#I mean literally because what if I accidentally suffocate you?

[mthwxryn]

Yes, I will lay my head on the pillow, for support, while you sit~!

Get ready to be send to heaven!

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Giant! König Headcanons

Warnings: 18+, Creep! König, Perverted! König, König Owns a Cum Jar, Size Difference, Giant! König, Size Kink, Sadistic! König, Abuse of Power, Dub-Con, Cum Soaking, Attempts at Forced Impregnation, Implied Pregnancy, Voyeurism, Hostage Situation, Human Pet! Reader, Physical Violence, Human! Reader, Fem! Reader.

Giant! König captures you after he catches you sneaking around his castle, trying to loot something of value to take back to your impoverished village.

Giant! König immediately jumps at the opportunity to take you as his human pet, throwing you into a nearby jar and closing the lid, observing you like a spider beneath a glass.

Giant! König who, after deciding he wants to keep you long-term instead of turning your body into the sprinkles atop his ice cream, creates a more sustainable living space for you after discovering you’re not as durable as he thought (almost suffocating, dehydrating, and starving to death whilst being held in that damn jar).

Giant! König surprises you with a dollhouse of his own design: a door that locks from the outside, windows too small for you to crawl through, and walls made of a material too strong for your tiny utensils to burrow through.

Giant! König doesn’t take long to start using you for his own pleasure – almost like he has no other outlet; like he was just waiting for this opportunity to come.

Giant! König who, whenever he feels like punishing you, puts you in The Jar and stares you down whilst stroking his cock, gigantic even in comparison to other giants’. He grunts, berating you, telling you how he’d “Fill you with my cock if you weren’t so small – bet I could crush you with it if I wanted to.”

When he’s ready, he cums into the jar – all over you – thick and heavy, almost drowning you with just one spurt of his load.

He loves watching you struggle to keep your head above the viscous pool he’s trapped you in as you literally swim in his semen, looking up at him with pleading eyes, begging him to “Get me out, please!”.

He’ll often leave you in there without clothes to try and teach you a lesson. Until it turns into another reason – to breed you – which you accidentally sparked in him when you told him to be careful! You’ll end up getting me pregnant!

Giant! König can’t get your words out of his head, the primal urges he’s suppressed for so long unearthed by your pleas for him to spare you, if only once.

Giant! König knows he’s way too big to fit inside you, so this –  cumming profusely into a jar he’s encased you in whilst giving you no means of refusing his attempts – is the next best thing.

Giant! König gets off on the sheer size difference between the two of you  – the fact that you’re entirely dependent on him for your survival. Makes him feel like the kind of giant he’s supposed to be; strong and well-seeded.

Giant! König lays awake at night and fantasises about having a family, a far-off dream until you came along. It’s all he can think about as the image of you, his tiny wife, swollen to an almost painful degree as you bear his children, floods his mind, makes his cock twitch – harden. He resists the urge to relieve himself of this burden, preferring to save every ounce of his seed for you rather than wasting even a drop of it.

Giant! König who, despite his…questionable treatment of you, does try to treat you well. He lets you eat as much as you want, both because he knows you come from a poor background and because he has to keep you healthy to bear his offspring — especially since he knows they’ll be quite big compared to you.

Giant! König enjoys questioning you about your life before him, how humans work, what they do all day, whether the stereotypes of them all being lustful, pride-driven,  creatures are true.

If you validate any part of this stereotype, he’ll use that as an excuse to sink you in even more of his cum, to subject you to the task of sitting on his cock (horizontally, might I add) while he commands you to get yourself off by humping the shaft.

Man’s had no outlet for basicall all his life – he’s feral.

Giant! König loves to watch you while you’re tucked up in your dollhouse, observing everything you do. Humans are a rarity in the Giant Lands, so to have one in his home is a mythic occurrence.

Giant! König loves showing you off; he thrives on the reaction he gets when his friends see you. You’re, as stated before, a rarity in their parts, often used as a delicacy rather than a pet since humans aren’t particularly sturdy compared to giants, so managing to keep one alive is something of a status symbol in itself; the mark of a truly capable mate (hence captive humans are often given as courting gifts between giants).

However, König is also highly protective of you – especially after he caught Horangi (another giant he’d been showing you off to) goading you – harassing you – stroking his cock, telling you to “Lick the tip. Never felt a human tongue before.”

Needless to say, König never invited him around again after that.

Giant! König is, obviously, good with his hands and technical know-how. Thus, if his method of soaking you in his semen doesn’t work when trying to knock you up, he’ll create some unlawful contraption to make it inevitable.

Despite his size, König has managed to make a tiny glass syringe that he’s packed with his cum, holding you down easily with one hand as he presses the tip to your entrance, pumping you full of his seed.

He struggles to contain how the scene – the feeling – of you trying desperately to fight him off, to stop him from filling you, makes him feel. You have to watch the bulge between his legs grow as the feeling of being filled past full overcome you.

Giant! König does this as many times as he likes until he knows his seed’s taken, when you start showing. Which, considering how big his offspring will be, is pretty early on.

He definitely makes maternity clothes for you – comfortable garments that show the swell of your stomach as the weeks crawl by into months.

Giant! König loves bathing you, too. Especially after he’s covered you in his cum.

There’s something so intimate and gentle about it – a scarcity in the Giant Lands. Having something so small and fragile in his hands, knowing that he can crush you in his grip at any moment, makes him feel…responsible. Trustworthy.

Giant! König will never let you go, btw. You can try to run as much as you want, but he’ll always catch up to you, his human pet.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

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[blackknight-kai]

Hello there, greetings!💗💗

Sincerely hoping it doesn’t make you uncomfortable or anything of the sort, how would The Destined One and Wukong (separate) react to you asking to sit on their face?😏😏🙂‍↕️

P.s- only answer if you feel like it of course❣️

Hehehehehehehehehehe I like this question. I’ll do my best 🫶 I hope comes out okay!!!!

I feel like at their core Wukong and Destined One are the same. And what I mean by that is more so that they are unequivocally attracted to you and while they will react differently both would 100% LIVE to please the ever living fuck out of you if you asked them. They are hungry for you and your pleased sighs and sounds. While they may be focused on other things 90% of the time the moment you flip that switch you better be ready because that intense focus and drive they have for battle and questing/adventure etc? Yeah that’s gonna be on you.

(Gets spicy but not overly explicit so be warned, minors DNI!!!!)

Destined One

Regardless on if you just ask out of the blue or it’s during spicy time, I feel like he’d be surprised/flustered by your request. Not expecting such a bold question

His expression would go slack as your words caught up to him, his heart would be pounding and his blood would feel like its boiling with how HOT his body just got - I bet he shudders JUST a little, enough to send a slight ripple in his fur from the top of his head down to his toes.

He doesnt have a grand reaction outwardly but by the slow lazy swish of his tail starting to flick sharply behind him, you know he’s effected by your words

His surprise wouldn’t last long whatsoever, he’d regain composure, or well, his surprise would turn into laser focus. His expression now one of hot stoic intensity making you shiver at the volume of HEAT his eyes speak to you and the way his body tenses just like when hes readying himself for a fight

You’d hear one heavy breath leave him and hed give you one very pointed nod and then its game on

Moves VERY swiftly, you almost dont see him. One moment he’s a few feet away and with a blink he’s RIGHT THERE. Hot hands gripping your waist tightly

He will NOT waste time. Nope. You lit this fire youre going to have to let the flames lick you until it burns out - heh

He is STRONG so he’d absolutely manhandle you but he’d do it with gentle impatience.

If he’s REALLY impatient his claws might accidentally rip a little hole in your clothes and he’d give you an apologetic look but is he stopping? No.

As he lays on his back, your thighs on either side of his head, his face is set with intense determination, it would be kinda funny if he didn’t look so….hungry.

You can hear his tails thwacking the ground (or bed whatever) as it flicks to and fro. He is READY for this meal

He wont force you down on him, but his eyes will flick between your face and the naked heat between your legs, silently begging you to take your seat

His claws would flex, clenching and unclenching against your the skin of your hips as he holds you literally holding himself back from taking

His heavy breaths would make you shiver as you finally decide to give you both what you need

As you settle down over his eager mouth he groans, its heated and desperate like he’d been waiting eons to taste you

He’s going to make it so good for you

Might be a little sloppy at first in his eagerness but once he gets going damn does he focus on the places that feel the best for you

His eyes would never ever shut for more than a quick rare blink. He’d be watching your every move his gaze roaming over you from your blissed expression to your wet heat

His hands at first would grip just your waist but over time they’d slide to your thighs holding you to him as you twitch and grind against his mouth and expertly flicking tongue

He will not be stopping, by the way, his simian nostrils will flare as he breathes heavily but he’d rather suffocate then stop hearing your moans or tasting your pleasure

You’re gonna cum? Good. Do it. He’ll take it and more

Pride and possession would fill his chest as you shudder above him gushing over his tongue, HE made you do that.

He’s gonna make you do it again, adding his fingers this time for extra stimulation as he coaxes you to start moving your hips against his mouth again

At some point though hes probably going to push you on to your back as he continues eating you whole

He is in LOVE with tasting you and hasn’t had his fill yet

By the time he allows you a break your going to be a shivering panting filthy mess and the fur on his face soaked with your pleasure

He’d crawl up your body leaving wet kisses in his wake and while he expects NOTHING of you but to lie there and relax as he takes himself in hand, if you reach out to assist him he would needily groan a desperate sound in your ear as he buries his face against your neck

Wukong our fav monkey king!

This cocky little asshole.

He is an absolute menace and a tease on a good day as it is

You asking if you can sit on his face? Oh boy

Be ready for some bullshit as his face slowly morphs from pleasant surprise to a very large cocky as fuck smirk

He would definitely tease you, his body language relaxed as though hes unbothered, his words taunting as he tries to act as though your question didn’t stir something in him

His tail would lazily flick and swish but the growing heat in his eyes gives him away

Would make you say it again, just because it feeds his ego and he likes being a little shit. Plus, seeing you get impatient or flustered is his favorite pastime

You’d think he would be impulsive and jump your bones, but no. One of his worst traits after being alive so long is learning patience and self restraint in moments like these

Dont mistake his playful teasing nature though

He is FAMISHED the minute those words first left your sweet sweet mouth

Looking closely you’d notice the turbulent possessive heat in his eyes. He’s like a predator who has locked on to his prey

He wont make you wait long or push your buttons too much though, not wanting you to change your mind and prevent him from getting his meal

He’d lazily lie down for you to take your rightful place BUT from how taut his body is you can tell he’s eager and excited. Clearly holding himself back from just taking

A hum of contentment and interest would leave his throat as you settle yourself with your knees on either side of his head

Wukong would definitely lick his lips, his mouth watering in preparation for what is about to come

He is a tease so instead of getting to work or letting you just fall onto his face he would grip your hips preventing you from moving.

His strong hands would hold you in place effortlessly as his rubs his furry cheeks against your thighs enjoying the feel of your skin against his face as he smirks up at you knowing what you want but not ready to give it to you juuuuust yet

He’s mouthy and cheeky so expect him to not shut up as he teases you for how ready you are for him as his eyes roam over you

Filthy words would tumble out of his mouth just so he can watch as you get wetter with anticipation

Just to watch you squirm he might lean up and flick his tongue against you before laughing as your body twitches

If youre listening you can hear his tail thump against the ground (or bed whatever) displaying that although hes exercising new found patience right now, he truly is just as needy as you are.

Wanting to make you even more desperate he’d teasingly flick his tongue against you here and there, no pattern and as though he has no care.

Your thighs would be nipped and sucked too as he chuckles up at your pouting needy face

When he finally lets you take your throne he is like a monkey STARVED

He’s messy, not afraid to get in there, but his mouth works with purpose

He’d be groaning at your flavor as though you tasted just like an orgasmic sweet juicy peach that he loves so much

His hands would wonder stroking from your thighs up your hips to squeeze at your chest possessively as you move against his mouth and tongue

He’d growl low in his chest as you moan and sigh his name, his claws grazing your skin and plucking at your nipples as he makes it his one and only duty to make you reach your peak

A possessive groan comes out of him as he feels your thighs tremble knowing youre close

But at the last second he lifts your hips from his drenched furred face with a devilish smile, laughing as you give him the dirtiest look he’s ever seen

He’d coo at you teasingly before leaning up and kissing wetly from your thigh to your heat, sucking noisily as he goes. you shiver and goose bumps break out over your skin but he doesnt let you budge as he takes his time worshiping you

It’s when he guides you back down, expert fingers starting to join his tongue that youre given free rein to move as you please again

He keeps his heated focus your face, his eyes demanding that you dont look away from him as finally brings you to orgasm

Watching you come undone and moan his name sends ripples of pride and hunger through him. Possessiveness rears up inside him as he knows only HE can bring you this

He’d watch you intently and rub your thighs and stroke his hands up your body as you both breathe heavily for a moment trying to catch your breath

He wont let you rest long though, oh no.

He’s fired up now and its as though he MUST watch you fall apart over and over until HE is satisfied that hes proven his worth as your provider of pleasure and satisfaction

He is a KING and demands your pleasure and he will get it

Wukong would yank you back into place above his mouth and would get to work, this time with a fierce determination, one that makes your toes curl as his eyes bore into you

He’d ignore his own raging need (for now), unless you happen to take pity on him and reach back to slip your fingers under his clothes and stroke him to return the favor and attentions he’s bestowing on you

[python333]

your writing is literally the best in the cod fandom. we need more injured reader angst. it's too good

don't breathe — python333

— — — —

synopsis [reader] gets buried alive after refusing to give intel to enemy soldiers and *slips up and writes reader almost dying again* oops how did that happen haha

relationships platonic!price & gn!reader.

characters cap. john price.

word count 2.7k

warnings suffocation [reader], just generally really depressing thoughts, near death??, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note aww tysm :(( dont say its the best im gonna get a complex LMAO but i appreciate it!! and yes i agree injured reader angst ftw :3 i present to you: reader gets very injured and theres a lot of angst and its basically just you suffering for a good 3/4 of the fic while the last quarter has the actual comfort!

“Hello?” You try again, your voice cracking and your tone as desperate as it can get, “Please, God, say someone can hear me.” 

You’ve been trapped in a casket for about five minutes now��at least, you woke up five minutes ago. God knows how long you’ve been stuck in the stupid thing, but realistically, it’s probably been much longer than five minutes.

The last thing you remember from before you were buried is being in the interrogation room of some small terrorist group’s facility, one you and the others were led to believe was abandoned weeks ago. 

Unfortunately, whoever gave you the information must’ve either had incredibly outdated information or was setting you all up for failure, because the facility was very much not abandoned and was instead full of enemy soldiers.

You all had already gotten into the building before you knew that, because of course you all had to be in the same spot at the same time—practically sitting ducks for the enemy—and of course you all had to be clueless about the possibly hundreds of people in the facility until it was too late. 

As far as you know, everyone managed to escape. Everyone but you. They didn’t mean to leave you behind, of course they didn’t, they were more focused on just booking it out of the facility. However, because of that, you were now stuck—you assume—several feet underground in a casket that has a limited amount of oxygen that drops every time you take a breath. 

You let out the breath you’re currently holding and suck in another deep breath, holding it as you think. Your strategy of holding your breath until you no longer could mostly worked, but it wouldn’t for long, you knew that soon you’d suffocate in all of the carbon dioxide gathering in the enclosed casket.

You don’t know how long you’d been unconscious in the casket, breathing in oxygen carelessly in your slumber, which made the whole situation worse. You didn’t even know how much time you had left. 

You hate to waste your breath checking your comms, but the enemy soldiers had accidentally left your earpiece in your ear—the small device apparently going undetected under their radar—and you wanted to make the most of it. You move your arm from your side and press onto the PTT button on your earpiece, wincing a little at how cramped the casket was.

“Does anybody copy?” You ask again, staring up at the almost pitch black space above you, “I repeat, does anybody copy?” 

It’s a vain attempt at contacting your team, really. You don’t know if they’re thinking about you, if the signal is going through, if they even have their earpieces on—you know nothing, and that terrifies you because you really don’t want to die right now but there’s literally nothing else you can do besides helplessly talk into your earpiece, not knowing if anyone’s listening. 

Your lungs start to burn and you let out the breath you were holding, taking another deep breath and beginning to hold that one. The air feels… thick. It’s starting to get harder to breathe, and you know you shouldn’t panic but you can’t help the few worried thoughts that come to the forefront of your mind. 

What am I going to do when I run out of oxygen and the only thing left for me to breathe in are my own discarded breaths? What will I do when all there is to do is suffocate? Am I going to try, in one last desperate attempt, to break out of the casket, or am I going to just lay here and die? Will my team try to find me, or will they forget about me? Have they already forgotten about me? 

Before you can listen to any more of those depressing thoughts, a voice comes from your earpiece. 

“H—lo? [c/n]?” It’s hard to tell with the static and the cuts in between the words, but you think it’s Price talking. 

“Price?” You ask immediately, all thoughts of preserving your breath forgotten. “Holy shit, you can hear me?” 

“Je—s— whe—e—” He cuts out for a moment and your stomach drops when all you can hear is static for a moment. 

“You’re— You’re cutting out, Captain, what did you say?” 

“Wher— —re you?” It takes you a moment to realize what he’s saying, your mind working much slower than it usually does, but once you do you shake your head negatively despite him not being there to see you. 

“I don’t— I don’t know,” You respond, taking a deep breath before adding on, “I think I’m underground, I just know I’m in a casket and it’s getting harder to breathe and—” 

“Okay, o—y,” You hear Price’s voice crackle, his voice becoming more distant and sounding almost muffled to you, “Sa— —ur bre—th, I’ll try to g—t some—e to track your— —tion.” 

With the constant cutting out of his words and the distortion of his tone, you can barely register or process what he’s saying, and that only panics you more but you refuse to let your emotions get the better of you even in the state of disorientation you’re in, so you keep holding your breath. 

A minute later, Price’s voice crackles through your earpiece again. 

“Okay, we’ve got your loc—tion,” Price’s voice sounds… oddly far away, “We can—” 

His voice slowly becomes muffled, and you release the breath you were holding without realizing it, slowly blinking up at the ceiling of the casket. A sort of haze falls over your mind and you can barely even hear Price anymore before you suddenly snap back to reality and hear his now much clearer voice loud in your ear. 

“[c/n]? [c/n], are you still there?” You recognize his tone now, and you’re just a little shocked at the sheer amount of worry in it. 

“Haven’t moved an inch,” You breathe out, before lying, “You cut out for a second for me, sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry, it’s okay,” Price reassures you, “I said we got your loc—tion and we’re hea—g out th— —w. It’s not t— far away from where —e alre—dy are, we’re ba—ely three clicks away.” 

“… Clicks?” You ask, your eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

“Yes, clicks,” Price replies, sounding concerned, before hesitantly asking, “… You know what those are, right?” 

“I don’t—” You struggle to find words for a moment before you speak again, your own voice starting to sound distant, “I don’t think so?”

“What do y—u mean you don’t thi— —o?” Price asks, his voice sounding freakishly close, “Are you okay?” 

“No, yeah, I’m fine,” You lie through your teeth, not wanting to worry Price further, “I just… how far away are you?” 

“Just ab—t two cli—ks now,” Price says, before pausing and clarifying, “Two kilometers.” 

Two kilometers… how far is that? “And that’s… is that far, or?” 

“No, it’s not too far. It’s just a mi—te away, we didn’t ge— —o far before Laswell got your loc—tion,” Price tells you, “We’ll be there soon, ok—y? We’ll get y— —ut of there.” 

“A minute—” You cough and feel tears pricking at your eyes from how hard it is to take another breath, “A minute?” 

“Yes, a minute— [c/n], are you okay?” Price asks again, before laughing nervously, “You know what a minute is, do— —ou?” 

“...” You struggle to answer the question, thinking long and hard for a few seconds before hesitantly answering, “… Yeah, I do, sorry. It’s sixty seconds.” 

“Why’d it take you so long to answer?” 

“I don’t know, I’m sorry, I—” You take a few shallow breaths, and feel a headache start to build up, “How far away are you guys?” 

“We’re alm—t there,” Price promises you, “The heli’s ab—t to l—nd, and we’ll dig you up, and—” 

Why is it so cold? Price’s voice cuts off and when he stops talking you realize that you’re shivering. You ball your fists up and can’t even feel your nails digging into your palms, your hands having gone numb from the cold, and realizing that makes you discover that your lips feel numb too. 

Your ears start to ring and you feel that uncomfortable pins and needles feeling in your hands, the sensation slowly traveling up your arms, making you both wanting to peel off your own skin and also grateful that you can at least feel something besides the cold.

In the midst of your thinking, you hear muffled thumping coming from above you—whoever buried you couldn’t have buried you anything below six feet. 

“—llo? [c/n]? Are you still there?” 

You bring your hand up, the movement slow and sluggish, and you try to search around the side of your face for your earpiece. You eventually find it and when you do you press against it until you feel the PTT button being pushed. 

“Still here,” You confirm breathlessly, coughing again as you take a few more shallow breaths, “I think I’m running out of— of… what’s the fuckin’ air that you can breath in, it starts with an o…” 

“… Oxygen?”

“Oxygen, yeah,” You slowly blink up at the ceiling of the casket, “There’s— I think— I don’t… I think… I think I’m gonna pass out, Captain.” 

“[c/n], don’t you fucking dare,” Price growls, “You stay awake, I swear to fucking god.” 

“I can’t—” You take a few more shallow breaths, before coughing, the tears escaping your eyes reaching the corners of your mouth. 

You can hear Price briefly talk with someone else, his voice the most serious you’ve ever heard it, before he talks directly to you again, “How much longer do you think you have before you run out of oxygen?” 

It takes you a moment to register the question, but when you do, you answer, “Uh… I don’t— I think… maybe a few more minutes? I can’t tell, it’s just hard to breathe, I can’t…” 

“Okay, okay,” Price softly says, gusts of wind blowing into his mic as he talks, “Give me a second, okay? We’re almost there, kid, we’ll— we’ll be there in just a minute, we just passed over you, I just need you to stay awake.” 

“In a minute,” You repeat to yourself, before taking a deep breath, hoping that you have enough oxygen to make it out of this casket because you really don’t want to die here, not when there’s help just a minute away. 

After what you assume is a minute or two, instead of thumping, you hear something cut into the dirt above you. The sound, however, is heavily muffled, so muffled to the point where you don’t know if you’re hallucinating or not.

Is that a symptom of CO2 poisoning? Hallucinations? You lay still in the casket and can’t help but release the breath you’d only just taken, the ringing in your ears starting up again and growing louder faster than they had before. 

Your entire body is numb, your chest is heavy, and you can feel a sort of fog fall over your mind. You can distantly hear Price yelling through your earpiece, but you can’t find it in yourself to respond, instead simply laying there, your blinking starting to slow down before it eventually stops, leaving your eyes closed. 

— 

For a moment, you think you died and went to heaven, which would be weird, considering all the things you’ve done in your life. Not saying you’d go to hell, just saying God would probably hesitate for a second before letting you in through the pearly gates. 

You blink awake, slowly but surely, and the first thing you realize is that you can feel things again. You tilt your head down to the bump under the white bed sheets laid on top of you, and squeeze your hand into a ball, watching the bump move and feeling your fingers dig into your oddly sore palms.

You let out a sigh of relief and pull your hand out from the sheets, bringing it up to your face and feeling the oxygen mask that’s been placed over your mouth and nose.

“Don’t mess with that,” You hear a voice say to your right. You turn your head and see a very tired Captain Price, dark eyebags hanging under his eyes and arms crossed, his hands having a white knuckle grip on either one of his elbows. 

“…” You don’t say anything, instead you simply stare at him until he sighs and gets up from his seat. You watch silently as he leans over your bed and bends down, before pausing, and then quickly snaking his hands under your back to pull you up just enough for him to properly hug you. 

You reach up with shaky hands and tentatively hug him back, not nearly as tightly—not that you don’t want to, but you physically can’t with how weak your arms are right now—but with just as much sincere affection. You can feel Price’s beard rubbing against your neck and hear his small sniffles as he embraces you tightly. 

Maybe it’s his sniffling, or the way you can finally feel warmth for the first time in what feels like forever, or maybe it’s just the fact that he’s holding you with so much care and affection that it almost makes you burst at the seams, whatever it is, it causes you to tear up as well. 

Those tears quickly become sobs that bubble up in your throat and crawl their way out of it, forcing you to tuck your head into the crook of Price’s neck and muffle your sobs in it, muttering a small ‘sorry’ after each one. 

After each ‘sorry’, Price responds with, “It’s okay, let it out, sweetheart, you’re okay,” and those reassuring words only make you cry more because God, you didn’t even think he’d find you, yet here he is, letting you cry into his neck and is reassuring you after every apology that it’s okay. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” You mumble a litany of apologies into Price’s neck, your breath stuttering and hitching as you try to hold back your sobs. Price only shushes you and rubs his hand up and down your back in a comforting gesture, bringing his head up to kiss the top of your head. 

He tucks your head under his chin, “Don’t apologize, it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

And fuck, you know it’s just words, but it only makes you cry more. 

Your sobs eventually stop, leaving you hiccuping against Price’s neck, silently crying as he continues to rub your back. 

“I thought you died,” He whispers, his hand stuttering on your back, “I thought you died and I was going to dig up your dead body, when you didn’t answer me.”

You stay silent, letting him continue, “I thought you were dead when we dug you up and needed to feel your heartbeat for myself to confirm that you were still alive.” 

He pauses for a moment before continuing, “I’ve been here ever since they put you in here. I haven’t slept, I’ve just stayed here, waiting for you to wake up so I could tell you that I—”

He chokes up for a moment before taking a deep breath and continuing, “I’m sorry for not even thinking to drag you out of the facility with me when we all ran out. You were— you were right there, and I couldn’t just grab your arm and take you with me, I just had to leave you behind and I—” 

“You watched me while I was asleep?” You ask quietly, your eyebrows drawing together. 

Price pauses and pulls his chin off of your head, and pulls you away from his neck so he can properly give you the most incredulous look he can pull, before saying, “I’m pouring my heart out to you and apologizing for practically leaving you for dead, and that’s what you’re worried about?” 

“Well, I’m not worried, I’m just—” You shrug, not knowing how to explain it. Price sighs and chuckles quietly before tucking your head back under his chin. 

“You’re insufferable,” He mumbles, sniffling a bit. 

“… I forgive you, by the way,” You say after a moment of silence, “I didn’t really blame you in the first place.” 

“You had the right to.” 

“Sure I did.” 

“But you didn’t blame me.”

“Right.” “…” Price stays silent for a moment before pressing another soft kiss to the top of your head and saying quietly, “You should blame me.” 

“Maybe,” You mumble back, “But I won’t.” 

Later, maybe an hour later, if the others see you asleep in Price’s arms while he keeps your head tucked under his chin and rubs your back affectionately—no they don’t.

[kalims]

you say I love you as a goodbye accidentally | all

premise.

"okay," you smile at no one in particular, though you've got a feeling the other person on the line can feel your smile. "thanks. I love you, bye," without a single thought behind your head you hang up and emit a dreamy sigh.

wait.

your smile drops as your face shifts into panic.

completely spaces out, lowkey having a crisis. did you mean it or no? part of him wishes you were because his heart is just gonna start combusting either way. everyone is concerned why he's been staring into thin air for the past two minutes tightly gripping his phone like it's his life support. he looks like he's in a dilemma and two seconds away from suffocation because of how long his breath seems to have been caught away.

can't stop thinking about it and seems more silent when in person with you. *ascends to heaven*

riddle, deuce, azul, jamil, silver.

ㅤ

is very.. verbal about it. is either bragging to everyone who really does not want to listen to his constant nagging or proclaiming, as in busting everyone's eardrums off with his shrill screams of excitement. if he could he would practically be characterized by someone jumping around the room in a fit of joy and adrenaline. he just has to do something to tame the literal mile his heart is running.

is way more affectionate with you than normal which you don't know if you should be concerned with or happy.

cater, floyd, kalim, epel, rook (sometimes.)

ㅤ

on the more calming side. but can't help but crack a smile at your words, partially aware that it was out of habit but it didn't exactly stop the myriad of crisis you just sent his mind to. though he looks completely fine on the outside he's just teensy, tiny bit freaking out on the inside. don't worry, all you need to know that he is very pleased about it.

starts to tell you 'I love you too' by the end of your calls, making everyone assume you're dating but it's more like a married couple than a normal.

trey, jade, vil, lilia.

ㅤ

is just a big fat tsudere that can't seem to look you in the eye properly when you both meet in real life. you have no idea what he's thinking but what you do know is the words you accidentally blurted last night so.. basically two idiots who are thinking the same thing but refuse to talk due to the embarrassment. would talk about it if the other initiates first though..

wants to talk about it but also doesn't wanna talk about it?

deuce, epel, sebek, jack, idia.

ㅤ

NEVER LETS YOU FORGET ABOUT IT. having dinner? oh would you look at that, that's before you told him the words. raining? it was raining during that time too. do you just want to rest? too bad, because his face is twisting to that smug look and you know full well what's coming out of his mouth next. he's always teasing you about it.

thinks what you said was a joke but doesn't really mind if it is. an 'I love yous' an I love you and he will keep reminding you that :) playfully but uses it against you :'( *descends to hell*

ace, leona, ruggie, lilia.

ㅤ

immediately brightens up and flashes everyone with his sunshine because he's so happy. his familiar love for you just grows a thousand times bigger than before and he finds himself doing what you ask without any complaints. he just wants to help you <3 cause he just kinda considers you as a family figure now..

leaves idia in the dust lowkey haha.. he still loves him tho

ortho (platonic)

ㅤ

grins and looks immensely pleased. his giggles are a little ominous but even you can discern the clear happiness in them. it was so subtle that you didn't even notice him straying closer than usual.

can't seem to leave you alone now.

rook, jade, floyd.

ㅤ

uhm.. hello? child of man? lilia told him that this.. electronic box would make him hear your voice even through the portal of diasomnia but he can't seem to hear anything, nor see anything but a black screen. strange. is it broken? (yes malleus, you broke it because you were too excited to talk to the prefect.)

did not know but probably would have died if he ever heard it and immediately propose to you and stage a ceremony.

malleus.

note. why did I forget about some characters until the last moment lolll. I am out of ideas fr HAHA. perhaps this is the end of the posting streak?

not proofread

kofi

[actuallyjustabiscuit]

PART EIGHT

Listen. Listen. Listen.

I will go over everything between Kinger and Pomni’s convo in Hell in a more in depth analysis, amongst other significant things that happen in the episode.

But before all that, these are the last little bits that I just wanted to mention.

Again, lighting is hella (lol) dark, but I’m in love with this extreme wide shot view of Kinger and Pomni staring into the hallway of the damned because it’s very similar to this shot with Pomni and Gummigoo in ep 2 when they were stuck under the map👇🏽

Both scenes make the characters look so small.

And, incidentally, both locations happen to be “underground”!

These are quite literally the low points of the episodes, and in both instances the characters experiencing emotional turmoil are able to resurface with newfound hope from the help of a friend.

It really drives home Kinger’s point about how their current existence may seem pointless, but having people who care about you can mean a lot.

These characters are trapped in this massive virtual world with so little control over their lives, yet they can still find comfort in each other.

We know this is physically painful for Pomni.

We know because she tells us right at the beginning.

Anyone who has ever held their breath for a long time, either while swimming underwater, avoiding noxious fumes, or just for kicks, understand that when your body is screaming to take a much needed breath your brain is instilled with the fear of suffocation if you continue to deprive yourself of oxygen. Ya know that thing people normally need to live.

However, we also know that, because the player’s digital bodies aren’t real, that fear is now rendered unwarranted. Pomni has been told that she should have no fear of death if she doesn’t take a breath, yet she still feels it, because she is still afraid of it.

Now of course this is much easier said than done, but it is what ultimately helps Pomni in the end. And it’s done almost accidentally because just as Pomni is beginning to feel the fear of suffocating…Kinger starts to glow, and as a result creates a sort of distraction for her to make it through the hallway. She is no longer thinking about how she should be afraid of dying. Kinger, just by walking through "hell" with her, helped her become a little braver.

It’s not only visually beautiful, it’s also thematically heartwarming.

This overhead shot of Pomni approaching Ragatha is so funny to me cuz it feels so unnecessary.

We already know she smol, the angle here is almost rubbing it in!

Look at this loser. Absolutely enamored with this girl finally giving her positive attention.

Meanwhile Jax’s literally stuck in the background watching this sapphic saccharine scene playing out against his will thinking

[revehae]

two days ago, this blog turned two years old. well, that’s if you ignore the fact that i accidentally deleted my blogs this january. in spite of that, so many of you are still here with me and have been supportive even when i was quite literally losing my marbles. you guys have been patient through my periods of inactivity and reread my fics with the same amount of appreciation for them as you had the first read - if not more. and for that, i say thank you.

but i’m also saying goodbye.

just kidding! i was being serious for too long and so i felt the need to potentially strike some fear into someone’s heart for fun. anywho, no, i’m not actually leaving. not yet, anyway. there is so much more i want to do with this blog and so many ideas i want to share that will most likely carry on to the following year. so yeah, you guys are still stuck with me.

am i taking the two-year anniversary of a mostly k-pop tumblr blog teeming with dark, degenerate fantasies that ought to get me stoned by stubby, hairy ogres way too seriously? perhaps. but i’ll never forget what this blog means to me. i’m in a place now where my trauma is no longer something i feel suffocated by or bound to, but when i created this blog, i admit that there were still large parts of me that felt like i was “broken.” this was only possible because i found safe places where i could acknowledge it without fear of being judged, blamed, or attacked.

i realize not everyone has those places. one of the greatest delights i have is being able to own a blog where people with similar experiences as me are able to confront their pain in a way that makes them feel safe, comfortable, and most importantly, in control.

i went through periods of time where i wouldn’t even leave my room because i was so terrified of being subjected to the same nightmare again. i couldn’t go out in public, because when i did, i was constantly worried that someone was out to give me. this affected my relationships with my friends, family, myself, sex, the world - everything. it is a hell i wouldn’t even wish on Trumpington McDonaldton. or would i? just kidding. not really, considering his track record. but, back to the point, i know what it’s like to live in the dark. i know how unfair it is that someone can swoop in, ruin your life, and never, ever face consequences. meanwhile, you are staring at the consequences of what someone else did every single day. i know what it’s like to blame yourself. i know what it’s like to wish that things were different.

but i also know that as unfair as it is, as painful as it is, and as hard as it may be to accept, no one is going to single-handedly fix you. you have to be your own healer. you have to put the work in to build yourself back up and bounce back stronger than ever. i know firsthand how intimidating that can be, however, in my experience, the first step was not hiding from what i’d gone through. in a way that i originally never thought would be possible, writing and reading noncon fics was one of the most helpful ways of doing that. everything about this blog has been extremely cathartic for me. and the best part about it is that many of you have told me it’s cathartic for you as well, which fills me with a glee words cannot describe.

now, of course, my blog is not limited to Traumatized Individuals who had their brains rewired in the worst way possible via some negative experience - although i doubt you’re not still somehow traumatized if you religiously read my content. if you aren’t a victim of SA, you aren’t going to be crucified for reading noncon. it’s okay. don’t worry. but still, i will always support and stand up for those that are, even if they don’t cope in the same way as me. because not reading is also okay. there are so many different ways to cope with SA; i’m just happy to provide one of them to those that seek it out.

again, thank you all! thank you to those that have been here since the beginning. thank you to those that followed me this week. thank you to those who leave nice messages in my inbox, and reblog, and leave comments. thank you to my dearest sweet mutuals. thank you to those who followed me here from lisired and didn’t unfollow me when you realized i’m a little bit insane. thank you to those that read my fics over and over and never get bored! let’s heal together everyone. but let’s also be depraved and Scare The Hoes. and if you read all of this, i love you and i hope you get everything you ever wanted in life.

- with all of the love in the world, revehae!

[depravitycentral]

(I don't think I've seen this concept before, but if someone else has written about this please let me know and I'll credit them accordingly!)

I have no grounds to base this on but I think that when nen-using yanderes are around their darling, their nen spikes.

Like, a lot.

Which wouldn't be bad at all - particularly if their darling isn't even aware of the existence of nen. Unfortunately, though, this has some bad side effects - namely, these spikes are both unconscious and uncontrollable.

And I like to think this manifests itself in ways that are entirely specific to the yandere - nen is energy, aura, raw, their honest feelings bleeding into their energy output, and when they're around someone who makes their heart race and their palms sweat and possessiveness and lust and desire and need bloom in their chest, their nen starts acting out what the yandere really desires.

And most of the time, this materializes as physical touch; their aura literally holding their darling, enveloping them and keeping them warm, comforted, trapped, whatever their heart is genuinely desiring in that moment. It's scary, for both the yandere and the darling, because even the most skilled nen user can't really control it - it just happens, and it's a dead giveaway for other nen users that this particular darling is already claimed when their companion's aura flares so strongly that it nearly suffocates the room.

Again, each yandere's nen manifests differently, but as a ballpark example of some ways this works is how Franklin's aura always physically picks you up, sweeping you off your feet and cradling you, leaving you floating in mid air princess style while something humming and heavy and invisible presses against your lips, jawline, and neck.

(When this happens, it makes him a bit embarrassed, watching with slightly widened eyes and immediately rushing forward to disperse the nen and set you back on the ground, making sure the nen won't accidentally drop you. He might then pick you up himself, recreating what his natural urges are obviously desiring, but more often than not he'll just nod at you and ask if you're alright, then walk off and try to calm the racing of his heart because god, it's like he could feel your soft skin and warmth through his nen. He'll spend a few minutes pressing soft kisses to his hand, eyes closed, pretending it's your lips, trying to not feel too pathetic.)

Phink's nen is, much to his embarrassment and mild displeasure, always immediately smacking into your ass when it spikes. It's not enough to hurt, but it's a firm, teasing spank, and it's one that leaves you yelping slightly and glancing behind you, wondering what the fuck just happened. Phinks is ashamed that this is what his heart wants most, because it feels cheap and dirty and mean, but it's the truth, and eventually you'll just grow to expect some sort of assault on your backside every time you enter the same room as him. (Sometimes it's a squeeze rather than a smack - equally as jarring, and a bit more humiliating because it's much longer, the nen massaging your skin and making you shiver because it almost feels good.)

(Phinks won't really explain what's going on to you, but he will say that it's nothing to worry about, and will loosely, incompletely explain nen without placing too much of the blame on himself. He doesn't want you to know that his carnal urges are what's fueling your daily ass smacks - except maybe once he tells you about it, maybe you'd let him slap your ass instead of his nen...?)

But by far the most unpredictable nen belongs to none other than Chrollo Lucilfer himself, who's nen response to you ranges from simply brushing over a piece of your hair to pinning you against the wall. It drives him absolutely crazy - he can't control it at all, and it all depends on his mood. Sometimes it'll flare up and simply surround you, not quite touching you, but getting as close as it can, almost like a predator that's waiting to pounce. This happens when Chrollo's in the mood to have a long, drawn out conversation with you - the philosophical kind, the kind that lets him peek into your mind and examine you, the poking and prodding questions he asks about your morality and beliefs leaving your head swimming. Other times, his aura springs on you the moment he walks through the door, the pressure nearly suffocating as it seems to snake under your clothing, pressing against your skin, particularly focused on your chest, thighs, and right between your legs.

(He won't fully acknowledge any questions you ask about this phenomenon - just dancing around the answer, instead managing to redirect the conversation or making some vague, ambiguous response like the heart is a fickle thing. He doesn't want you to realize the hold you have on him - he already feels his position above you is precarious (it's not, you're very aware that he's a cunning, resourceful bastard that you'd probably never successfully rebel against), and he cannot have you knowing that the nen that sometimes goes so far as to rip off your shirt is actually just him wanting to feast his eyes upon your pretty breasts. He hadn't let you wear a bra that morning, so is it really so wrong that that's his heart's biggest desire in the moment? He doesn't think so.)

Anyways, just a fun thought! If you couldn't tell I love thinking about big strong men being embarrassed and unable to control themselves <3

[weatherfey]

I think a lot about the way Dorian used to see Cyrus as the perfect older brother, the perfect prince; the way Dorian felt free to go and find himself because Cyrus was capable and dependable and ready to be a leader. That isn’t the Cyrus we see! But I think it’s a lot more interesting, for both Cyrus and Dorian, to take that seriously. They’re princes, and we don’t know what that means because we haven’t seen their home, but socially a court is an elaborately constructed farce. And of course it can be easier to be competent in any familiar environment, but I also think it’s easier to know how you fit within a court environment specifically because there is an overwhelming number of factors to define yourself against and they all have expectations of you, and if they aren’t suffocating you like some kind of spider’s web then it might be perfect, like being a star in a constellation, or just the right puzzle piece. I think it’s reasonable to think that Cyrus was something like who Dorian thought he was, at home; except that Cyrus, like Dorian, wanted to choose the things he’s defining himself against. And I think it’s meaningful that he got swindled in the immediate aftermath of discarding that constellation of puzzle pieces. He was a fool (beloved), but it happened in the first blush of freedom, when he was just starting to figure out who he was or wanted to be without all that defined expectation, which is also - not coincidentally - the state Dorian was in when the spider queen sunk her fingers into his heart and twisted his alignment. The ‘hello world! uh oh’ of it all is something they had in common.

(Something they both had in common with Opal, too.)

I do think it’s interesting to look at Dorian’s sense of responsibility in light of this. I almost think Orym was a kind of north star for Dorian through parts of EXU prime, and I ship them, but it really felt like one of the things that made him able to reject the spider queen is that Orym needed him to. I think he wanted to be someone Orym could rely on, but I think Orym’s regard mattered to him because they genuinely had that protective urge in common - the pathway the spider queen used to skitter in was Dorian’s desire to protect his friends. And that drive to protect added a lot of poignancy to the in-universe reason that Dorian couldn’t return to bell’s hells after Cyrus’s debts were repaid, not just because Cyrus was still getting his legs under him but also because Opal needed help. That’s responsibility, again - he’s finishing what they started. Duty, obligation, but this time he’s chosen who and what he’s beholden to. Like maybe he’s chosen a new version of a puzzle piece that he might have thought he was throwing out entirely when he chose freedom and walked away from home.

I loved that Fearne’s vision also haunted Dorian; he misses her, and it also feels like a solid way to illustrate the spider queen’s effect on Dorian, that the danger of his own corruption has rarely been something he had the luxury to think about. His friends have always needed him. I don’t know if he had time to process his aborted fall during his time in Zephrah, or if there’s still something underneath, but I think it’s telling that this fear doesn’t look like Opal, the one literally bleeding ichor from her forehead; it predates that, it started before Opal was the one to worry about.

And I think he knows he didn’t fail them - Cyrus, Opal, Fy’ra - accidental thunder damage notwithstanding - but, with the way he felt through that suggestion spell and its aftermath, I don’t really know what to make of his abandoning Dariax. It’s a little hard to look at that and not see a drive to isolate. Determined to leave him with a good memory, but most of all, to leave. He started that one-shot interlude having just admitted to himself that he was longing to be Somewhere Else, but I almost wonder if he still would have gone back to bell’s hells if Orym hadn’t asked.

(God, the suggestion spell. The way they processed it was hurtful to me personally. Dariax immediately shifting from ‘won’t leave Opal!’ to ‘let’s go! Opal has a plan’ kind of broke my heart, and I actually think that the spell could have worked on Dorian by just making what was really happening feel reasonable - the last shred of your friend is trying to save you, and you can’t save her from anything except becoming your murderer, so you should do that. But the spell can’t make sense out of abandoning Cyrus’s body, so Dorian just goes numb with grief and rage. Mass suggestion is 24 hours. That is 24 hours of numbness, and rage, and walking, and walking, and walking, and every once in awhile Dariax’s voice, friendly and steady and sure, ‘Opal has a plan.’ And at the end of it the ability to feel returns, but he’s so tired, and he hurts, and everything hurts too much to think about, and poor Dariax probably stops in his tracks, just ‘Dorian? What was Opal’s plan?’)

And he really was so angry. It’s interesting to wonder if that’s still under the surface. He immediately turned to levity - for their sake, and his own - but that moment where the group tells him who killed Will and Derrig, and Robbie instantly wrote down Otohan’s name, didn’t just read like a player taking notes, to me, it read like Dorian putting a name in a ledger. I think it’s easy to let that go because he learns that she’s dead in the very next moment, but I think Dorian felt a weird kind of relief for that half-second, because so much of his anger at what happened to Cyrus and Opal was from being forced to acknowledge that there wasn’t anyone easy to blame, except perhaps a god; and blaming a god is like blaming the universe. What a relief, however short lived, to be faced with a problem you can solve.

[ynbabe]

TASM!Peter x Male reader- incorrect quotes

Cause that boy was fruity as FUCK and we were ROBBED! ROBBED I SAY-

Y/n: We’ll get back into there or die trying. Peter, trying to Spidey: No one’s dying. Y/n, a civilian, just trying to help: Not with that attitude.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Peter: Y/n likes to win. When he were 8, a little Club Scout friend of his bragged they could sell the most cookies. Peter: Damned if Y/n didn't walk the neighborhood till he got blisters on his feet, and won by 10 boxes. Y/n: Best part is, I wasn't even a Club Scout.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Harry, after someone insulted Peter: Murder literally doesn’t hurt anyone! Peter: What are you talking about? Of course— Y/n, holding out a hand to shut Peter up: No, no, he has a point—

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Gwen: But what about Y/n? Harry: Don't worry about him. Harry: I once watched him fall down 5 flights of stairs, stand up, and keep eating his hotdog like nothing happened. Peter: Well, you were the one who pushed him.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Harry, professional instigator: Hi could I ask how exactly does one accidentally set a lemon on fire? Y/n, professional fool: Microwave for 40 minutes. Gwen, professional ‘my boys are stupid’ boys haver: WHY WERE YOU MICROWAVING A LEMON?! Y/n: I read boiling lemons helps cover up bad smells and I wanted to cover up the scent of burnt oranges, but I didn’t own any pots… Peter, currently microwaving a grape: Did you burn an orange too? HOW?! Y/n: Microwave for 40 minutes.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Peter: Small creatures are much more vicious because they have a smaller body to bottle up all their emotions. Harry: Ridiculous. Give me some examples. Gwen: Wasps? Y/n: Terriers? Peter: Y/n.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Gwen, watching Peter and Harry fight: Are you sure they should be fighting? What if they get hurt? Y/n, not bothered by the chaos: It’s fine. They’re too evenly matched to hurt each other. Gwen: Then... who’s the strongest out of you three? Peter, with superhuman powers but a Y/n lover: Y/n. Harry,  doesn’t want Peter to kill him: Y/n. Y/n, delusional and gay: Me.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Harry: Knowledge is knowing that a tomato is a fruit, and wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad. Peter: That's deep. Y/n: That means that ketchup is a smoothie. Peter: That's deeper. Gwen: ...You guys are idiots

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━.

Peter: We can bake these cookies at 400 degrees for 10 minutes or 4,000 degrees for 1 minute. Gwen: No, that's not how you make cookies. Harry: FLOOR IT!! Peter: How about 4,000,000 degrees for 1 second?!? Gwen: yOU'RE GONNA BURN THE HOUSE DOWN- Peter: I'M GONNA HARNESS THE POWER OF THE FUCKING SUN TO MAKE COOKIES! Y/n: DO IT! Gwen: NO-

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Gwen: Blue M&Ms are the best. Y/n: whAT IS THIS SLANDER? Gwen: What about it? They are. Y/n: I WILL NOT ALLOW SUCH LIES ON MY CHRISTIAN MINECRAFT SERVER! Y/n: THE RED ONES ARE THE BEST! Gwen: YEAH? WELL YOUR MOM'S A HO! Peter, trying to stop them: They're all chocolate inside, the colors don't mean anything. Harry, to stop peter from stopping them: I like the yellow ones. Gwen and Y/n: SHUT THE FUCK YOUR MOUTH!

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Peter: Why do you act like we’re three year olds? Gwen, exasperated: WHY?!? Gwen points at Y/n: YOU HIJACKED A COP CAR! Gwen points at Harry: YOU NEARLY TRIED TO KILL PETER! Gwen points at Peter: AND YOU THREW YOURSELF INTO A STORM MADE OF LIVING ELECTRICITY! Gwen: AND YOU ASK ME WHY????

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Gwen, in a room with Peter, Harry, and Y/n: It’s calm in here. Gwen: It scares me…

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Harry: *is hugging Peter* Y/n: Hey! It's my turn to hug Peter! Y/n: *grabs Peter* Harry: *pulling Y/n off Peter* What do you mean, "yOuR tUrN"? We agreed now is my time slot! Y/n: No, It's my turn! Peter: *suffocating* Guys, I love you, but just because you guys tried to kill me doesn't mean you can be hugging me to apologise constantly! Y/n: But we need the moral support! Harry: And you're small! Which is cute! Y/n: If we don't hug you right now I think our guilt will kick in and our bodies will stop functioning. Peter: *close to tears* Well- I, I guess.

[aprofessionalwithoutstandards]

hello i am asking politely for your mommy Medic surgeon goresex thoughts. feel free to use the reply to this ask as your dumping ground if it would be easier than an original post!

Welllll if you insist! Putting all this under a cut bc despite my cool exterior I'm extremely ashamed of every thought I've ever had (and bc I wanna put this in some tags and if the juicy stuff is under a cut no one can complain)

Uhhh CWs for sex, gore, goresex, surgery kink, medfet, mommy kink (just the title and the persona for Medic, no specified role for the sub), needles, knives, boot stuff, whatever. This makes me feel like a real writer

Sooo first things first bc I think people won't understand this one at first: Medic tf2 is a man who is a mommy dom. To me and to a lot of other kinky people, there exists a non-gendered semantic difference between a "daddy dom" and a "mommy dom", so women can be daddies and, much more rarely, men can certainly be mommies. Kink educator Evie Lupine describes mommy doms as "giggly, joyful sadists". Sound like someone we know? He's mommy (Mommy doms are also typically more "nurturing" and smothering than daddy doms, I'll get to that later)

I really love characterizing Medic as extremely faux-sympathetic (with flashes of real sympathy every now and again), so he's telling you (or whoever) just how bad he feels for you, you poor thing, that looks like it really hurts, and it's, like, the extra hand he attached to your pelvis. If it does actually hurt and the procedure wasn't successful he will safely remove it, though

Although I definitely think Medic can be mean, I think ESPECIALLY in a gorekink/medfet context, he gives a LOT of praise. He's SUPER full of himself, he'd never deride one of his Crowning Achievements In The Field Of Medical Science!

Similarly, he's very good about giving compliments specific to like, all of a person's inside stuff. The size of your organs, the shade of your blood, the prominence of your veins, the sturdiness of your bones... Medic tf2 is leaned over you on the vivisection table lovingly stroking your liver and cooing about how much he loves the color

This one's kind of a big one for me tbh... I think Medic tf2 would intentionally (consensually, temporarily) incapacitate someone so he gets to take care of them. Misery-style. My favorite version of this is Medic "accidentally" taking too much of someone's blood out during a blood draw, so they get all sleepy and he needs to feed them (with his boobs) and let them rest (on his boobs). Despite it all I think he really does like to feel needed.

I think Mommy Medic can be veryyyy... smothering. Figuratively and literally. He can really heap on the compliments, especially with a character who isn't very used to praise, which is its own kind of sadism. And he literally suffocates you in his boobs/thighs/ass/tummy/whatever. That one's a little less psychological.

Okayyyy goresex time... surgery makes Medic horny and he wants to fuck people's internal organs. Tf2 is really fun for this because the medigun is a built-in explanation for how he can do that while the other person is still awake. In Meet the Medic he should've been straddling Heavy's hips and jacking off onto his large intestine.

I don't know how into drinking blood normal humanguy Medic would be, but he definitely likes touching blood. Getting it all over his hands. I think he'd maybe be more into making you (or whoever) drink blood, lick it off his gloves, off his boots, off his big hairy (eroticized body part of your choice here). One of those things that he probably intends as a humiliation thing but if you're enough of a freak you just enjoy for what it is.

The penetration imagery of the needle. I read something like that recently about the scene in Breaking Bad where Jesse does heroin for the first time and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. You understand

On a humiliation note, I think Medic would think it's Very fun to "force" (lovingly encourage) someone to call him "mommy" if they're embarrassed about it, which I think most of his team would be. Medic using kink to help Sniper drop his inhibitions and give in to his urges and Have Fun is one of my fave bushmed dynamics and I definitely think getting Sniper to get over the hill and call him "mommy" for the first time would be a big thing for him. Of course this is all part of his plan to break you (consensually!) and have you (or whoever!) whimpering into his cleavage as he gets to nurture you

Imagine everything I just said but he's in a sexy nurse outfit that's extremely visibly too small for him. And also just COMPLETELY covered in blood. That's my vision

[smells-like-mettaton]

Rating: G Summary: Sans treks through the laughterless Ruins to bring Toriel a donut. She has other worries on her mind. (Soriel, Exiled Queen Ending) Word Count: 2449

XXX

Sans is nothing if not a creature of habit. Routine means Not Thinking and Not Thinking means he can pretend everything’s okay for a little longer. 

QC’s bakery is closed. The sheet of paper tacked to the door says her sister caught some kind of bug (metaphorical, unfortunately, or else he’d ask for tips). So no Cinnamon Bunnies he’d planned on gifting Toriel to make up for accidentally sleep-shortcutting into her bedroom last night.

(That better not become a habit. For someone who snores so hard, she’s quick to jump awake, fireballs in hands. She wouldn’t hit him on purpose, and bone’s not particularly flammable, but still.)

Habit. He’s not been on the other side of the door long enough to build new ones, yet, though he will. He has before. Not the first time his life’s up and uprooted like a grinning Vegetoid, and at least this time there are familiar places to backtrack to.

Too bad they’re not open.

He sighs, watching the artificial sunlight filter through the golden storefront window, before shortcutting out of the closed shop.

By habit, he almost ends up at Grillby’s before yanking himself back to the Ruins. Can’t throw those dogs a bone. They’ll have too many questions about the Ex-Queen—geez, even about him—and whatever he says’ll end up back to Undyne and he’s not ready for that.

Ruins. The Ruins are safe, for all that they’re unfamiliar. Papyrus would’ve loved exploring the place, with all its rusted traps and spikes.

He shuts his eyesockets for a moment. No habit to keep him on autopilot here. What was he doing again?

Treats. That’s right. Something loaded with sugar that Toriel won’t have to bake herself. Conveniently, his off-kilter shortcut landed him in the room with the bowl of candy… but pilfering the sweets she’d left out for the Froggits and Whimsuns just to give them back to her is too lazy of an apology, even for him.

Speak of the devils. A pair of Froggits and one shaking Whimsun hop-and-flutter through the door. The moth-like monster bursts into tears at the sight of him, fleeing back into the hall.

“Huh. That’s a first.” His grin tightens. “Normally pals wait to cry until after the joke.”

“Ribbit, ribbit,” one Froggit’s face-mouth croaks.

“(Joke?)” the mouth hidden in the shadows of its belly translates. Different from the Final Froggits Sans is used to, whose two mouths tend to speak in harmonizing tandem. “(I don’t understand.)”

Man. Tough crowd.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” He shrugs his hands into his hoodie pockets. “Not everyone’s got a funny bone.”

Not even a groan at that. Just a couple of low, cricket-like croaks.

How has Toriel survived so long with this kind of audience? He can feel the humor leaking out his humerus already.

The Froggits are still staring at him. Warily.

“You know anywhere to get some grub around here?” he finally asks, because the silence is threatening to suffocate him and shortcutting around still-mostly-uncharted territory is a great way to spring one of those centuries-old traps. Just walking until he finds something is out of the question, of course. The Ruins are huge, and his legs aren’t.

“Ribbit…” “(Grub…?)”

Right. They’ve been stuck here as long as Toriel, with even less contact with the outside world. 

“Food,” he translates. Though Toriel would probably appreciate literal grubs, too, considering her bug-hunting hobby.

“Ribbitttttt.” “(Ohhh. Spider bake sale. Go out and make a left, then keep going until you reach the end of the hall.)”

He has no idea how far that is, so. Walking. Fun.

“‘Preciate it.”

His slippers scuff across the lavender stone, and he can feel all four pairs of eyes follow him out. Normally he only minds stairs, not stares. But for some reason it makes his vertebrae shiver.

Maybe it was just that Whimsun. The sudden crying, before he could even get a word out… he’s not used to that. 

He’s not used to silence. He’s used to laughter and warmth and explosions and booming cries of “SANS PICK UP YOUR SOCK!” He’s used to being at the beating heart of wherever he is—lab or town or bar or, or. Maybe no one needs him, but they like him and want him and he wants them and he never realized how much being alone sucks.

And this is how Toriel’s been living. For centuries.

Maybe she likes it this way, he rationalizes, but he’s heard the excitement in her voice every time he arrived at the door, the faintest longing whisper any time he mentioned his brother or friends. He doesn’t know her at all, and he knows her too well to believe that.

The thoughts buzz in his skull up until his foot plunges through a false veneer of stone. 

Normally, he has a healthy respect for puzzles, for all that they’re not really his heritage to claim. Today, as he lands face-down in a leafpile, all he can muster is a flat annoyance. 

Maybe he could shortcut back to Toriel’s house and restart from there. But ironically, he doesn’t have a good enough sense of direction to find the bakesale from that angle. If he even can now that he’s fallen a layer deeper underground…

The leaves are pretty comfy. It’s tempting to just lie here. It’s what his old habits want.

Fortunately—unfortunately?—something chomps down on his ankle.

“Contains Vitamin D,” a Vegetoid says, its voice muffled by the tibia in its mouth.

“Huh. So this’s where the jokers’ve been hiding.” Sans grunts and kicks the sentient vegetable away. “No wonder I didn’t Cal-cium before.”

Cal-see-’em. It’s horrible. He’d bet twenty G he can get Toriel to shoot milk out her nose with it.

“Plants Can’t Joke Dummy,” the Vegetoid deadpans despite the grin still carved into its face.

Eh, he can’t begrudge it the grin. He knows how having a one-note facial expression goes. Couldn’t it have at least given him a pity “heh,” though?

“Nah, Dummy’s in a different room,” he glibs despite knowing it won’t get him any results.

“Eat Your Greens,” it replies unrelatedly as he checks the puzzle explanation on the sign and treks back up the stairs.

Ugh. Stares and stairs. They really should just close the curtain on him today.

This time, he pays more attention to the terrain, and makes it to the bake sale with only a few more awkward encounters. 

(He hadn’t meant to pick on Loox. He doesn’t pull out the eye trick for just anyone. It isn’t his fault the optical monster had chosen to interpret it as an insult rather than a flashy display of solidarity.)

He blinks at the bake sale prices on the signs. Only seven G for a donut here? Maybe that’s a reasonable price, but Muffet’s Hotland stand was as much of a ripoff as his fried snow. When the Froggit mentioned spiders, he’d expected to have to haggle or barter his way into some baked goods—which was always a good time, with Muffet. She understood the art of a good deal and if she swindled him a bit too much, at least it was going to charity.

Of course, Muffet isn’t here anyway. He doesn’t know what kind of bargaining these spiders would be up for, if any—and considering his track record today, dropping fourteen G in the web is probably his safest bet.

Some spiders crawl down and silently hand him two donuts.

“Pleasure doin’ business with ya,” he says. Habit.

His words echo off of the enclosing walls, topple down like a cave-in. With ya, with ya, with ya. 

Somehow, he hates that even more than the silence.

XXX

Routine is like habit’s second cousin. Close enough to crash family reunions, distant enough to flake out when you need it most.

There’s no routine to coming home, ‘nuts in hand, only to find Toriel sobbing in her armchair.

“Uh,” he grunts, too caught off guard to even curse. 

Toriel doesn’t cry. She didn’t cry when she saw Asgore’s dust, or when Undyne threatened her at spearpoint, or when she stumbled back over the Ruins threshold, blank stare glazing over her mahogany eyes. And Sans—well, he can’t cry, no ducts to pump out saltwater with, so he doesn’t—doesn’t know what to do. 

Now that’s an understatement.

“Spider ‘nut?” he offers weakly, because food never made anything worse.

A wheeze cuts through her sob. She shakes her head, but waves him over. 

Mixed messages, here.

“I was gonna get ya a cinnabun,” he approaches with soft steps, “but QC was closed today.”

Toriel wipes her face. Her hands are shaking; her claws leave thin trails in the fur above her brow.

“Of course. Of course, that’s all it was.” Her laugh cracks over the words.

“Huh?” Another step closer. 

He wishes he weren’t holding donuts; he’d like to take her hands, pull them away from her face before her claws decide they want to dig in any deeper. He’s not sure that’d be welcome, anyway, after the scare he gave her last night.

“Ap…apologies,” she murmurs. “I… s-so pathetic…”

“Hey.” His browbone scrunches a little. “Not sure what you’re goin’ on about, but I won’t judge. There’s do-nuthin’ to be ashamed of.”

After all of today’s failures, he almost expects it to fall flat, but this is Toriel he’s talking to. A wet bleat interrupts her tears—and boy, that’s a lot of snot. He’s impressed. 

“O-oh dear…” She stares down at her slimy hands.

He shuffles the donuts to the dining table so his hands are free, then shrugs out of his hoodie. 

“Here.” He offers it to her, and she blinks down at him sharply.

“What—no, Sans—”

“‘S due for a wash anyway.”

He drapes the hoodie over her hands before she can protest any further. Too late, he hopes she wasn’t protesting because she wanted something cleaner to wipe her hands on. Oh well.

“...Thank you.” She clutches the garment tightly.

Something squeezes in his ribcage. They’re both staring, and trying to pretend they’re not, and the fireplace is cold so the only thing he can hear is her still-somewhat-congested breathing.

“You, uh. Want me to give you some space…?” he finally asks.

“No,” her answer is quicker and firmer than he expected. “No, please. Stay.”

He nods. Then, hoping he’s not pushing his luck, he hauls himself up onto the arm of her broad chair. His legs hang off the side, his back pressed to her shoulder.

“Now ya won’t have to break your neck lookin’ down at me,” he rationalizes away the touch.

“How thoughtful.” She smiles with a wet snort. 

Her hands tangle deeper into his crumpled hoodie. Her claws are retracted now, though. He’s pretty sure she won’t poke any holes in it. Not that he’d mind if she did.

“I… thought you…” she inhales a shaky breath, “I thought you had left.”

“Yeah, I went out to get snacks and—oh.” He blinks. “You thought I—why?”

She’d thought he left. For good. Not even that he was gone, which could’ve implied she thought a stray Froggit offed him for one of his bad jokes. That he could’ve understood. But left, on purpose?

Nope. Not happening. She’d have to throw him out the doors and recast the seal if she wanted to get rid of him.

“I—I nearly hurt you last night…” she trails off, brows furrowed. 

“Yeah, ‘cause I sleepwalked into your room.” Sleepwalked? Sleptwalked? Technically it was sleep-shortcutted, so. Whatever. “That’s, uh, what the apology ‘nuts were for.”

Stupid walking with his stupid legs. He must’ve taken even longer than he’d thought if Toriel had thought he wasn’t coming back.

“Of course. Of course.” Another weak laugh. “I have been falling apart over nothing…”

“I’ll leave a note next time,” he says lightly, but he means it. 

He knew he meant a lot to her, but this—geez, this scares him. And thrills him, in a messed-up way that sends guilt itching at his collarbones. Someone does still want him, and that someone happens to be the funniest, sweetest, most incredible monster in the Underground. Staying with her was the easiest decision he’s ever made.

The thing is, where he stays is rarely his decision. Not with his luck. If anything happens to him, and she thinks he left by choice—

He just. Won’t think about that. Honestly, he may look as tough as wet cardboard, but he’s not gonna fall down to any Froggit or Loox. 

(And if any twist of fate tries to drop him somewhere new again—he’ll fight and claw with all the determination he doesn’t have. He’ll try.)

(It’s the best he can do.)

He burrows his hand into the hoodie with hers, because the joke he has in mind doesn’t work without touching her palm. That’s the only reason.

“Tori. I’m sticking with you.” 

She looks up, and her hand twitches. Still sticky.

“Snot like you can get rid of me that easy,” he says, in case the first quip was too subtle.

And there it is again, that laugh he lov—likes. 

(Cherishes. Adores. Wants to bottle and put on everything like ketchup.)

“Thank you, Sans. I am… sorry you had to see me like that,” Toriel says, having mostly recovered. He can’t feel her shoulder trembling against his back anymore.

“Hey, like I said. No judgment here.” He shifts, bumping his shoulder against hers with a grin. “What’re friends for?”

After a blink, a warm smile spreads across her face, uncovering the two sharp teeth poking down from her upper lip. 

“They are for worrying me silly, apparently.” 

He’s about to apologize when she cups the side of his face, hand still sticky. Her thumb brushes the curve of his cheekbone.

“Also, for making me laugh, and smile, and apologizing for things that are not his fault, and being kinder than I remembered was possible.”

“Uh-uh…” he blushes, warm and blue under her touch. His brain is short-circuiting a little, and it shows in the embarrassingly flimsy joke he comes up. “I know you are, but what am I?”

She laughs anyway. She always does. It’s enough to make up for every silent Froggit and Whimsun and Loox in the Underground.

“You are awfully handsome in that shade of blue,” she answers, and his brain’s short-circuit goes into full power outage—

Only to explode like Gyftmas lights when she presses her lips to the side of his skull, her protruding teeth scraping slightly in a way that makes him shiver. 

That’s something he could stand to make a habit.

[1moremilgram-enjoyer]

Haruka T1 Cover - Two Breaths Walking

Time to continue my quest of trying to figure out what the connections between the prisoners and their cover songs are! This time, we have a character I'm not super familiar with, but at least a somewhat easy to understand song. Haruka's Trial 1 cover, Two Breaths Walking!

CW Metaphorical stabbing and literal murder, animal cruelty

The easiest connection to draw between the singer of this song and Haruka is the theme of childishness and maturity.

“This is Page 1 of the process of my evolution.”

(Translation)

(The 'process of evolution' would be the process of growing up, maturing and learning. Thus, they're at the start of said process)

“Hey, mama, I found someone I like.” “Congratulations”

“Papa, Mama, Niina…” “Well done.” “I’m going out now.”

(Speaking to one's parents and seeking their validation for their actions is usually a trait associated with children. Note, 'niina' is a way to read '27', so they're speaking to DECO*27... I guess)

The singer finds someone they like, but in their inexperience, they end up accidentally hurting their lover.

The words I just learned become a knife that pierces through you Tearing your life to pieces

The only person I can think of that Haruka hurt accidentally would be his mother, who he distressed by killing all those animals and the girl in search of her attention, as well as stealing her pearl necklace.

[Weakness] You praised me by saying “You’re crazy.” Thank you, I’ll do my best How many more times do I have to do this so I can be human?

[Metamorphosis of the Weak] Haruka:  I felt uneasy about it this whole time… Someone as worthless as me having killed someone to gain attention, and a person who surely had more worth and more of a future than me, at that…

(Note: To clarify, Haruka's mother hurt him a lot more than he hurt her, and Haruka hurt his victims more than his mother, but the only one Haruka hurt accidentally was his mother)

Therefore, weird as it sounds to say it, Haruka would be singing this to his mother, probably.

The ending... is a bit weird if that's the case, admittedly. See, in Two Breaths Walking, after accidentally hurting their lover, the protagonist decides to help them by "kissing" them so they can breathe on their breath.

You’ll live by sucking in my breath from now on Your words have already rusted in the saliva Hey, suck in my breath again now I try to say “I love you,” but Instead I’m living my whole life as a sort of oxygen tank Suck in the words I've spit out and breathe no more

What's happening here, in my opinion, is that the protagonist wants to be so important to their lover, that they cannot be abandoned. Their lover will need them to survive, since they've become their 'oxygen tank'. That's what Two Breaths Walking means, two people who breathe together and are thus inseparable. No matter what the lover tries to say, their words 'rust in the saliva', they can't be heard, because the protagonist has made it impossible for them to separate. Even though, as you'll notice if you think about it, you can't breathe another person's breath; it's carbon dioxide, not oxygen, so the lover would end up suffocated.

It's important to notice, though, the protagonist isn't doing this intentionally. They genuinely think they're helping, that their love is healing the other person, and so they must keep doing what they're doing.

Applied to Haruka, while the kissing imagery gets a bit awkward with the mother thing, we do have the theme of not wanting to be abandoned:

[AKAA] Don’t leave me alone, don’t leave me [...] I will definitely make you love me again [...] Can I be your favorite this time? I will definitely make you love me again

As well as Haruka doing something he thinks will make his mother happy, not realizing that's not quite the case. In this case, that would be killing animals + the girl.

[AKAA] Mommy, look, I’ve done great “There there, my good boy!” I promise to make my dreaMU come true I wasn’t wrong, I wasn’t wrong Please don’t say that I am a loser

Get it? I think it works well enough. Admittedly I am not a big Haruka understander, so if someone has more insight on his possible connections (or any other prisoner's, for that matter), feel free to share!

That's all I have to say for this one. Take care!

[theloveinc]

i know it’s bad but just seeing him turn around on the couch with his mouth dropped, cigarette in between his two fingers looking you up and down before he manages to get out “why do you look like a skimpy whore?” IS LKKE LMFFMFM OMGGG i think in his wrecked cold heart it’s kind of like a compliment. he doesn’t want u to go out with parts only he has seen 😞 although if he says reader looks like a prostitute he can rent at a red light district ill suffocate him

STOP OLD MEN WITH COLD BITTER HEARTS WHO STILL MANAGE TO LOVE is my weaknesssssss☹️☹️☹️💔💔💔 why am i imagining him in ONLY boxers on your couch being completely useless just waiting for you to come home (cuz can we really see the king of curses with an ACTUAL job? idk tbh lol) ... he doesn't know what to do with himself without you even if literally the only way he knows how to talk is thru insult </3

i do imagine he probably accidentally does call you a prostitute at some point.... and the repercussion of seeing you actually upset with him (and pushy and snappy and mean/sad) is enough to make him want to pull his own toenails out. it's genuinely one of the few times he honestly thinks he's. a fuck up for like. 1 remote second LOOL

esp because ego or not and completely ... unemotional lord of all realms or w/e he is that makes him not care about killing things ... if we ARE STILL talking about the fact he was born in a world where like. the strong survive and the weak die... i do think he has a minute where he's like... "man bully weak woman BAD" and it honestly makes sense to him why he needs to stop being a dickhead to u ndfjkadsj

[miekasa]

earth bender todo is a no brainer he’s built like a rock lol. curious about your views on the other elements for the rest of the cast?

Airbenders: Satoru, Yuuta

Gojo is everybody’s problem. Just hovers (literally) around people’s conversations, makes wind to mess up your hair, “Why would I walk over there when I could float over there?,” already tall enough to hold something over someone else’s head and the added advantage of air bending would not help. Absolutely the fucking worst. Besides, can’t you see him having an Appa… pray for the greater good of the world.

Poor, poor Yuuta quite literally only has Satoru as his mentor because where are the other airbenders? Who knows, but not here. He’s a little clumsy for an airbender at first, but eventually finds his footing. He’s also too timid at first, not wanting to use bending to attack because what if he accidentally takes the air out or someone’s lungs? What if he uses air bending and pushes someone too far and they get seriously hurt? What if he makes someone choke or suffocate? He would hate himself :(

It takes sometime, but he gets comfortable. Definitely no wise air nomad, but pretty strong with Satoru’s help. He still trips and falls, but at least now he knows how to make one of those little air balls to cushion his fall. Never learns to use a glider for everyone’s safety.

Waterbenders: Inumaki, Megumi, Nanami?

Toge just makes sense here. Give him a backstory similar to Amon in tlok, minus the whole villain arc; his family basically forced him to train and use his water bending/blood bending to their advantage. Makes him hesitant to use to later to seriously harm someone, even if it would save him. He’s not above using his bending for pranks like splashing Maki’s tea in her face, tho.

Don’t know if Megumi ever quite gets the bloodbending thing down, but he does learn to heal pretty proficiently. Still holds a grudge against Satoru for sending him half way across the world to hone his healing abilities, but he admits it made him better in the end. Despite the fact that waterbenders hail from the polar ends of the Earth, Megumi does not like the cold and he will let it be known.

Nanami is a toss up bc I feel like he fits both the water bending and fire bending roles :// he’s just that good :// the waterbender version of him is definitely a healer like Megumi, but the firebending version of him 100% has Azula’s blue flames. Doesn’t consider himself a true “master” regardless, even though anyone who has ever met him would beg to differ.

Earthbenders: Todo, Yuuji?

Todo is a no brainer. Doesn’t have the refined taste for metal bending, but lavabending? Yeah. Complains about getting called to do all the manual labor, but loves knowing that he’s literally strong enough to move the Earth underneath him and that even a volcano doesn’t stand a chance against him. Fantastic, 10/10

The Bolin to Yuuji pipeline is real and it will be studied. Yuuji would accidentally discover he can metalbend and then can never bring himself to do it when he needs to 😭😭 he’s trying his best. Nobara frequently says he’s dumb as a rock and laughs because she thinks it’s clever.

Firebenders: Nobara, Nanami?, Shoko, hear me out when I say Yuuji too but at this point I think avatar Yuuji is the supreme concept

Only other path for Nobara is an earth bender akin to Toph, but something about her being Azula’s less evil reincarnate sits so right with me, but also with Ty Lee’s… whatever that acrobatic shit she had going on was. She’s just that good, she’s just that girl. Refuses to make Yuuji’s drink hot again just because he forgot about it and it got cold—unless he promises to make her a bracelet out of a good gemstone she finds.

Once again, torn for Nanami. You already know the Iroh comparison is there, too. He’s not as flashy of a bender as someone like Nobara, but that doesn’t mean he’s not talented. He knows that he has to be precise in his firebending lest he destroy something or burn someone he cares about. Uses other bending forms to enhance his use and understanding of firebending.

It seems easy to make Shoko a waterbender and healer, but something about her smoking leads me down the firebender with combustion path. Maybe not… from her forehead like the ones we’ve seen in atla and tlok, but somehow it’s still there. Plus this way she doesn’t need to rely on anyone to light her cigarette to begin with, winwin, girlboss on the move.

Back again with Yuuji, but like I said, I think we just need to accept that avatar Yuuji is the only route that will truly suffice. Maybe we just start by saying he was born a firebender, and Nanami starts out at his first and primary tutor. He’s the one who introduces Yuuji to Satoru—and even though Kento threatens Satoru when he finds out he’s had Yuuji working on an air ball instead of any technical air bending for the past month—it all works out in the end. Yuuji’s a playful airbender, but hones in on the spiritual importance in the end, too. Megumi protests for months against being his waterbending master, until he finally breaks down. Todo through a rock at Yuuji the first time they were introduced, but Yuuji managed to throw it back without any knowledge of earthbending at that point and it was smooth sailing from there.

Non-benders: Maki, Mai

If Nobara is our un-evil Azula, then Maki and Mai are her Mai and Ty Lee, respectively. Maki never misses her targets and Mai has too much fun reducing benders to non-bending puddles with just a few punches.

[fuckyeahfightlock]

Man, I'm tired.

Anyway. Scary movie for today was one I gambled on. . .and lost.

Starry Eyes is a 2014 slasher/psychological/body horror written and directed by two white guys, financed by a Kickstarter, and debuted at South x Southwest. Sarah (Alexandra Essoe) is a waitress with dreams of fame. When she lands an audition for a "gateway" lead role in a film produced by Astaerus Films, she strikes a silent and terrible bargain to make her dreams come true.

It took me almost half the movie to figure out what I wasn't liking about it (aside from the dim lighting and grey-brown colour palette). While Alexandra Essoe's performance is impressive--I'd like to see her in something else--the character of Sarah is so frustratingly passive. She does not make a single clear-headed decision at any point in her journey, instead allowing herself to be shamed by her mean, asshole "friends;" manipulated by her zeta-male boss; drugged by an indie director; and conned/exploited by the movie producers. Maybe that's on purpose, there's some metaphor in there about the willing masochism of the fame-hungry in the name of furthering a career. . .or something. . .but there are a lot of metaphors here that are murky, tangled, and not fully or clearly explored.

After a bad audition for the lead role, Sarah self-harms by yanking out her hair, then is called back into the audition and asked to "have her fit" again, this time for the producers; she does, and also strips naked and photos are taken. She gets the gig, quits her job, refuses to fuck the producer, loses the gig, begs for her job back (as if there is no other waitressing job in Los Angeles than at a D-list Hooters-style dive called "Big Taters"). Her "friend" casts her in his indie film, gives her an unidentified pill to celebrate, but then kisses her friend, so she puts on a little black dress and stumbles back to give the producer a BJ. He holds her head and demands for her to "Become the woman I thought you were! The woman you were born to be."

Excuse you? The woman she was born to be is the one YOU thought she was? Ugh. Dude. So gross. Plus the sound design in this movie is just disgusting, so there are slurping, gagging, and humming noises in the background.

Sarah goes home with her lead role restored, but she feels kind of oogy. Does she ever! All that night, her teeth and hair and fingernails fall out. She gags and retches and cries. She vomits up bloody maggots (the sound was so gross *I* almost vomited. I had to pause it and leave the room to make tea). She calls Astaerus Films for help, screaming, "I'm dying!" because, yes, she is. She is dying, and it's not pretty.

The end of this mess finds her murdering everyone around her--her roommate and friends, the indie director--in gruesome, too-realistic ways. A man screams and screams as she stabs him in the back. A woman she thought she'd killed starts moving so she suffocates her with a clear plastic bag. It's so incredibly awful and disturbing.

In the end, Sarah is (literally) reborn at an occult meeting of late-middle-aged film executives, emerging from a caul and then up through the earth, naked and hairless, into a new life as a famous actress. It all seems so pointless, and it's probably meant to, but this film thinks it's much cleverer than it is.

I could have put up with the intense gore, repulsive sound design, and even the clunky/heavyhanded Sold My Soul To The Devil metaphors if only Sarah had one single shred of agency. She started out weak and never woman'd up. Not even a little. I didn't even see in her, in the first few minutes, that she really wanted to act, or to be famous. She was just a girl waiting tables and critiquing her body in front of a mirror, hanging out with her awful friends who clearly don't even like her. She just got carried along on the current, accidentally brushing up against situations and never choosing a single action or reaction. Again, all of that may have been a choice, but if so, it was a flimsy one. I've been spoiled so far this month by a lot of woman-led productions; I think this would have been a different film if it had been directed by a woman.

Do not recommend. If you want to watch a surreal film about a woman doing what it takes to gain fame, and the horrible results, watch The Neon Demon instead; it's much better. (But don't reblob gifs from it on tumblr or people will call you "an asshole" for not putting "trigger warnings" on them!)

(not this one but you get it)