black & white outfit. Both peace keeper uniforms (despite one of them giving very ‘1930’s Germany’ vibes) looked great. Grandma might have been a bigot, but at least she was well dressed. Everything Dr Gaul wore (except the top that looked like a used tampon, lol) was exquisite. The main ladies of fashion, Tigris & Lucy Gray slayed. Our Future Capitol stylist looked like some regal yet exotic bird & Miss Survivor was giving Bohemian, country girl realness the entire time she was on screen. Even the extras were serving (like that random couple Snow walked past on his way to the reaping ceremony).

The music was amazing. Every song that played was fantastic (shout out to Olivia for her end credit contribution). The lyrics & instrumentation were beautiful & my god does Rachel Zegler have pipes! Anyone who says the singing scenes are cringy is just stupid like I’m sorry you can’t appreciate art. Also, the words ‘ballad’ & ‘songbirds’ are literally in the title. Plus, Lucy Gray is from the poorest district, so what exactly do those people want her to do in her free time? She can’t exactly hop on an X-box for a few hours. Not too mention that (as the offspring of someone who’s musically inclined) I can tell you, it’s completely realistic for a musician to use their craft to help them deal with trauma & Lucy Gray clearly had more than her fair share of that.

The Grandma'am helped to paint a sadly very realistic background for Snow. As who among us hasn’t met at least one delusional old person who thinks that their/their group’s suffering (regardless of the severity of it or the reason behind their former/newer status in society) means that no one else are deserving of even the tiniest shred of humanity & there are some people who are unlucky enough to not only be related to these people but be raised by them.

Hunter schafer as Tigris is clearly the superior Snow when it comes to things like empathy & overall mental stability but I do kind of wish they’d been more for her to do. Credit where credit is due though her & Tom did actually look like they could be related & I did buy their familial bond (which makes her appearance in Mockingjay so much sadder in hindsight).

Peter Dinklage as Casca Highbottom was a bit of a mix for me just due to his purpose as a character & the limit of film as a form of media. Like sure the audience know that Snow’s going to become an irredeemable monster in the end but without a window into his mind it really does just seem like the Dean is just out to get him & even when we find out why it seems kind of unfair. Like sure his dad sucked but haven’t the Games shown that blaming children for violence caused by others is unjust (& like ok he hates Coriolanus & probably the grandma but Tigris hadn’t done anything to deserve living in poverty, as she can’t control who she’s related to)? Plus, it felt like he could have at least tried taking Snow under his wing at some point to try to hinder Dr Gual’s influence. Saying all of that, though, Peter Dinklage is great at playing an addict with depression & the idea that some drunken rambling could lead to such long-lasting suffering is terrifying. Also its pretty realistic that living with that kind of guilt & in such a cruel environment for that long would make most people jaded & bitter, even if they did have good intentions.

Omg we finally get a Mayor family on screen & they’re assholes! Madge would be so disappointed 😭. It was interesting to see how harsh & overall “boot licky” the mayor & his family seemed compared to decades later, which makes sense as the war wasn’t that long ago for them so the dad probably felt more incentive to align himself with the Capitol as well as not feeling very connected to the district people as 12’s decline probably didn’t fully set in until they really started running low on coal & Snow became president (oh I just know he wanted to blow that district off the map 😆). I also wouldn’t put it past Billy to come up with some sob story of how he really does love Mayfair but wicked Lucy Gray is somehow preventing them from being together. Still no excuse to try to send her to her death twice in one week, though. Definitely not a girl’s girl.

Ok, so a liar. Cheat. Drunk & someone who hits women. Is there anything good about Billy Taupe? Also, trying to get your ex back, while your current girlfriend is literally standing right next to you? Dude, have some god damn back bone! You made a choice, now stick to it. Also, fumbling Lucy Gray, for a girl like that? What’s it like having no brains or taste? Well, too bad, coz you’re stuck with her forever now, lol.

Viola Davies, the actress that you are. What else is there to say? Dr Gaul is almost comic book levels of insane. Like she is how the Right see women in STEM, on crack! I don’t know what she did to get into character, but whatever it was, it worked.

Jason Schwartzman as Lucretius Flickerman is a very interesting addition to the story despite playing such a small & seemingly insignificant role. He is strange in how unthreatening he is while also extremely blasé about the abhorrent violence he witnesses that it’s as funny as it is disturbing. Making him come across as  more human yet harsher than his son, who at least pretends to care about the tributes (in a very Capitol way, obviously but still). There’s also a polish & confidence to Tucci’s performance that I think Schwartzman did a great job of avoiding copying (despite knowing what audiences were probably expecting) because not only are their characters in entirely different stages of their careers but the whole ethos of the Hunger Games is different in Snow’s youth than it is in Katniss’s. Caesar is a well established presenter & during his time, the games have always been a success (minus the year with the tundra) that the entire Capitol is invested in & seemingly in support of. On the other hand Lucretius had the unique task of not only coming into a job like this with zero experience (I mean imagine going from announcing the weather to presenting the fucking hunger games) but also there were no vibes to try to emulate let alone guidelines to follow because he truly was the first person to do this. On top of that, the "event" his presenting has been panned for years as both boring & unethical. Schwartzman brought a slightly awkward, experimental, yet try hard vibe (like a comedian who's desperate to get a laugh) that I think worked wonderfully for the character.

Tom Blyth's performance was great & he was visually perfect for a young Snow (the power of a good wig! Who knew lol). Even having the cool, analytical stare of Donald Sutherland, down pat. While his appearance was very Eminem during his peacekeeping days, his realisation in the cabin and subsequent breakdown in the woods were crazy. There was so much tension between him & Rachel in that scene that for a second, it literally felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. I could almost hear the record scratch for both of them, & all that building paranoia finally coming to a sudden crescendo in the way that it did? Pure cinema!

Josh Rivera, as Sejanus, was honestly a mix for me. Obviously, I agree with his morals, but his way of going about it did seem a little dumb. However I do think it’s pretty realistic that a teenager, especially a rich one, would be rather naive. Also I’ve heard that he’s smarter in the book & I think at times my frustration with him is more just down to the fact that I’m seeing him from Snow’s point of view. Meaning scenes that would be portrayed as noble in any other film instead come across as almost painfully inconvenient because the focus is always on how they affect Snow rather than the actual victims of the situation. Lastly, sorry, Snowjanus shippers, I just don’t see it (especially on Snow’s end), but whatever floats your boat.

Rachel Zegler played Lucy Gray with the perfect mix of natural charm & emotional vulnerability with clear pride in her culture & a refusal to let the world around her change who she is. Yet there was also an air of mystery & a subtle resilience to her that makes her potentially surviving out in the woods for years without being detected actually believable (though I don’t buy the theory that she went on to become president Coin). Definitely the highlight of the movie for me.

PS. I'd love to know what you think of my review in the comments/tags & am open to criticism (as long as it's respectful) just remember that I'm only talking about the movie so please don't reference anything spersific to the book.

[mymarifae]

don't read burn my soul. akito reaches rad weekend levels with his singing Because he's trying to express his gratitude to ken for giving him his dream and for being his role model for all these years - and then he starts funneling all of his love for toya, an, and kohane and vivid street and music itself into his singing and it unlocks that level of performing inside him. you know how i've been saying forever that akito's constant doubts and insecurities are what's holding him back, not any actual lack of ability? after 3 years of events, ken and luka finally get this through his head. he finally has full confidence in his music. he finally fucking understands that the thing he needs to focus on while singing is not "i need to get better so i don't get left behind" he knows he needs to think about the actual emotions he wants to express with his music he's FINALLY learned how to RELAX and sing from his heart.

and then during his final performance of the event he (re)lights the fire in kotaro's heart and gives him the courage to try pursuing music again, and to rejoin vivid bad squad in surpassing rad weekend. you know, paralleling the way rad weekend gave akito new life after he quit soccer and started giving up on the world.

not to mention it turns out taiga's ass kicking in light up the fire dampened the morale of all of vivid street. everyone was starting to lose their deeper love for music. no one was as excited anymore. no one believed there could be something greater than rad weekend, so why... bother? and then akito's performance sets EVERYONE'S asses on fire, not just kotaro's. he singlehandedly breathes new life and passion into vivid street. it gave him a lifeline when he needed it most, and now he's in a position where he can return the favor. and he does.

yeah. life-ruining. all of it. i died lots and lots and lots. save yourselves.

[artbloz]

Todo lo que siempre he querido... Todo lo que siempre he necesitado... está aquí... en mis brazos...Darling, hahaha.

IT'S IN HERE, HERE, HERE, HERE...NEIGHBOR...

[firstroseofspring]

memory, death and life as komerex zha, the perpetual game; klingon culture as depicted in the final reflection, by john m. ford

[merakiui]

If you thought bodyguard!Floyd would be insufferable with ido!darling, imagine gravure model!darling then absbdbjfjfj

Omg gravure model darling with stalker fan Jade…… gross, slimy, creepy Jade with his gross, slimy, creepy views!!!! >_< he closely follows the magazine in which you’re often featured, buying two copies of each new issue (one to frame as a precious collectible) and the other meant to sustain…damages (i.e. cum stains, sweat, drool, other bodily fluids). He’s found your social media and he also follows that, going through your posts and printing out each tasteful image to string up on his walls.

He’s even bought a few of the swimsuits and lingerie you’ve modeled, and when he fucks into his hand or the onahole (which he pretends is you) he imagines peeling those skimpy outfits from off of your pretty body with skilled fingers. You would look so lovely beneath him, skin hot with desire and arousal, chest heaving with hitched breaths and moans, hands curled into the bedsheets, when he traces his fingertips up your thighs, prying them apart to get a proper look at your pussy. Thoughts of you burying your hands in teal locks to hold him there while he eats you out always send him tipping over the edge. It’s a terrible shame it’s only a fantasy. Oh, the things he’d do if you were really here with him…

Lately, ever since he’s started cyber-stalking and obsessing over you, Jade’s wanted to get into photography. He buys the best camera, but then he also gets a vintage one just for the sake of aesthetics. It would be nice to develop these photos the old way: in a dark room where he must be precise and careful with handling every fragile photograph. Jade photographs a lot of nature, often things he comes across on his walks and hikes. Mushrooms. Trees. Leaves. Flowers. Unique stones or moss growing contrary. He photographs insects: a line of ants leading to an anthill, butterflies swarming blossoms, a caterpillar coming free from its cocoon. He likes the familiar weight of a camera in his hands. He likes being the one behind the lens, peering through at what’s seen with the camera, as if the world that lies beyond it is merely a portrait someone’s painted.

He wants to learn where you live, the places you frequent, what building the company you’re signed to works out of so that he may hopefully have a chance to capture candid photographs of you—things that no one but him will ever see. Intimate sides he will preserve within a picture.

Jade photographs potential locations deep within the forest. He captures the stages of death in permanence: the horrified countenance of your lover when they realize he’s holding a knife in his hand, the aftermath of a brutal slaughter, the perfectly, methodically dismembered corpse with all of its parts packaged in plastic and aligned in a grave dug deep, the mound of soil that soon covers the evidence, and the beautifully rare flowers or tree saplings he plants directly above the body.

Jade develops these photos in the makeshift dark room in his apartment. They’re well-done, but that’s how all of his work is. Eerily flawless. Recently, he learned where you live. It took some digging and lots of patience, but he’s good at uncovering forbidden things. When the time comes to take you, he’ll have to bring his camera along. He’d love to see what expressions he can photograph when he catches you by surprise. And he anticipates every photo will be far better than any of the previous ones he’s taken. After all, they’ll contain you and the raw, beautiful emotions you’ll show him. That’s something he’ll never be able to find in the average magazine.

[jv-f1]

More vintage James! ☺️

[indigopoptart]

i remember! I remember! i have something to share With you all!!!

a little bit ago i decided to make myself a Welcome Home wallpaper for my laptop! i will Share it with you all

there are a few variants! since i am Picky!

original art belongs to clown! i just did a lil thing to make a simple bg >:)

i hope you enjoy!

[sherlockig]

[anintroverteddarling]

Hope I'm not late--

[agenderedmoss]

I know I say this a lot, but I really do love my partners. I'm currently on a call with one of them (got them into Tumblr) and they're just making the most adorable stim noises as they scroll through their dash and I'm gonna cry 😭😭😭

I'm so happy they're my partner 💜💜

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Popping by to say hi because the ideas do not stop

Legacy looking in the mirror, like half the cat videos that exist in the internet. Only he does recognise himself there, so he makes funny faces and literally twists himself around just to see how he looks like with silly poses.

Silly silly mothman. He's taken over my mind.

he is so silly and so cute i want to hug him and watch him snuggle down so bad

Childe used to despise Foul Legacy's reflection- it only served as a reminder of his monstrous half, the part of him that lives for battle and bloodshed alone- until he met you, and when Childe saw your awed reaction to his Abyssal counterpart he could feel himself falling in love with you all over again. slowly Legacy becomes accustomed to his reflection in the mirror, staring at it and tilting his head, trying to see what his mask-like face looks like with different expressions- he doesn't want you to feel unloved if he can't be as expressive as a human can- Legacy particularly delights in sticking his tongue out at himself, it always draws a growly laugh from his throat

you'll come home to him hanging upside down from the ceiling, glancing away from the mirror with a happy trill when he sees you. he hastily climbs down and hugs you, tugging you over so you're both standing in front of the mirror together. if he notices you looking uncertain or ashamed of your own appearance he'll gently nudge your cheek until you peek over at him, before bumping his forehead against yours with a sweet croon. he doesn't make you look in the mirror, just at him as he showers you little kisses and licks until you laugh, reaching up to scritch behind his horns and listen to him purr deeply at your touch

Childe doesn't mind Foul Legacy's reflection anymore