#happy birthday death magnetic!

[kirkybabygo]

WHY CAN’T I FORGIVE MEEE? *epic guitar solo*

[malcolmreeds]

the book of love is long and boring / no one can lift the damn thing / its full of charts and facts and figures / and instructions for dancing

[urfavlarry]

How are you? I just read the cigarettes after sex fic and I'm giggling and kicking my feet <3 Can I request a Joost Klein x fem!reader that's opposite of his style? Like opposites attract :3

The devil with his angel

Joost Klein x fem!reader

summary: readers style is a bit more feminine and usually wear lighter colours, unlike joost who had a masculine, street wear type of style. you were the prime example of the saying ‘opposites attract’

a/n: reader has a slightly specified outfit, hope thats alright<3

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╰┈➤ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 🐦 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

— You and Joost have been dating for a few months in secret, wanting some privacy before revealing anything to the public. It was more for you to build your relationship more and have your peace and quiet for some time, knowing your fans could get a bit hectic. You loved each other dearly, you two filled each other’s empty spaces, you fit together like an ancient puzzle basically soulmates.

In the present, you were currently at Joosts concert, you being on the opposite side of the barrier blocking the fans from rushing to the stage giving you your space. You were smiling, singing along to his songs. You only started learning dutch when you started dating Joost to show your dedication to this relationship and how much he meant to you, and so you could support him during his concerts like you were doing now. You didn’t fit in the crowd however at all, everyone wearing more darker colours, or something not that bright meanwhile you were here in a floral dress, some white stockings, mary janes and some accessories. You stood out like a black sheep, which was ironic since you were the only one NOT wearing black. You stood closer to the stage, taking some photos of Joost on your polaroid camera he got you on your birthday. You smiled, everyone would be able to tell you were love struck if your back wasn’t facing them.

Joost was in the middle of playing his song ´Droom Groot’ , it was clear he loved performing the atmosphere of his concerts were never dull, always some kind of emotions were being felt during his concerts. The end of the song was nearing, the “Yes, yes, ladies and gentlemen this was Joost Klein with his hit single ´Dome Groot’ “ You smiled softly, Joost looking down at you with a smile before crouching and cupping your cheek in his hand, giving you a kiss on the lips. Your eyes went wide and your cheeks got hotter, the crowd screaming and whistling, even some gasps were heard. It really was a strange sight, you really were polar opposites.

The next day the media went crazy. You were on every media, trending somewhere in the tops 10s. You scrolled through all the articles, some fans were beyond excited and celebrated the union of their two favourite artists, while others were dumbfounded. They had no idea how such polar opposittes could have found their way to each other. Joost came out the shower, towel loosely tied on his hips as he dried his hair. He came towards you and looked at your phone. “How bad is it?” He asks, a smile on his face. You return his smile, looking up at him. “It’s a mix of ‘oh my god i’m so happy for them’ and ‘how are they even together’ but that was more than expected.” You say and he nods kissing your forehead. “Yeah, but i’m glad I don’t have to hide my love for you anymore.”

Despite the media going crazy, you two embraced your public relationship, attending events together and Joost couldn’t help to always post something about you somewhere, your styles making you guys even more magnetic. Fans slowly started to see the connection between you two, acceptance growing more by the day. One time you both had to speak up about your relationship a bit more, since death threats started to be thrown into your inboxes left and right.

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Joost Klein

@joostklein✓

It’s funny how you all see our styles and think we’re two worlds apart. Aside our styles were just two people who have passion for music and love each other.

Liked by bambiethug, {yourusername} and 2,082,096 others

user79107 and 568K others commented

bambiethug: you two are such sweethearts!! sending you all the love and protection from evil<3

user6618990: JOOST NOO MY HUSBAND

fucktheebu replied to user6618990: grow up you’re like 12

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{your nickname}

@{yourusername} ✓

I get we have different styles but giving us death threats? Wow..

You don’t see more then what we put on the media, you don’t know what our relationship is like behind closed doors. We may have different styles but we love each other and have the same passion for music, we basically balance each other out in our own way. Sending love to everyone that supported us xx

Liked by joostklein, user97741 and 1,980,762 others

hihixlovers and 567K others commented

lolianx: ❤️❤️ love your dynamic fr

apsondabluebirdha: tell them!!

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After that the whole thing calmed down. You two lived your lives more peacefully and you didn’t have to hide anymore. The both of you made a song together, tours sold out and your albums too. It was nice but it did add some stress to your career. You managed it all together always being there for one another despite your slight differences. You cherished every moment together, whether it was a simple night out, cooking together, singing silly songs together or just cuddling and watching a movie, all of it was just perfect.

You were currently in prague, performing a concert there together. You were the opener of Joosts concerts, since you didn’t really have the finances to two different tours so you decided on being the opener which you were more than happy to do.

You sat in a café, admiring the view of prague and also lost in thought. Joost was talking about the upcomig concerts, talking about the new places he wanted to see. He noticed your dazed state and stopped talking, putting a hand on yours as if to silently as if you’re okay. “Just thinking.” You say and he raises a brow; “About?” He pries and you chuckle softly. “I mean, do you ever think about how unlikely this is? Us, I mean.” You ask he he thinks for a moment, gathering his thought before soeaking up; “All the time. And every single time I realize how lucky I am to have you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I appreciate you.” You smiled, heart full of his enduring words. “Same here Joost, same here.”

About half a year later, your one year anniversary came. You were standing on stage, just finishing a song you wrote together just a few months ago. Cheers were heard throughout the crowd, signs with words like “We love you!” “You saved me.” “We’re proud of you.” were held high in the air, your heart melting. Realisation hit you like a truck as Joost picked you up and spinned you around, smiling wildly. He put you down, resting his forehead against yours, sweat dripping down from all the jumping around you’ve done during this concert. You smiles lovingly, holding his hands, fingers interwined. “We did it Joost.” “Yeah, we did.” In that moment you knew you found the right person. You realised you wanted to spend the rest of your days on this earth with this man, in his embrace, in his presence. Together you created beautiful and unforgettable memories that defied expectations, showing that sometimes, the most gorgeous harmonies come from the most unexpected places.

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╰┈➤ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 🐦 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

[breadbrobin]

blanket hog

tim drake x reader — dc / batfam

[gn!reader]

summary: you’d never been close with tim, but now you were sharing a bed—too close. far too close—and you didn’t know what to think

warnings: light swearing, sharing a bed (ONE BED TROPE MY BELOVED), idiots in love, kissing, is my writing good? idk anymore

word count: 1.7k

(this was meant to be in two parts but it’s way shorter than i thought it was when i was writing it lmao. anyway happy birthday tim drake!)

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if tim drake was a magnet you were his polar opposite. that much you knew for sure. rather than draw you in, he repelled you backwards, unfazed by his ceo smile and somehow perfect hair. it was his unnerving ice-blue eyes that seemed to look through you and his fumbling words that pushed you back. there was something in his stare, and it made your cheeks burn and your heart race, and you didn’t like it. if you could’ve stayed away, you would have.

but fate was a fickle thing.

and when blankets were hogged, you’d fight tooth and nail not to freeze to death.

it had been an easy decision to share the queen-sized bed. the hotel room was small—a bed, a dresser and a bathroom alone—and none of his siblings had wanted to share with him. steph and cass took the only other double room in the small-town in, leaving you with no choice. there wasn’t even any floor space.

“we can take shifts?” tim had suggested, his cheeks uncharacteristically pink.

you’d told him not to be ridiculous, and then you’d had to practically tackle him into the bed to get him to sleep at all.

finally, the room was filled with only soft breathing as you drifted off, warm and cosy in the surprisingly soft sheets.

and then you were cold.

what?

your sleepy eyes blinked open and you frowned. did someone open the window? your sleep addled brain hadn’t put the pieces together just yet. your fingers tightened around the blankets you had pulled against your—ah. that was the issue.

you frowned and rolled onto your back, reaching around to find them. where did they go?

there! you connected. how did they get there? no matter.

you pulled the blankets loosely, but they barely budged. you frowned again. what the hell?

you blinked in the darkness, peering at the shape in the bed next to you. it came rushing back. tim drake. typical. you had to be bunking with the blanket hog.

you pulled the blankets harder, to no avail. you gritted your teeth and dug your heels in (metaphorically), pulling with all your might and hoping they wouldn’t rip. sure, bruce could pay for the replacement, but you’d feel bad.

finally, the blankets came wrapping around you. you rolled back onto your side as you pulled them tight to your chin. then an arm was around your waist. then there was a warm breath on the back of your neck.

oh.

tim’s chest was pressed loosely against your back. he was still gripping the blankets too, obviously dragged by your pulling. you shifted for a moment, but his grip on you only tightened. fabulous.

your heart raced—why did your heart race?—and your palms sweated slightly. it wasn’t hot, but you felt all warm and fuzzy, like you’d just had a big cup of tea. it was tim. even if he wasn’t like a furnace, you realised he’d warm you like this. finally, you let yourself relax into his embrace.

you’d deal with that in the morning, and just hope no one came in before you woke up.

the morning was warm and cosy. you didn’t think too hard about why. there was sunlight streaming onto your body through a gap in the curtains and the blankets were warm and—what was that?

it felt like a breath of air against your skin. you opened your eyes and immediately slammed them closed again.

oh. right.

tim.

throughout the night, you’d clearly managed to roll in his grip until you were face to face. his arm was loose around your waist, hand tangled slightly in your sleep shirt. your legs were tangled with his. your stomach lurched with something unknown, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

you opened your eyes slowly, tentatively, and—

oh.

you were thinking that a lot lately.

it was rare to see tim without a tense frown on his face. it aged him, made him look more stressed and intense. but now… his face was soft with sleep, lips parted just so. oh god, your stomach fluttered.

maybe that was why you’d never been able to be comfortable around him. were you…? no. surely not, right?

as if your thoughts were probing into his dreams, tim stirred slightly. the arm around your body tightened for a second, and his eyebrows twitched. your breath caught in your throat and you snapped your eyes closed again. you really didn’t want to look at him when he woke up, but a soft sigh came from his lips, then a gasp, and he retracted his arm like he’d been burned. you felt instantly colder as he jerked backwards.

you looked up him as he sat up abruptly.

he had a shell-shocked look on his face. scandalised, even. his eyes—startlingly blue—met yours. “i’m so sorry.” his voice was soft and rough with sleep.

you had to swallow tightly before you could reply. “it’s okay.”

“i don’t—“ he shook his head and rubbed his face. “i shouldn’t have—“

“you kinda grabbed me when i pulled the blankets back last night.” you admitted quietly, sitting up too.

“oh.” he said dumbly.

“yeah. blanket hog.” you shot him a small smile.

that seemed to break the tension. he smiled back. “shut up.”

“does koala fit better?”

he groaned and flopped back down onto the bed, covering his face. “i said i was sorry.”

“and i said it was okay.” you shot back immediately, watching him with a small smile. you didn’t quite know what it meant, but you did know that there was something different between you now. it was like you’d broken through the previous tension to discover something more. worse? better? you didn’t know yet.

he opened his eyes and peered at you between his fingers. “you’re not upset?”

“why would i be? it was cold. you’re like a furnace.” you shrugged, deciding to play it cool.

he sat up again and pushed his hands through his hair. it fell back in front of his face. your fingers twitched like you wanted to push it back again. “right. yeah.”

you found yourself studying his face. when he wasn’t looking stressed or exhausted, he was actually really pretty, you realised. obviously, you objectively knew that—the tabloids did a great job of describing how pretty he was (not that you read them, no way)—but you’d never taken the time to see it yourself.

he shifted under your gaze. “what?”

“nothing.” you said sharply, turning your head away. you leaned back against the rickety headboard. he followed suit.

there was silence for a long while. you fiddled with your fingers, not looking at him. you could feel his gaze on your profile, probing and studying and examining you like you were a piece of evidence at a crime scene.

finally, you let your eyes dart back to him.

he wasn’t looking at your eyes.

there was a rush that went through you as his piercing eyes flashed between your lips and eyes. your breath caught and you looked away again, before you could do anything stupid.

“why don’t you like me?” he asked softly. “i mean… you act like you hate me. why?”

“i don’t hate you.” you said softly.

he scoffed. “yeah, i know that. why do you act like you hate me?”

you were silent for a moment. you could feel tim’s gaze on your face again. “i don’t know. i think it’s because…” you swallowed your pride. “you always look like you want to say something to me, but you never do. i think i felt like you didn’t like me.”

“i do.” he said in a rush, the words spilling out of him. “i do like you. i don’t know why i can’t seem to talk to you like a normal person, but i just…”

you looked over at him with a small smile. “you’re doing a pretty good job right now, for a boa constrictor.”

he groaned and laughed a little, shaking his head. “you’re terrible.”

“seriously i think you cut off my circulation.”

“very funny.”

“i’ll sue you for my medical bills when i have to amputate from the lack of blood flow.”

“i’ll pay them anyway.” his voice was soft. it sounded like a confession.

your heart fluttered. “so you admit guilt?”

he nodded slightly. his eyes weren’t so piercing in the warm dimness of the hotel room. they were warmer, softer, more gentle. or maybe that was just the way he was looking at you. “and i’d do it again.”

yesterday, you would have laughed at him and kept joking. today… you bit down a smile. “i think i’d allow that.”

he didn’t hide his smile. “yeah?”

you let yours show a little too. “yeah, i guess.”

“and if i were to maybe kiss you? would you allow that?” he asked softly, barely above a whisper. his eyes dropped to your lips again.

your heart climbed into your throat and did a little dance. you nodded. “yeah, i suppose i could allow that.”

for a moment, you wondered if this was a good idea. if this would backfire on you. if this would result in pain and loss and not to mention hours of teasing from steph about getting her ‘sloppy seconds’. if this would end terribly and ruin your entire dynamic with the bats, who you’d only just started working with.

and then tim’s lips were on yours and your mind went blissfully blank.

you sighed into the kiss, your hand coming up to his chest.

the kiss was brief, but as his lips pulled away from yours, your hand tightened on the collar of his shirt and pulled him back to you.

after all that time not understanding what these feelings were, you finally got why your cheeks burned and your heart raced and why he could never talk properly around you.

god, it all made sense, and his fingers in your hair and cupping your jaw were exactly where they were meant to be. the knock on the door only drew you back to reality for a moment before his lips were on yours again, and again, and again, and you realised you could stay there for a lifetime. you’d be happy to.

[pinkglitterygelpen]

crows

summary, crows are known to gift small trinkets they find on their travels to those who have been kind to them, much like daryl always keeping an eye out for things he thinks you’ll like. (1.6k)

dear reader, happy birthday normi !!! this is based off that moment in season 4 where daryl picks up that jasper stone and stares at it for the rest of the episode, like the thoughtful and sensitive cutie he is. this is quite long and wordy and sadly self indulgent lol.

before the world ended, the concept of owning things was different. some people wanted to own the earth, other people didn’t want anyone to own anything at all. we owned things by paying for them with money, to be insured that it rightfully belonged to us. that, with most other civil systems, died a sudden and complete death.

that’s changed, whether it’s easier or even more difficult now is up for debate. most things we would classify as our own are things we need, things we’ve taken from the relics of a family home or abandoned store. it was painful for a while, scavenging felt dirty and disrespectful, like we’re tearing apart any remnants of the people who died so that we don’t have to. but, now, it’s been over a year and it’s more rationalised, it’s something we need to do to survive.

some people thought the forgotten world had become a grave yard, but you saw it like a museum. even though most people had disappeared, their belongings immortalised them, a simple symbol of the life they once lived. knowing you might be the last person on this earth to take notice of the wedding photos and framed certificates made you feel a sort of comfort, acknowledging their existence maybe meant they could acknowledge yours and understand you’re only picking them apart to live on for the people that weren’t that lucky.

you’d accumulated a small collection of memories that didn’t belong to you, lockets and city magnets you knew where once treasured by someone else, too precious to be left abandoned. they rested in a beige shoe box in your cell. no one really knew about it, except for daryl.

not only was he the one you went on runs with, so he’d seen you picking up the small memorabilia; he also found himself in your cell quite frequently, nosing around. he’d never admit but he was always seeking out your comfort, when he couldn’t be with you he’d surround himself with you. reading your books, cleaning your guns, laying on your bed.

a while ago you came back from a quick job with carol to find him hunched over your makeshift dresser, carefully lifting thing out the box to look at them in the light. you didn’t try and explain it to him because you knew you didn’t have to, he might not have completely understood why you kept what he thought was junk but he didn’t mind to. you walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your cheek between his shoulders; he thinks it’s beautiful, how much love you have for everything.

“makes me sad.” he speaks low, only for you. holding what looks like it could’ve been an engagement ring you found in a nightstand next to a bed containing the corpse of a woman.

“doesn’t have to.” lifting your head to place your chin on his shoulder, getting a better look what he’s holding. he turns his head, lips almost touching your cheek, waiting for you to continue.

“you don’t have to see it as love that’s been lost, it’s proof of love after loss.” there’s a beat of silence before he places the ring back in the box and turns in your arms, holding your head to his chest.

“that’s nice.” you don’t see his face and he doesn’t say anything else, you don’t know what he’s feeling but you never have to with daryl. he’s not good with words but he lets you know in other ways, the things you need to know.

the next day he went on a run with some of the men to clear out a small cottage they’d came across deep in the trees. shuffling through cabinets and draws to find any supplies worth lugging back to prison, daryl found a small porcelain bunny, something a grandma would keep. only around four inches tall with minimal detail and a blue floral pattern on its back. after making sure no wandering eyes had found him, he secured it safely in the front pocket of his trousers to give to you when he got back. as always, he found you tentatively lingering near the gates for his arrival and he felt a spark go right through his heart. when he held your hand in his and placed the token of affection in your palm, there was no telling who was happier. you understood that him thinking about you even when he was supposed be working and remembering your little quirks was his way of showing love. he understood that he’d steal a thousand small bunnies to make you happy.

from that point on, he was never not looking for things to bring to you. he was particular about if the nick knacks where good enough sometimes, other times he’d bring you actual stones he thought where coolly shaped or extra smooth. every once in a while, when he was feeling particularly emotional or you’d been extra close, he’d be super sentimental. coming up with stories for them or attaching a specific symbolism. like today, he found a jasper stone.

as soon as the pretty green chip of rock caught his eye he reached to the ground to pick it up. whipping the dirt off with the pads of his fingers, being conscious of his strength he so often disregarded as to not damage it. he heard michonne huff out a sarcastic comment and gave a half-assed response but really he wasn't focused on any conversation. too busy thinking about what it meant, he never had time for the spiritual and cooky phases others went through but he knew people used believe these kind of rocks had meaning. he had no idea where to start with it but he was sure you probably did. it was a long day of work, he would so much rather be in his home with you, he must have pulled the rock out of his pocket thirty times to think about what you'd have to say about it when he showed you.

"hey." he greeted you simply after watching you from behind for a few seconds, folding clothes at the laundry station.

"hey. how was it?" you reply with a smile, trying not to reveal the anxiety that you felt for him every time he was away from you and outside the walls, failing by giving into your initial instinct to grabs his cheeks and inspect him for any injuries. he soothes your hearts aches with one kiss your palm and small smile.

"'m fine." he waits a pause to take you in before reaching into his pocket to pull out the rock. "look what i found." he watches your face light up immediately when you see it, what he's anticipated all day. "i think its jasper. definitely real though, found it in the dirt, near some water. there's probably more, i could always look." most of what he says sounds like a question, getting shy only because he wants you like his small gift. you look up from inspecting the stone to catch his eyes, leaning in for a short but rich kiss. "if you'd like."

"thank you." he nods awkwardly, head down to conceal his growing smile. "well, its definitely jasper." you hold the stone to his temple, he just stares into your eyes as you compare your thoughts. "matches your eyes."

shying away even more now, reaching up to rub his palm over his face, unable to accept the simple yet bold flattery. "don't do that." he grumbles out the statement in an effort to avoid the all too familiar distaste any praise causes him, years of abuse and neglect conditioning him to believe he doesn't deserve it. you see it written all over his face and it causes a crack through our heart, using the back of the hands holding the stone to brush his cheek, you wont stop loving him until he believes it.

"this's very thoughtful of you, ill find a good place for it." you wrap your arms around his neck, elbows on his shoulders, chest to his, undoubtedly a nosy pair of eyes watching from somewhere close by. you kiss his cheek like you've done a thousand times before, lips placing a protective layer over his precious skin and delicate soul. he wants to give into you so bad, lay his head over your heart and let you bury him in your arms forever, but he's just not there yet. he hopes that somehow you understand what he's telling you through all his efforts to find nice things for you. he doesn't know it, but you do.

he leans back from your embrace, just far enough to look into your eyes but still bask in your warmth. "do you know what it means?", almost embarrassed of his statement he speaks quietly.

"i remember my grandmother hanging a jasper stone she'd bought in the shape of a heart over my bedroom door when i was a teenager, 'said it would give me strength through changes and new beginnings, she had loads." its silent for a few seconds, the sounds of the prison fill in the blanks. carl kicking up a fuss about something, rick telling him off, carol bashing pots and pans around as she cleans, glen stomping on the gravel. its a welcome moment of peace, everyone can only hope lasts till tommorow.

"i like that." the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. his hands coming to rest on your back, rubbing up and down as he takes in his environment. "maybe we hang this over the door to the cell?" he looks at you expectantly, you smile back at him and nod your head. leading each other to the block holding hands, the little rock safely between them.

the world is surely lacking in its comforts, you're one of the lucky ones to have still be able to love. wherever he goes, whatever he sees, he'll remember that and carry it with him. his tiny trinkets he brings home to you carry an amount of affection no one can bother to measure, its beautiful and its yours.

[princessgojolover]

Partition

Nanami Kento realises his grave mistake of pushing his wife away. He'll do anything and everything to get her back.

Ex husband!Nanami Kento x Reader

CW: NSFW, hate sex, Nanami being a piece of shit, mentions of divorce, angst with a happy ending, creampie, unprotected sex, choking, hair pulling, oral sex (m receiving), squirting, overstimulation, stalking if you squint, degradation, car sex, misogynistic undertones, coming from Nanami. (Not really in this part)

Part 1 of 3

wc: 1062

You’re not sure how things went wrong. You try to understand it all, as you lower yourself into the warm bath, with a glass of freshly poured wine in your hand. Eyeing the flickering candle across from you, the memories of your marriage with Nanami Kento come flooding back. The man who was once loving, doting and there for you became cold, neglectful and absent. When he first started to change, you brushed it off as a bad day at work, but a bad day became a bad week, which became bad months until you’d simply had enough. It was not what you had signed up for. While you take sips of the red wine that he had actually bought you as a last minute birthday gift, you reminisce on the beginning of your marriage. You remember how he promised to take care of you, how he promised to love and cherish you, until death do you apart. What a load of bullshit. 

It was laughable how you’d even trusted his words and trusted that you could live happily ever after. But what was not so amusing was Nanami’s reaction to him finding divorce papers on his desk on a random Thursday evening. He didn’t even bother to fight for your love, he’d signed the papers and left them on the refrigerator, held down by a souvenir magnet from your honeymoon in Italy. All it did was remind you just how unempathetic the bastard really was, and how much of a fool you were to even say yes in the first place. You were a fool to give up on your career and to serve as a housewife for this man, just for him to come home late without notifying you, just for him to let the food that you’d spent hours cooking for him to get cold, just for him to forget your anniversary and, evidently, your existence. Nanami did not honour your sacrifices, instead, he took them for granted and so a divorce is where it got him. You’re at least happy that the divorce was smooth. Nanami had given you a lot of his money. It’s not like he needed it anyway. You’d moved out pretty quickly into your lonesome apartment, which was much different to the large mansion that you were living in with your ex husband. Once again, you were an attorney and a single woman, ready to live your life alone. 

–

While you seemed to be taking the separation better than most, Nanami, on the other hand, was starting to realise the error of his ways. When he’d come home from a long, treacherous day of fighting curses and dealing with annoying colleagues, such as Gojo Satoru, there was no warm welcome waiting for him. There was no warm food there for him. And there was no warm pussy ready for him to fuck. Everything was cold. The house was cold, but never as cold as Nanami was to his own wife. Kento sighed, taking off his shoes and his coat, hanging it up before he walked into the living room. The house was empty. There were no more pretty flowers or pictures of you both decorating the room. There wasn’t even a rug anymore. You had taken it into your new apartment when you moved out. A loud banging on the door brings Kento out of his thoughts. “Nanami! You forgot your stupid umbrella.” Gojo shouts through the letterbox.

“Fucking idiot..” Kento mumbles, turning around to open the door for his ‘friend’. 

“How rude!” Gojo exclaims, laughing. He stops joking when he sees how dull the house actually looks. “What the hell happened here? The place looks like a horror movie setting.” Gojo jokes, pushing past Nanami. 

“Idiot, get the hell out of my house.” He mumbles, watching as his friend takes his shoes off.

“This place needs a woman’s touch, Nanami.” Gojo states. “I guess you are really suffering without your ex wife.” He adds, his tone laced partly with pity and partly with worry.

“The house looks fine. And it’s none of your business. Idiot.” Kento lies. It was more than obvious that Gojo was right. The house was missing warmth, love and creativity ever since you’d left. There were no hot meals waiting for him and Nanami did not have the patience to cook for himself, the empty takeout boxes on the coffee table acting as evidence. “I’m staying for dinner.” Gojo decides, not giving Kento the chance to refuse. He only sighs, turning the TV on. “Just order something.” He tells Gojo, who is busy trying to turn the TV on. When he finally does, a reality TV show comes on, which definitely does not seem suited to Nanami’s tastes. “You watch this shit?” Gojo laughs.

“She usually watches it.” Gojo already knows who he is talking about.

“Well she used to.” Nanami sighs. The truth is, Nanami had not changed the channel since you’d left. He would just imagine you sitting on your shared sofa, playing with his blonde hair after he’d had a long day. He’s lost so much without even realising. 

“You clearly miss her.” Satoru declares. Nanami looks up to meet his eyes. “You should call her. Ask her to meet for proper closure.” Gojo advises his colleague.

“I already got closure.” Kento states in return.

“Bullshit. Signing papers and agreeing on who takes what is definitely not closure. Did you even apologise to her? Did you even tell her how much she meant to you?” Gojo asks, starting to become annoyed. “You’re acting like you know everything again.” Kento starts to grow irritated.

“I do know everything. I especially know the feeling of regret.” Satoru affirms, putting the TV remote down. “If you don’t try then you’ll never get the chance to have what she gave you again. You’ll never get over it, meaning you won’t experience love like that again. And then you’ll just be a grumpy old fuck forever, and that’s no good for you or me.” He continues, joking on the last part. Nanami only sighs in response. He knows that his friend is right but he refuses to admit it. “Did you order yet?” He asks, hoping to change the topic. Although, he soon realises that he’d made a grave mistake. And he was going to try everything to fix it.

This is just a little teaser i guess for an upcoming short fic. Hope you like it.

[a-d-nox]

what's a solar return?

any time the sun transits and becomes exactly conjunct your natal sun (it is in the exact sign and degree it was in when you were born), you undergo a solar return. solar returns happen every year on your birthday. my solar return is coming up this october, so i thought "why not?let's continue my thoughts about the return charts."

but what can a solar return chart show you?

literally everything about your year ahead. you just have to look at it and know what you are looking at/for. so let's break it down some of the basics...

sun

energy/aura, attention you receive this year, leadership opportunities, creativity, pride/ego/dignity, how generous you are, individuality, personal development, self-awareness, what makes you happy, celebrations, and self-expression.

moon

emotions / emotional responses, self-care, comfort zone / safe space, femininity, mothers / matriarchal / maternal instincts, family, nostalgia, pregnancy/fertility, baking/cooking, adaptability, menstruation, and habits/routines.

mercury

communication/gossiping, mindset / reasoning skills, perception, writing, social media / cellphone use, short trips, ground transportation, and mannerisms.

venus

romance, beauty/aestheticism, pleasure(s), art/entertainment, self-love, harmony, femininity, sentimentality, how you compromise, parties/celebrations, and possessions.

mars

passions/desires, self-confidence, ambition, anger/aggression, competitiveness, athletics / physical energy, impulsivity, courage/bravery, tasks, masculinity, assertiveness, sexuality, and violence.

jupiter

luck, abundance, wealth, success, opportunity, popularity, wisdom, air travel, ease, higher education (college/university), optimism, justice/retribution, law, and fulfillment.

saturn

work, achievement/mastery, challenges, karma, fathers / patriarchy / paternal instincts, fears, guilt, delays/limitations, discipline, responsibility, past issues that are prevalent this year, practicality, stability, endurance, maturity, and grudges.

uranus

friends/fans/followers, technology, fluctuation/change, rebellion, independence, originality, unexpected things / surprises, and chaos.

neptune

creativity, selflessness, escapism, intuition, hidden things, deception/lies/delusion, confusion, inspiration, and addiction/fascination.

pluto

change/transformation, power, sex/seduction, death, intensity/magnetism, obsessions, manipulation, and purging.

1h/asc

identity, approach/mindset this year, physical appearance, mannerisms, and your presence.

2h

money/finances this year, material possessions, self worth, what you are giving/receiving, and resources.

3h

communication/gossip, mind / method of thinking, sibling relationship(s), interests, ideas/information, ground transportation, social media / cellphone use, publishing, and short trips.

4h/ic

homes/houses, family matters, parents (mainly maternal figures), inner child work you do this year, inheritance, traditions you practice this year, self-care you do this year, and femininity.

5h

children, talents / hobbies / entertainment / creative pursuits, drama, short-term romances, pleasures/gifts, fertility, and joy/delight/jubilation

6h

daily routine, health/fitness/diet, work/duties, self-improvement / shadow work, hygiene, and pet(s).

7h/dsc

long-term relationships / marriage / partnerships, how you care for others (if you care for others), minor legal pursuits, contracts/negotiations, known enemies, close associates / business partners, and equality/harmony/sharing (how you promote it and how (if) you receive it).

8h

changes (external and internal), death (internal and external), shared finances, what you invest in, stocks/taxes/inheritance/loans/assets, intimacy (intellectual and physical), secrets/mystery, mental health / trauma you experience, and possible surgery/operations.

9h

wisdom you gain, major legal pursuits, new beliefs/ethics/philosophy milestones, college/university, and air travel / travel abroad.

10h/mc

career, public image / status / reputation in society, responsibilities towards society/others, authority, paternal figures, and your professional aspirations (the progress you make towards them this year).

11h

friends/companions/allies/groups, ideals/desires, how your different this year as opposed to years past, technology, networking/socializing, and parties (formal and informal).

12h

how you heal this year from you past / mental health journey, karma, sleeping habits, your experience with solitude/isolation this year, unknown enemies, illusions/delusions you have about your situation, fears / self-limitation, losses, and what you secretly/subconsciously want most this year.

like what you read? leave a tip and state what post it is for! please use my "suggest a post topic" button if you want to see a specific post or mythical asteroid next!

click here for the masterlist

click here for more return chart posts

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© a-d-nox 2023 all rights reserved

[denaliwrites]

Let Me Come Home

Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader

Summary: Things took a turn during your travels with the Doctor.

Soundtrack: Home by Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros

Requests: Open!

Warnings: S A D D O C T O R A L E R T !

Tag List: @nyxiethesimp

You waited for him every day.

He said "I'll be right back." You remembered it, clear as day. Played the moment he stepped into the TARDIS over and over in your mind.

And you waited.

There was only one place on the space station that the TARDIS could manifest into, really, and it was, as far as you were concerned, out of bounds. But there was a little communal area nearby; it was the first place you and the Doctor had wandered into from that little closet, which meant that, should the TARDIS appear, you'd hear it -- and you'd see the Doctor only moments later.

So you spent as much time there as you could.

Being on the space station for so long, you had no choice but to take up duties or else be sent off somewhere else, so you couldn't spend your every waking moment there. But your every break, your every moment not spent working, was spent in that little room.

You even spent some nights there, falling asleep to the metallic hum of the station under your feet.

No one bothered you.

The Doctor had saved them from certain death. They understood the gravity of him, the love and dedication one developed for a person like that. And you'd been with him for some time. They'd only spent the one day with him. They couldn't imagine how you felt. How much you hurt as you waited, day after day, your loyalty and certainty never once wavering. Even in the face of ever decreasing odds.

And yet.

You jolted awake one night (well, "night" was relative) to the unmistakable sound of the TARDIS.

He'd finally come back for you.

You'd fallen asleep in that little break room again, something you did with increasing frequency, but you didn't mind. A few restless nights were worth it when you knew you'd be back in the TARDIS eventually.

You were standing, waiting, when he stepped through the door. When he looked around, trying to get his bearings and finding you instead.

Your name had barely left his lips when you launched yourself at him, pulling him into a hug so tight that his breathing was momentarily cut off. There was no hesitation, his arms were instantly around you, holding you nearly as tight.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured into your ear, over and over again, and you could tell that he meant it down to the deepest pits of his two hearts. That leaving you behind weighed heavy on him. Haunted him.

"Why?" you asked simply, voice impossibly soft.

He pulled out of the hug, though his hands stayed firmly on your shoulders, like you might vanish the moment he broke contact with you.

"Someone put a time lock on the moment I left. I don't know how and I don't know why... but I've spent the last few hours trying different moments to get back. This was the first one that worked."

A few hours.

He'd only been gone a few hours.

In his time.

"Doctor, I've been here a year."

The way your voice broke on that last word broke him. You could see it in his eyes.

"I know," he said, voice full of endless sorrow. "I know. I'm so sorry. I tried so hard to get back to you sooner."

"I know." And you did. You knew the Doctor would never abandon you, never intentionally leave you.

"They've treated you well?" he asked suddenly, as his eyes took you in, looked you over. Examined you.

"The best," you answered with a tearful, relieved laugh. "They put me to work after you didn't show up for a week, but they've made sure I'm fed and clothed and everything. They even assigned me a new birthday and threw me a party."

He laughed at that, though the smile on his face seemed... sad.

"What's wrong?" you asked, tensing up.

"It's just..."

"What is it, Doctor?"

"You seem happy." And his words were so final, like there was no other conclusion, and nowhere left to go from that statement. "You took really well to the future," he commented after barely a moment, leaving you no room to think, to interject. "You've made friends. A life..."

Oh.

You saw the problem even before he said it.

"You'll want to stay, then?" The inflection made it sound like a question, but you knew it was an assumption.

"Don't you fucking dare leave me here again, Doctor."

"Sorry, what?" His face was stunned, and you were reminded for the first time in over a year that sometimes he could be a complete dumbass. "But... you're happy here... content here..."

"Please," you begged, voice thick with emotion. "Please, let me come home."

"And where's home?" he asked, and you knew that he thought you meant Earth, your time. Perhaps even specifically the house you'd lived in, with your family.

"You're home," you said instead.

It took a moment for him to realize what you'd said, and you watched as first the realization hit, and then as his face morphed from something so full of sorrow to so full of joy and hope.

"You were always my home. Always will be," you assured him, and he pulled you into another tight embrace.

When the crew awoke the next "morning," all your belongings were gone. The only thing left that showed you'd ever been there at all was a note you left wishing them goodbye, and a note from the Doctor expressing immeasurable gratitude to them for taking care of you.

[in-hav3n]

⸻ 𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 ✦

|| 80s till the 90s

Say It (fluff)

Peace and cuddles (fluff)

Saving her (fluff/angst)

Taking care (fluff/angst)

|| Load and Reload era

What do you feel ? (smut)

Phone sex (smut)

Until you like it (fluff)

New style (fluff)

|| 00s till Death Magnetic era

Sex tape (smut)

Happy birthday (smut)

Save me (fluff)

My guardian angel (fluff)

What did you say ? (fluff)

|| 2010 till HTSD era

Working out (smut)

|| 2019 till current

Who was right? (smut)

Time off (fluff)

Unexpected visit (smut)

Romantic time (fluff)

Nice to meet you (fluff)

Temptation (smut/fluff)

I'm here for you (fluff/angst)

[miscellaneoussmp]

I want my happy-ish domestic ending, so I wrote it myself. Anyways, here's Emi's sixteenth birthday (cw/tw: death mentions):

When Emi woke up, she was filled with excitement. Today, she was officially sixteen. She had lived one more year, and that was something, right? She had a relatively normal life now. She was adopted all those years ago. She goes to school and hangs out with friends like all teenagers her age do. After getting up from bed, she walked into the kitchen of the apartment, passing Luis, who was sleeping on the couch. A note was held on the fridge door with a magnet. It was from Benito. It said he had to go into work early, but hopefully, he'll be back in time to celebrate her birthday. It finished with him telling her to have a good day. Emi tried her best not to feel upset as she knew Benito was out here saving people. Like how he saved her. She made herself a bowl of cereal and sat on the arm rest of the couch where Luis slept. The tv was playing some old reality show that Emi didn't much care for.

School was pretty normal for Emi, aside from being given a few happy birthdays and a small gift of a cookie from a friend. There was only one hiccup in the day. Honestly, it really isn't a hiccup, just a surpise. A substitute teacher called full names on the roster, including hers Emilía-Lucie Camelo. When her adoption became official, she was allowed to change her name. She thinks it was meant for her to only change her last name, but when she added Lucie to her first name, Benito smiled so brightly at her. It was another way to keep Lucie's memory and legacy alive.

After school was over, Emi went back to the apartment she shared with Benito and Luis. Only Luis was home as it was his day off from working night-shift security at some fancy hotel. He greeted her and wished her a happy birthday while ruffling her head under her beanie. The two sat in comfortable silence while she did homework, and Luis did some minor chores. Near sunset, there was knocking at the door. When Luis opened the door, there stood Jeffrey and Diego. The two had been traveling around the world working through whatever they needed to work through. They still made time to be in Emi's life when possible as they, Diego mostly, took comfort in her being living proof of Lucie's memory. After a small group hug, they four took some time to eat a few snacks and watched some more trash tv together like a family would. They are a family afterall.

Benito came back just a bit after sunset with a cake and a few candles. It was too long after, when Emi sat at the dining table with a cake in front of her with some candles stuck in it. "She would be very proud of you if she was here, Emi," Diego spoke, and Emi's started to tear up. "Don't make her cry on her birthday, jackass." Benito immediately responded with both Luis and Jeffrey giving him 'what the fuck' type looks. Diego immediately apologized, saying sorry quickly in rapid secession. Emi found herself laughing softly as the candles were lit. She closed her eyes and blew out the candles. Her wish was for her to make what happened all those years ago worth it. Her birthday cake was caramel apple flavored.

[cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut]

In December 1993, TK Strand was born. Now, almost 30 years later, it’s time for a fandom celebration!

DEADLINE EXTENSION!!

Window of submission is now: 07/11/23 - 01/12/23

Hi guys. I have decided to shift from a hard deadline to a window of submission instead. This, in large part, is so I might not miss my own fandom event! I’m also hoping it’s gonna allow people in similar situations time to finish anything they might have been hoping to post/share for the event. Happy creating to all you!

—

Let’s get creative to celebrate our favourite disaster magnet paramedic!

Any medium of work is acceptable, from fic to fanart, videos to gifsets, as long as there’s a focus on his birthday where possible. If that’s not possible and you just wanna make something out of appreciation for TK as a character, that’s great too! It still counts! Anything at all you’d like to create to mark the occasion of TK Strand’s 30th birthday. (Also any genre is fine. Give us birthday fluff. Give us gritty birthday angst. Give us birthday smut 👀)

Although TK’s birthday is canonically in December, I thought it might be nice to give ourselves three months to the day to work on our pieces, meaning they will be posted on November 7th, which in fact is Ronen Rubinstein’s 30th birthday! I thought this might be a nice little way to mark our appreciation for both Ronen and TK.

On November 7th, please tag all works with #tkstrandturns30 and I will put together a masterlist in due course.

Below the cut are 30 prompts for possible birthday related shenanigans. Please ensure that when November 7th arrives, all work is appropriately tagged so we can help each other stay safe and informed. Happy creating!

Carlos stresses over what to get TK for his birthday, TK bombarding him with constant guesses all the while.

On TK’s birthday, Carlos takes him somewhere they’ve never been before.

Flashback to a previous birthday.

On TK’s birthday, one of their plans goes terribly wrong.

Another pet is added to the mix.

TK is moved/overwhelmed/astounded by the beautiful toasts/speeches his friends and family make at his birthday party.

TK becomes aware that his father’s latest midlife crisis is a direct result of the prospect of having a 30 year old son.

Carlos and TK celebrate alone.

Carlos buys TK an “experience” of some kind for his birthday.

TK and Carlos spend TK’s 30th in New York.

Someone ends up in the emergency room.

TK has his last near death experience of his 20s.

TK and Carlos discuss what they want from the next decade of their lives together.

Carlos hides 30 small surprises in the loft.

TK’s friends plan a surprise party, which either goes remarkably well or astonishing badly.

On or around TK’s 30th birthday, someone from his past makes an unwelcome appearance.

TK’s 4th coma. Will he wake up in time to see his birthday?

TK and Carlos plan a trip, and get stranded on the way there.

Owen is an emotional drunk at TK’s party, causing an unusual amount of chaos.

TK gets a birthday text from an ex.

TK thinks Carlos has forgotten his birthday.

TK receives an unusual gift from one of his friends.

TK leaves his birthday party for a moment of quiet introspection.

Enzo sends TK a birthday gift: something that belonged to Gwyn.

Carlos brings the wrong cake home from the bakery.

Carlos dresses as a clown for the party, not realising Owen is afraid of them.

TK accidentally finds out what Carlos is planning for his birthday, and has to choose whether to tell him, or pretend not to know.

Carlos and TK do something new in the bedroom.

TK gets the PERFECT birthday gift from an unexpected source.

Lou II wears a party hat, but who on earth got it onto his head?

[liebgotts-lovergirl]

Beside You (Ron Speirs x Reader Oneshot)

Pairing: Ron Speirs x Female!Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

For @brassknucklespeirs (Happy birthday, lovely!! I hope you like this💖 )

A/N: Me, using a Marianas Trench song for a ficlet? You’re damn right lol 😆

When your tears are spent

On your last pretense

And your tired eyes refuse to close

And sleep in your defense

You didn’t let yourself cry until you were alone, Ron knew that much, so when he saw you disappear into the stillness of the frigid Bastogne night, he knew exactly where you were headed. 

The days of ruthless shelling by the Germans had felled several trees in the nearby area, splintering them to bits…all except one, which lay across the snow a good 8-10 feet away from the rows of foxholes, tucked away behind a steep embankment, away from view. 

It was the perfect place to seek refuge for a brief second and as the company’s only combat nurse, God, did you need it. Try as he might, Doc Roe couldn’t be everywhere at once and that was where you came in. 

From your first day with Easy, you’d made it your mission to get to know every single trooper so that even in the heat of battle, when someone screamed “Medic!”, you could recognize their voice in an instant and get there. You would talk to them as you treated them, about anything they wanted: their families, their hometowns, sports teams, films, whatever they needed to keep them focused and awake. These men were trusting you with their lives and you would not let them down. You were friendly, hardworking, and dedicated to your field and your company; you never let gunfire or explosions hinder you. If you were needed, you were there. 

It was your warm and selfless nature that had first caught the eye of the infamous Ronald Speirs. You captivated him. How could someone so generous, so full of life, be here, in a place like this? You were an angel trapped in Hell but it didn't dim your shine, not even for a moment. You would give the shirt off your back to anyone who needed it, always the first to lend a hand and the last to quit at the day's end. 

Your vitality and generosity meant that you made friends easily, something that the withdrawn and mysterious Ron so envied. Like a magnet, people just gravitated towards you, happy to bask in your energetic glow, and Ron would watch quietly from the sidelines with a goofy smile on his face like a smitten schoolboy. You were like human sunshine, a balm to his hardened & war-torn soul.

When it's in your spine

Like you've walked for miles

And the only thing you want is just to

Be still for a while

But Bastogne…Bastogne was a whole different beast, even for someone as dynamic and exuberant as you. The conditions were abysmal, supplies almost nonexistent, and tensions running sky-high. 

 Most of the men you treated were lovely and appreciative of your care, but some… some weren’t. 

You'd first heard the mutterings after the deaths of two Replacements. One had been shot by a sniper that no one had spotted in time and the other had taken the brunt of a particularly nasty firefight. Campbell and Ulrich were both good kids and in both cases, you had done your best with what little you had but it just wasn’t enough. The wounds were too severe and you didn't have the equipment needed to perform a surgery that risky nor could you do it by yourself, on the battlefield of all places. All you could do was kneel beside them, hands bathed in blood, and whisper broken apologies for not being able to do more as they passed.

Eugene, all too familiar with this sort of loss, told you that you needed to forgive yourself. 

“There was nothin’ more you coulda done for 'em, cher,” he said as he handed you half of a bandage he'd scavenged. 

But in your heart, you just couldn’t believe that and neither could some of the boys. 

Roy Cobb had been especially close with Campbell and he had no qualms about telling the newest replacements and anyone else who would listen exactly what he thought had killed his friend and it wasn't the sniper's bullet. 

"What killed him was her damn incompetence," he'd announced, deliberately loud enough for you to hear. "She should've let Roe or Spina treat him, then maybe he would've survived." 

"Nobody wanted her here in the first place either," a mortarman named Lombardi added. "They should've given us a third medic instead of some nurse!"

Doc Spina was way out of earshot but your friend Eugene, who had been nearby, had already begun to argue in your defense when you had marched over to the disgruntled group. 

These were men you had treated in the past, you realized as your tormented fury began to build. You'd risked your life to save these ungrateful assholes and you knew damn well that the moment they needed you on the battlefield, you'd have to do it again. and again. and again.

Cobb shot you a dirty look and muttered something involving the word “useless” and that was all it took. Heart pounding in your ears, you hauled off and punched him so hard that his nose began gushing blood, but the damage had already been done. 

Speirs had heard the commotion from his foxhole and seeing you storm off, tears of frustration and hurt pricking your beautiful eyes, sent an icy rage coursing through his veins that surprised even him.  

Who the fuck hurt you like that?

He was going to find out.

The wrath blazing like hellfire in his eyes as he stalked over was enough to make even grown men cower and the guilty parties quailed under his gaze. Ron dragged each one by the collar behind the nearest tree trunk, pinning them one by one with his forearm across their throats before they could blink. 

“From now on, you will treat (Y/N) with the utmost respect,” he intoned, his voice eerily calm as he applied just enough pressure on their throats to make them cough. “You will treat her as if she were me. And if I ever get wind that you’re mouthing off at her or otherwise mistreating her again, so help me God, there won't be enough left of you to mail home in a cigarette pack. Is that clear?”

"Y-Yes sir," they'd gasped out and grudgingly, he let them dart back to their foxholes one by one like mice.

He had more important things to worry about.

And if your heart wears thin

I will hold you up

And I will hide you

When it gets too much

I'll be right beside you

Seeing you cry tore Ron's heart in two. You were sitting on that felled tree just behind the embankment, hunched over, face buried in your hands as your shoulders shook with silent sobs. 

You were so overcome by your own anguish that you didn’t even hear him approach. Instead, he appeared beside you like a sudden dark spectre against the white snow, making you jump. 

“Holy shit,” you yelped, hurrying to brush the tears from your cheeks. “Damn it, Sparky, warn a girl next time, will ya?”

Ron stood awkwardly beside you, hands shoved deep into his pockets, and you swore you could see a small flush of pink creeping up his cheeks and it wasn’t from the cold. 

“Sorry,” he replied with a sheepish smile. “I forget I do that sometimes. I just…I was… I wanted to see if you were okay.” 

He cursed inwardly. 

What a stupid thing to say, Ron, he berated himself. She’s crying. Does she look “okay” to you?

You tried to return the smile but only succeeded in a wan grimace.

“I’m not okay yet but I will be.” 

You sighed sadly and gestured to the red cross armband on your arm. 

Overwhelmed or not, you were needed.

“I have to be.”

“(Y/N)…May I…Er, if you don’t mind, that is…?” Unable to quite get the words out, he just nodded to the empty spot beside you, earning him a genuine smile from you that filled his chest with warmth. 

“Absolutely,” you replied with a small sniffle, lightly patting the place next to you on the log and effectively putting him out of his tongue-tied misery. “I’d like that a lot.”

When you're overwhelmed

And you've lost your breath

And the space between the things you know is blurring nonetheless

You hadn't exactly intended on telling Ron your whole life story but before you knew it, it all came tumbling out: how you'd grown up, what had inspired you to become a nurse, how much you loved what you did but hated what it did to you, and Speirs listened quietly, hanging onto your every word. 

But when you admitted the toll it took on you to know how little a difference you were making, he balked.

“No difference?” He repeated, his hazel eyes wide with shock. “Are you kidding? Do you…Is this because of what those assholes back there said?” 

You sniffled again with a deflated shrug.

“Assholes or not, I think they made their feelings pretty clear. It'd probably be better for everyone if I just put in for a transfer.”

When you try to speak

But you make no sound

And the words you want are out of reach

But they've never been so loud

Your words echoed in Speirs' head like enemy gunfire. 

Transfer…Transfer...Transfer…

Ron felt like you'd just slapped him clear across the face. Come to think of it, he would've preferred it if you had. It would've certainly hurt less than the realization that he would lose you before he'd ever even told you how he felt. 

He'd never been any good at romance. To be honest, he'd never really tried. Girls back home flocked to him like flies to honey but he'd just felt uncomfortable with the attention and tried to set them up with his buddies instead, all of whom were dying for a date. 

Ronald Speirs was a man of action; communication was not his strong suit, which was one of the myriad of reasons he admired you. 

You, who somehow effortlessly made friends wherever you went. 

You, whose smile spread warmth on even the coldest winter day. 

You, whose kindness made everyone that spoke to you feel not only heard but understood.

You who brought the light of springtime to his ever-present darkness, like Persephone to Hades.

He had never understood why you had made it your mission to befriend him since Day 1 when everyone else avoided him like the Plague but he was glad you did. His intimidating gaze and badass reputation didn’t scare you one bit and you had assured him with your usual friendliness that it would take more than some rumors to scare you away.

He couldn’t let you slip away now.

Trust in me, trust in me

Don't pull away

Just trust in me, trust in me

Taking a shaky breath and exhaling, the tiny clouds curled up into the frosty air in spirals as you stood up. After smoothing some of the ice off your clothes, you gave Ron one last, small smile. 

“Thanks for listening,” you said earnestly before remarking with a self-deprecating laugh, “I promise not to be so depressing next time.”

You had just turned to leave when an invisible force compelled him to reach out and grasp your hand at the last second.

“Wait…Please.” 

'Cause I'm just trying to keep it together

Because I could do worse and you could do better

The silence was deafening. You stared at Ron, too stunned to speak, and he stared right back, the green and gold flecks in his hazel eyes catching the moonlight. 

Had it been any other time, you might’ve found it almost funny to see the infamous “Killer” Speirs at a loss for words just from holding your hand but right now…Right now, you could feel a tornado of butterflies in your stomach and you could tell that he was feeling them too.

“(Y/N), I…” he started before cutting himself off with a shake of his head. “Look, I’m no good at this and I’m sure you’ve probably got someone special writing you from back home already but…”

He rubs the back of his neck nervously with his free hand and you tilt your head, silently, as you watch him. 

You’ve never seen him this anxious before, not even in battle. 

Truthfully, you didn’t know a man like Ronald Speirs could get anxious. If the roar of gunfire and artillery didn’t faze him, you had thought nothing could.

“If you’re serious about transferring out, then you should at least know that you’ve made a big difference here, to the men…and to me…” 

He cleared his throat stiffly. 

“Especially to me.” 

Your eyes must’ve been the size of dinner plates. 

Was he saying what you thought he was saying?

“You are without a doubt, the bravest…the most dynamic…the most selfless woman I know,” he continued as his hazel eyes locked intensely with your (E/C) ones.

“Everything about you…You’re just amazing to me. And I know you don’t feel appreciated and with how things have gone lately, I don’t blame you one bit but damn it, (Y/N), you have to understand that you are vital to this company, not just for what you do but for who you are. We need you here.” 

Ron took a shaky breath, exhaling into the frigid night air, before saying quietly, “I need you here.”

I will stay (right beside you)

Nobody will break you

He started to say more but before he could, you dropped his hand and launched yourself at him, knocking the breath out of him as your lips met for the first time. He gently took you into his embrace, causing both your hearts to race, the both of you smiling against each other’s lips. But in your eagerness to deepen the kiss, your teeth clashed slightly against his, sending you into a fit of giggles when you pulled away seconds later.

“Are you…Will you stay?” Ron asked tentatively, still holding you as if you were made of glass. “Please?”

At first, you were tempted to jokingly mull it over but the fear in his golden-green eyes immediately banished the thought from your mind. 

This was Ronald “Killer” Speirs. This was a man who had stared Death in the face without blinking, a man whose ferocity and resolve on the battlefield were practically legendary, a man who could take a life with the same ease as one swats a fly…and yet, here he was before you, putting his whole heart in your hands, a heart most people didn’t even know he had.

“Of course I’ll stay,” you reassured him, the moonlight dancing in your eyes as you gazed into his. “As long as you'll be mine, that is.”

Ron gingerly cupped your face in his hands, the silky smoothness of his soft baritone voice making your heart skip a beat.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured as another slow smile spread across his face. “I’ve always been yours.”

And if your heart wears thin

I will hold you up

And I will hide you

When it gets too much

I'll be right beside you

Nobody will break you

[sapphicccici]

Gladiator Whump

This is more canon backstory for my OC Detali Gamble, who is a beserker barbarian. She and Cossim Vect are prisoners who are forced to be gladiators. This is about their first fight!

Also today is Cossim's birthday. Everyone say happy birthday Cossim! <3

content warnings: whump, (non permanent) character death, blood, coughing up blood, gladiator fights, barbarian typical rage, guns, sci fi violence, gore

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

“You motherfucker,” Detali screamed. “I’m gonna fucking end you!”

“How ‘bout you come over here and try it?” Cossim challenged in an infuriatingly smug tone.

Cossim raised his pistol and fired, and even through the adrenaline Detali could feel the sting in her side where the shot made contact.

“Don’t be so fucking cocky,” she growled at him

She rushed forward, swinging her gun in a broad swipe at his head. He raised a hand and the hit shattered a force shield that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

Detali snarled. The next two hits had Cossim landing hard in the dust.

Fear flashed across his face before he produced a small object from a pouch on his waist and chucked it at her. It magnetized to her gun and began to pulse and buzz, and within seconds her gun was glowing crimson.

She cried out and dropped it, her hands already red and burning.

Cossim grinned proudly, his smile now red and missing a few teeth, and wiped at his bleeding nose.

Rage burned in her stomach.

He thinks he’s so fucking clever.

She ripped her handaxe from her belt.

Well, clever can’t do shit against this.

Her axe thunked into Cossim's stomach. She could barely hear him screaming over the roar of her audience.

“No more snarky comments?”

He coughed uselessly and tried to kick her, but it didn’t land.

“Huh?” Detali leaned down close to his face as she ripped the axe from his stomach. He had pretty eyes, even when his pupils were dilated with terror. “Sorry, hun, I didn’t get that. Try again.”

She straightened and brought the axe down again, this time landing it square in the center of his chest. Her boot pressed down on the butt of the axe, pushing it deeper until there was a satisfying crack. Cossim shuddered and coughed one last time, then went still. Blood leaked from the corners of his slack lips.

“That’s what I thought.”

As camera drones swooped in to get a good close-up of the carnage, a twang of guilt pulled at her chest. She kneeled and closed his eyes with bloody fingertips, leaving streaks of red down his face.

This one was fun, she thought. I hope he sticks around.

She stood and raised her arms to the crowd, soaking in their applause, and she smiled.

“Everyone, our victor: Medusa!”

[fireinhislungs]

ALIAS: Fletcher Alexander Williams

AGE: 31

BIRTHDATE: August 5th   

SPECIES: Hunter

OCCUPATION: TBC

FACECLAIM: Chris Wood

BIOGRAPHY

Fletcher was born the eldest of four to two doting parents Jane and Alexander Williams. From the outside looking in they were respectable hardworking citizens, living the white picket fence life in NYC suburbia. Or so that was the dream they wanted their everyone else to believe. The reality however was far more complicated. As the Williams family were descendants of one of the very first hunting lines, dating back centuries. Every child born was trained in the same merciless fashion, they were but soldiers to the cause — a cause Fletcher eagerly awaited to be apart of.

Throughout his adolescence Fletcher and had no trouble making friends wherever he went due to his extroverted charismatic nature. His youngest sister on the other hand, was the opposite: reserved and quiet, she drew others in like a magnet with her mystery. Wherever he went, she did too, therefore his friends became hers. It didn’t bother him in slightest, to think that she never really had friends of her own — so long as his little sister was happy, he was too. That was until Samantha came along. Wherever Brooke was, the bright eyed blonde wasn’t far behind and for the first time in his very young life, the siblings dynamic had finally shifted. Their happiness, however, was short lived as the eve of her twelfth birthday arrived. Because on that day, the unthinkable would happen. Everything they had come to love would be stripped from their very fingertips. It wasn’t their fault, but perhaps the fault of the long line of hunters that came before them – time would tell. Fletcher had been staying over at a friend’s home, completely oblivious to the fact he was about to loose his parents and youngest sister. The perpetrator was quiet in the night, silent as they crept though the unlocked door, and shot the three family members in their beds while they slept. Waking up the next morning, Fletcher felt somewhat empty and he would only come to know why when he arrived home to a swarm of police officers and his hysterical siblings. 

For the next three months, the three remaining Williams children would bounce from foster home to foster home as they searched for the love they had lost. While they would never find it, they still had each other — and that was all that mattered, despite the hole that their youngest sibling. The deaths marked a turning point in Fletchers life, because he lost a part of himself when with the loss with that he too became lost. Harboring an anger so deep even he himself couldn’t control it, let alone fathom what he was capable of because of it. He needed purpose – to belong to something that wasn’t going to break as his family had. There was only one option and that was to step up and create some form of normality for his siblings. Dropping out of school he sought full time work to provide and care for his siblings, and the help of those within the hunting community to continue carrying the torch for the Williams family of whom were notorious for helping train the very best of the NYC hunters. The years that followed blended together in a symphony of what could only be described as the orphans finding their purpose once again.

Under the guidance of one of his parents best friend Fletcher was able to develop and perfect his skillset, to the point he was very soon travelling the world to play his part in training and upskilling any hunters that were willing and able. Fletcher took a much more hands on approach in comparison to his siblings. As much as he enjoyed utilizing any such weapon he could get his hands on, the hunter was almost too proficient in hand to hand combat and espionage; excelling in an array of martial arts and mixed combat fighting styles, Fletcher very quickly built a reputation for being a walking, talking weapon. Returning home he very quickly went to work building an intricate webbed network within the NYC elite and those families tied to the council, offering up his services to the highest bidder and trading in favor's and secrets which earned him a vast array of friends and equally, enemies'.

HEADCANONS

Fletcher has a small flame like birthmark on the inside of his left wrist.

His most prized position is an old revolver that was passed down generations from his father. A weapon that he very rarely is seen without but rarely uses.

The male has a leather jacket of which has a patch from every state and country he’s visited. From the number of times he’s left it behind in cafes and airport stopovers and had it returned to him, it’s no wonder the old thing is one of his favourite possessions.

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Unique Soulmate AUs Masterlist

A (ao3) - HolyAFIx94 calum/ashton, michael/luke G, 3k

Summary: ☆ Aging stops at 18 until you find your soulmate, so the two of you can grow old together ☆

Apology Bouquet (ao3) - ChibiShounen michael/luke N/R, 1k

Summary: The one where Micheal is blind but soulmates find each other by marks on their skin when they first touch

B (ao3) - HolyAFIx94 luke/ashton G, 4k

Summary: ☆Body art (doodles that a person draws on themselves appear on their soulmate's skin)☆

Ease (ao3) - Grace_Williams calum/ashton, michael/luke G, 138k

Summary: In a world where everyone was a dominant or a submissive and everyone had an assigned soulmate, Ashton was remarkably unsure of himself. Nothing is going as he planned and his soulmate, Calum, is, to put it simply, not who he expected.

Michael is Calum's best friend and an all round terrible example when it comes to navigating relationships.

Calum's assistant Maggie, along with her soulmate Carla, seem to be the only ones who do understand how a relationship is supposed to work.

Are they the only people can put those around them at ease?

G (ao3) - HolyAFIx94 michael/luke G, 5k

Summary: ♡ Guardian. It is said that the person who saves you from a near-death experience is your soulmate.♡

Hold on Tight (sleep, dream, you, repeat) (ao3) - gravityinglass ot4 T, 12k

Summary: When Luke fell asleep on his eighteenth birthday, he expected to Dream of his One, his soulmate. He wasn't expecting to Dream of three Ones.

or, OT4 soulmate AU.

i always feel the greatest pain wherever you touch me (ao3) - mikes_paradise michael/luke T, 11k

Summary: Soulmate au where once you tell your soulmate you love them you are burdened with a physical ailment.

Ice and Sun (ao3) - HolyAFIx94 luke/calum G, 10k

Summary: Prompt: What would happen if one soulmate was in the spotlight of fame and one was just a nobody. Like imagine finding your soulmate and realising the moment you see them, but then you realise that they haven't found you because there's no way for you to get close enough to them. So you're just kind of forever watching your soulmate living the dream and being happy from the sidelines or behind a screen, and you know that they exist but they don't know that you do.

K (ao3) - HolyAFIx94 luke/ashton, michael/luke/ashton G, 5k

Summary: ⁂ Keys and locks are randomly dispersed (distributed, spread) to soulmates on chains when they are born. When in proximity, the lock and key will act as magnets and bring the two soulmates closer together until the key is placed in the lock and a gratifying click is heard, unlocking the chain. ⁂

Let's Forget Who We Are (ao3) - flowercrownmikey luke/ashton, michael/calum G, 2k

Summary: Soulmate AU

"The blood in my veins is made up of mistakes, let's forget who we are and dive into the dark." Ashton quoted directly without even needing to look at his stomach. He'd been trying to figure out what song it had come from for the last week. He knew the lyric off by heart now.

Or// Ashton doesn't know what song his soulmates new favorite lyric is from until its being played to him by a boy with an acoustic guitar and an amazing voice.

Love At First Sight - @sup3rbloom (haveufoundwhaturlookingfor) luke/ashton T, 3k

Summary: A shared bruises soulmate au in which Michael and Calum are already soulmates and Ashton is still waiting for his soulmate, and he also happened to get stuck with an incredibly clumsy soulmate.

M (ao3) - HolyAFIx94 luke/calum G, 3k

Summary: ♡ Marks or stains of the color black are somewhere on your body (palm of your hand, knuckles, knee) until you and your soulmate finally make physical contact. Once the mark is touched, it fades to be consistent with the person’s skin color. ♡

paper valentines (ao3) - dafeedil michael/ashton M, 31k

Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day, and Michael and Ashton have erased each other from their respective memories, along with the entirety of the last two years they’ve spent together.

However, sometimes erasing past mistakes only means you’re ultimately doomed to make the same ones all over again.

shimmer and sparkle (ao3) - lourrygum michael/luke G, 1k

Summary: "No, like-" he pauses, staring at Michael incredulously. "Your hair. It's blue."

"What?" Michael asks again, hands going to his hair in panic. "No it's not. It's red."

"I can fucking see it and I'm telling you it's bright blue."

or, a soulmate au where your hair changes colour when you meet your soulmate

Two Syllables (ao3) - 1loulu5 calum/ashton T, 1k

Summary: But when he signs his initials in dark cursive, a little bit of hope is revived. Because, soon, someone new will walk in and maybe, just maybe, they’ll be his two syllables.

Maybe, they’ll splash colour on his black and white paintings.

Or, a soulmate AU where no one sees colour until they see their soulmate, and Calum's a painter.

With Nothing But This Little Spark (ao3) - makingdemands luke/ashton, michael/calum G, 3k

Summary: Everybody is born with lyrics from their soulmate's favorite song tattooed somewhere on their body. Ashton kind of hates his.

Wrapped Around Your Wrist (ao3) - Emmybazy luke/calum M, 26k

Summary: Luke's not expecting it when his Timer goes off. He's expecting it to go off that day but not at that time. Not surrounded by his students.

Calum, however, is expecting his Timer to go off in class. He's a college freshman. Everyone's Timers go off during their first few weeks of freshman year. It's normal. Almost boring. Usual.

Or; Luke is a college professor. Calum is his student. They're soul mates.

You'll Always Be My Baby (ao3) - senioritastyles ot4 E, 7k

Summary: “Did you not get one? I heard that can happen.” Jack wonders, earning a slap on his arm from Ben and a pointed stare from Andy. “Sorry.”

Liz looks at Luke expectantly and Luke sighs, pulling his hand out from behind him. “I have six letters.” He explains, holding out his wrist to prove it, and sure enough there they are.

“Three sets of initials?!” Ben yelps, shooting out of his seat to inspect Luke’s skin. “Woah.”

or: The OT4 soulmate!AU that no one asked for or wanted.

[aliveandfullofjoy]

Well, it may be a few days late, but it's here! One of my favorite new year traditions: my ten favorite new-to-me films of 2022!

This year was particularly challenging for me, but we made it through, and thanks in no small part to these beautiful films. They're wildly different, but they all moved me and got under my skin in ways I couldn't shake, so please consider this a strong endorsement for each of them!

The same rules as always: no movies from this past year (2022) or the year prior (2021). Every other year is fair game.

01. After Life (dir. Hirokazu Kore-eda, 1998; Japan; 119 mins.) “I was part of someone else’s happiness.”

It starts with a great premise: After death, people get one week to select one memory from their lives to hold onto for the rest of time. I knew I was always going to love After Life because I tend to love Kore-eda’s films. This is almost certainly his most compassionate film (which is saying something, considering compassion is pretty much his whole deal), and, as usual for him, the actors all give terrific performances. What I wasn’t anticipating was how much After Life ends up being, of all things, a love letter to dramaturgy. It goes back to the film’s very premise. The memory people keep forever isn’t really their memory – not exactly anyway. It’s a performance, a reenactment painstakingly crafted and filmed by the people who work in this bardo. When the client selects their memory, the storytellers begin building it as a narrative, as something with a script and a clear arc. I can imagine some people finding this to be depressing, but it almost sounds like my dream job. 

Side note: I watched this film about a week before my birthday, and at the time I was also playing a lot of the gorgeous video game Spiritfarer on Nintendo Switch, which is all about ferrying wayward souls to the other side. Turns out my capacity for cosmic yearning and spiritual angst knows no bounds.

After Life is currently streaming on the Criterion Channel.

02. Jackie Brown (dir. Quentin Tarantino, 1997; USA; 154 mins.)

“I’ll send you a postcard.”

Tarantino is a hit-or-miss filmmaker like no other for me, but holy cow, y’all, when he hits, he hits. Everything about Jackie Brown comes together as gracefully as possible, and it’s stunning, frankly, that it was only Tarantino’s third feature. It’s pulpy, it’s twisty, it climaxes with as thrilling a sting as I’ve ever seen, and every scene – every second, really – feels effortless. To watch Jackie Brown is to feel safe in the hands of a storyteller at the top of their craft. Since I’m a sap, it helps that this is most likely his most tender film: every character is so well-drawn and well-realized, and every actor is doing great work (Bridget Fonda, Micheal Keaton, a weirdly against-type Robert De Niro), but the film’s three leads turn in career-best performances. Pam Grier makes Jackie a heroine for the ages, Samuel L. Jackson is a terrifying and magnetic tour de force, and Robert Forster, the heart of the film, is breathtakingly decent in a typhoon of violence and crime. The three performances, rich enough on their own, are at their best when they’re sharing the screen. It’s nothing short of electrifying.

Jackie Brown is currently available on demand.

03. Barry Lyndon (dir. Stanley Kubrick, 1975; UK/USA; 185 mins.)

“Good or bad, handsome or ugly, rich or poor, they are all equal now.”

I’m glad I finally crossed Barry Lyndon off my watchlist, even if it’s clearly the kind of film that rewards multiple viewings. Kubrick’s meticulous world-building has rarely been more accomplished or authentic than it is here. The sprawling world of Barry Lyndon stretches beyond the edges of the screen, with a huge cast of great character actors giving superb performances. The film’s legendary design work is every bit as staggering as its reputation suggests: John Alcott’s jaw-dropping cinematography, Ken Adam and Roy Walker’s extravagant art direction, and Milena Canonero and Ulla-Britt Söderlund’s gorgeous costumes. It’s also surprisingly funny! A genuinely magnificent piece of work from a master filmmaker.

Barry Lyndon is currently streaming on HBO Max.

04. F for Fake (dir. Orson Welles, 1973; France/Iran/West Germany)

“Our songs will all be silenced. But what of it? Go on singing.”

At least 80% of F for Fake is footage of Orson Welles stream-of-consciousness monologuing about art and culture and history and making himself chuckle in different fields and parks and cafés while wearing little hats and jackets. Naturally, I loved it. A strange, poetic, and fascinating magic trick of a film, further proof that Welles was truly in a class of his own as a storyteller, a filmmaker, an illusionist, and a self-made myth. What a gift.

F for Fake is currently streaming on HBO Max and the Criterion Channel.

05. There Was a Father (dir. Yasujiro Ozu, 1942; Japan)

“There’s nothing to be sad about.”

Yasujiro Ozu is rightly regarded as one of the world’s greatest filmmakers, but I’ve long had a pet theory that he was one of the great dramatists of the 20th century. All of his films play out as carefully plotted chamber dramas, their enormous emotional power hidden in the smallest, most subdued interactions between its characters. There Was a Father is as bleak and beautiful as any of Ozu’s films, and maybe the most gutting. At the heart is frequent Ozu collaborator Chishu Ryu, who gives a stoic, honest, and shattering performance as a man whose worldview left him detached from his family and emotionally numb. It’s hard to imagine this being approved by the Japanese national censors during World War II, but thank goodness we have it.

There Was a Father is currently streaming on the Criterion Channel.

06. Betty Tells Her Story (dir. Liane Brandon, 1972; USA; 20 mins.)

“I guess I still haven’t solved the way I felt about that. The uncomfortableness of being praised for a prettiness I never had, but, you know, kind of excitement about feeling very special suddenly. And it’s gone.”

A short masterpiece of solo storytelling. Liane Brandon fixes her camera on Betty, who recounts a story about buying and losing an expensive dress to wear to a gala. She tells the same story twice – once for the factual sequence of events and once to describe the way she felt as it was happening – and the contrast is amazing to watch. Wherever Betty went after telling Brandon her story, I hope she was happy. Betty Tells Her Story was just inducted into the National Film Registry, ensuring this devastating, empathetic, monumental piece of filmmaking can be preserved forever. Thank God for that.

Betty Tells Her Story is currently streaming on the Criterion Channel.

07. Donkey Skin (dir. Jacques Demy, 1970; France; 90 mins.)

“Donkey Skin! What a beautiful name.”

What a treat. Donkey Skin easily stands alongside Jacques Demy’s earlier musicals The Umbrellas of Cherbourg and The Young Girls of Rochefort as some of the most blissful films in the genre. As with his other films, the production values are off the charts, including some truly outrageous costumes, and an exquisite score from Demy’s frequent collaborator Michel Legrand. The cast is great, too, including the always magnetic Catherine Deneuve, an endearingly goofy Jacques Perrin, a brooding Jean Marais, and high-camp MVP Delphine Seyrig. The humor is delightfully weird, it looks and sounds amazing, and there are a handful of truly inspired musical sequences. It’s a magical film.

Donkey Skin is currently streaming on the Criterion Channel.

08. Shoes (dir. Lois Weber, 1916; USA; 50 mins.)

“Whatever happened, life must go on. Whatever boats are wrecked, the river does not stop flowing to the sea.”

Lois Weber’s Shoes must be one of the most affecting melodramas in Hollywood history. Anchored by Weber’s beautiful direction and a haunting performance from twenty-year-old Mary MacLaren, the film becomes something of a neorealistic fable in its depiction of an impoverished young woman doing whatever she can to get enough money to buy a much-needed new pair of shoes. The characters feel authentic and Weber’s depiction of poverty is unflinchingly raw, but the simplicity and intimacy of the film are its strengths. A landmark American film.

Shoes is currently streaming on the Criterion Channel.

09. Edward II (dir. Derek Jarman, 1991; UK; 90 mins.)

“My father is deceased. Come Gaveston, and share the kingdom with thy dearest friend.”

A transgressive, furious film that beautifully draws parallel lines between the late 80s and early 90s and Marlowe’s source material. Everything about Jarman’s Edward II is bleak as hell, boldly queer, and utterly fascinating: Tilda Swinton playing a spurned sociopathic queen in elaborate costumes! Men screaming in the pouring rain! The realm everyone fighting and dying for being a pitch-black labyrinth of concrete! What’s lasted for me, though, is the utterly stunning sequence where Annie Lennox(!) sings Cole Porter’s “Ev’ry Time We Say Goodbye” while Edward and Gaveston part ways. A beautiful puzzle of a film.

Edward II is currently available on demand.

10. Detour (dir. Edgar G. Ulmer, 1945; USA; 66 mins.)

“That’s life. Whichever way you turn, Fate sticks out a foot to trip you.”

This is one lean, nasty noir. Clocking in at just over an hour, Detour is a relentlessly paced and relentlessly mean thriller, one that puts a fittingly mopey Tom Neal in a runaway car in the opening minutes and never, ever lets up. He’s joined (if not supported) by Ann Savage, who gives a truly venomous performance, practically spitting every lethal line she has. It’s bleak, it’s powerful, and it’s gorgeous in its own hellish way. I’ve never connected with film noir quite as much as I would like to, but this is as perfect an example of the genre as I’ve ever seen.

Detour is currently streaming on the Criterion Channel and Prime Video.

Honorable mentions (in alphabetical order): At Land (dir. Maya Deren, 1944); Bright Star (dir. Jane Campion, 2009); Brown Sugar (dir. Rick Famuyiwa, 2002); The Cameraman’s Revenge (dir. Ladislas Starevich, 1912); Cops (dir. Buster Keaton & Edward F. Cline, 1922); Daybreak Express (dir. D.A. Pennebaker, 1953); The Dover Boys at Pimento University (dir. Chuck Jones, 1942); A Fish Called Wanda (dir. Charles Crichton, 1988); Full Metal Jacket (dir. Stanley Kubrick, 1987); Inside Man (dir. Spike Lee, 2006); Inspiration (dir. Karel Zeman, 1949); Ivan’s Childhood (dir. Andrei Tarkovsky, 1962); La Ciénaga (dir. Lucrecia Martel, 2001); The Last of Sheila (dir. Herbert Ross, 1973); Les Diaboliques (dir. Henri-Georges Clouzot, 1955); Les Vampires (dir. Louis Feuillade, 1915); McCabe & Mrs. Miller (dir. Robert Altman, 1971); The Meetings of Anna (dir. Chantal Akerman, 1976); Nitrate Kisses (dir. Barbara Hammer, 1992); Pépé le Moko (dir. Julien Duvivier, 1937); Police Story (dir. Jackie Chan, 1985); Portrait of Jason (dir. Shirley Clarke, 1967); Postcards from the Edge (dir. Mike Nichols, 1990); Pyaasa (dir. Guru Dutt, 1957); Reluctantly Queer (dir. Akosua Adoma Owusu, 2016); The River (dir. Jean Renoir, 1951); The Secret of Roan Inish (dir. John Sayles, 1994); The Slumber Party Massacre (dir. Amy Holden Jones, 1982); Speed (dir. Jan de Bont, 1994); The Story of a Three-Day Pass (dir. Melvin Van Peebles, 1967); 13th (dir. Ava DuVernay, 2016); Wasp (dir. Andrea Arnold, 2003); You Were Never Really Here (dir. Lynne Ramsay, 2017)

And finally, some miscellaneous viewing stats:

First movie watched in 2022: Bright Star (dir. Jane Campion, 2009)

Final movie watched in 2022: The Thin Man (dir. W. S. Van Dyke, 1934)

Least favorite movie: Garden State (dir. Zach Braff, 2004)

Oldest movie: Cinderella (dir. Georges Méliès, 1899)

Longest movie: Les Vampires (dir. Louis Feuillade, 1915 – 422 mins.)

Shortest movie: Western Spaghetti (dir. PES, 2008 – 2 mins.)

Month with most movies: December (26)

Month with fewest movies: April (8)

First movie from 2022 seen: Turning Red (dir. Domee Shi, 2022)

Total movies: 190

Yay! Movies are good sometimes! Good stuff!