#i was smoking a blunt and watching twin peaks

[boag]

Smoking a blunt to the face watching twin peaks in the dark rn and I just saw Lucy on the screen looking like a little mouse with a blonde perm and involuntarily said “I love Lucy” out loud to myself and then started laughing really hard at the fact that I said that sentence

[kittyvaltersen]

🔪 closed starter for @reapersking!!

dark chestnut strands lay sprawled and reaching for the headboard. her leg hung off the side of the bed, her hands tucked into each other and laying over her abdomen. her body was nude, minus for the dark emerald sheet that essentially covered from just beneath her collarbone to right above her upper thigh. in short, it covered the bare necessities. kitty kat lay her head with her eyes staring up at the ceiling, her lips pursed in an almost held-back frown. her hues dart to the door, upon seeing a figure cross the threshold. she examines him for a brief moment, deciding he was of no harm to her seeing as she wouldn’t have any reason to be on his bad side. peering back up at the cracks in the ceiling, she starts her explanation off with a story. 

“when i was a kid, i often ran into my mom and dad’s room. i think i was afraid of the dark, but i don’t remember anymore.” she pauses for a moment to furrow her brows, “come to think of it, i don’t recall much about my childhood, but that’s not the point.” she continues on, telling a story of how she would sneak between her mom and her dad as they slept peacefully. she explained how, over time, her dad would get irrationally aggravated with her coming between him and her mother. she said how that when her father forced her onto the other side of the bed, and her mom would cuddle against her, she eventually was forced to lay on the ground next to their bed. 

“i would only bring my small blanket. i was that young. i would curl up with it and suck on my thumb. when my dad left, my mom wanted me to sleep beside her every night, even into adulthood. i didn’t know how to step away from the codependency my mother forced me into.” she looks over at him, turning on her side and curling her hands up under her skull. “i still don’t. so, i come here and ask the girls who dance to lay down beside me. most times they think i want to have sex, which i don’t but it’s never a downside. so i let them sleep with me and then sleep beside me and then i wonder why when i wake up and they’re gone, why i feel so alone.” she looked down for a moment, and then back up at him. “but you’re looking for the queen and not here to listen to my sob story... right, killian?” though kitty had rarely had much conversation with killian, she did know who he was and his reputation, everyone did.

[rinstars]

𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 — 𝐬.𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮 (𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞)

pairing: suna rintarou x reader

genre/trope: angst, unrequited love, forbidden love

warnings: nsfw, profanity, infidelity, mentions of weed/drugs, intoxication

description: you knew you never meant to him as much as he meant to you.. yet deep down, you still hoped his heart also breaks with every single goodbye and the regrets of the past clings to him a lot more than he let you believe.

note: this is a repost of 'the call' where i changed and added a few things to make it fit as a prologue better, so make sure u still read it. i'll do this series at my own pace so please just be patient! i'll open the taglist so just send me an ask if you want to be tagged hehe.

The smell of leather and weed floating in the space surrounding you constricts your breathing, making you gasp for air – even more as he suctions the air out of you through your heated shared kiss, your lungs burning with the need for oxygen. But you ignore it. Running your fingers through his hair and meeting his hunger with kisses equally as rough, you ignore the building pain on your chest.

You rock your hips towards him, feeling his hard crotch rub you through the lace of the panties you bought just a few days ago. Pulling away for a moment only to gasp on his reddening plump lips while he lazily guides your movements on his lap, triggering a flood of pleasure wash over you.

Slender, pale, and long fingers reached over to snatch another blunt, taking a long drag before the very same fingers of the opposite hand takes the back of your neck so he can pull you closer to his lips. He breathes the smoke out of his mouth into yours, connecting your lips once again.

Despite the distinct scent of the drug, you taste a tinge of sweetness on your tongue as his own massages yours. Rocking your hips harder to his forces a moan out of you, making your fingers curl around his lengthy hair. You pull away, muttering a small give me a minute to him. Leaning back on the steering wheel, you watch him while you try to control your ragged breathing.

His hair is long. Long enough that it falls softly all the way to his eyes and cheeks, the ends brushing his really pale skin. With your earlier statement, he just shrugged with the same unchanging look of nonchalance in his eyes—proceeding to take drags out of his blunt. His beautifully shaped eyes now bloodshot and shiny with moisture.

He's almost like a vampire, now that you think about it. So beautiful. Such pale skin but such dark hair. Sharp gaze but soft lips. Intoxicating scent but still so sweet.

The most similar thing between him and vampires, you thought, is the way he sucks all the life out of you. Drying you out and taking all your light.

This man has corrupted you more than you're willing to admit.

You opened your mouth to say something when the blaring ring of his phone makes you jump. His eyes glanced over the source before grabbing it with a sigh and scanning the monitor. You didn't even need to ask who it is. You're very well aware who it is, and why he never hesitated to answer.

When it comes to you, it always takes a lot of rings and missed calls before he picks up, though. You understand. You tell him you do, you always will.

He doesn't pick a call up on the first ring unless it's his girl. Astumu whispered as if he heard you ponder about the caller in your head one night when you were drinking with him in a bar. Loves her a lot. Probably too much.

The alarms rang in your head that night, no matter how much you tried to ignore it. So annoying but at the same time so painful. You didn't know how to turn it off and you wish every single time you could.

"Darling," He whispered with such a loving voice, one you never heard from him when he answers your calls. Your heart ached but you knew better than to confront him about it. Instead you cry in the arms of the twinss—more on Atsumu's, since Osamu takes you through an hour long lecture of why you should have known better.

You know that much, you think.

You shouldn't have let yourself get dragged in this stupid situation, craving a taken man and his touches. Letting him in on your secrets even when he barely lets you get a peak in his.

"I miss you too, my love.. Oh?.. I'll be home soon." He speaks in pauses as he lets her finish speaking first. You close your eyes to prevent the liquid threatening to spill out, taking a deep breath before slowly lifting yourself from his lap to the passenger seat. His eyes widened a millimeter—almost as if he cares what you do, when he noticed you getting off him without having to tell you. You noticed he ended his call with her and you refuse to look back at him. If you do, you are sure of another sleepless night.

Another sleepless night of asking yourself what went wrong and if he ever regretted his decisions— maybe he, too, spend the night wide awake asking himself why he brushed off every single detail of the past like it never existed, why he acts like you're a stranger he met for the very first time when both of you coincidentally takes the seat next to each other on a bar, why he never gave you an explanation of what happened that day.

Cold fingers hook under your chin, slowly turning your head to the left. He leans over the center console, connecting his lips with the soft skin of your neck, making you exhale out at the feeling of him sucking all the reason in you again. He runs his tongue wet on your collarbones, creating a glistening trail.

"I'll see you soon?" He whispered on the crook of your neck, nibbling it a little with his teeth. The bruises he leave on your skin another reminder that everything is real.

You just hum with a nod, cupping his jaw and slowly pulling him away from you with a small smile. One of his bangs fell in the middle of his face—you reached up to brush it away.

So many unspoken words from you. Too many. You wonder if he has anything he's holding back to say too as his eyes linger on you a second longer than usual. Or maybe you're just desperately reading into the lines again, like what Osamu said way too many times.

"Rin, what.. what are we?" Every parting is like this, like a new way of saying goodbye that you both developed. You just needed to be reminded, to wake up from whatever delusions you're starting to have.

"Nothing." He replies as flatly as all the other times before. Not a hint of emotion – no amusement or remorse.

You swallow, letting your hands fall to your sides. On the verge of turning around and reaching the door, his voice echoes once again. "How many times are you gonna ask me this?"

Until you start feeling something.

You thought to yourself. Anger, disgust, love, hatred, adoration, anything. You just want him to feel something. Prove to yourself and everyone else that you're not just a tool to him.

"Sorry. Slipped out of habit." You settle for that response now. No point having a conversation with him about this.

"You don't have to leave right away, I can still drive you home."

Losing all the strength to refuse, you found yourself just agreeing with him. Why the fuck are you even so upset to begin with? You knew what you signed up for. You knew about the girl. You saw him with her in the very same bar a few nights ago. Watched how much attention he gives her, how tightly he holds her.

Of course, you knew about the girl. Your past with her woven in a way no one will be able to deny, and she knows it too, as much as Suna and the twins do. How could you forget? Everything to you was clear as day, from the very first day to the last. Rintarou knows it hurts you more this way, but he never bothers to hide it from you—how he chose her over you.

"I'll break your heart by the end of this, baby." He warns you as you feel his length slip inside you, making you moan out in ecstasy.

"I don't care." You pant, grabbing him by the hips as a way of telling him to go faster.

Looking back, maybe you shouldn't have been so foolish and say that. Now, you're paying the price. Now, your exit has been sealed.

The moment you met him, you forgot everything – your reason, pride, dignity, loyalty, sense, self-love. You hate how intoxicates you like the drugs on his backseat and yet you can't stop. You wonder if he knows how you feel about him—how you still feel about him. If he notices the way your eyes would light up when you see him or the way you would wrap your arms so tightly like you're afraid of letting him go.

The car stopped soon after and you looked out the window to find yourself in front of your house. You collected your things and fastened the clasp on your sandals then opened the door, stepping a foot outside when he once again stops you by the wrist.

"I'll call you soon. I promise."

"I'll be waiting." You wriggle out of his grip without looking back, stepping your remaining foot out to join with the other as you stand up to leave. "Take care, Rintarou."

"You too, baby." The sound of his tires grow fainter by the second as he speeds off to his and his girlfriend's shared apartment and it was so loud, you couldn't tell if there was a strain on his voice when he said that or if you just imagined it again in your head.

You didn't notice the sobs wrecking your body. Not until you feel warm droplets fall to your open palms in front of you. You clutched your phone tightly, holding it to your chest.

You can only hope the next call comes soon, interrupting the continuous flow of the songs on your phone—the very records that remind you of what you never had—or perhaps, if things went a different turn; what you could've had with him.

[momolady]

Living Armor Boyfriend: Epoch

Was supposed to be a more holiday release, but heck, I think it suits today. Three sisters and three brothers, what could go wrong?

Female Main Character(cis) x Male Monster (nonbinary)

The North Pole, nestled between the Kringle Mountains, is a cold place filled with warmth and joy. Thanks to the twin dormant volcanoes, the kingdom is habitable even in such horrible cold. The heat that rises from under the ground allows people to live their daily lives. But the North Pole is not always so perfect. The kingdom is ruled over by the Saint Nicolas family, who are all said to be demigods. Sired by the one known as Father Klaus, each child possesses certain powers which allows them to influence the North Pole.

My mother, Holly Saint Nicolas, is one such person, but I have not spoken to her in years. To be blunt, most of the Saint Nicolas clan have the same predilections as Father Klaus, which is to say they all have libidos as fiery as the Kringle Peaks. Each has several children on their own, multiple partners, husbands, wives. My mother is no different, I have two other sisters I know of from two different fathers. The three of us are often together, and I prefer being with them more than anything. My father, poor thing, still resides in Holly’s Keep as her primary husband. For years I have been trying to find a way to free him.

Thanks to my sisters, I may have finally found a way to set my father free from my mother. Winifred, the eldest of us, was lucky to be born to a magic user. Her father had a massive library, which we pored through since we were children. Lydia, the youngest, has a wonderful ability to understand any written language by looking at it. Thanks to Winifred’s books and Lydia’s sight, we’ve found a conjuring spell to summon a being of power to fight against Holly Saint Nicolas.

“We should go somewhere outside the house,” Winifred suggests. “Just in case our fathers should see or get hurt.”

“We’re all adults,” Lydia argues. “We don’t need to be afraid of our dads and getting into trouble, Winnie.”

“We don’t need to be arguing about this! Winnie is right. We should go somewhere else to summon these things. What if something goes wrong?” I argue.

“But where should we go, Edith?” Lydia looks at me with those big bright eyes that shimmer like silver bells.

I think for a moment. “The Armored Court,” I say decisively. “All that’s there is those suits of armor from the Jingle Wars. No one goes there.”

The three of us pack up and leave, heading towards the Armor Court. It’s a small monument just below the village, where a long staircase takes us to a pavilion lined with different suits of armor used in the Jingle Wars. The floor and ceiling are carved with depictions of battles, while the pillars are carved with the names of the fallen.

We set up the ritual right away, putting down candles and tossing powdered charcoal onto the floor with cinnamon sticks, sprigs of peppermint, and chunks of dark chocolate. Lydia opens the spell book and begins the chanting spell. Her eyes change, becoming almost completely silver, and even her long lashes appear different. “I summon these spirits of antiquity, teachers of history and harbingers of futures. Come to us this night, be told by mouths with revenge so cold. Offer your bounty. Prepare thy might. Look forward now to All Saints’ Night!”

Everything is still aside from the cold wind. We wait with bated breath for something to happen.

“I said it all, right?” Lydia lifts up the book and turns the pages. “That’s the only spell to summon these guys.” As she looks at us, the book spews forth smoke. “Holy shit!” Lydia screams, and tosses it into the center of the pavilion. The smoke swirls, and voices bellow from within.

The black billowing mass collects at the top of the pavilion and flows down, circling three suits of armor before vanishing inside them. We stay still, watching the book and then looking towards the suits of armor. Nothing happens. Everything is still and cold.

“You saw that, right?” Lydia squeaks. “I’m not crazy, am I?”

I swallow hard and stand up. “No, we saw it.” I approach the suit of armor closest to me, which is clutching a massive claymore sword in its gauntlets. I reach out, touching the hand on top of the hilt, and the armor feels warm.

“Edith,” the suit whispers.

“Motherfucker!” Lydia laughs behind me. “It really did work!”

I would scold her, but I am bewildered by the speaking armor. “Yes, that’s my name.”

The armor removes a hand from the sword and flourishes. “Why have you summoned my brothers and me?”

“It’s my father.” My voice quivers as I try to speak. “He’s being held by Holly Saint Nicolas. I want to free him and the other husbands who wish for freedom.” I try to keep my voice steady, but I must admit, this is a strange and frightening moment.

The armor opens its visor, revealing four sharply-defined glowing green eyes inside, a smaller pair above a larger one. Smoke still billows in the interior, but I can make out the faint shapes of a mouth and possibly ears. “You wish to go against the blood of Father Klaus?”

“I am the blood of Father Klaus. My sisters and I are the daughters of Holly Saint Nicolas.” I motion to Winifred and Lydia.

The suit of armor tilts his helmet up. “I see that. You have summoned my brothers and I for a task of love? Is that correct?”

I want to answer yes, but that is not the full truth. “For a rescue mission. You see that too, don’t you?”

The armor places his hand on my head. “I see everything driving you, Edith. We will go with you.” Two more suits of armor step down off pedestals, one behind Winifred and one behind Lydia. “But first, a pact must be made.”

My sight is filled with green eyes, and when I blink, I am standing somewhere else. I am standing on a rooftop overlooking a small village. In the distance I see brightly colored lights blossoming on the horizon. “Where are we?” I gasp. “Where are my sisters?”

The suit of armor takes hold of me, helping me to stay balanced on the slanted rooftop. “Such as you, they are now with their familiars. The six of us must make a covenant and bond as partners before we take on this war.”

I laugh softly. “It’s not a war! A rescue,” I say weakly. The suit of armor is silent. He knows I am lying. “At least, I hope so,” I murmur.

He turns away from me and looks in the direction of the lights. “There are many paths ahead of you, Edith. I can help you down any of them, but I cannot see the way forward yet.”

I wish I could see what he does, but all I see is the little village below and the bright lights ahead of me. “May I ask for your name then, if we are to be bonded?”

“I am Epoch.” He bows his helmet.

“Epoch,” I murmur. “Is it a family name?” I try to jest with him again, but it doesn’t land and I uneasily look away.

Epoch extends his hand. “Look around. Do you know where we are, Edith?”

I look around me, stepping gingerly on the steep roof. “I am not sure. It looks like one of the smaller villages of the North Pole.” I can see the Kringle Peaks in the distance. “Looks like we’re just beyond the Cinnamon Bark forest.”

Epoch puts his hand on my arm and guides my attention towards the lights. “Edith, I am going to need you to look.”

“What are you trying to tell me?” I brush his hand off. “I just want to save my father. What does this little village have to do with any of it?” I can feel my insides boiling.

“Because in order to understand where your journey is going, you must look to where it began.” Epoch jumps down from the roof and lands with a heavy thud in the snow. He looks up and extends his hand. “Come, there is much to see.”

I frown down at him and roll my eyes, jumping off and floating slowly down to meet him. I don’t have a power as cool as Lydia’s, or even Winifred’s, but I can float and cause other objects around me to do the same. I have been told it was the power of Father Klaus to fly, and that I am blessed with it as well. I do not consider ‘floating’ anything blessed. I just don’t fall as fast as others.

Epoch catches me and sets me down gently onto the ground, taking my hand. “You’re so warm,” I say in surprise.

“We came from the Kringle Peaks,” Epoch says simply. “So perhaps my brothers and I are a little toasted after all this time.”

Maybe this is my chance to get a laugh from him. “How’s the magma this time of year?”

Epoch turns and looks at me, all four green eyes glowing slightly brighter. “Have you ever been a marshmallow on fire?”

I shake my head.

“Then you’d have no frame of reference.” He leads me through the streets, all of them dark and empty.

I’m never going to make him laugh. I look away from him again, horribly aware of the darkness we are standing in. The only light comes from his glowing eyes. “Why is it so dark here? Are there no people in these houses?”

“Once, long ago, but these windows are not the ones I want you to look through.” He points me towards a house that is illuminated, shining with twinkling lights and decorated to look like a gingerbread cottage. “Those are the windows that you must see inside.” He places his warm hand against my back.

I see my father walk past one of the windows. I’ve not seen him in so long, I could almost cry. In my excitement, I let go of Epoch’s hand and race to the front door. I knock excitedly, hoping to see my father again. “Papa, it’s me!” I call. I knock again and realize that my knocks make no sound at all.

“What’s going on?” I turn and look back at Epoch. “He can’t hear me.”

Epoch stands beside me, placing his hands on my shoulders. “The windows, Edith. You cannot go through these doors.”

I grimace at the door and forcefully try to knock again. I take hold of the handle and shake it, but it has no give to it. “I want to see my father! What sort of horrible trick are you trying to pull on me?” I snap angrily at him.

“This is no trick. The windows are all that you can touch, Edith. So please, look through them.” Epoch moves me to the window and uses my scarf to wipe away the frost. Inside I see my father stitching a button onto a boot. There’s someone with bright red hair sitting before the fire.

“He looks so young,” I whisper.

“Your father was a cobbler, right?” Epoch asks gently.

You nod. “He used to be, before he met my mother.” I press my palms against the cold glass as I look inside. “Once she chose him, he only made shoes for me when I was born.”

Epoch’s hand squeezes my shoulder in a strangely comforting way. “Do you know the story of how your parents met?”

I shake my head. “All I was told was that it was love at first sight.”

“Did you ever believe that?”

The woman sitting before the fire turns her head and smiles up broadly at my father. It is Holly, my mother. “Only when I was little,” I say bitterly.

My father kneels before her, placing the repaired boot back onto her foot. She grins and tousles her thick mane of curls. She laughs giddily, eliciting a brighter smile from my father.

“Is there love there?” Epoch asks.

“I don’t know.” I look back at Epoch. “Maybe. I’m not sure.” The lights in the house go dark, and I am standing in shadow. I step back, letting my hand fall into Epoch’s again. “I don’t think I saw what I was supposed to.” My voice comes out as white clouds in the cold.

Epoch takes me to another house as the lights inside slowly brighten. Inside I see my father again, slightly older, crying over a letter on the table. “I know what this is,” I whisper. “This was when Holly told him she was pregnant with Winifred, and was marrying her father.”

“Do you see love there?”

It breaks my heart to see my father weeping like that. It comes from deep within, raging from his broken heart. “I do.”

“Since you know of this moment, what can you tell me about what happens after?” Epoch turns me away from the windows. Behind me, all the houses are gone, and only the bright lights on the horizon remain.

“Winifred was born, and a year later, she returned to my father.” The lights intensify and rise into the sky. They shift like ink, spreading out. “She said she could not forget him and wanted him to come live with her.”

“He did, I take it?”

I shake my head. “Not at first. It wasn’t until I was born that he relented.” I place my hand over my chest and remove the locket around my neck.

“And that’s where you grew up?” he asks gently.

I nod. “In her keep, yes.” I look back at him and smile sadly. “We used to fight horribly, my mother and I.”

“Because you hated her?”

“No, I don’t...” I frown and turn back on him. “Whose side are you on? I thought this was supposed to be about making some covenant. But this just feels like you’re trying to guilt me!”

“I see your past extending behind you, Edith. I’m trying to help you see what it has led to and the paths you will have to choose.” Epoch extends his hand to me again. “I can help you to find the path that is right for you.”

“I just want my father back! Do you know how long it’s been? Do you know how much I’ve...” I stop myself. “Oh, right, you do.”

“Why is your first reaction always one of anger, Edith?” Epoch asks gently. “Have you not realized that about yourself?”

I look at his four eyes, then down at the snow my feet are sinking into. “I don’t know,” I grumble reluctantly.

“Because the past is painful,” Epoch replies. “And sometimes, the wounded lash out in anger because it is easiest.”

I press my lips into a firm line and refuse to acknowledge him. Epoch places his warm, heavy hand upon my head. “It’s okay to hurt, Edith. And even though it is easy, anger and all its brothers should not be who you hold your hand out to.”

I grab his wrist, intending to push his hand away, but instead I hold it and I begin to cry. “I just want my dad,” I whimper.

Epoch takes me in his arms, and his chestplate is even warmer than his hand. “I will help you. That is my vow.”

I hold onto him, feeling his warmth seep through my flesh and into my bones. “I don’t want to be angry.”

Epoch’s hand brushes along my cheek and through my hair. “Then look around you, Edith.”

I raise my head to see us standing inside the lights on the horizon. All around me I see images of me in my youth; as a baby, a child, a teenager. I see myself crying, running, laughing, yelling. I am surrounded by all the past versions of myself, none the same, but all me. I begin to well up with an overwhelming heavy feeling inside my chest. Tears roll freely down my face.

“Where do you want to go, Edith?” Epoch asks. “I will take your hand and lead you there.”

“I want to see my father.” I take his hand with both of mine and squeeze it hard. “I’m sorry I was angry at you. I don’t want to be angry anymore. I just want to see him.”

“I am here to help you, from this day forward.” Epoch touches his helmet to my forehead. “That is my covenant with you.”

I smile softly and look up through my tears. In his helmet the smoke looks more solid, and I can see the face surrounding his eyes. He looks almost scaly with gills along his neck. There are shimmers of purple and pink inside the smoke, but I only see them for the briefest flash. “Do you swim in the magma?” I ask Epoch with a laugh.

A soft chuckle finally escapes him. “Do marshmallows taste better roasted?”

The lights part and clear like, leaving us standing in the pavilion again. I see Winifred and Lydia standing hand in hand with Epoch’s brothers. The three brothers stand all together in a line and kneel before us. “We are yours to command until the eve you will want us no more,” they speak in unison.

Winifred and Lydia look at me. “Well?” Lydia asks. “Are we still going?”

[loruleanheart]

Desired Fate, Chapter 18

Read on AO3 

Read on FF.net

I wanted to post this tomorrow, but I couldn’t wait any longer. Here it is! Warning, this chapter is coming at you with razor blades and lemon juice. You were warned.

Revali drew back the string of the Great Eagle Bow, preparing to deliver the killing strike to Windblight Ganon as it had grown more and more languid in its movement, and while it was still distracted by Sooga.

“This is it!” Revali called victoriously, letting the bomb arrows fly.

Sooga dodged the incoming explosives and they collided with Windblight in a grand explosion. The creature’s resounding bestial shriek was like a reward for a battle well fought.

Lowering his bow, Revali watched, savoring the moment as the blight hemorrhaged malice. He had faced the most grueling battle he’d ever experienced, and he would live to regale his fellow Rito of his triumph. 

He turned his attention to the Yiga, still at a loss for their motivations. What had possessed them to turn against Calamity Ganon?

Well, whatever…  Revali thought. At least it wasn’t the vexingly silent knight wielding the sacred blade who came to save the day. He’d never live it down if it had been him…

Revali alighted before the two, holding back any outward sign of exhaustion or weakness. He regarded the Yiga with a hard look of suspicion.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I must thank you for coming to my aid. But just as a warning, if you do anything to make me question this...alliance, I won’t hesitate to -”

“Your threats won’t be necessary,” Sooga said simply, resheathing his dual blades.

Sooga’s words were clear despite the mask he wore, yet Revali paused, contemplating his words, not fully believing the situation. Revali braced himself for a surprise attack that never came as the moments passed.

He stared into the inverted crimson eye painted on Sooga’s horned mask and the long crack that ran across it, slightly unnerved that he could not see the man’s eyes or facial expressions. He’d have to rely on the man’s body language and tone of voice for assurance that he was not a threat. 

Kohga approached, having remained a safe distance away during the fight. “Well done, Sooga! That was quite the display of Yiga bravado.”

Revali opened his beak to say something more, but before he could form the words, their attentions were drawn to the thunderous and deliberate footsteps of a Divine Beast.

He lifted off the surface of Vah Medoh to see which of the other Champions had come to his aid. Kohga and Sooga likewise rushed across the mossy stone that stretched the wingspan of Vah Medoh to look out into the distance.

“This should be interesting…” Revali remarked as he watched Vah Naboris approach.

“Urbosa’s coming….?! ...That’s our cue to leave!” Kohga blurted before retreating into a cloud of smoke and falling talismans.

Sooga turned to Revali and shook his head. “Master Kohga can be a bit of a coward when it comes to the Gerudo Chief. “Uh… Don’t tell him I told you that!” And with that Sooga followed after Kohga, leaving Revali alone.

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

The was a sterile, stillness that belied the Champion’s victory over the blights as Hyrule Field was cast in a dreary grey. There would be no breathtaking sunset to behold, nor the comfort the moon’s brilliant glow could bring, only the world darkening as night crept in.

The four that had seized the bokoblin camp for a moment of rest could sense the encroaching storm from the dark clouds above, but none spoke of it aloud.

Robbie cleared his throat. There was no longer a levity in his voice. “Where are you headed next?”

Astor didn’t meet Robbie’s eyes as he smoothed Zelda’s long golden hair with his gloved hand. It took a moment for him to respond, too focused on her downcast gaze. 

“Fort Hateno... That’s where she is fated to awaken her inner power.”

“Then I wish you both luck.” Robbie offered, humbly.

Zelda hung her head and Astor squeezed her hand in comfort. The bleak refrain of Zelda’s court came to mind. 

Heir to a throne of nothing…

She said nothing in response, and he wondered if she was thinking the same. She seemed to have retreated inward, having cried herself out.

Purah leaned forward to address Zelda. “Princess, I have faith in you, I do. You are not alone and we’re not going to give up trying to turn back the Calamity. I think we could all benefit if we set up camp here and call it a day. And if any monsters come by, we’ll beat them with our flails.”

“No… I must go to Fort Hateno right away.” Zelda replied shakily.

“I hate to be blunt, Princess, but you aren’t in any condition to operate the Master Cycle.” 

“I’ll be fine, Purah.”

She didn’t sound fine. 

Zelda quivered in his arms, and Astor’s chest tightened with unfamiliar apprehension. 

Purah’s earlier antics would have made Kohga proud. Just like Kohga, she was perceptive, yet Astor was relieved to see a more serious side to her - as the situation demanded. He just hoped Zelda would heed Purah’s warning.

“A rest wouldn’t disturb fate, Zelda. And you do need the rest,” said Astor.

Purah and Robbie observed the couple pensively, and Astor felt like an oddity under their analytical gaze - as if they were trying to ascertain what Zelda had done to tame the Prophet of Doom himself - something Astor was in awe of as well.

“I won’t rest until I awaken my inner power,” Zelda said with as much determination as she could muster looking up at him with reddened, weary eyes.  “We don’t have a moment to waste. Let us be on our way.”

Astor followed Zelda. Despite his fatigue, despite his trepidation about getting back on the Master Cycle, he couldn’t fathom not going with her.

“Astor!” Robbie called after him.

“Hm?”

“Take care of her.”

-----------

Their journey to Fort Hateno proved to be miserable and treacherous as it had begun to rain not long after they departed. As they neared the West Necluda region, the moisture laden clouds above spilled their cold tears on the Goddess’s descendant and her elect. The rain slicked the grass and turned the packed earth roads to mud. The Master Cycle was at times buffeted by strong winds that made it difficult to maneuver. Visibility was low. Bridges became slippery.

Astor’s grip on Zelda’s waist tightened. Dread and guilt crept in as she began to second-guess her decision.

Why are we doing this? All my previous attempts to awaken my power have failed. What is it about Fort Hateno that will suddenly change everything? Ugh, I can’t allow myself to think like this.

The Master Cycle traversed through Dueling Peaks, and Zelda felt as though those towering cliffs were pressing in on them. The cliffs gave way to a vast plain, and the mountains in the distance were barely an outline in the night sky.

Zelda took care as they crossed the Big Twin Bridge, breathing out in relief when she had made it to the other side.

Almost there…

Even as Blatchery Plain stretched out before them, Zelda felt no closer to awakening the power within herself, and she didn’t know what recourse she had if this too did not work. These thoughts lingered as she pressed onward.

Blatchery Plain lay in ruin, desolate, and devoid of life - or so it seemed. A figure appeared in the immediate dim horizon, and Zelda’s heart froze as she swerved to avoid colliding with it. The Master cycle dipped a little too far for comfort to one side. Her heart thumped rapidly as she struggled to keep it upright. The tires squelched through the mud as they veered off the path and then returned.

“It keeps finding us…” Zelda said worriedly.

“Ganon always knows where we are…” Astor replied, trying not to let fear enter his voice.

Zelda looked back over her shoulder, a pit opening in her stomach when she realized the Harbinger wasn’t as far back as she expected. No, it was following them at a speed unlike other Guardians.

“Astor, whatever you do, hold on tight…” her voice was nearly muffled by the rumble of the engine.

A chill ran down Astor’s spine as he perceived the words of Calamity Ganon. It was a voice he knew all too well from prophetic dreams, the one that had urged him so fervently to kill the princess.

You are nothing, my wayward prophet without a prayer.

“Leave me alone!” Astor screamed, tearing his circlet that bore the eye of malice from his forehead. He turned and pitched it at the charging Harbinger. The red and yellow stone was crushed under its rampaging claw the next moment.

Do you think you can rid yourself of me that easily? That was merely an outward symbol of your devotion to me. Nothing more. You’ll never be able to wash the taint of malice away. Everyone is going to know who you are and what you did. You belong to me!

With the Harbinger closing in on them, Zelda pushed the Master Cycle to its limit. The engine chugged. Her stomach soured as the cycle struggled to gain speed.

There was a dreamlike sensation of slow-motion despite her rapid heartbeat, beating in time with Astor’s against her back. She felt as though -

The Harbinger’s laser is trained on them and after what feels like a silent eternity it fires. The high-powered beam of ancient energy tears through his back and exits her chest. They are enveloped in a blinding blue light as that final scream of failure is ripped from her.

She snapped herself out of that grim vision, still awash in panic. It had been easy to outrun the Harbinger in the Lost Woods, but there was nothing to slow its chase out in the open plain.

Her panic-fueled delirium reached a fever pitch. She didn’t dare look again, but she could hear the gurgle of malice and the mechanical whirring of the automaton itself.

Goddess Hylia... It’s right on us...How is it so fast? It’s somehow running at full tilt on three mechanical legs just to get at us. The effort alone should cause it to break down. It wasn’t designed to go at that speed.

Zelda despaired, thinking of how something her mother made so long ago with loving care had been corrupted by Calamity Ganon.

This was her final thought as the Harbinger swung its distended bladed arm, colliding with the vehicle’s back tire. The Master Cycle wavered pathetically from the force of the automaton’s slap, and then went down, skidding through the mud.

The sky and ground spun as she felt herself hit the ground, narrowly missing becoming pinned under the fallen Master Cycle. 

The falling rain on her skin brought Zelda back to a vague awareness. Groaning, she opened her eyes. She barely registered that they were lying in a crumpled heap, but when she did, she reached for Astor as he stirred slightly. Her hands moved over him as she fought to regain her bearings.

“Astor… Please say something...” She could only mumble as her fingers stroked the braids that draped the side of his face.

Astor sucked in a breath, wincing. “I... think I’m still in one piece…”

There was mud all over her dress and numerous scrapes on her exposed shoulders and arms. The rain stung her open wounds, but that was only the beginning of her pain.

Lifting her head weakly, she saw that the Master Cycle was a complete loss - and the Harbinger loomed over them, its corrupted red display ebbing outward hypnotically as it regarded them.

“Zelda, run....” Astor urged her, helplessly.

She took in the glowing blue of the Harbinger’s many blades. It was toying with them, taking its time as a predator with prey.

“I can’t outrun it any more than you can. I won’t leave you.” Zelda gripped his hand, her voice resigned and weak.

The Harbinger began to emit a discordant tune. 

To Zelda, it sounded so familiar in her mental haze but deeply wrong. However, Astor knew it all too well.

There were times when the Harbinger used to play a strange song. Even Kohga and Sooga had heard it ‘sing’ at odd intervals. They didn’t know what to think at first. Then, Astor learned the origins of the Harbinger and he realized its significance. The tune was little more than a malfunction - simply the machinery morbidly regurgitating a lullaby meant for the princess out of key. Kohga and Sooga’s howls of laughter carried through the Yiga Hideout on the day they came to the same realization, much to Astor’s annoyance. The toy Zelda had once cherished was now possessed by the most malignant spirit in the realm and Astor was hanging on its every instruction.

“I’m sorry this happened to you, Terrako…” Zelda said numbly.

And then Astor heard her make a seizing sound. The alarm and pain in her voice turned his stomach to rot. 

Zelda stared at her feet in horror. They were as black as a decomposing corpse. She held them out as if paralyzed with pain. The same concerning blackness had appeared on her cheek, and others were appearing elsewhere, spreading.

“No, not her!” Astor screamed, taking hold of her in his arms.

Malice licked and traveled her body like a flame. It had started at her feet, blackening her skin and sandals, and traveled up. The malice infected her body, consuming her dress, her hair, and finally blooming in the whites of her eyes.

He cradled her in his arms, her darkened eyes staring back at him in wide open agony, and he wished the malice would consume him as well. She opened her mouth to say something, but the only sound that came forth was a terrible gasping sound.

“No… No…”

He pressed his face into the exposed skin of her shoulder, feeling the blighted flesh against his own. Her body gave no warmth, just a husk of her former beauty.

The anguish crashing down on him was unbearable as his raging thoughts took over - Hylia’s words turning over and over again in his mind, and all the things he wished he’d told Zelda. 

I was supposed to die that way. Not her… I can’t let her die believing she’s a failure.

Hyrule’s future lay in ruin along with his own. What was fate if even the prophecy of the Goddess could be undone?

The Harbinger watched the prophet grieve, viewing the scene in the red tones of its censor. Certain the princess who bore the goddess’s blood would soon pass away, it turned to retreat.

Astor raised his head, hearing himself utter words he never thought possible.

“I love her… Know this, Calamity Ganon...I love her!” His voice shuddered in horrible defeat and desolation. “And I always will...”

Zelda grit her teeth as she shakily held her wasted right hand high.

The Harbinger had stopped in its tracks. It had ignored its former prophet’s confession, but now sensed a holy power brewing within the nearly lifeless girl.

A golden light had manifested in the palm of her hand, and in the next instant intensified into a brilliant and blinding dome that eclipsed the field.

Astor lifted his arm to shield his eyes, still embracing her with the other.

The dome of light faded out. Astor opened and closed his eyes, his vision coming back into focus.

“That light… It's…”

She held her arm out still, rigidly. Astor could only stare in awe at the unmistakable triangular mark on the back of her hand, and when her extended arm began to falter, he clasped her hand before it could fall limply to her side.

Zelda serenely closed her eyes. Astor thought he heard her exhale softly as she sank back into his arms, going limp. The black malice receded slowly, beginning at the sacred mark on her hand. The skin beneath had an otherworldly immaculate quality to it. And though the malice departed from her body and hair, it was plain to see that her clothing and jewelry would remain corroded and black.

The Harbinger was gone. Astor could only imagine it had retreated. There was nothing but the calming sound of rain falling as it began to taper off, and the dark clouds began to break, leaving nothing but the starry night sky and the moon. Astor’s gaze rested on the soft rise and fall of her chest.

There was the clanging of armor and Astor turned his head to see two Hyrulian soldiers approach.

“What was that light?” The soldier let his gaze fall on the girl in Astor’s arms and then the wrecked vehicle, going silent.

“Who are you? What did you do to the princess!?” the other barked.

“I... I’m her seer. I helped her awaken her sacred power.” Astor gave them a tired, elated smile, too thankful to Hylia that Zelda was alive to demand respect from these two lowly Hyrulean Soldiers.

The soldiers glanced at one another skeptically, not sure whether to take the strange, suspicious man at his word, but there was no denying the light shining dully from Zelda’s hand.

“Should we believe him? I know of no royal seer in attendance to the princess. Where is her appointed knight?”

���He certainly doesn’t look the least bit royal to me… Anyways, we need to get Her Highness to safety. Alright, Sir, you’re going to carry Her Highness to Fort Hateno, and you’re going to mind your hands while you do.”

Astor bit back a scathing insult and gathered the princess in his arms, following the soldiers in the direction of their destination. It wasn’t long before his arms ached terribly, and he didn’t think he would be able to carry her any longer, especially in his condition.

“Just a little further,” the first soldier said, not unkindly.

Astor adjusted his aching arms, Zelda still not stirring, and he pressed on.

They passed by countless broken-down Guardians.

“That light… It seems to have disabled the Guardians in the vicinity.” The soft-spoken soldier remarked.

They passed through the raised iron gate and the stone-faced soldier directed Astor to a tent.

“She can rest here. You rest over there,” the soldier ordered testily, pointing to another tent some distance away.

“You must be joking... We haven’t been apart during the entirety of the Calamity.”  Astor felt the words leave his mouth helplessly. 

“I care not! And I’m going to be keeping an eye on these tents to make sure nothing untoward happens until she can be reunited with her rightful appointed knight or advisor.”

Astor’s chest tightened, furious and in disbelief at the soldier’s callousness. “Just what are you accusing me of? We were attacked! Listen to me, you presumptive scab, there’s a very dangerous Guardian still out there and it's not done with us. I can’t leave her side. She’s incapacitated and defenseless.”

The soldier drew his sword. “Which is exactly why I won’t let you stay by her side,” he spat. “I’m not going to let you take advantage of the Calamity and sully her reputation, whoever you are. You expect me to believe your tall tales? I’ve yet to see a Guardian I couldn’t handle. Now, do as I say. I’m already granting you far more accommodation than you deserve!”

Astor shut his eyes in surrender and hugged the girl in his arms, knowing he could not afford to escalate the situation any further. He laid her in the tent and then turned to tiredly lurch toward the other, grumbling under his breath about how he was going to be sleeping with one eye open.

In his dreams, they stand under the Blood Moon hand in hand. The sky and land are awash in a scarlet glow. As her right hand clasps his left, he can sense her power resonating. Zelda stares up at the beast circling her home, undaunted, and smiles.

[nightmarewritings]

I wanna smoke a blunt or two and watch Dead End with you~

Aaaaaaa thank you! I'd mostly be talking about Twin Peaks more than the movie itself, but I'm so glad there are others out there who do like it!

[naromoreau]

One last prayer

A.N: So I started writing this last year as a present for @minilev who is one of my fave Sharky lovers and has given the fandom SO much! Thank you so much, Anna, baby and have this fic of Dep Callahan and Sharky.

—–

Callahan’s arm sways, carrying the heavy blunt of her steel baseball bat, and the peggie’s skull cracks. A dry, sharp sound, mingling with whines and dead gurgles of throats she just split open. Somewhere at her right there’s a gruff, some indistinct noise that almost sounds like her name. She grabs her pistol, unloading the barrel on the mayonnaise shirt of a hollering peggie who stumbles forward, hands trying to clasp her, and she sees death crawling on his iris before he faceplants on the ground. 

There’s a hoard of screeching voices in her head, noises she has learnt to quash down, but they always manage to shatter her nerves a little. Not that it matters anymore. She’s a killer and this is what she does. There’s no escape from that. 

So she swallows bile, watching the pale rays of a dawn she always expect to never come, and tumbles when frantic hands pull at her cargo pants. 

“–sinner– filthy–,” the peggie says, choking on his own blood, with ghastly conviction, “you’r– killer, –Father – have no mercy.”

Dying words. They never matter. But within her something snaps. 

“I’m not asking for it,” she grouses and her shotgun seals the deal. 

Upclose. It’s a nightmare in red.

“Woah, woah there shorty–” 

Her finger is stuck on the trigger, and her breath is coming in stuttered gasps. She feels Sharky’s big frame pressing behind her, a hand extended over her shoulder, to lower the smoking barrel of her gun. 

“You okay, Dep?” He asks, in a way that implies he believes she’s not. 

A tinge of worry grates on his voice as he leans slightly in front of her, taking a ragged cloth from his back pocket and trying to clean the unsanitary crimson smudges of her face, a rough, calloused hand cupping her chin. 

“Yeah– I just–” She sighs and stalls, because she doesn’t know how to explain it, how it burns her inside. “I’m not what he says,” she finally blurts out. 

Callahan sweeps grime, sweat and blood off her forehead with the heel of her hand and prays Sharky didn’t quite get the pleading underlying lilt in her words. 

But if he did, he doesn’t show it. “Don’t sweat it, dude, those peggies? Fuckin’ psychos, that’s what they are, but uh– I think you need a break, po-po. You gotta eat something.”

He’s a paltry couple of inches away from her, and Callahan sees the concern in the heavy frown he’s sporting, his gaze probably taking in her red-rimmed eyes, and the tufts of blood-crusted hair. She wonders if he can see the panic flickering on her eyes– And suddenly she feels like hiding, like scrambling away from his grasp because she feels like shit, and she looks like shit, and at some point Sharky is going to realize that. Her stomach rolls over at the thought, with a stark thunk she can almost hear.

But he pulls her into a tight hug, and she doesn’t want to think about how hard her fingers curl around handfuls of his hoodie, cheek burrowed in his chest until her nose can’t take anything else than sweat, propane and gunsmoke. Slowly, her dismay coils, subsided. 

“It’ll be alright, shorty, I got you.”

—–

“Can I use your shower?” She’s feeling the stomach-churning smell of death burning her nose, sticking to her clothes, which are going directly to the trash bin.

“Uh, sure, just- just don’t drink it. Bliss in the pumps, y’know.” He shrugs.

The water is not too cold, after all it’s mid-july and the sun is scorching high above. She hears Sharky fumbling in the kitchen and his words waft, dampened by five inches of drywall.

“How about some bacon and eggs, and uh, beers? What ya say shorty?”

“Sounds fine,” she yells over the hard splash of water. She scrubs a little too hard, a little too rough, until her skin is just a scour away of being raw.

Honestly, Callahan doesn’t want to give a second thought to the whirling shit in her head, or the fact she’s dwindling Hope County’s population in very indictable ways.

She just wants to sink and let herself marinate in something good for once.

“All ready, chica! Bacon is all crispy and– oh shit, shit– yeah, eggs are hot.”

Something good like Sharky. Callahan ponders what seems like an askew path and bites her lip, but she doesn’t have the heart to drag him down to that specific level of hell she feels like visiting every day. It ain’t fair.

So she sighs and wraps herself in a threadbare green towel, too small for her liking.

“Smells nice.” Her stomach grumbles already committed to devour whatever will appear in front. “Damn, Shark, didn’t know you could cook.”

“Oh, this is nothin’” Sharky answers with his back turned, arranging plates and forks over the counter, “you gotta try my casserole, man, I make a killer casse–”

He spins. She sees him faltering, eyes sliding down at a torturously slow pace over every inch of skin she’s showing and his jaw falls, slack. The heavy hitch in his movements is painfully evident as he takes a small pace forward.

Callahan’s skin prickles under his gaze and the way his eyes linger at the hidden apex of her thighs make heat pool in her sex, irradiating in belching waves all over her. It’s not as if he hadn’t seen her bits, more often than not to patch her up in the roaring distress of battle, diving under flitting bullets. But not like this. Never like this.

Her fingers clasp the towel, and she shuffles two shy paces forward, trying to flash him a coy smile. His cheeks are red and his throat bobs as he swallows, finally fixing wide open eyes on hers.

“You uh, you need some clothes,” he says, breathless. Sharky clears his throat and fastens his stare to her face, something that makes her heart flutter. He’s trying to be proper, trying to be a friend, when the only thing she wants right now is to toss that tilt-a-whirl of anxiety over the window and seize the moment.

“Do I?”

“Are ya– are you messing with me?”

A small flare of doubts spark in her, but unwanted images flicker in her eyelids, like a film she refuses to watch. Hopes wane and she needs this. Needs him. Callahan closes the distance and gives him a chaste kiss.

For a moment he seems to lose the ability to speak, blinking as a deer caught in the headlights. And then he moves.

He cups her jaw with trembling hands and Rook lets the towel slide down the floor, pressing herself against him, and twinning her arms around his neck. When his mouth meet hers, there’s a jolt hurtling from her toes to her temples, amped a hundred voltages when he glides his tongue across her lips and in, tasting her thoroughly.

“Oh man, oh man, oh man–” he almost warbles between raspy moans when they break apart and Callahan kisses the side of his neck with an intensity she can’t control.

He’s flushed an eager, nipping at where her neck meets her shoulder, hands digging into her soft curves. She allows him to pull her to the couch with fingers that dig into her skin, his erection rubbing against her stomach, making her toes curl in anticipation.

The upholstery whines when he falls over it, Callahan clambered over his lap, and he quickly takes off his hoodie and hat, tossing them to a corner.

“Am I– is this real?” he breathes, giving her the most adoring look she’s ever seen. “C’mon shorty, pinch me, ‘cuz I don’t– I mean…”

“I want you, Shark.” She’s conscious of the demanding tone in her words but she doesn’t care. Apparently neither does him.

A shy smile spreads on his face, as he draws her closer, hands cinching tightly around her waist. “I’m blissed as fuck, am I? ”

He closes his lips around her nipple, sucking and rolling his tongue over it and making her arch in response. She’s soaked, the musk of her arousal closing down on her while he nothing but plays with her peaks, showing her he indeed was good at this. So good at this.

His fingers prod at her cunt, breaching her for him helped by the wetness gathered between her thighs. A breathless moan breaks from her throat, as she feels her walls clenching, ready to take more.  

The harrowing screams and cries seem to subside with every second she dives more and more into him.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he says amidst labored breaths, “but uh, you still sure ‘bout this?”

There’s a glimmer of uncertainty in his blue eyes, and she hurries to muffle them with a hard kiss. “Fuck yes, Shark,” she says, fanning his lips with halted gasps, “you’ve no idea how much I want this.” There’s the pinch of a doubt at the back of her mind, like a cold, dead hand caressing the nape of her neck. Splitting her will in half.

“For-for real?” He stutters, unassuming of her mental ordeal.

His whole face lights up, watching her nod, spilling words she can’t quite catch against her skin.

She tugs at his belt, freeing his erection in record time, ripping broken gasps out of him. Fast enough to not think about why. His hands wander over her body as she finally rises on her knees and takes him in her hand.

“Oh, shit–”

He seems about to faint, his eyes almost crossing as she slowly takes him in. Her bottom lip disappears in her mouth trying to quench the cry that threatens to tear from her throat. He’s long, wonderfully thick, demanding a minute from her to adjust. It’s been perhaps a year since the last time she did this, and even when she’s had her fair share of action, the hot press of his cock is testing her limits. For a minute Callahan lets herself go, pulling at his hair, raking teeth over his neck.

“Fuck, shorty, you feel so good.”

His voice is low pitched, a rasp, hoarse sound that scrapes along her skin. Sharky tilts his head back, and thrusts upwards.

“Shit.” She parts her lips slightly, her head buzzing with overwhelming pleasure as he sinks into her. The drag of his dick feels amazing against her walls, making her want to ride him hard and fast until they have nothing more to give. Until she’s full of him and nothing else. Until the screeches and the sour smell of decay finally disappear. Callahan closes her eyes, making every downstroke scratch on violence.

“Easy, babe, easy.” His words sound like a low grunt, as he steadies her, by the hips. His eyes could scorch her and her gut twist with want and something undefinable. “Don’t– don’t wanna end this too soon.”

But her own peak comes too quick, crashing against every single wall she has. Her thighs quiver, her cunt pulsating and dragging him until he grunts and spills inside her.

There’s so much one can hide in their every day and when Callahan looks at Sharky, pure glint of joy in his eyes, a peaceful smile reeking adoration, her heart stops.

She can’t do this. Whatever this is. Not if not for the right reasons, which are many and spread out for everyone who wants to see it. Yes, yes. She loves him. But he deserves better.

Better than a venom-filled cop, who by now, has more blood in her hands than everyone in the county combined. Someone who isn’t going down the hill with every passing second, and isn’t a step away to be catalogued as a psychopath. And proudly so.

“Shorty? You ‘aight?”

The silence is strained, and Callahan tries her best smile, scurrying away from his lap with a faint “yeah, be right back”. She can feel the pungent smell of decay reeking from the clothes in the trash bin in the bathroom, reminding her that maybe, just maybe, the peggie from before wasn’t mistaken at all.

She is what he said.

Suddenly the air is too scarce, the walls too close, her skin too tight. She dresses in her former discarded clothes all while listening to Sharky pratting about drinking wine and watch something.

She can’t do this.

“…and the second season is even better than the first,” Sharky is saying out of sight. “You ok there?”

Lead bars constrict her heart. “Yeah, give me a sec.”

Silently, just as Peaches hunting, she opens the door of the trailer and runs. It’s better this way, even if Sharky won’t get it.

Unholstering her gun, she makes her way to Eden’s Convent. The turmoil inside her needs to be quashed down, and sometimes that’s something just bullets can do.

[always-evak]

9th December

Time to be brave and make good on the description that I might write fic occasionally so here’s my first attempt at writing anything for SKAM.  Ideally I would have got this out on the right day but I only got inspired to write after rewatching *that* episode.

It’s 9th December 2020 and Isak has somewhere he needs to be.

If you prefer to read on AO3 you can do so here

*****

"Isak, where are you going?"

"Nowhere."

Isak pauses in the act of grabbing his jacket, guilt written clear across his face and calling him a liar.  The fact he's already got his shoes on doesn't help his case.

"Isak?"  There's a single raised eyebrow from Even where he's leaning against the doorframe to the lounge, watching as Isak squirms uncomfortably.  

"I'm just heading out.  Okay?" Isak responds with twin raised eyebrows of his own and a glare of teenage rebellion that isn't often seen now that he's no longer a teenager.

"Jonas?"

Isak shrugs a non-answer, throws a jacket on over his hoodie, pulls the hood up over his snapback and heads out into the grim night.  

Even watches the apartment door click closed then rolls off his own doorframe and heads back into the lounge.  He's used to Isak's moods, and after 4 years together he can read them pretty well, but there's something about Isak's demeanor tonight that doesn't sit right.  Pulling out his phone he quickly scrolls through the contacts to J and starts tapping out a message.  

Til Jonas:

Is everything okay with Isak?

The typing bubbles appear almost immediately and he sits, staring at the screen.

Fra Jonas:

You'll have to ask him yourself

The message does nothing to quell the misgivings Even has.  There had been nothing to suggest that things had been anything but fine, if anything Isak had been in good spirits looking forward to spending Christmas in their new apartment.  The move to a place that actually had a separate bedroom and lounge meant the chance to have a proper Christmas tree and Isak has displayed almost childlike glee at the prospect of picking out new decorations.  They were settled.  Happy.

At least everything had seemed okay until today.  Isak had been fine over breakfast but this evening had been a different story, his boyfriend had been distracted and distant, preoccupied with something weighing heavy on his mind.

It's a short scroll up from J to I and this time Even hits the dial button.  He's not entirely surprised when the call gets rejected after two rings, shunting him through to the electronic tones of voicemail.  He doesn't bother leaving a message.  All he can do is sit and wait and hope that Isak comes back to him.

***

It’s not really a surprise when the phone in his pocket starts vibrating, the ringtone cutting through the night air.  Isak isn’t too sure why he couldn’t tell Even where he was headed, except Even probably would have insisted on coming too and for some reason Isak knows he needs to make this pilgrimage alone.  He gives the screen a cursory glance to confirm it’s Even before hitting the icon to reject the call.  The lock screen flashes back up and his steps quicken when he sees the time, their new apartment is closer to Nissen than the old one but he’s still going to be cutting it fine.  Tonight, just like four years ago, it’s vitally important he makes it in time.  

His breath in making clouds in the freezing air and he’s running, dodging across roads and skittering round corners until he’s there.  The area looks the same as ever, the bench framed by the bush behind it, perhaps a little more paint has flaked away from the weathered planks but essentially it’s the same.  This time there is no feeling of dread at seeing the seat empty, no stomach plunging heart stopping moment of fear that he had been too late, instead it’s a relief that he doesn’t have to share this moment with anyone.

He jumps up to perch on the back, the same way Even had been sitting that night during the kosagruppa meeting.  He’s come a long way since that night.  So much has changed since that shared smoke that got interrupted by Emma.  There have been good times and bad but for some reason this bench with it’s scuffed yellow paint has become an anchor point for him.

He pulls out his phone and checks the time.  21:20.  There’s just time grab the crumpled envelope out of his other pocket, the one he knows Jonas is responsible for despite the only writing on it being Isak, for ikveld, he would recognise that untidy scrawl anywhere and anyway, who else but Jonas would think of it.  The envelope is empty apart from a single rolled joint.  He doesn’t smoke much now, the responsibilities of life mean that there are much more pressing uses for his and Even’s limited funds, a bigger apartment for starters, and it doesn’t seem fair to smoke when Even has given it up completely.  He makes a mental note to thank Jonas who still seems to know him better than he knows himself sometimes.

There’s the spark of a lighter and then he’s drawing in the first breath as the clock ticks over to 21:21.

It’s their time.  It’s his time.  21:21 has punctuated his life and so he settles down to smoke and think, the same as he has done on this night for the last three years and will probably continue to do.  

There’s a ritual now and he finds himself going through the motions, pulling out his phone as the first buzz of weed hits his system and scrolling through the photos.  It’s a different phone to the one he had 4 years ago but he has a screengrab.  The text message fills the screen and he reads through the words even though he knows them by heart.  As he reads he can almost see the two figures meeting in front of the bench, his past self rushing in from the street to be confronted by devastating loneliness until Even appears like a fallen angel through the door that is currently locked and in darkness,  

The joint burns down as he replays the scene in his mind’s eye.  Their night of salvation.  The night he chose, once and for all, to leave behind the baggage of the past, to leave behind his parents.  The night he chose Even, fragile and broken as he was.  But Even wasn’t the only broken one.  9th December was the night he himself became whole again. 

Only when the last stub has been ground out against the planks that have witnessed so much does he leave the silent square and turn his steps for home.

***

The sound of the key in the lock startles Even out of his brooding.  He hadn’t expected Isak back so soon, hadn’t even been sure if he would return at all that night, so it was with some relief that he turned to watch as Isak sidled in through the door, beads moisture glittering on the curls that have escaped his hood.  He knows better than to crowd Isak when something is wrong, knows that if his boyfriend needed his comfort he would seek it out as he so often had, so however much he yearns to reach out and crush Isak against him instead he gives Isak space to toe off his shoes and rehang his jacket.  It takes a lot of willpower to stay on the couch but somehow he manages it.

Isak appears in the lounge a moment later and there’s serenity about him that hadn’t been there earlier.  He flops down on the couch and drags Even’s arm around him, settling himself down comfortably.  Even uses his free hand to throw Isak’s snapback into a corner so he can press a kiss to the top of that bonde head pressed against him.  It’s as though the entire last hour hasn’t happened except the Isak of an hour ago was decidedly more grumpy.

“So, are you going to tell me what all that was about?”

Isak nestles in deeper, gently entwining his fingers with Even’s.  He knows he probably owes Even a reason for his abrupt departure but he’s not meant to be the sentimental one in this relationship.  Even is the artist that ascribes meaning and significance to things, he’s the counterbalance, the one that rolls his eyes at traditions.  The role reversal makes him feel awkward. 

His first year of observance had been wholly coincidental.  Mostly coincidental.  Okay, he hadn’t really needed to take the route past Nissen on the way to the party but it wasn’t that far out of his way and so he’d found himself at the bench, a bag of beers in one hand and a pouch of weed in his pocket at just the right time to pause and take a moment out of his life to reflect on when things had changed.  Of course afterwards he’d had to explain to Jonas what had taken him so long which was why he knew about the whole thing.  Even hadn’t been at the party, had pulled a late shift at work, and for some reason best known to himself Isak had never mentioned his visit to the bench.

The following two occasions Even had been busy too, 2018 had been another work shift, 2019 he had been setting up for an exhibition for part of his university course.  On both occasions Isak had made use of time alone to bend his steps towards Nissen and reflect on the past year and everything Even meant to him.

This year should have been no different.  A quiet moment to himself with just the ghosts of the past for company.  Except this year Even had been home and now he was worried, Isak could feel the tension in Even’s body, the frame moulded round his not quite so soft and yielding as usual. 

“You’ve been smoking.”  The tone isn’t quite accusatory but there is bluntness with a slight edge of disappointment.

“Jonas gave it to me.”

“You’ve been with Jonas?”

“No.”  And he pulls the now empty envelope from his pocket in answer to the questions he knows are coming, the words ‘for tonight’ clearly visible.  “He sent it earlier.”

“But why?”

And this is the moment Isak knows he has to choose.  The choice between baring his soul or brushing the moment aside because as much as he might try and claim he doesn’t have a sentimental bone in his body the truth is that moment is etched into him profoundly.  And because this is Even he chooses the truth.

“It’s 9th December.”

There’s a slight shift of confusion and that's perhaps not a surprise, at the time Even had been in the riding the peaks and troughs of the vicious cycle of mania and while he might be able to place the events at some time in mid-December, the 9th is unlikely to spring to mind specifically.

“The night of the Christmas concert,” Isak elaborates slightly.

“The last time you saw your parents,” it’s little more than a whisper as the realisation of what night this is hits Even.  9th December 2016 had been the last physical interaction Isak had had with the people who used to be his family, the only contact afterwards had been one very explosive phone call and the occasional money transfer until even that had fizzled out.  It’s enough to make Isak irate.

“Nei!” he exclaims as he twists towards Even, the vehement anger on his face at the mention of his parents enough to scare off lesser men than Even Bech Næsheim.  “This is nothing to do with them and they do not get to be a part of this,” his voice softens before he continues, “it’s the night I realised I couldn’t bear to lose you.”  A whisper, “it’s the night I thought I had lost you.  Forever.”

“I'm sorry I scared you.” Even now understands why Isak had disappeared even if he isn't certain what he has been doing to mark the occasion.   For his own part he's not quite sure what would have happened if Isak hadn't arrived that night and he had been left to face his demons alone.  He's glad he never had to find out.  

"It wasn't your fault.  But every year since…" he pauses and takes a deep breath, "every year since I've gone back to our bench.  It's hard to explain why but it's kinda grounding.  Makes me grateful for everything I've got.  For us.  But I wasn't ready to share that moment.  It had to be just me.  Alone."

"Oh Isak." Even pulls him in closer, burying his nose in blonde curls.  "Du er ikke alene."

[lightsandlostbells]

wtFOCK season 1 reaction

So this is the one Skam remake I did not watch as it was airing! There wasn’t any reason it was this remake in particular, only that I didn’t have time to follow all of them; I was busy and already watching and taking notes on Skam NL, Skam España, and Skam Italia, and wtFOCK happened to be the “surprise” Skam remake that I wasn’t prepared for. And apparently it did very well and connected with the local teen audience, which is fantastic!

Anyway, I did want to watch it when I had time. I’m not going to do recaps for this season per episode, though I might for future seasons, but here are some thoughts about it.

wtFOCK season 1

I had heard that this remake was on the cringe-worthy side, and … yeah, I can see how people would say that. The acting isn’t the strongest, there are moments that I found exaggerated in a way that felt corny. That said, I did enjoy it overall.

Perhaps the biggest thing in its favor is its authenticity, especially with the characters. These feel like real kids. Because, well, they are real kids. The casting is age-appropriate from what I can tell. One reaction that struck me strongly was watching the scene with Jana and Robbe (Eva and Isak) after the gossip gets out at school about Jana cheating and Robbe comforts her, because I just had this big sense of wow, these are really teenagers, and that youthful vulnerability helps deliver the material. With that in mind, I’m much more willing to forgive shakier acting, because they aren’t professionals as far as I know. They’re teenagers representing themselves. The actors do not look or act like 23-year-old Instagram models, and that’s a big plus in my books.

On that note, I love that Jana had braces! Now that’s something you barely see in films and TV unless it’s like a plot point, practically, or a way to signpost that a character is young and awkward. Here it’s just a fact of life. 

In a way I’m glad I didn’t do episode by episode recaps, because some of the scenes were so similar to the original series that I really had nothing to say about them. On the other hand, there were some completely original scenes, and I liked a lot of them!

A lot of the best new material had to do with Jana and her mom. Loved that awkward scene where they run into Britt and Jana’s mom has no idea that they’re no longer friends - give Britt some credit for not ratting out Jana about the cabin trip. And I adored that Sinterklaas scene where Jana came downstairs and found all the goodies on the table, and Jana’s mom said that even though Jana forgot to place her shoe, she must still be in his good books. What a lovely scene to show that Jana’s mom still thinks her daughter is a good kid despite the fight and her bad grades. It was a different detail that Jana had lost her dad at a young age, although I wish that had been brought up a little more as to maybe how it affected her character, since it’s not the same set of circumstances as being distant from a parent who’s moved on to a new family. Touching to show her and her mom visiting her dad’s grave, though.

I also really liked that scene where Jana was eyeing Amber and Luca, and Jens was encouraging her to go talk to them. That was sweet and showed that he knew she was holding back on making new friends, making the post-cabin talk about her not having friends stronger.

Another good addition: Jana jumping straight to the worst conclusion when Jens doesn’t show up at the movies, showing her growing distrust of him, and foreshadowing that the thing with Britt is all a misunderstanding (since him not arriving to the cinema was, too).

The direction on the show is pretty standard. There’s not much ambition or #aesthetic and sometimes scenes are blocked clumsily or paced strangely. However, I could always tell what the main point of a scene was supposed to be, I wasn’t struggling to understand Jana’s emotional state, it wasn’t style over substance. So in that way, it was efficient. When it comes down to it, the characters are the most important to any version of Skam.

FreeFest was a decent way to adapt the russ storyline, although now I want to see if they continue to develop it across seasons or if it’ll fizzle out or fade into the background like I think the russ equivalent is going to with several of the remakes. One big challenge, I’ve realized, is that Skam could easily develop russ throughout the entire show, since it wouldn’t happen until graduation. However, the remakes have introduced various parties and trips and events that have less of a reason to go on indefinitely. FreeFest seemed like a lot of work, so I’m curious if it’ll continue into the second season. I didn’t catch when it was supposed to happen.

I was curious what was the point of Keisha, too, since she basically just showed up to be a red herring friend for Jana and then she disappeared. To demonstrate Jana really hates drugs? I did like her intro scene where Jana was obviously reading a little bit more into that interaction than intended, she was looking for a social connection and Keisha just kept on passing out flyers. They kept updating her IG throughout the season and even into the new year, so maybe she’ll be returning for S2, as someone working on her own FreeFest team.

Jana was great. She was a realistic teenage girl, with lots of insecurity and some bouts of confidence, and I appreciate that. She really hated drugs and smoking of all kinds in this version, it felt even more pronounced than with Eva. At times it felt a tad after-school-special but it also strengthened why Jens would hide his big secret from her.

After the cabin trip, Jens said that he thought having friends was important to Jana, and she said it was, just that Jens was more important, which I thought was a nice line, considering she had chosen Jens over Britt and established her mindset at that point.

Jens was clearly the best-looking dude around, to the point where I easily would have bought if he were the William character. Like the actual William and P-Chris characters had nothing on the Jonas (no offense to those actors, it’s not a comment on their performances) although I know their popularity is also a matter of personality and status and Jens/Jonas is supposed to be more an edgy non-conformist type. No wonder Jana didn’t know who Senne was, compared to her own boyfriend.

Loved Zoë a hell of a lot. Loved that she was so unimpressed with a lot of the guys’ bullshit. Loved that she had no time for any man’s fuckery, from Senne to Luka to Jens. She was probably kindest to Robbe, all things considering.

Also loved how they showed Jana and Zoë’s friendship in this version, such as seeing Jana having video chats with Zoë, or that they were so frequently seen together.

When Amber asked whether Zoë got turned out by guys, Zoë’s “...Yes?” felt like the least convincing thing ever. That girl does not care about dudes in the slightest. I mean, I know she does, buuuuut ... nah.

I think Zoë is the first Noora to come from Oslo, and in a way it’s kind of amazing that it took so long.

She had a pic of Laura Palmer on IG, so like Noora, she is also a Twin Peaks fan.

Yasmina was missing from the party scenes, which I guess was the actress’ choice, and I respect that. However, I did feel that it ended up undermining her character. The big moment of Sana throwing water in Ingrid’s face on behalf of Vilde was changed to Luca doing it, because Yasmina wasn’t at the party. And that was a pretty crucial moment in the Sana-Vilde relationship. I don’t think Yasmina and Amber had anything like that to make up for it. When Amber says some Islamophobic crap in the later part of the season, Yasmina doesn’t even get to counter to point out that she’s defended Amber. And I don’t think they ever explained why Luca threw the water in Britt’s face, that it was on behalf of Amber, so it ended up being some random event.

Also, because Yasmina wasn’t at the party where Amber passes out, it was Luca who stuck her fingers down Amber’s throat and helped her throw up, so that Sana-Vilde moment was gone, another one that felt pretty significant to their relationship. Again, not blaming the actress, just too bad we couldn’t get some big Amber-Yasmina moments to make up for that.

Yasmina was present when Amber was talking about her plans to sleep with Senne, and I wish they’d given her more to do in the scene, or had her speak up more, because later on she’s so blunt about Senne not being into Amber. When she’s in the scene listening to Amber talk about sleeping with him before it happens, it makes you wonder why she let it happen or didn’t say much in the first place. I guess she thought Amber was gonna Amber.

I did like Yasmina from what we did see of her. Her having all the girls breathe in and out after they get the party invite, her showing up for Amber the morning after she passes out even while not being at the party herself. I hope she gets more attention in S2. (Also? She’s gorgeous and I adore her camel coat.)

Also, having Luca throw water in Britt’s face rather than Yasmina also meant Amber was talking about getting rid of both Yasmina and Luca at some point, and that made her seem more like Cersei Lannister, lmao, like she was ready to ax people all over the place. 

I don’t think Amber’s topless pics ever came back into play, though there was more emphasis on them in this version than others, with Jana’s own topless pic serving as a parallel and Amber wondering if Senne had shown the other guys. I thought it was implied that he did, but we didn’t hear the actual conversation between Jana and Luka, just saw Amber’s sad face. I really hope he didn’t because that would make that situation even uglier, and I would need Zoë to drag Senne thoroughly for it in S2.

I believe Amber said it was Luca’s mom who had the wine tasting party, so are they eliminating that part of Amber’s background? There is the scene where they’re talking about getting alcohol and Amber starts rambling about why she doesn’t have the money, and that made me think she might have some financial problems.

I like that they made Luca kind of an unrepentant weirdo, although I wish they’d cut back on some of the Robbe flirting as it was too over the top. Although I had to laugh that one time she blatantly hit on him and he just flat-out ignored her and was like “Jana can we talk (save me plz)”

Luka was so sleazy. He was even more of a teen movie antagonist than the Chris character is usually. The most endearing thing about him was his extremely dorky vampire Halloween costume.

However, LOVED the extra scenes with him, such as Jana leaving her phone at his place. Adored that Zoë accompanied her to get it back and handled the matter completely businesslike, even though Luka was obviously disappointed when he saw that Jana didn’t arrive alone. She’s a true pal. And loved Jana going off at him when she knocked into him! Even if she wasn’t right about him spilling the beans, it was cathartic, it was Jana’s own Zoë vs Senne moment. 

Also ended up liking Robbe. They were going for a more wise-cracking, comic relief version of Isak in some ways, it felt like Robbe made more actual jokes than Isak did, but then he ended up being surprisingly more vulnerable than I expected toward the end. I thought they were leaning harder on the Jana/Robbe hints for the misdirection, but at the same time, it felt like there were some extra wink-wink nudge-nudge ironic moments about his sexuality as well, like Jens telling Robbe he’d understand acting like a lovesick puppy once he got a girlfriend, and some extra moments showing how he was affected by homophobia, like Moyo backing away from a hug at the end of the trip, telling Robbe to watch himself. Robbe didn’t even try to tell Jana he had feelings for her at first, it was Zoë who came up with that idea. It seemed very likely that he was going to confess the real truth to Jana on two separate occasions.

I also liked that his explanation of why he betrayed Jana was about feeling Jens had no time for him anymore, and even when Jana wasn’t there, Jens was still talking about her. Because that’s not a lie, that’s the truth, Robbe must have been miserable feeling unable to escape the guy he likes talking about his girlfriend, or them acting lovey-dovey, just no respite, not that it excuses his actions, obviously.

The Jana-Robbe dynamic as a whole was pretty good, I liked that he was pretty efficiently snaky - for instance, he basically coaxes her into telling him her secret about kissing Luka, and plays on their close friendship, that she can trust him, they’ve known each other a long time.

George Michael’s “Faith” being the big reveal music was an A+++ choice.

The music. Oh boy. Some of the remakes aren’t that good in their use of music; Skam’s use of music always felt purposeful and usually well-chosen, and the editing and soundtrack complemented each other. That’s not always the case with the remakes, some of which use music in perfunctory, expected ways: a pop/indie song opens the clip, a pop/indie song closes the clip, maybe a song somewhere in between. But it feels like songs are enforced because God forbid we have silence opening or ending a clip, or have scenes transition without music. And I would be willing to bet there’s some network/Powers That Be influence at play, like they want a hip teenage soundtrack to promote various artists and get the kids to follow the official playlist on Spotify, so the production teams have to use music. Skam France was guilty of this a lot. Druck is doing this more in its second season. But wtFOCK is possibly the worst offender. Too much music, used in a way that often didn’t complement the tone or editing of the scene - especially the editing, some of the songs just felt slapped over the clip rather than working with it. In the full episodes, there were some moments where a clip ended with a song and then another clip started with a completely different song in a way that was very jarring. There are some great choices, like “Faith,” but I just want the remakes to calm down and stop feeling the need to push music in every clip. Plenty of Skam scenes do not have music and they work wonderfully.

Also, disappointed that they used the exact same song for the fight scene. The fight scene wasn’t edited or choreographed that well, though I liked the guy returning Zoë’s hat at the end. And someone was actually filming the fight! I’m trying to remember if we’ve seen anyone else film the fight before, because that is something that would definitely happen in this day and age.

Another random thing I like: the characters talk about school a lot. As in, exams and homework, not just personal drama that happens while at school. Because yeah, this is a school, and teenagers are going to be concerned with passing their classes. It’s always been a thread in Eva’s season and her character overall that she’s not a great student, so I was proud that Jana ended up doing well on her biology exam! Maybe her academic performance can improve once she’s worked out some of the personal stress weighing on her.

That Mexican-themed party … not a great choice! For a moment I wondered if this party was supposed to be read as offensive since Zoë was not in costume and she’s a more “woke” character, like maybe the Beat Boys and Girls crowd (or whoever were throwing that party, I don’t recall) were supposed to be seen as clueless, but nah, I think it was just poor taste. 

It’s interesting how different versions portray the Eva/Chris kiss. In some the Eva character is the initiator, in some it’s the Chris character, in some it’s more mutual. In some it happens quickly and some Eva slowly gives in. In wtFOCK Luka was definitely initiating it and Jana was more hesitant. 

I had to laugh when Zoë was explaining the bracelets to Amber and all the girls she pointed out were conveniently displaying or showing off their bracelets at that moment, I guess because they’re much harder to notice at a glance than hoodies.

However, I liked Amber saying that she feels like it’s her fault every time and not his, because that paralleled Jana’s situation too - Jana is the one who receives the hate and blame even though Jens/Luka cheated, too. I’m glad they brought up the boys’ culpability at various points.

Zoë was keeping that period letter in her backpack and I mean, it was in a plastic bag and all, but I dearly hope she got rid of the tampon before carrying it around all day. It’s gross enough as it is.

So different that Marie didn’t come bursting out of the stall to interrupt the Jana-Britt heart-to-heart! Instead she came out after they left, and she seemed emotionally affected, like she was crying too. Maybe because she really felt like Jana was a person in that moment, and not just a nebulous boyfriend-stealer. Marie did seem to be pretty defensive when Jana confronted her later, but she quickly backed down when it was revealed what a lying cheater Luka was, and she could no longer be in denial. Jana seemed hesitant about accepting Marie wanted to be friendly with her afterwards, which was an interesting and believable touch.

A good scene when Senne was texting Zoë and Zoë lied to Amber that it was her parents asking how her exam went, and Jana covered for her by being like, I know the feeling, doesn’t your mom do that? And Amber was like, yeah, constantly. Which made me :( because I bet Amber’s mom doesn’t do that too often.

I laughed when Jana was like “That dude (Senne) is stalking you” to Zoë, so Zoë looked his way, and that got Senne’s attention and he IMMEDIATELY went up to Zoë, like good job breaking it, Jana.

I loved that Zoë learned psychological tricks from Dr Phil, but now I have this burning question: is Dr Phil like some beloved international icon?? First Eva and now Zoë turn to him for wisdom. I have seen maybe one episode of Dr Phil in my lifetime so I find it wild that the youthz are getting life advice from him. 

FINALLY we saw some characters on Skam playing a video game besides FIFA (and I guess on Skam France we saw them playing a racing game once). Jens, Robbe, and Moyo were playing Fortnite.

I am actually very eager to see Zoë’s and Robbe’s seasons because I liked their characters. Yasmina’s, too, even though I didn’t get as much of her as I would’ve liked in this season.

There weren’t a ton of text messages in the season, were there? I looked for them and only saw a few, and most of them didn’t seem to add much to the story or develop characterization. That’s something they can improve on for S2 (unless I just missed out on all the texts).

However, there was considerable effort put into the Instagram accounts, as many of them were consistently updated and they’ve maintained IG accounts even for minor characters to the present. I wonder if they’re going to keep a lot of those characters around in S2 and beyond, because that’s more work than necessary just to maintain realism, heh. But still, big props for that.

I apologize if I misinterpreted or missed something. Feel free to clarify anything!

[surveysonfleek]

1363.

THINGS I LOVE: Philosophy Overgrown yards Thunderstorms in the summertime Classic rock Dream interpretation New York City Collages Listening to music on long car drives Feeling excited and looking forward to things Deep, meaningful conversations Cinematography Bonfires Aesthetically-pleasing interior decoration

Having a day I can consider one of the “best days of my life” The style from the 60s and 70s Airports Crossword puzzles Film photography Quotes I can relate to Running THINGS I DISLIKE: The ’80s Rap music Dislike/hatred of/towards animals Feeling an unavoidable sadness within me Ignorance People who think that everything is a joke Unnecessary rudeness Celery Clothing with fringe When people do things just to “follow the pack” Waiting Confrontation Not being taken seriously by others Feeling incompetent Clichés When my feet are cold Not being able to respond to someone’s message right away for whatever reason Indulging myself in things Romantic comedies Being alone in total darkness MUSICIANS & BANDS I LOVE: The Beatles Paul McCartney Pink Floyd Simon & Garfunkel The Who Bob Dylan George Harrison Led Zeppelin Crosby, Stills, Nash, & Young Paul Simon Billy Joel Elton John The Beach Boys The Doors David Bowie FILMS I LOVE: Empire of the Sun Atonement Up In The Air Beginners Inglourious Bastards I’m Not There The Descendants Schindler’s List The Graduate My Neighbor Totoro Kiki’s Delivery Service Help! The Darjeeling Limited The Royal Tenenbaums Midnight in Paris BOOKS I LOVE: Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close The Book Thief The Catcher in the Rye Ordinary People The Foxman The Hole We’re In The Fault In Our Stars The Fates Will Find Their Way Pictures of Hollis Woods The Graveyard Book THINGS I WOULD LIKE TO DO IN THE FUTURE: Go on a long road trip lasting at least a month Meet at least one of my “idols” Live in New York City Be in a film, even if only in a minor role Travel around Europe Meet someone who shares my interests and way of thinking and have a close relationship with them Have a farm Decorate (and even build) my own home Be renowned for some reason or other Visit a particular museum or monument I’M FOND OF: Cats. Weed. New experiences. Getting to know people I have things in common with. Aliens. Horror films. Surveys. Mythology. Nature. The beach. The X-Files. Conspiracy Theories. Documentaries. History. Reading. Clothes. Taking Walks. Tattoos. Quadding/Four-wheeling. Classic Rock. Straight forward people. Metal. Poetry. The Sims. I’M NOT FOND OF: Extremists. Closed-minded people. Cheese. People who judge or worry about the decisions/opinions of others. Disrespect/Ignorance. The media. Cleaning. Romantic Comedies. Bugs. ‘Reality’ TV shows. Technology taking over *every* aspect of life. Overdramatic people. Today’s music. Cliches. People who hold certain sentiments simply because the mass majority feels that way. Facebook. Self-righteousness. Being stared at. Being condescended to. Being ignored. Beer. Snow/Ice. Feeling trapped in my own head. I enjoy eating/drinking: Steak. Shrimp. Pizza Pringles. Ben & Jerry’s. Rice. Potatoes. Bagels. Fruit. Skor bars. Aloe Vera drinks. Bolthouses. Water. Chicken. Salads. Omelets. Zucchini. Dark Russet chips. Hot chocolate. I like to watch: The X-Files. Law & Order: SVU. The Twilight Zone. American Horror Story. Married With Children. Twin Peaks. King Of The Hill. Nightmare Next Door. Wicked Attraction. Roseanne. That 70’s Show. Freaks & Geeks. Breaking Bad. Charmed. Family Guy. The Wonder Years. I would describe myself as: Laid back. Accepting. Indifferent. Realistic. Ill-tempered. Sarcastic. Blunt. Introverted. Witty. Good-natured. Understanding. Open-minded. Anxious. Headstrong. Honest. Lazy. Moody/Neurotic. Wise. Thick-skinned. Logical. Aloof. Impartial. Cynical. Humorous. Indecisive. Intuitive. Loyal. Modest. Brooding. I’ve experienced: A hangover. A really bad break-up. Smoking weed. Doing drugs other than weed. Being in a fist fight. Having my own house. Being on a plane. Smoking a cigarette. Sexual assault/abuse. A pregnancy. Being kicked out of my parent’s house. Hitchhiking. Shooting a gun. Physical abuse. Being hospitalized. An abusive relationship. Watching someone die. Seeing someone stabbed and/or shot. Being robbed. Competing in some sort of competition. Being in love. Gambling in a casino. A surgery of some sort. 

[alchemisland]

Wizards and Lizards - II

Easy as a switch flicked, he starts on in his stage accent, 'That's because I'm not a clown, you afroed goat. I am a seer. I am an oracle to rival Delphi. I choose not my gift, merely I am a mouthpiece, a vessel to amplify the will of the universe. A clever man once said that we, humans, are a way for the cosmos to know itself,' He points to the stars, then with soot-stained hands invites Bozo to look around, 'only some are born to more knowing than others.' He traces a button's circumference with his index finger, then nods glibly to finish.

'Drop it, Shiree. I've heard the shtick. Save it for the horny cowherds.'

The seer flashes a toothless smile. His thin lips, for his sins, were etched in a permanent sneer, two pale pigmentless worms that barely quivered when he talked. 'If what I heard from those sows is true, your knees must be sore. Will we see if I've a tincture for it?'

Bozo spits and stoops to his haunches, oversized strides mudcaked ankle to knee. One foot is unshod, his favoured poulaine lost in the fervour. 

Argument was futile. He knew how this went, concede defeat or argue until the seas dry. Shiree never let a thing go, not a borrowed penny, not a stringless favour, let alone an exchange of barbs.

Bozo sighs, 'We'll argue until the cows come home. Forget it. What's your plan anyway, magic man?'

Shiree laughs, all arch and theatrics even in direst straits. 'Strange you'd have to leave when the cows come home, is it date night already?'

'Fuck off.' Bozo exhales a plume of cigarette smoke, the same foundry grey as the steam-laden morning mist. Shiree imagines a dragon vomiting carcinogenic fire, selfsame as those stitched on his breast.

'No spiel, master jester. Merely my tongue and the secrets of the Gods. There are no plans either. The Perfumed Persian makes no plans, he alters the fabric of the universe to suit his desires.'

'Fine, have it your way, sandman. In what manner will you alter the fabric of the universe?' Bozo, growing impatient, taps his foot like a heated beast.

'I appreciate your correction, but I must rudely ask that you rescind your request for information. Shiree discusses not matters of celestial importance with baseborn whelks.'

Bozo poises to sigh again but stops himself mid gasp, realizing his last ten breaths had been sighs, which medically is considered hyperventilation. 'Have it your way, Wizard.'

He stood enormous, a modern titan. Six foot three easy, no mean feat in crueller ages, when only the silkskinned could afford to import the top tiers of the nutritional pyramid. His shoulders were broad, built for tossing bails, although one could not easily tell through his baggy playsuit, a loose fitting one-piece decorated with blue and orange orbs, twinned with yellow stripes. The platforms he wore performing raised him six feet eleven.

A profound stoop resulting from excess spine made him appear glum, eyes always to the ground, though he was of pleasant temperament, if not charismtically challenged.

'If you fancy a jaunt I'm bound for Duffy's. Lecho said he's looking for performing types for the jubilee. Shouldn't take three nights hard going.' With that he leaves, turning at the gate to see if the imp followed which he didn't. The forest's mouth devours him. 

Shiree begins to mutter. 'Shiree wanders not in the company of minstrels, lest their airs be praising him.' His child's knees barely buckling to stoop, he leans and picks up Bozo's cigarette still smouldering in the muck. He wipes it clean before bringing it to his lips, whispering the magic words into the moist filter. Smoky tendrils curl animatedly from its charred tip, shifting to form an ethereal bowl suspended in the air, smokelike and strange, at once foggy and clear, diaphanous almost. Shiree stands on his stilts and stares hatefully into the summoned cauldron. Quicksilver bubbles below.

It shifted in the fashion of living thing, a writhing mass of metal worms. Finally settling, the sheen parted in the center to reveal a vignette unfolding, a living dream in thin air. The Magician watched the Fool struggling through the dense foliage, pinecones exploding beneath his heavy tread, darting like a frightened deer trying to gain any sense of direction. He fell crossing a fence, hoist by own enormous shoe. Tumbling backwards he fell some distance, rolling toward the base of the rise, crashing into a patch of briar. He rose from the undergrowth patting the breast pocket of his overalls, desperate for a woodbine. Finally luckless, he cursed, crushing the empty box in his bailed fist before casting it aside. Pushing himself upward he pressed onward with grimfaced determination, displaying a dogged courage Shiree reluctantly respected.

The silver smoke shifts to form a drama. Bozo is far from the circus, dumping pebbles from his shoe in a clearing. Filth encrusted, bramble whipped and generally dishevelled, he had never been closer to the lanky streak of misery the mean kids used to accuse him of being. Shiree smiles. Now whose countenance could freeze time. A fire crackles, sodden overalls dry on a branch. When the mud dried, Bozo would scrape it away with a twig.

Resourceful knave. A keen scout.

Shiree whispers more gutturally into his cup of mist. Hell winds brew in the lungs of the earth mother and she exhales from her cavernous maw a breeze to shake Babel. Howling through the makeshift camp, the wizard's tempest attacks. Bozo holds his wig tight. Stumbling, he seeks shelter in the breast of a hollowed oak. For a moment he sees the flames resist and is emboldened, tongues wildly lashing in every direction, but the gale persists on until the fire gutters, then splutters and dies.

All calms. Leaves dance downward at an owl's flight. Its departure marks the end of Shiree's vision. Before him a viscous liquid rises, filling the sucking void where the projection had appeared. The bowl disappears like smoke in a hurricane.

This is his true gift. Possession of animals. Mostly birds and bugs. Occasionally wolves and larger creatures were employed, when mother necessity called. Transformations require enormous energy. He would require rest before another attempt such-like. Until horizontal, he feels cloudy, his instincts dulled.

This gave a hint as to what went on behind the wizard's curtain, to coin a phrase. Patrons eager for good tidings sat wide-eyed while Shiree asked the birds. Robin, breast inked with Christblood, what is prophesied. Wag tail bouncing by the brook, what whispers the ripples. Crow, sagely corvid, obsidian Prince, permit me thy portents.

Of course the owl, a favourite, offering a circular view of all creation. When the Persian asks, the birds respond. Their caws yield the secrets of creation and knowledge of all men. Never anything less than grizzly; visions of starving farmers prying open the coffins of dead children to pry rings from fingers; wives blood-soaked, trowel in hand. He spares the unwashed masses the true horror of their cosmic destiny.

Shiree is sick of the circus. Sick of howling faces, cackling hyenas. Laughter contorts the face and makes apes of men. He hatee acrobats, envying their sprightliness, making him further loathe his twisted form.

He hates clowns most. Hates being considered among their number. In the ancient world clairvoyants were elevated to high societal positions, close to the ears of pharaohs. To converse with the Gods was to become a God. Present culture did not glorify his gifts.

Following the mummer's trail, Shiree enters the woodland with its churchlike vaulted ceiling. Trees, every length and thickness meet, forming a thick umbrella. Ducking between the sturdy boughs, he emerges at the familiar clearing. Evidently some thought went toward its selection, situated inside a natural ridge formed by mossy stones and thick entanglements of spadelike hogweed. He locates the remnants of Bozo's passing. Inside a stone circle shining with mica, embers glow. 

For the site of Bozo's demise, he chose a festering swamp, planning to nestle in the brackish swell, sink beneath the algal covering and bide his time until the moment struck. Where else could Bozo go but through?

He rests a while in the wooden cloister, the heat of its former occupant present still. At last restored to peak wickedness, he follows a trail of single bootprints, as if tracking some unilegged abomination to its marshy abode - the wounded Grendel toward his domain lurches.

Shiree came to the boundary shore between mulch and black mud, marking the forest's domain from that of the festering swampland. Bloated and buzzing, enormous bloodsuckers make homes among the roots. Corklike reeds project from the silty banks across its breadth like tangled crossbeams give the illusion of security. Truly if one fell, a proper tumble necessitating outside agency, any branch grasped would snap like an old man on a rugby pitch.

Amphibious lizards wait, half buried in the silt like filthied statues, snapping should any shoal of lesser denizens dawdle. A menagerie of killers for the wizard to choose from.

Shiree enthrones, planning evilly from his newfound eyrie. He utters incantations blunt and meandering, each to the same fatal design. Feeling the hard surface against his backside, he wants vengeance all the more. That a man such as he should be forced to take counsel on a boulder was insult enough to warrant retribution.

It would be a crime of passion, a passion of crimes. He tosses back his head and met a beautiful sight. However the canopy met, with its various dips, hollows and straightways like avenues on a map, the carved light met him in golden bars.

This will do, he smirks.

[filmista]

🎀 Female Characters And Performances I l❤️ve 🎞

1. Clarice Starling (Jodie Foster, The Silence Of The Lambs)

-Starling, when I told that sheriff we shouldn't talk in front of a woman, that really burned you, didn't it? It was just smoke, Starling. I had to get rid of him.

-It matters, Mr. Crawford. Cops look at you to see how to act. It matters.

Why?:

She is perhaps my all-time favorite female character and of the first ones, that I think of when I hear the phrase “strong women” in reference to films. She doesn’t go around kicking literal ass but she takes pride what she does. 

She is driven and passionate about her work and even with obstacles, she believes in herself. Which isn’t to say that she isn’t vulnerable or scared at times, she is. But rather than beat herself up about it or suppress she eventually learns to overcome it. Or rather work around it and draws strength from it and in the end shows that real strength isn’t not feeling fear, it isn’t being emotionless or numb it is continuing in spite of it. 

2. Amy Dunne (Rosamund Pike, Gone Girl) 

“It’s a very difficult era in which to be a person, just a real, actual person, instead of a collection of personality traits selected from an endless Automat of characters.” ― Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl

Why?:

Because she is one of the most complex female characters in modern literature and cinema. It’s incredibly easy to write her off as a female psychopath or a crazy bitch. While I don’t doubt that she might have mental problems, the film also shows us what might have caused some of her problems (the relationship with her parents, the pressure of living up to being Amazing Amy).

All of this aside, she’s just an incredibly fun and interesting character to watch. No matter what you might think of her morally. 

There’s a phrase in the book that goes if I remember correctly something like this: “Amy likes to play god when she’s not happy. Old Testament God.” And yes, she’s incredibly pissed off for a large part of the film and does loads of scary, crazy shit throughout the film... all motivated by her absolutely astounding smartness and cunningness. 

Personally, I wouldn’t say I agree with everything Amy does (I would be crazy if I did) but I do understand where some of her anger comes from and I even sympathize with her in a few instances in the film.

Point is though there should be more of these difficult, morally complex women in film. Sadly sometimes when women are unlikeable or difficult in a film we tend to as an audience dismiss them as “a crazy bitch”, or worse sometimes equate the actress behind the character to her on-screen persona. 

3. Ellen Ripley (Sigourney Weaver, Alien)

“Did IQs just drop sharply while I was away?”

Why?:

Instead of naming the obvious reasons which are her stubbornness and overall badassery, determination and courage. What I love about her is the fact that she’s not really always likable, she’s quite moody and cranky and even plain bitchy sometimes. 

She speaks her mind even when that doesn’t always make her popular with those around her. A not always likable female lead isn’t so unusual nowadays but Ripley really was one of the first ones in a big blockbuster. And she’s a cat lady.

Also if I ever get a cat again, I want to name it Jonesy or if it’s a black one Salem. 

4. Shelly Johnson (Mädchen Amick, Twin Peaks) 

“I’m a waitress in a diner. I’ve never been compared to a goddess before.”

Why?:

Okay, first of all, I’ll admit to having a small crush on Shelly (like probably many a Twin Peaks fan) but she’s more than just a sexy waitress. We all know she married an absolute piece of shit of a man, and when we see her at home she is almost always silent and completely submissive out of fear.

But then we see her at the diner, and she transforms: she’s charismatic, flirty, bubbly and just insanely loveable overall. What I think makes her a great character though is that there are also hints at rougher and darker edges.

In Episode 4 of season 1, after Laura’s funeral (after Leland falls into the coffin and sobs hysterically, which yes I thought was quite hysterical) we see her making fun of Leland in the diner in front of a group of admiring old men. There’s an interesting side to her that seems to want to bully almost, perhaps as a way to get what she is experiencing at home out of her system. 

5. Mademoiselle De Poitiers ( Helen Morse, Picnic At Hanging Rock) 

-Ah! Now I know.

-What do you know?

I know that Miranda is a Botticelli angel.

Why?:

Because she is for her time (which was not always easy for women) an incredibly sunny, optimistic and kind person. While everyone is telling the girls at the school off or being strict with them she treats them with respect and shows an interest in their “teenage world”. 

While she might seem like a conventional and quite traditional female character, I adore that she seems like she genuinely enjoys her feminity. You look at her and see a woman who you can tell simply loves and revels in flirting and romance and it’s incredibly charming performance to watch. 

6. Laura (Gene Tierney, Laura) 

“You forced me to give you my word. I never have been and I never will be bound by anything I don't do of my own free will.”

Why?: 

I think it’s a remarkable film for its time. Laura is portrayed (once she appears) as an incredibly charismatic, alluring and smart woman that values her privacy and independence and as loving and being successful in her career. 

The twist though is that for a seemingly very strong woman she has a very toxic friendship with a male friend who’s extremely jealous and possessive of her. He has ruined countless of her romantic relationships because no man is ever good enough for his Laura. 

Finally, she dumps him as she realizes his manipulation and stays with the man she’d fallen in love with, which might seem like a conventional ending but I love how Laura, in the end, takes control of her own happiness and by extension her life. 

7. Vanessa Lutz (Reese Witherspoon, Freeway)

I know there’s a lot of sick guys that get hard… thinkin’ about messin’ women up. Hell, that’s all you ever see on TV. But when a guy goes and does that for real like you were plannin’ on doin’ – I was just trying to scare you. You had your turn to talk! I think it’s only fair to let me get my two cents in. You’re absolutely right. Sorry. Please, go on. But when a guy goes and hurts someone who never hurt them… that makes him a criminal first and a sick guy second. It’s like being sick has to take second place to being crooked.

Why?:

Reese Witherspoon’s plentiful and colorful swearing, as well as her unapologetic aggressiveness. She’s a trashy and violent female character, and I always find it incredibly interesting to take a look at female characters that are perpetrators of violence and what motivated them. 

An interesting thing is also that she is supposedly a morally despicable, white trash and uneducated character but actually has a better understanding of and less twisted sense of morality than any of the characters that are supposedly well adjusted, refined and educated people. Some of her blunt, often shocking comments hit the nail on the head on several problems in American and general society. 

8. Melanie Daniels (Tippi Hedren, The Birds)

“I thought you knew! I want to go through life jumping into fountains naked, good night!”

Why?: 

She’s my all-time favorite Hitchcock heroine. What I love about her particularly as a character is her spontaneity, her assertiveness, sass, and humor but above all her perseverance and genuine strength (though she’s occasionally prone to the dramatic sighing or shrieking women just sometimes did in older films ).

A delight for me in the film is that it turns a common romantic trope around: she is the one that first sets her sights on the man and consequently chases and gets with him.

She also consistently stands up for herself, point in case: the scene in the diner in which a local accuses her of causing the bird’s irrational and unexplainable behavior. I really believe she’s one of Hitchcock's most underestimated heroines and in my opinion also written with a depth that proves he was not a misogynist as is so often believed.

9. Wendy (Shelley Duvall, The Shining)

“You son of a bitch! You did this to him, didn't you! How could you! How could you!”

Why?:

While controversial just like Tippi Hedren’s performance in The Birds, I absolutely love Shelley Duvall’s work in The Shining and I think her performance is often very wrongly looked down upon. 

Personally, I always thought film Wendy was stronger than book Wendy her performance is often dismissed as hysterical, over the top and she’s also called a dumb character very frequently. 

In contrast to Nicholson’s performance though she’s pretty calm. What I love about the performance is the very subtle and slow changes in her attitude. People often find her a weak character, because she stays with her abusive husband I don’t think however that it is that unrealistic.

People in real life sometimes also tend to stay in these relationships until something drastic happens that forces them to really evaluate the situation. Her husband has moments where he convincingly plays at pretending to be the “nice and good husband” and so she chooses to buy it. 

However once in the hotel, as Jack becomes increasingly mad she realizes her husband was never a good man, to begin with, and that she has reason to be very, very afraid of him and Duvall absolutely illustrates that fear brilliantly. At this point, instead of walking on eggshells as she did initially she realizes she and her son must simply get away from that man if they are to live. 

I see how some people might not like her a character, it does feel like she screams a lot sometimes, but I find it incredible that even in her fear she still soldiers for herself and her child. 

10. Ana (Isabelle Adjani, Possession)

“We are all the same. Different words, different bodies, different versions. Like insects! Meat!”

Why?:

Very simply put, Adjani’s utterly crazy and unhinged performance. It’s also a fantastic depiction of a slow and finally full blown descend into madness. What I love most of all is that while it may easy to dismiss her as a “psycho, hysteric” kind of female character she is not completely that there’s more nuance to it. 

The film shows that the unhappiness in her marriage and the hints of abuse in it played a huge role as well. A showcase of the fact that love can sometimes truly drive us mad and make us lose ourselves. 

Some fictional ladies that didn’t quite make this particular list, but might make appearances on another one: 

Thelma  (Geena Davis, Thelma & Louise)

-It’s not like I killed anybody, for God’s sake!

-Thelma!

Grace (Brie Larson, Short Term 12)

-Grace, you are a line staff. It's not your job to interpret tears. That's what our trained therapists are here for.

-Then your trained therapists don't know shit.

Celine (Julie Delpy, Before Trilogy)  

“I always feel this pressure of being a strong and independent icon of womanhood, and without making it look like my whole life is revolving around some guy. But loving someone, and being loved means so much to me. We always make fun of it and stuff. But isn’t everything we do in life a way to be loved a little more?”

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

66 of 2022

THINGS I LOVE: Philosophy Overgrown yards Thunderstorms in the summertime Classic rock Dream interpretation New York City Collages Listening to music on long car drives Feeling excited and looking forward to things Deep, meaningful conversations Cinematography Bonfires Aesthetically-pleasing interior decoration Having a day I can consider one of the “best days of my life” The style from the 60s and 70s Airports Crossword puzzles Film photography Quotes I can relate to Running

THINGS I DISLIKE: The ’80s Rap music Dislike/hatred of/towards animals Feeling an unavoidable sadness within me Ignorance People who think that everything is a joke Unnecessary rudeness Celery Clothing with fringe When people do things just to “follow the pack” Waiting Confrontation Not being taken seriously by others Feeling incompetent Clichés When my feet are cold Not being able to respond to someone’s message right away for whatever reason Indulging myself in things Romantic comedies Being alone in total darkness

MUSICIANS & BANDS I LOVE: // to be specific, I don’t love any of them; a few I just like The Beatles Paul McCartney Pink Floyd Simon & Garfunkel The Who Bob Dylan George Harrison Led Zeppelin Crosby, Stills, Nash, & Young Paul Simon Billy Joel Elton John The Beach Boys The Doors David Bowie

FILMS I LOVE: Empire of the Sun Atonement Up In The Air Beginners Inglourious Bastards I’m Not There The Descendants Schindler’s List The Graduate My Neighbor Totoro Kiki’s Delivery Service Help! The Darjeeling Limited The Royal Tenenbaums Midnight in Paris

BOOKS I LOVE: Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close The Book Thief The Catcher in the Rye Ordinary People The Foxman The Hole We’re In The Fault In Our Stars The Fates Will Find Their Way Pictures of Hollis Woods The Graveyard Book

THINGS I WOULD LIKE TO DO IN THE FUTURE: Go on a long road trip lasting at least a month Meet at least one of my “idols” Live in New York City Be in a film, even if only in a minor role Travel around Europe Meet someone who shares my interests and way of thinking and have a close relationship with them Have a farm Decorate (and even build) my own home Be renowned for some reason or other Visit a particular museum or monument

I’M FOND OF: Cats. Weed. // which is strange because I’ve never smoked weed myself, so. I just like the smell of it. New experiences. Getting to know people I have things in common with. Aliens. Horror films. Surveys. Mythology. Nature. The beach. The X-Files. Conspiracy Theories. // not like I believe in any of them, though Documentaries. History. Reading. Clothes. Taking Walks. Tattoos. Quadding/Four-wheeling. Classic Rock. Straight forward people. Metal. Poetry. The Sims.

I’M NOT FOND OF: Extremists. Closed-minded people. Cheese. People who judge or worry about the decisions/opinions of others. Disrespect/Ignorance. The media. Cleaning. Romantic Comedies. Bugs. ‘Reality’ TV shows. Technology taking over *every* aspect of life. Overdramatic people. Today’s music. Cliches. People who hold certain sentiments simply because the mass majority feels that way. Facebook. Self-righteousness. Being stared at. Being condescended to. Being ignored. Beer. Snow/Ice. Feeling trapped in my own head.

I enjoy eating/drinking: Steak. Shrimp. Pizza Pringles. Ben & Jerry’s. Rice. Potatoes. Bagels. Fruit. Skor bars. Aloe Vera drinks. Bolthouses. Water. Chicken. Salads. Omelets. Zucchini. Dark Russet chips. Hot chocolate.

I like to watch: The X-Files. Law & Order: SVU. The Twilight Zone. American Horror Story. Married With Children. Twin Peaks. King Of The Hill. Nightmare Next Door. Wicked Attraction. Roseanne. That 70’s Show. Freaks & Geeks. Breaking Bad. Charmed. Family Guy. The Wonder Years.

I would describe myself as: Laid back. Accepting. Indifferent. Realistic. Ill-tempered. Sarcastic. Blunt. Introverted. Witty. Good-natured. Understanding. Open-minded. Anxious. Headstrong. Honest. Lazy. Moody/Neurotic. Wise. Thick-skinned. Logical. Aloof. Impartial. Cynical. Humorous. Indecisive. Intuitive. Loyal. Modest. Brooding.

I’ve experienced: A hangover. A really bad break-up. Smoking weed. Doing drugs other than weed. Being in a fist fight. Having my own house. Being on a plane. Smoking a cigarette. Sexual assault/abuse. A pregnancy. Being kicked out of my parent’s house. Hitchhiking. Shooting a gun. Physical abuse. Being hospitalized. An abusive relationship. Watching someone die. Seeing someone stabbed and/or shot. Being robbed. Competing in some sort of competition. Being in love. Gambling in a casino. A surgery of some sort.

[rinstars]

the call

pairing: suna x reader

genre: a little smut, angst, cheating, unrequited love

word count: 1.5k+

warnings: nsfw, weed/blunt, unhealthy relationships, no proofreading whatsoever im so tired lol sorry

note: i literally just reached 100 followers yesterday but thank u sooo much for another hundred! u guys have no idea how happy it makes me. here's a little gift in return :D in my head he's 99% this type of guy and i wanted to know how far i can take my imaginations with the image i have of him and this is where it took me heh.

The smell of leather and weed floating in the space surrounding you constricts your breathing, making you gasp for air – even more as he suctions the air out of you through your heated shared kiss, your lungs burning with the need for oxygen. But you ignore it. Running your fingers through his hair and meeting his hunger with kisses equally as rough, you ignore the building pain on your chest.

You rock your hips towards him, feeling his hard crotch rub you through the lace of the panties you bought just a few days ago. Pulling away for a moment only to gasp on his reddening plump lips while he lazily guides your movements on his lap, triggering a flood of pleasure to wash over you.

Slender, pale, and long fingers reached over to snatch another blunt, taking a long drag before the very same fingers of the opposite hand take the back of your neck so he can pull you closer to his lips. He breathes the smoke out of his mouth into yours, connecting your lips once again.

Despite the distinct scent of the drug, you taste a tinge of sweetness on your tongue as his own massages yours. Rocking your hips harder to his forces a moan out of you, making your fingers curl around his jet black hair. You pull away, muttering a small give me a minute to him. Leaning back on the steering wheel, you watch him while you try to control your ragged breathing.

His hair is long. Long enough that it falls softly all the way to his eyes and cheeks, the ends brushing his really pale skin. With your earlier statement, he just shrugged with the same unchanging look of nonchalance in his eyes while proceeding to take drags out of his blunt. His beautifully shaped eyes now bloodshot and shiny with moisture.

He's almost like a vampire, now that you think about it. So beautiful. Such pale skin but such dark hair. Sharp gaze but soft lips. Intoxicating scent but still so sweet.

The most similar thing between him and vampires, you thought, is the way he sucks all the life out of you. Drying you out and taking all your light.

This man has corrupted you more than you're willing to admit.

You opened your mouth to say something when the blaring ring of his phone makes you jump. His eyes glanced over the source before grabbing it with a sigh and scanning the monitor. You didn't even need to ask who it is. You're very well aware who it is, and why he never hesitates to answer.

When it comes to you, it always takes a lot of rings and missed calls before he picks up, though. You understand. You tell him you do, you always will.

His childhood bestfriend, Astumu whispered as if he heard you ask the identity of the mysterious caller in your head one night when you were drinking with him in a bar. Loves her a lot. Probably too much.

The alarms rang in your head that night, no matter how much you tried to ignore it. So annoying but at the same time so painful. You didn't know how to turn it off and you wish every single time you could.

"Darling. " He whispered with such a loving voice, one you never heard from him when he answers your calls. Your heart ached but you knew better than to confront him about it. Instead you cry in the arms of the twins, more on Atsumu's, since Osamu takes you through an hour long lecture of why you should have known better.

You know that much.

You shouldn't have let yourself get dragged in this stupid situation, craving a taken man and his touches. Letting him in on your secrets even when he barely lets you get a peak in his.

"I miss you too, my darling.. Oh?.. I'll be home soon." He speaks in pauses as he lets her finish speaking first. You close your eyes to prevent the liquid threatening to spill out, taking a deep breath before slowly lifting yourself from his lap to the passenger seat. His eyes widened a millimeter when he noticed you getting off him without having to tell you. You noticed he ended his call with her and you refuse to look back at him cause if you do, you are sure of another sleepless night.

Cold fingers hook under your chin, slowly turning your head to the left. He leans over the center console, connecting his lips with the soft skin of your neck, making you exhale out at the feeling of him sucking all the reason in you again. He runs his tongue wet on your collarbones, creating a glistening trail.

"I'll see you soon?" He whispered on the crook of your neck, nibbling it a little with his teeth. The bruises he leaves on your skin another reminder that everything is real.

You just hum with a nod, cupping his jaw and slowly pulling him away from you with a small smile. One of his bangs fell on the middle of his face, you reached up to brush it away.

So many unspoken words from you. Too many. You wonder if he has anything he's holding back to say too as his eyes linger on you a second longer than usual. Or maybe you're just desperately reading into the lines again, like what Osamu said way too many times.

"Rin, what.. what are we?" Every parting is like this, like a new way of saying goodbye that you both developed. You just needed to be reminded, to wake up from whatever delusions you're starting to have.

"Nothing." He replies as flatly as all the other times before. Not a hint of emotion – no amusement or remorse.

You swallow, letting your hands fall to your sides. On the verge of turning around and reaching the door, his voice echoes once again. "How many times are you gonna ask me this?"

Until you start feeling something. You thought to yourself.

Anger, disgust, love, hatred, adoration, anything. You just want him to feel something. Prove to yourself and everyone else that you're not just a tool to him.

"Sorry. Slipped out of habit." You settle for that response now. No point having a conversation with him about this.

"You don't have to leave right away, I can still drive you home."

Losing all the strength to refuse, you found yourself just agreeing with him. Why the fuck are you even so upset to begin with? You knew what you signed up for. You knew about the girl. You saw him with her in the very same bar a few nights ago before your first night together. Watched how much attention he gives her, how tightly he holds her.

"I'll break your heart by the end of this, baby." He warns you as you feel his length slip inside you, making you moan out in ecstasy.

"I don't care." You pant, grabbing him by the hips as a way of telling him to go faster.

Looking back, you shouldn't have been so foolish and say that. Now, you're paying the price. Now, your exit has been sealed.

The moment you met him, you forgot everything – your reason, pride, dignity, loyalty, sense, self-love. You hate how intoxicates you like the drugs on his backseat and yet you can't stop. You wonder if he knows how you feel about him. If he notices the way your eyes would light up when you see him or the way you would wrap your arms so tightly like you're afraid of letting him go.

The car stopped soon after and you looked out the window to find yourself in front of your house. You collected your things and fastened the clasp on your sandals then opened the door, stepping a foot outside when he once again stops you by the wrist.

"I'll call you soon. I promise."

"I'll be waiting." You wriggle out of his grip without looking back, stepping your remaining foot out to join with the other as you stand up to leave. "Take care, Rintarou."

"You too, baby." The sound of his tires grow fainter by the second as he speeds off to his and his girlfriend's shared apartment. You didn't notice the sobs wrecking your body. Not until you feel warm droplets fall to your open palms in front of you. You clutched your phone tightly, holding it to your chest.

You can only hope the next call comes soon.

note: a little smut + angst for everyone. whether or not this will be turned into a mini series completely depends on the feedback! let me know what u guys think <3

ghoultobio / risaki © 2020 | all content and its rights belong to me. do not modify or repost.

[thegoddessprose]

Yet another...

| Bold what applies;

I’m fond of:

Cats. Weed. New experiences. Getting to know people I have things in common with. Aliens. Horror films. Surveys. Mythology. Nature. The beach. The X-Files. Conspiracy theories. Documentaries. History. Reading. Clothes. Taking walks. Tattoos. Quadding/four-wheeling. Classic rock. Straight-forward people. Metal. Poetry. The Sims.

I’m not fond of:

Extremists. Closed-minded people. Cheese. People who judge or worry about the decisions/opinions of others. Disrespect/ignorance. The media. Cleaning. Romantic comedies. Bugs. ‘Reality’ TV shows. Technology taking over *every* aspect of life. Overdramatic people. Today’s music. Cliches. People who hold certain sentiments simply because the mass majority feels that way. Facebook. Self-righteousness. Being stared at. The US government system. Being condescended to. Being ignored. Beer. Snow/ice. Feeling trapped in my own head.

I enjoy eating/drinking:

Steak. Shrimp. Pizza Pringles. Ben & Jerry’s. Rice. Potatoes. Bagels. Fruit. Skor bars. Aloe Vera drinks. Bolthouses. Water. Chicken. Salads. Omelets. Zucchini. Dark Russet chips. Hot chocolate.

I like to watch:

The X-Files. Law & Order: SVU. The Twilight Zone. American Horror Story. Married With Children. Twin Peaks. King Of The Hill. Nightmare Next Door. Wicked Attraction. Roseanne. That 70’s Show. Freaks & Geeks. Breaking Bad. Charmed. Family Guy. The Wonder Years.

I would describe myself as:

Laid back. Accepting. Indifferent. Realistic. Ill-tempered. Sarcastic. Blunt. Introverted. Witty. Good-natured. Understanding. Open-minded. Anxious. Headstrong. Honest. Lazy. Moody/Neurotic. Wise. Thick-skinned. Logical. Aloof. Impartial. Cynical. Humorous. Indecisive. Intuitive. Loyal. Modest. Brooding.

I’ve experienced:

A hangover. A really bad break-up. Smoking weed. Doing drugs other than weed. Being in a fist fight. Having my own house. Being on a plane. Smoking a cigarette. Sexual assault/abuse. A pregnancy. Being kicked out of my parent’s house. Hitchhiking. Shooting a gun. Physical abuse. Being hospitalized. An abusive relationship. Watching someone die. Seeing someone stabbed and/or shot. Being robbed. Competing in some sort of competition. Being in love. Gambling in a casino. A surgery of some sort.

Little things I love:

Forehead kisses. Comfortable silences. Warm blankets fresh out of the dryer. Doing something unexpected that wasn’t asked of you. Getting mail. When my kitties snuggle with me. Warm pavement on bare feet. Perfect cereal to milk ratio. Buying the last of something. Fast moving lines. Friendly cashiers. Taking the back roads. Driving on the highway during sunset. Coming across that song on your iPod that you love and haven’t heard in a while. Smiling at strangers. When you come home after a long day and realize it was grocery day. When all of your electronics have a full charge. The fact that mom always seems to have everything I need in her purse. When the last bite of food tastes better than all the rest. Happy tears. That look you give your best friend and then you both burst out laughing. Knowing when your favorite artist is releasing a new album. The atmosphere in a movie theater during a really funny film. When the whole crowd is singing at a concert. Intense eye contact that gives you goosebumps. The feeling that country music gives me. Finding the right words to say. People with beautiful souls. That moment when you realize you finally made it. Finding the perfect thing to wear. When you put zero effort into your appearance and someone compliments you. That feeling of letting go. Pleasant wake up calls. Knowing you made someone’s day a little better. The cold side of the pillow. Spotting the person you’re looking for in a big crowd. Taking off your bra after a long day. When you can taste food again after a cold. Christmas morning. Bloopers. Exact change. Finally remembering what I was going to say. New episodes of your favorite show. Multiple choice exams. Smiling in the middle of a kiss. Not having a to do list. Head massages.

[albedobeheading]

so I just watched blue velvet for the second time ever and like it’s way funnier than I remember? like the subject matter is still super graphic and traumatic but idk it’s at a point that it’s just ridiculous.

like for me I think eraserhead is much more genuinely uncomfortable to watch and I don’t think I’ll be watching it again but blue velvet idek. knowing all the bad stuff that happens ahead of time makes “Heineken? Heineken?! Fuck that shit! Pabst Blue Ribbon!!!!!” way more fun to watch instead of feeling like Jeffrey and scared of what will happen next with this group of dangerous people. I want to smoke a blunt with them instead

like Jeffrey is so dumb and naive bc he has like so much love to give to Laura dern and Dorothy that he ends up playing both of them I would think that he’d also just,,,, go along with frank and his pals instead of being scared.

I think also just bc I’m older now than when I first saw it and also also I’m in a twin peaks mood so I can’t take uhhhhh there was a fiiish in the percolator why can’t I remember his name but you know who him seriously as a villain. this makes no sense lol but I just don’t want to put it int the tags of some random persons gifs yannoooo

also idk who will read this but I’m writing it anyway bc I want to be seen and I also need to write a short essay on queerness in blue velvet so there loll