#I’m not pulling this out of my ass like this is legitimately just how marvel WORKS

[musclesandhammering]

Alll of this, but also like.. if there’s one thing you can have faith in- especially when it comes to Disney/marvel- it’s capitalism.

Marvel’s been in a bit of a slump lately and they just had their most wildly well-received project in recent years with loki, and y’all honestly think they’re just gonna let the character go? At the beginning of the saga that he’s at the center of plot-wise?? Like… do y’all know how greedy they are?? Do y’all know how willing they are to bring characters back for absolutely no other reason than fan bait? Now, they actually have a reason, and some people genuinely think they’re just gonna pass up that money making opportunity like “oh no thank you :)”?? Absolutely wild logic.

They’re gonna drum up our emotions for a couple years letting us think this is it and then they’re gonna have him make a “surprise” return in one of the big movies (probably Kang Dynasty).

Absolutely wild to me how many Loki takes are sad because he’s “trapped” on his magical throne of phenomenal cosmic power

My dudes, we just had an entire episode watching Loki move through and stop time at will during an actual time explosion crisis

He’s now one of the most powerful beings that ever existed

And it’s magic

I don’t doubt for a second that when Mobius was like, “I’ll just wait here a moment longer,” it was because narratively you can literally just have Loki, actual god of time and chaos, pop up whenever he wants. They could be reunited in seconds.

Current era timeline is too busy with superhero disasters for Loki to get away for a bit? Idk man, have him travel back a billion years to a time when not much was happening and travel forward from there, leaving your present self to deal with the crises.

Like it’s time magic, guys, shit gets weird around causality really fast. By some measures he might be omnipotent or at least omniscient now. Loki can do whatever he wants in your fics or headcanons as far as I can tell.

[justa-smalltown-gargoyle]

this is a rant post, me just unloading my anger so that my poor friends and family don’t have to hear it, this is about Secret Invasion but really Marvel as a whole. Again, this is a grumpy post, and if you’ve come to the tag cuz you’re excited to talk about Secret Invasion, all good, but probably don’t read this post cuz I know the horrible feeling when someone kills my vibe. 

also major spoilers ahead for Secret Invasion episode 1.

What the actual fuck.

No really.

What the fuck.

I was not super excited for secret invasion because the last few Marvel works have been lacking, the last one I enjoyed was Wakanda Forever. It however did not quite hit the spot that Marvel movies usually do.

However, I still tuned in today- watched the episode, not gonna lie, it was slow going. Many people said this was different, more intriguing. To me, it was the same old same old. Literally how the fuck do you mess up an invasion lead by shapeshifters? How the hell do you make that boring? 

It was great to see Fury, Maria and Talos again, but it’s frustrating because we really haven’t had any answers to what he’s (Fury) been REALLY up to all this time. And all this talk about abandoning earth, and “you’re not the same since the blip” because heaven forbid they let Fury keep his swag since he’s seemingly the main character. They really said to make this threat seem legitimate we need Fury to seem in over his head. When has he ever not been??? Just because someone is the main character doesn’t mean we need all their cards on the table as the audience. 

Aside from all those issues, and just being “generic rebel group are evil”, once again. Seems a bit fishy to me- Captain Marvel was so interesting by making them *not* the bad guys, but yet. Here we are.

And then, they fucking killed Maria Hill. 

One, severely under-developed character, who’s beloved, but never had enough screen time since day one. Marketed her as a selling point. and then killed her. Seems familiar to me, a bit too familiar. 

It gives me the same feeling of when they killed Nat for no fucking reason all over again. Idk maybe this time, Maria “isn’t actually dead” and I’m gonna look like a fool but it doesn’t seem like it. I’m tired of them pulling this. It’s a death purely for shock purposes and that is shitty-ass writing. And once again! Killing women to motivate men! Which is the third time they’ve done this, if not more, I’m only counting from Infinity War. 

It’s cheap. All their new content is cheap. And I don’t want to disregard the work that the writers, vfx crew, the actors and set crew and directors are doing- they’re working with what they got. But it’s clear that Marvel is trying to churn out so much so fast that they aren’t allowing time for the creative process, nor are they ever allowing for creativity at all. Once again, Maria Hill is another name in a long list of wasted opportunities by Marvel. 

I used to enjoy these movies so much and I think it’s truly devastating to me, realizing what it’s become and the fact I probably won’t ever experience those feelings again.

I am looking forward to the Marvels film, Daredevil Born Again and a little bit about a few others, but honestly, my hopes aren’t too high.

[moxfirefly]

Oooohh for the NSFW prompts, I'm hesitating between 23 or 48 for Donnie (with a female reader), which are two different moods 😂 Whatever floats your boat 💜

Friend I adore what you provide us with on the daily so I’m gonna do both for you 🖤

I can make this shit work.

"Are you asking me to fuck you stupid right here?"

"I wanna take my time with you tonight."

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

"I wanna take my time with you tonight."

That had been his message when he had told you that he was on his way. Whenever Donatello wanted to ‘take his time’ with you, you knew far to well that it would be a delicious frustrating night ahead for you. The tall terrapin had something that many of your past suitors did not, copious amounts of patience.

For lack of a better term, he was a fucking tease. He lived to wind you up too tight and taut you’d be a babbling begging mess in no time. It was half the fun for him, the other half was purely watching you come apart thanks to him. It wasn’t about chasing his own pleasure, he got his fill by giving you yours. You had stricken gold with him nevertheless.

True to his words he had taken his time.

He had taken his god damn sweet ass fucking time.

Donnie had written every numerical equation with his tongue in between your legs and then he planned to write more just to see how far he could take you before something like Latin started dripping out of your mouth. The heat that had broken out on your skin was a testament to your own desire to prove him wrong. You had white knuckled the sheets to the point of pain, you had squished his head with your thighs in such a way you were sure he must have a headache by now.

He only led up for a few seconds whenever he caught your hands pushing his face further into your folds. Chanting how close you were, how close you were to cumin and just as you felt that band at its breaking point, he would seize all movement of his tongue.

Donnie had the fucking audacity to chuckle against your thighs when you felt actually close to sobbing. You sought out his mouth by lifting your hips, enticing and lulling him with your scent but he was drunk enough on it. Being wrapped up in your taste, your desire staining your inner thighs and his chin. A tentative poke of his tongue on your overheated and engorged clit only proved to shock you. For a brief second he felt the need to test out a theory that with just poking his tongue he could probably unravel you into pieces.

Your sweaty face found his brown orbs, staring up at you with every intention to drive you crazy. As he stuck his tongue out, a long and slow languid lick, you felt your pride and resolve shattering. It was there, in the sweat that beaded down down your neck and onto your breast.

He had to be suffering, right?

He couldn’t just hold off this much?

Even he had to want to bury himself and forget all logical thought and chase his own desire within your heat...

Right?

When Donnie pulled back you were ready to legitimately cry your thanks. You were ready to swallow every last bit of pride and praise him to such an extent that he would only need to pay his thanks back by finishing you off. You ran your hands up his long torso, enjoying the way he tensed up with desire. His member had been steadily leaking by the looks and feel of it, it rested just at your navel, close enough for you to grip it and slide him in home.

Your chest heaved, each greedy intake of air making your breast sway enticingly for him. His churr was evidence enough, as he examined the wreck he had turned you into with some patience and his mouth. He leaned down and licked in between your breasts, pressing his face onto sweaty and heated flesh. Maybe his patience is running thin, maybe it’s the chance to get him to give into those baser needs.

“Mhm, come on” You lift your hips rhythmically, each sway making his length slide in between your lips, each movement making him coated with your juices. For a few seconds you have him trapped, eyes closed and hips following your hypnotic moves. Donnie’s eyes flutter open, large fingers gripping your hips and stalling your movements.

“Aren’t we sneaky” He smiles.

You feel your body tremble, you have never craved release this bad, so much so that you feel you can throw a tantrum over it. Smacking your hands on his chest you whine and the bastard smirked.

“Donnie if you don’t fuck me this very moment I’m going to explode, I’m going to fucking go mad” You clasp your hands behind his neck, urgency and need in your eyes and voice. He chuckled, the absolute bastard just chucked.

“I’m begging you! Please fuck me!” You pull him down, and kiss him feverishly, so much so you can taste yourself perfectly. It only serves for more heat to spread through your already hot skin. You let go of his lips with every intention to find your release and push him towards his own.

Turning onto your stomach you lift your bottom and feel a gutural noise travel out of his throat. Donnie’s hands land on your rear and lower back. “Please please please” You chant, pushing your thighs together for friction. You reach back to grip his hand and urge it towards your hair. “I wanna feel you so bad, please Donnie I don’t know how else to fucking say it, fuck me” You moan when he grips a chunk of your locks, hips pressed forward.

"Are you asking me to fuck you stupid right here?" You’re pushing back against him, the heaviness of his cock making your eyes roll back with anticipation. “Fuck me stupid please!” You don’t care, to hell with pride.

To hell with it. You feel your eyes water in relief when he pushes into you, it’s so easy with how absurdly wet you are and that mere fact makes Donnie mumble out ‘fucking hell’ so softly you’re sure he tried to swallow it. The genius is lost, high on the sensation of how you flex and grip him, that first slap is so wet sounding that Donnie’s hips stutter. He’s made this mess of you, and no matter how many times he manages to do so, it never stops amazing him. He keeps your rear up even if your thighs are trembling, later he’ll be upset about bruising you but right now he likes the contrast of his hands on your flesh, squeezing and pulling.

“Such a perfect, good girl” He enunciates each praise with a slam of his hips. You’re babbling already, honestly you don’t care, complete embarrassing nonsense could leave your mouth if it meant he could keep this up. Donnie marvels at the site before him, he’s always enjoyed the contrast in size, the way his dark length disappears in your pink folds, how perfectly he stretches it.

He pushes you down on the bed, thrust getting quicker, messier and harder. He keeps most of his weight off of you by supporting himself on his forearms, but the proximity is perfect for you. The burn of his plastron rubbing against you makes you moan. Your fingers wiggle towards him and he understands, he wraps a forearm around your neck and it hits you.

Your release crashes in and around you, so hard your barely able to make a proper sound. Donnie knows you’re cumin by how impossible tight you get, so much so you almost push him out with how ridiculously wet you are. A mixture of an inhale and a sob leave you. “That’s my fucking girl” Donnie groans into your hair, unrelenting pace not letting up.

When he buries himself with one final thrust you feel the intensity of his orgasm, each rope making your toes curl. It’s enough to almost nudge another surge of need from you. He’s churring so much, so deeply it makes your hot skin breakout in goosebumps. Gusts of warm air hit the back of your neck as Donnie tries to find the on switch in his brain after that, he’s panting and doesn’t want to collapse on you.

It’s scattered there on your neck,

‘I love you so much’

It’s mumbled onto your moist pillow,

‘I love you too’

[deadbiwrites]

hey, for the ask thing, can you do #9 under random: “You come here often?” “Well, I work here. So I think I’d have to say ‘yes’.”

This one was so fun!!

--

Kara doesn’t drink, usually.

It’s not like, a thing, that she doesn’t drink. Some sort of moral or religious blah blah whatever, it’s just that she… doesn’t.

So when she’s dragged out to the bar for Nia’s 21st birthday, she expects it to be more of the same- her friends will get drunk, Brainy will dominate at the trivia game that’ll inevitably be crawling across a screen at the bar, Nia will flirt with Brainy, Alex will stare and sigh at Sam all night, James and Mike will inevitably get at each other’s throats (how they manage to play on the same team without killing each other, Kara will never know), Mike will flirt with her and be hurt when she shoots him down, James will pull out his camera and take candids that Alex will doubtlessly demand to see and then delete immediately, and Kara will eventually wrangle them all into her minivan and drive them back to campus.

A typical Thirsty Thursday with her closest friends (and also Mike, for some reason).

Except that tonight, instead of Al’s, the dive they usually flock to, they’re at some martini bar downtown. And though the reasoning makes sense (Nia can’t really openly celebrate her 21st at the bar she’s been frequenting for the past 2 years with a fake ID), and it is her birthday and she wants to go someplace-

“Swanky,” Alex murmurs as Sam lets out a low whistle behind them.

This is barely a bar, it more closely resembles a set from a 30’s noir movie, with the large chandeliers dripping crystal overhead and the rich, polished wooden floor underfoot. For crying out loud, there’s a live jazz band- not a quartet, a full band- across what is clearly a dance floor, and the waiters and waitresses are all dressed in vests and ties (and not the cheap kind Kara had to wear for the week she worked at the catering company).

In short, it’s gorgeous, and glamorous, and she’s infinitely glad she’d asked Nia what she should wear because her usual jeans-and-a-sweater combo surely wouldn’t fly here, but the suit she wore to her cousin’s wedding this past summer definitely does.

They’re greeted by a friendly but slightly harangued-looking hostess, who quickly ushers their group to a large booth in the corner. Each of them peruses the drink menu, and quickly realize that they have no idea what any of the cocktails listed actually are.

"Yeah, great, this is- I love doing a Google search to get drunk," Alex grumbles sarcastically as she scrolls through her phone, pulling a face at something or other. "How many of these have absinthe in them? Jesus."

Kara laughs. "What, no green fairies for you tonight?"

"It was one time!"

"Aw, we still like you even though you're afraid of the mean, scary alcohol," Sam coos at Alex, smile tinged with an edge of teasing and Alex melts like so much wax before a flame.

Ridiculous. 

"Make out already," Nia jeers. When they both flip her off she turns to Kara, seemingly confused. "That was a legitimate suggestion, though?"

"I know. One day," Kara hums, throwing her arm around Nia’s shoulder and pulling her into a half-hug.

Their waiter appears, smooth and charming and managing to get Winn firmly under his spell in a matter of seconds. But in Winn's defense, he has a perfect smile, great hair, and a British accent.

Poor boy never stood a chance against all that. They each place their orders for a fancy drink, and when the waiter, Jack, turns his attention to Kara, Alex interrupts with, "She wants a Potion D'Amour."

"Oh, a love potion," he muses, smiling at Kara. His eyes catch on something and his smile widens. "I know just the lady to make it for you. Back in a tick."

And he's off before Kara can protest. Resigned, she turns to her sister. "Why?"

Alex rolls her eyes fondly. "Just take a sip. If you don't like it, one of us will finish it for you.”

“Fine, fine.”

--

So, as it turns out, Kara likes the love potion. A lot.

“It tastes like berries,” Kara marvels.

“We know, Kara, you told us when you were drinking the last one,” Alex chuckles.

“And the one before that,” Nia adds.

“You guys are so nice. I love you all so much.”

“Well at least she’s a happy drunk,” James chuckles.

“‘m not drunk,” Kara insists. “‘m always happy, ya butts.”

“Sure Kar, and the sky is red.”

Kara frowns as her friends all laugh. “Rude. Who wants another one?”

They all raise a hand, and Kara moves off in the general direction of the bar.

Or, well, she does her best.

“Hey there! Did you need something, luv?”

It’s Jack-the-waiter, looking at her with some bemusement.

“Yeah! Hi, sorry. Um, they all want more drinks, and I just, um…”

“Needed a break?”

She slumps in relief. “Yeah. Is that bad? Like, I love them and all, but I think I’m kinda drunk and they’re… a lot.”

Jack chuckles. “Trust me, I understand. If you want a minute of quiet, there’s a stool on the end of the bar that no one ever sits in. Got your name on it.”

“Thanks! You’re a very good waiter. Hey, d’you have any drink recommendations? Maybe one a little, um… lighter?”

“‘Course I do luv. Really fancy, too. C’mere, I’ll tell ya,” Jack says, motioning her close. When Kara is a few inches away, he tells her the secret. “It’s called ‘coffee’.”

Kara laughs as he winks and moves away to another table. She spots the empty barstool he’d mentioned and ambles over, dropping into it with a sigh. From here, she has a view of approximately nothing, given its location behind a pillar, and she leans back against the wall, the cool wood paneling chilly even through her jacket and shirt. 

“Long night?”

Kara’s eyes flutter open (when did they close? Maybe she is drunk…) and across from her is quite probably the most beautiful person she’s ever seen in her life.

“Wow.”

The girl smirks, quirking a brow upward. “You okay there?”

“Yeah. I um, I think I just had too many love potions.”

“Oh, so it was you ordering those,” the pretty, pretty girl drawls. “They’re a pain in the ass to make, you know. Mostly the garnish, but still, I’m tempted to be annoyed with you, for being so high-maintenance.”

“Oh, Jack said he knew the girl for the job!” Kara says. “They were really good, I usually don’t even drink, but those were great.”

“Well well, keep talking, I thrive on flattery,” the girl jokes. She extends a hand. “Lena.”

“Kara, Kara Danvers. Wow, your hands are big.”

Lena barks a delighted laugh. “You have all the subtlety of a hand grenade, Kara Danvers.”

Kara flushes. “Oh, that’s- wow, sorry.”

“You’re fine. Like I said, I thrive on flattery,” Lena says, throwing her a very cute two-eyed wink. She turns suddenly, fixing a polite, professional smile on her face. “Good evening, sir. What can I get for you?”

“Another round for my friends. And your number, gorgeous.”

Mike.

Lena remains polite, face impassive even as Kara hastily ducks out of sight under the bar. “What drinks did you and your friends have?”

“I dunno, fancy stuff. The waiter guy probably knows- my friend was supposed to come get us another round, but she probably bailed.”

“Oh yeah? Not much of a partier?” Lena asks, eyes darting to (hidden) Kara.

“Nah. Don’t get me wrong, Kara can be cool, but she’s a little… uptight. Needs to relax every once in a while.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So what’s your story, beautiful? You come here often?”

There’s a beat of silence before Lena drawls, “Well I work here, so… I’d have to say yes…”

Kara claps a hand over her mouth to muffle the laugh she can’t keep inside.

This obviously throws Mike off whatever game he thinks he has. “Oh, that- right. Um. That was a joke.”

“Of course, sir. I’ll ask your waiter what your order was- do you know who he is?”

“Um… he has a beard?”

“Jack, his name is Jack,” Kara mutters under her breath.

“Right. I’ll ask him. Did you need anything else?”

“No, thanks.”

There’s an extended silence before Lena says, “You can come up for air now, Kara Danvers.” 

Kara peeks over the edge of the bar, flushing again when Lena snickers at her.

“Good friend of yours?”

“No. He’s- I don’t even know why he’s here? Like one day we all hated him and then the next he was always around. Nia doesn’t even like him, and it’s her birthday.”

“Really? Good that she doesn’t- seems like a douche.”

Kara barks out a laugh, smothering in quickly and grinning behind her palm as Lena grins slyly over at her without turning her head. “He is a douche. He always asks me out even though I’ve told him no, like, a million times.”

Lena frowns at this, turning her attention fully to Kara. “Does he?”

“Yeah. My sister hates his guts, and so does our friend James, but somehow he just… sticks around.” Kara shrugs. “He’s pretty harmless, just really annoying.”

Lena hums, gaze narrowed. “He’s not worth your politeness, Kara.”

“Eh. Besides, I’m kinda doing the same thing to you, right? Just like, demanding all your attention?”

Lena bobbles her head side to side. “I’d say it’s a bit different.”

“Why, because I’m drunk?” Kara laughs. “‘m sorry about that, by the way.”

“First off, I don’t think you’re all that drunk,” Lena confides, leaning over the bar so . “Those drinks really aren’t all that strong. And secondly, there’s a difference because I am actually enjoying your attention, Kara Danvers.”

“Oh. Oh, okay. Cool,” Kara mutters to herself.

Lena smirks. “So, Kara Danvers- even though I already know the answer to this-, do you come here often?”

“Um, no. But I think I might start…”

Lena’s sly grin morphs into a broad smile, dimpling her cheeks and making her eyes shine in the low bar light. “Good.”

[luminnara]

Victor Zsasz x Reader NSFW | 18+

Fandom: Birds of Prey/DC

I don’t see nearly enough BOP!Zsasz appreciation here, so I’m determined to change that. Reader is fem, but if there’s interest I can definitely write stuff for male or nb! The reader also has a whole backstory because I’m way more into world and character building than I am reader inserts so this is practically a little OC fic lol

This is sort of set pre-Birds of Prey, don’t worry about it too much, it’s just fun

Warnings: Violence, Zsasz being Zsasz, reader is an assassin who unalives people, light smut

This is short because I’m testing the waters! If there’s interest, I’ll write a part 2!!

Requests are open!

When Roman announced that he was hiring a new girl, Victor was less than thrilled. He liked what they had going--Roman was the money and the brains, and Victor was the muscle, the devout follower, and the one who loved to spill blood. They didn’t need anybody else, especially not a new hitman, and especially not a girl.

You had grown up in Gotham City’s East End, a district that was infamous for harboring all sorts of crime. You knew every street, every dark alley, every burnt out shell of a once-great building. The East End was a far cry from Gotham’s nicer neighborhoods, with their shining skyscrapers and big fancy department stores, but what could you say? The East End was home. It was dark and gritty and dangerous, but you loved that about it. 

Besides, it’s not like you could really go anywhere else. 

You had developed quite a reputation for yourself over the past few years. Places like the East End have a tendency to breed criminals, and you were no exception--as soon as you left home, you followed right in your mother’s footsteps and became a gun for hire. Thanks to your family name, you had no trouble taking on the odd merc job here and there, working for mob bosses who didn’t mind the mess you tended to leave behind. Silent, sneaky kills weren’t really your thing, but you never really got into the whole...artistic thing that a lot of other killers did. You didn’t sit there and fuck around with the blood and guts, you just...weren’t very tidy. You were quick, but you weren’t clean. If somebody wanted their enemies taken out quietly, they knew not to even look in your direction, because you were not the girl for the job. 

If somebody wanted to make a statement, though...

You were more than happy to crush some skulls and splatter some blood across the sidewalk for the right price. 

Of course, so much killing got to be exhausting after a while, and even brutal assassins like yourself needed to relax every so often. So, that’s how you found yourself finishing up a job and heading back to your modest little apartment, hopping in the shower, and scrubbing all the blood and dirt off your skin as if you had just spent a long day at the office. It was all normal for you--the killing, the shady bosses, the weirdos you worked with--and you treated it the same way any of those prim and proper office people in Old Gotham treated their day jobs. It was a way to make ends meet, something to pay for groceries and take care of the bills...only, in your case, you were generally paid fully in cash, and sometimes that cash had some suspicious stains on it. 

But hey, work was work, right?

That night, you headed to a club you had yet to check out. Done up in a little black dress and wearing some very expensive pearls you had nabbed off of a target a few months back, you took a cab and found yourself entering The Black Mask.

It was a nice spot, the booths and bar all packed with socialites and crime lords. Waitresses and shot girls flitted around, there was a band playing on the stage, and the atmosphere seemed to be cheerful. Honestly, it wasn’t what you had expected, given what you’d heard about its owner.

Roman Sionis was a businessman, as he liked to call himself, who had been steadily growing his empire. He practically owned the entire East End now, and word on the street was he was looking to expand further into the rest of Gotham. You had never met the man, but you had enough mutual connections that Roman knew exactly who you were the moment he spotted you at the bar.

“Zsasz, go get her,” he said, gesturing towards you with a gloved hand.

Zsasz followed his gaze and tilted his head slightly. “You got it, boss.”

You were minding your own business, ordering yourself a gin and tonic and elbowing drunk men out of your way as you carved a little spot for yourself at the bar. They were rambunctious, leaning towards you with wide grins and beady eyes that told you they were hoping to get lucky tonight.

As you were getting ready to throw another elbow, the men suddenly scattered, vanishing into the crowd as if something had scared them off. The bartender set your drink down in front of you, and just as you raised the glass to your lips, the scent of musky cologne filled your nose and you looked up to see none other than the notorious Victor Zsasz standing before you.

“Boss wants to talk with you.” He said simply, his voice rough and hoarse.

But you were too busy taking in his facial features to really listen to his words. His short hair was the lightest blonde you had ever seen, almost snowy in color, a stark contrast to the black stubble that covered his jaw. He was wearing a silky dress shirt the color of red wine, or dark blood, the kind that was thick and coagulated and dripped off of knives so beautifully.

As he stared right back at you, you saw the scars that cut into his face, straight, meticulously carved lines that you were sure he had given himself. After all, just as you did, Victor Zsasz had a reputation, and while you had never met him, you had heard plenty about the sadistic assassin who kept tally marks of all of his victims.

Part of you wondered just how many he had.

You took a sip of your drink, eyes never leaving his. “I only just got here. I haven’t even paid for my drink.”

“On the house, courtesy of Mr. Sionis.” Zsasz said, regarding you with heavily lidded eyes as he looked down at you.

Just as you knew of him, he knew of you. Even though he was pretty much locked in place with Roman now, Zsasz heard plenty about everyone else in the East End. You practically ran in the same circles, and he had to admit, he was a tiny bit curious about the lady assassin everyone was raving about. He almost admired the messiness of your kills, but he also thought that you were sloppy and too quick, never taking the time to truly appreciate what you were doing.

Now, as he glanced down at the swell of your tits as they practically spilled out of your dress, he couldn’t decide if he wanted to kill you, or fuck you, or both.

“It’s rude to stare, Mr. Zsasz.” You teased as you caught him.

“It’s rude to keep the boss waiting.” He shot right back.

“Fine.” you sighed, pushing away from the bar. “Lead the way.”

He offered his hand and you took it, holding onto him gingerly. The crowd parted for Zsasz in a way that they never would for you, smoothly and easily, club patrons giving him polite, frightened nods as he pulled you past. His grip on your hand was tight and harsh, squeezing as if you might try to run, but in all honesty, you were marveling at how warm his skin was around yours. You didn’t hate the way he led you over to his employer, and you knew that he was being gentle, or at least his version of it. 

When he brought you before Roman Sionis, he immediately let go of you, moving to stand next to his boss. Roman himself was sitting in a booth, sinking into the lavish red velvet upholstery as he held a drink in his gloved hand. He regarded you with a calm smile, immediately gesturing for you to take a set across from him. 

So you did, and the rest was history.

Roman Sionis had heard of you, and when he realized that you lived in the East End, in his East End, he had to have you. He had to own you. So, he did what he always did with people, and he bought you. All you had to do was complete one little, simple job for him, and he would keep you around on a regular salary, giving you all the benefits of joining his tiny little family. You passed his test with flying colors, taking out your target faster than Roman could have hoped for, and the next thing you knew, you were spending your days lurking around Roman’s penthouse. 

You stayed quiet and obedient, not wanting to give Roman any reason to get rid of you. It was a good, steady gig, one you didn’t want to pass up, but you could tell that Zsasz wasn’t pleased. He scowled at you, always waiting for you to trip, always ready to watch you fall. You got the feeling that he viewed you as an intruder, someone who was messing up his life even though you gave him more than enough space. He would raise his lip in a sneer whenever you passed, showing off gold teeth in a maddeningly handsome way that always had you hoping and praying that he wouldn’t notice the way your cheeks sometimes flushed. He never seemed to care, as he never made any other moves. Maybe he was under strict orders not to fuck with--or just plain fuck---you, or maybe he legitimately didn’t want to. 

You didn’t know why you had started to care so much. 

You didn’t know about the way he watched your ass when you walked away from him, or the lewd way he sometimes palmed himself right out in the open. You never heard his pants and moans as he got off to the thought of you wrapped around him, and you never got to hear your name rolling off his tongue as he spilled into his hand, hips rocking of their own accord. 

Yeah, Zsasz was pretty much head over heels. He was fucked. 

He didn’t know why he liked you so much. There was just something about you, something about the way you walked and talked that always made his cock hard. He had reached the point where you would enter a room, and his pants would grow tight. Did you even know? Could you possibly fathom the torture you were putting him through every single day in Roman’s penthouse? Zsasz wanted to grab you and bend you over something, anything, hike that cute little skirt up and just go to town on your cunt. He dreamed about it at night, he wanted it, he craved the taste of your pussy...

But he couldn’t have it. 

Not yet. 

He would wait. He could be patient. After all, Roman came first. Roman always came first. Zsasz needed to focus on keeping his boss calm and happy, and he couldn’t afford to get distracted, no matter how much he wanted to press you up against the windows and fuck you so that the entire East End could see who you belonged to. 

No matter how badly he wanted it, Zsasz would wait. 

[pear-pies]

Placebo in Rock & Folk magazine - April 2003

Words by Jerome Soligny, photos by Carole Epinette

Wonky translation under the cut:

These three did it all. Shot with the QOTSAs and posed with Indo. They survived "Velvet Goldmine" and the Top Bab. They come back after the ordeal of the fourth album. Danger interview: “Jerome, what if you came out?” They ask our charming reporter.

"We do not regret anything"

Everything begins again with "Bulletproof Cupid", a punky instrument that pulls everything off. Then "English Summer Rein", mechanico-depressive spinning punctuated by twisted keyboards, and "Sleeping With Ghosts", the lament which advances while blistering during cooking, confirm the tone. Against all expectations, because you never know how will age the groups that the previous album installed at the Top, Placebo took over. And stuffed it in an iron glove. Further on, "The Bitter End" tumbles through yapping guitars which would stick to the hatches the thickest of the sailors. Be careful, Placebo is on the way out of being one. At the end of the record, Brian Molko, Stefan Olsdal and Steve Hewitt do not even run out of steam. The cows. They drop a "Centerfolds" which frolic like a cynical top under a shower of saving doubts. What augur still other perspectives.

The fourth album: a horror for all who have faced it. Often a stupid trap. Returning from the Gothic directly inherited from the glam of pageantry and from these hasty and harmful certainties which congest the face and the veins, Placebo publishes its first real great disc. Oh, not the marvel of wonders, not the album from the third millennium, but something very strong, compact, tenacious in listening, which proves that the future is indeed there, in front, where the light is most blinding. Calfeucée in their Parisian hotel (the Costes, of course), our three lads do not make the blow of the revelation, of the luminous questioning. Simply, they now think with their heads, a good plan most often Likewise, reality no longer frightens them, and it is probably she who is hiding behind this "Sleeping With Ghosts" which relates the sorrows only for the better. melt into hopes At the moment when rock brings us back to life and when we just want to ask them everything, the Placebo have decided to say everything. Not even in a hurry, they settle down on the couch, ready to talk like never before. Despite new batteries embedded in the carcass, the Panasonic barely a Brian Molko: Hey Jerome, you came to talk to us this time when you had not come to the previous album ...

Rock & Folk: Uh yes but I was there for the first two, that says a lot, right?

Brian Molko: Certainly, I also believe that over time, we finally appreciate the true nature of the problem: we were mainly criticized for the sound of the previous album, which I can understand but, paradoxically, it is the one that brought us to the Top.

R&F: Legitimately, we have the right to expect a lot from the people we love: while "Black Market Music" sounded a bit like a sequel, this new record is all about a renaissance.

Brian Molko: Actually, we were finally able to live a little. After having existed in a small bubble for a very long time, we forced ourselves to take an eight-month break. The album-tour rhythm put us on the sidelines: we no longer had normal contact with anything. We were losing ourselves. We have fully lived the old cliché which claims that we spend the first years of our life writing a first record and six months on the second. It turned out to be very true. We had to get back to the situation of the first album, see friends, go shopping, look at the buildings in our city.

R&F: So the freshness would come from there ...

Brian Molko: Yes, and it was essential spiritually, emotionally and physically.

Steve Hewitt: We had to be in tune with reality again.

Brian Molko: In fact, we find ourselves in a bit of the same state of mind as when we released "Without You I'm Nothing", although "Sleeping With Ghosts" is a lot less gloomy. The heroin has since stopped leaking. In fact, I feel like I've pulled myself out of what I consider my second teenage years, between twenty and thirty. I conquered the self-destruction, exorcised some demons, understood what had happened to me. I held on to what I had learned. As a human being, I am now able to continue living, to try to answer the big questions posed by existence.

R&F: Maybe that's why the melodies are needed this time. It took me four records to get a favorite Placebo track.

The whole group in chorus: Which one?

R&F: "Protect Me From What I Want", of course ...

Brian Molko: The most paradoxical is that this song dates from the end of the "Black Market Music" sessions. I was not married at the time, but I was trying to get out of a particularly vicious divorce.just started. Then we wait for the lyrics, which don't arrive, it's rather intriguing. We especially wanted to avoid the big Rican producer side, we needed someone who shakes us up a bit. Jim could do that because he comes from dance and his pedigree is impressive. We have all his records at home, Bjôrk, Massive Attack, Sneaker Pimps and especially DJ Shadow. It is believed that guitar rock can only evolve by incorporating new genres, this is the only way to remain a modern rock band. At home, we practically only listen to hip hop.

R&F: Still, he didn't betray you.

Brian Molko: No because he actually brought out our rock side, which I'm particularly proud of. In fact, because we always wanted to control everything, it was not easy to be forced, to do certain things backwards, to walk on the head. But in truth, that's what we wanted: yes, there was some tension in the studio but we all took advantage of it. The challenge is necessary and it is also valid for the public. We opened up and rediscovered ourselves.

Stefan Olsdal (emerging from his chair): We found ourselves in front of the mirror, at the foot of the wall: someone had to kick our ass.

Brian Molko: Jim was like, "Why are you doing this?" We would answer him: "Because we always do it like that!" He would say: "All the more reason not to do it."

Stefan Olsdal: On the first day, he messed up all the demos, changed the tones, the tempos ...

R&F: Like Brian Eno ...

Steve Hewitt: Yeah, but with a lot more compassion. Eno is a bit (silence) ... We don't really like being told our actions, but at the same time, we are still young, still absorbing. Jim knew how to preserve us while making a modern sound.

R&F: Modern and rock'n'roll at the same time, a characteristic which does not necessarily apply to all the young groups in The which recycle the past gently but are convinced to have found the virus of the AIDS.

Steve Hewitt: Placebo doesn't belong to any current, has nothing to do with fashion.

R&F: You always pose as outsiders.

Brian Molko: It's the only way to survive.

Steve Hewitt: These bands, like The Strokes, play the nostalgia card.

Stefan Olsdal: And what happens next? I would not like to be in their place.

Brian Molko: If you want good New York pop, you better listen to Blondie.

R&F: In 2003, 11 seems that you have abandoned all the androgynous paraphernalia, sexual ambiguity, glam references ...

Brian Molko: I think today everyone knows what there is to know. Our sexual inclinations haven't changed, and we still wear makeup. It is just more expensive and better applied. We are ourselves, in our music and in private. I went through my travelo period (in French in the interview - Editor's note), and I understood that being androgynous was not wearing skirts. It is a way of being on the spiritual plane. It is not an image but a state of mind.

Steve Hewitt: It's like being punk, it's an attitude.

Brian Molko: At the same time, I don't regret any of my eccentricities. I grew up in the spotlight and it all kind of makes me smile.

Stefan Olsdal: People still talk to us about certain outfits or positions, as if it still shocks them.

R&F: Yes, and particularly in France, a particularly homophobic country which bumps heartily on gay artists.

Brian Molko: And you, coincidentally, you still hang out with.

Stefan Olsdal: Jérôme, it's coming out time (laughs) ...

Brian Molko: All that has to change, that all of France becomes gay (laughs)!

R&F: "Protect Me From What I Want" precisely, here is a title heavy with meaning. What was the idea behind this song?

Brian Molko: For me, it's a study of the pathological need people have to copulate, the search for meaning in copulation. As if bachelors or monogamists were aliens. As if we were only one when we were two. The song is about the fact that one relationship has destroyed me but I can't help but look for another ... why do I keep coming back to this?

R&F: Wow, we're bathing in philosophy here!

Brian Molko: Yes and it's the same elsewhere in the record: in "Plasticine", I insist on the fact that you have to be yourself above all while asking myself all these questions. Why do we have to do a lot of forbidden things, bad or harmful?

R&F: It's therapy in public.

Brian Molko: At least I find some balance in it. These are not songs about compassion or self-pity. They came out like this because it was vital for me. I am in this privileged situation where I can express myself and the world hears me. Otherwise, I would be really frustrated and I would have suffered a lot more in the last fifteen years.

R&F: Music saved your life.

Brian Molko: Sure.

Steve Hewitt: Everyone: I think we can say that. Without Placebo, we would not be not even alive.

Brian Molko: Spitting it all out is not necessarily the right solution. There are things with which to live. In fact, I've always been afraid to go see a psychiatrist ...

R&F: Yet, listening to you speak earlier, you could have the feeling that Jim Abiss acted a bit like a shrink with you.

Brian Molko: That's right. You could say that.

R&F: At a time when Bush and Blair want to play World War III, what attitude do you adopt? What do you think of these Englishmen who left for Iraq to constitute a human shield?

Brian Molko: Let's say we stand together. We participated in the March for Peace on February 14th with Damon Albarn and 3D from Massive Attack. We were also surprised that so few groups mobilized, which increased our desire to participate tenfold.

R&F: Do you consider that it is the role of the artist to give voice in such circumstances?

Steve Hewitt: Yes, in the sense that we can help with general motivation.

Brian Molko: I'm very interested in seeing if Blair is going to let Bush bomb Iraq with the British present on the soil of the country. If he ever allows that, the consequences will be dire.

R&F: It will only be one more religious war, in the name of oil and money ...

Brian Molko: It seems absurd that we can still fight for that. And curiously, nobody speaks more, or almost, of Bin Laden. Wouldn't it all come from him, by chance, as a huge consequence of September 11? On the other hand, we have such a feeling that Bush wants to finish the job that daddy started. Its image is so bad that it needs at least one war to restore its image.

Steve Hewitt: And reinvigorate its dying economy.

R&F: The method is lamentable, deceitful. Like those employed by the recording industry which claims to be doing well by selling pop in damaged boxes to ignoramuses.

Brian Molko: The ability of this job to ingest people, bribe them and then spit them out is impressive. This is what happened here at Canal +.R&F: Business is the beast.

Brian Molko: All these pre-made artists are young and naff ...

Steve Hewitt: They'll all end up in a labor camp for ex-pop stars.

R&F: Warhol was talking about fifteen minute glory, we're brutally passed to fifteen seconds.

Brian Molko: We should have called them Karaoke idols from the start.

Steve Hewitt: And it only works because of the TV ...

R&F: Who washes the poor, helpless brains.

Steve Hewitt: You can tell how much people want to think less

R&F: And spend less. For many, music should be free: one in five thirteen-year-olds doesn't know that a disc doesn't have to be a computer-burnt puck. Some are flabbergasted when they see a cover for the first time.

Stefan Olsdal: And those who don't buy records put pressure on those who have them to pass them on at all costs, just long enough to copy them.

R&F: Exactly.

Brian Molko: That's why we blame Robbie Williams so much. Scooping 80 million pounds off EMI and then declaring that pirating music is a fantastic thing just makes him want to stick a chunk in his face.

R&F .: And then piracy is not a matter of environment. It's not a suburban thing. There are rich kids who find it normal to burn 80 CDs during their weekend and sometimes sell them to their friends ...

Brian Molko: What do these people believe? That we are there, the face in the stream with a syringe stuck in the arm singing "La Vie En Rose"? And who will pay for our children's school? Not them, anyway. Our mentality is quite different: we always want to buy records from people we love, from our friends. Personally, we are partly out of the woods, but it will be particularly difficult for new groups to make a living from music in five or ten years.

R&F: Come on, we're not going to leave each other on this, a little humor won't hurt anyone. If you were to be banned from any of these three things, which would you choose: making music, making money or making love?

Steve Hewitt (almost tit for tat): I would stop making money, without hesitation. It's because I love music and sex too much. And then, well, you have to choose.

Brian Molko (completely overwhelmed): Oh damn, that's not true. What a dilemma!

R&F: No Brian, that doesn't count, make an effort (laughs).

Brian Molko: Ah, I don't know. And then if. I would stop making money and get on well with someone super rich.

R&F: Or you would be pimp ...

Brian Molko: Yes, that's it. Good plan.

Stefan Olsdal: Stop making love does not mean to stop loving ...

Brian Molko (preparing his shot): And we can always masturbate (general laughter).

Stefan Olsdal: OK then, I would stop making love.

R&F: Okay, it will be written in black and white for all eternity.

Brian Molko: Will we live long enough to regret it? This is the real question.

*COLLECTED BY JEROME SOLIGNY

[Inset, Trash Palace]

Already present on the first album by Trash Palace which he had adorned with his presence one unhealthy recovery of "I Love You, Me No More "in duet with Asia Argento, Brian Molko is coming to re-stack. This time he cosigns directly "The Metric System " with Dimitri Trash Palace Tikovoi, an electro saw boosted to bleeps fundamentals available in two remix and its clip on an enhanced single recently published at Discograph. The result is particularly (d) amazing and sounds good logical, like of Placebo cyber.Placebo in  Rock & Folk magazine - April 2003

[randomingoftherandomness]

I am LISTENING and I am here and also YES TO EVERYTHING and I swear if you write the A/B/O thing I will inject it straight into my bloodstream

Ughhhh cockwarming at an in-person meeting is such a Yes but it reminded me of your mob!AU hehe. (All the bits you wrote, I just 🤩) So I was thinking how they'd do it if ZZS was the CEO of a legitimate high-profile company instead of mob boss (tying in with the formal events bits yea 🤭)

Regarding the movie theatre one. Firstly, *chef's kiss*. But what if. WHAT IF. it was one of those popular movies like Marvel movies that gets talked about all the times but WKX can't help but forever associate it with The Incident and every time he sees or hears something related to that movie he gets reminded of that time he came so hard in a movie theatre he nearly passed out and it makes him blush so hard people are bound to ask him why his face is so red (they wrongly conclude that he has a crush on one of the actors and he never corrects them)

I just imagine ZZS being super possessive and WKX loves it, to the point where he sometimes plays along when other people flirt with him because although ZZS rationally knows that WKX is faithful to him, he can't help but subconsciously fuck him a little extra rough to stake his claim

One time WKX goes particularly overboard and ZZS doesn't let him come for a week. He fucks him every morning and night but WKX isn't allowed to come. WKX is so desperate by the end of the week that as soon as ZZS pushes his cock into him and whispers "you've been such a good boy, baobei" into his ear, he's coming untouched and crying tears of relief and although he's shaking with overstimulation he buries his face in ZZS's neck and asks ZZS to keep fucking him because he just loves being a good boy for daddy so much

WKX! IN! A MINISKIRT!!! Wearing a matching jewel butt plug because he wanted to surprise ZZS. ZZS finding the plug halfway through their date when he slides his hand up the inside of WKX's smooth thigh and WKX grabs his wrist and pulls it that little bit higher. They stumble into the nearest bathroom where ZZS bends WKX over the sink, puts the plug in his mouth, and makes him watch himself in the mirror getting fucked within an inch of his life

Dare I add: WKX puts on one of those slutty costumes for Christmas, tying a silk ribbon round his pretty cock, and ZZS flips him face down ass up in bed, eats him out and milks his prostate until WKX is a shivering, drooling mess

Having many more Thoughts but this has to end somewhere

Okay okay okay... Anon your BRAIN, I am in love

🌶🍋🌶🍋🌶🍋🌶🍋

I am... Struggling to write it but trust me if I wrote that particular brand of ABO spice it would have this exact line; Wen Kexing knows his Alpha likes it when he puts in a bit of a fight as foreplay because the submission would taste so, so sweet

Oh! Cockwarming at the office Christmas party, yes. Itty bitty Santa nipple clamps under a Prada three-piece and a light up vibrator with the remote in Zishu’s hands A+++

Can I... Humbly suggest... You know that scene in the first Avengers’ movie where Loki goes ‘...mewling quim’ (yes yes yes i know there are Problematic™️ associations with Whedon and that scene but we are not going into that rn because I’m headcanoning porn ok) Zishu had rented out the whole cinema for them and had proceeded to fuck him through it, and when Loki says that, that’s the moment in the movie where during the first time Lao Wen sees it, Zishu had slid his finger alongside his cock where it’d been nestled in him

Lao Wen had passed out being wrung dry like that. He only woke up mid-way through the credits and Zishu had to carry him home after wrapping him up in his coat

Needless to say the first Avengers’ movie is not a movie Lao Wen can watch with strangers or friends or family for that matter

Possessive!ZZS butters my bread; imagine him spanking Lao Wen’s ass a painful red, making him count out each hit because Lao Wen was ‘flirting’ with the new manager in Accounts and Zishu doesn’t like the way the man had been looking at his Lao Wen’s lips. Maybe the satellite office out in the boondocks could use a new accounts manager...

Lao Wen plays along with it, of course, but whenever one of them gets a little too bold, he deftly sidesteps it because, no, this ass belongs to one man only

OOO. What if. Lao Wen has a branch with those red flowers tattooed up the back of his thigh and whenever Zishu is in the mood for it, he worships that tattoo with his tongue, teeth, mouth, cock.

OOOOOOO. Touching on the not being allowed to come. What if, for one week, Zishu makes him wear the prettiest lace thongs and bralettes, fucking him against the wall to ceiling windows of his office, leaking cock bumping up against the warm glass pane while Zishu tells him just how slutty he looks and how everyone can see him like this, isn’t this what he wants, isn’t Zishu the best for giving his pretty baobei what he wants?

Then when he finally is allowed to come, he blanks out so hard, he is twitching through the force of his orgasm while Zishu strokes him through it.

I suddenly had the image of Lao Wen in a bright orange polyester miniskirt. I don’t know why. But the thought of his erection tenting the smooth, shiny surface is just. Mmhmm.

Maybe Zishu just has his hand on Lao Wen’s ass out of habit but then realises, hm, something is up here (pun well intended) and presses the heel of his palm down to feel up the shape of a butt plug that he doesn’t hesitate to tease his fingers around

Lao Wen’s embarrassed he got found out so early but he endures the shameless groping until Zishu leans in to whisper in his ear, “How much longer do you want to play, hm?”

Needless to say, Zishu has to buy out the restaurant to stop them from banning them from the guest list lol

[captainrexisboo]

Dumb Luck #3

Note: Heyoooooo two updates in one weekend, whaaaaat? No, actually a fun fact, this was started out as my part 2, but i liked my other idea of building the tension with Sweets seeing Rex with his helmet off for the first time better. There will be a part four, it just wont come as quick! I’m gonna have several more parts to this, I have plans y’all. This chapter has ~slight angst~ if you squint hard enough. Again, I’m open to criticism or Hot Takes TM, I’m still a novice writer! Both my asks and messages are open to everyone! Also... y’all, Jesse is a bro. He’s great.

a link to part two- https://captianrexisboo.tumblr.com/post/623995723815452672/dumb-luck-2

Warnings: suggestive language (the usual)

Tags: @persaloodles @starflyer-104 @imalovernotahater @holamor @000ayfh

~

“Hey, Sweets-“

“Not now, busy,” she threw over her shoulder, not even bothering to look at who was walking up to her corner of the hangar.

Y/N was greatly enjoying herself as an assistant to the head mechanic aboard the flagship. She quickly learned about not only the venator-class destroyer, but also about gunships, shuttles, frigates, landers, even more about her beloved droids, and her absolute favorite to work on, the starfighters. If she were alone in the hangars, she would walk over to the rows of starfighters and just study them, marvelling at every screw, panel, and wire and how it built something so amazing. And right now, she was actually able to work on one of these beautiful machines, and she’d be damned if she let anyone stop her workflow.

Rex lifted a brow at her mannerisms as he watched her dive elbow deep into a much older fighter model, one that hadn’t ever been repainted and typically was the last to be boarded and flown out by shinies who didn’t know any better. She was squatting low to the ground, a panel gone from the ship while she tinkered with its insides, hair barely secure, strands falling out of the haphazardly tied bun she had kept in place with only a single stylus. He was still conflicted at her presence on the ship. She had proven to be smart, quick witted, and of course was an absolute stunner, but she was also stubborn as hell, distracting, and always there. Always a mere moment away, in the hangar, in the generator room, in the mess, the repair bay, the armory- and he hasn’t known peace since.

Let’s be honest, he hasn’t known peace since he met General Skywalker, but he was able to have an illusion of what it was like whenever he was alone with his thoughts. Now he didn’t even have that, his internal narrative shaping into her curves before too long, even in his solitude. Things were different with her here, they were more on edge, like he was tiptoeing around her in a delicate dance to avoid a situation where either of them could build onto their practically visible tension. Kix had told him, ever the blunt medic, that he could cut their tension straight through the air with a scalpel it was so obvious. But he was a Captain, and had a job to do, so when he heard that she had been seen speeding down the halls to the hangars with her tools despite all the ships passing inspection just a few hours ago, he knew he had to be sure she wasn’t doing anything out of protocol. He had grabbed Jesse before making his way to the hangar, in case a mediator was needed, and was now grinding his teeth at the woman concentrating so intensely she didn’t even care to look who else was in the room. He shared a flat look with Jesse before clearing his throat to make his presence known, “You might want to take a break, Y/N.”

She paused what she was doing, her shoulders tightening. Only Rex ever used her actual name, especially when he was in one of his damn moods. This was weird, though, him seeking her out. Recently it seemed as if he had been avoiding her, or making sure they weren’t alone if they had to be in the same room. Try as she could to get his attention, get him all flustered, he’d always just be slightly out of reach, and she was getting increasingly frustrated. She rolled her eyes, summoning her signature bravado before she smoothly stood up to turn around, jutting a hip out and giving a lazy salute, “Ahoy, Captain.”

Jesse tried to mask his giggles under a cough, watching the two interact was his favorite pastime. Rex took note for later to ask a different intermediary for the next strife, before pointing his head to the ship, “What are you doing to that fighter?”

“Exactly what it looks like,” she smiled brightly, almost prideful, wiping her grease slicked hands on the pant leg of her GAR jumpsuit, “Messing with this lovely hunk of junk.”

“Messing with it?” Rex questioned, barely hiding his glance at the handprint now crudely placed on her thigh.

“Gave myself a project to work on,” she explained sauntering towards the pair of troopers with an arm outstretched to the ship, “Boys, meet my baby.”

“Your baby?” Rex slowly tore his gaze off her to look over the fighter blandly, “What a miracle of science.”

“Is Artoo the dad?” Jesse snickered, before receiving a light smack on the arm from the woman. She still chuckled at the quip, showing good humor to him. Despite being absolutely infuriating, Jesse was quickly becoming a good friend to her, like a brother she never wanted.

“Did you get permission before completely gutting the engine, at least?” Rex asked, looking around at the parts that lay on the floor, surrounding her workspace.

She sighed, “Yes, I did, just a bit ago. Ask Caine, he was the final sign off on it. Went through all the proper channels.”

Rex's jaw twitched, stiffening the hand holding his helmet, “It didn’t come through on my end.”

“Maybe it didn’t need to,” she shot, eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms, “I’m sure there are some things on this ship that don’t require your approval, sir.”

There it is. The way she said that word got him all riled up. It was one little word, one he got called by from every trooper on every hour of every rotation, but it was her honey-coated voice saying it that drove him to his limit. Every time she spoke the word to him it was like a challenge, daring him to expose his desirous aggression toward her, taunting his mask of composure. Every time she spoke, with a demanding storm in her glare and candy pink lips being teasingly assaulted by her own teeth, it stirred a fire in him he didn’t quite know how to quell. It was maddening, and got worse and burned deeper with every encounter. Before he could dig himself deeper into her trap, he simply pulled on his helmet with a slight growl, and turned on his heel to stalk away from the conversation, barely grumbling out a gruff, “I’m going to talk to Caine.”

“What crawled up his ass and died?” Y/N felt herself wilt a bit as she watched him go, taken aback by the retreat, and admittedly a little disappointed. Usually he’d last longer.

Jesse let out a stale bark of laughter, “Same thing that crawled up yours.”

“Jesse,” she warned, cold eyes coming up to focus on him, drawing out his name as she placed her hands on her hips.

“Sweets,” he mimicked her tone and stance, chuckling low, “Why don’t you just go after him? He’s all pent-up and frustrated, I don’t think the troops can take another feral sparring session. Hell, I don’t think I can take it. Think of the poor shinies.”

She shrugged at him, rolling her eyes as her head lolled to the side, “What can I say, I’m a self-destructive mess that likes to delay my own happiness and ultimate satisfaction.”

“Bantha shit,” Jesse rolled his own amber-hazel eyes at her, “I think you're just a brat.”

She laughed lowly, batting her lashes at him, “Same thing, trooper.”

She turned around, intent on continuing her work before she felt a gloved hand wrap itself around her elbow, turning her back to face the ARC, “I’m serious. Why are you dragging this out, adding to the pressure? If you keep this up, one of you will explode before too long, and then- whether it’s a good explosion, or a bad one- there’s gonna be one hell of a mess to clean up in its wake.”

She lifted a brow at his wording, “Was that innuendo literal, or-”

“Ew,” Jesse blanched, letting go of her arm and scrunching his face at the mental image., “That’s my ori’vod!”

Y/N threw her hands up in a mock surrender with a devilish smirk on her lips, “Look, you’re the one who said it.”

“Just answer the question, maker!”

She was silent for a minute, pursing her lips as she gathered her thoughts together. Jesse was staring intently at her, crossing his arms as he waited for her. Her eyes narrowed into thin slits in her focused state, and she exhaled slowly through her mouth, “I...I don’t know if he actually likes me or not. Sure, we banter, and I flirt, but I don’t know if he legitimately thinks of me the same way. I mean, today he just walked away from our conversation, and it made me feel kind of dejected. He seemed...I don’t know. Exasperated. Like he’s tired of me.”

Jesse had never seen her so vulnerable, so small. Sure, she was easily more than a head shorter than them, but her confidence and charisma always made her seem like she was eight feet tall. She twirled a lock of stray hair around her fingers, looking anywhere but Jesse as she continued, “His responses always vary, so I can’t pin down his exact feelings! He can either be cold and dismissive like today, or he can be actively matching my turn of phrase, there's no in between. So I always just...well, I tease him, you’ve seen it. I’m just testing the waters, seeing if he’s interested.”

“Sweets-“ Jesse cut himself off as he let a heavy hand fall onto her lithe shoulder, “Y/N, look at me.”

At the sound of her name, she blinked up at him, biting her lip to keep from pouting. Jesse was about to continue, barely opening his mouth to begin, when there was a greeting from behind them.

“There she is, right where you left her, Captain!”

Rex had come back, face unreadable as he looked between Jesse and Y/N. An older, brown man walked next to him, tall and lean with a salt and pepper fade, his smile as wide as his stride, “Sweets, lass! Making headway on that pile of scrap, huh?”

“Yes sir, Caine,” she greeted, standing upright and saluting him properly before turning offhandedly to Rex and crossing her arms, “Captain.”

Rex felt his jaw twitch at the sudden chill coming off of her, his brow furrowing at the sudden switch in her demeanor. Caine continued waving his arms, animatedly gesturing to the fighter, “This ship will run better than the day it was bought when you’re through with it, I know it. But, our most thorough Captain here has made it known to me that we did skip a step in approving your request.”

She looked Rex up and down, crossed arms tightening over her ribcage, “Oh really? And what step would that be?”

“Admiral Wulff Yularen,” Rex answered, tone even and cool to match her own, “You’re right in that it wouldn’t pass over my desk, however these are still Republic owned ships. He needs to approve...whatever you’re doing before you continue.”

She bit her lip and tightly squeezed her eyes shut, breathing deep through her nose, before responding, “Fine. I’ll clean up my station. Is there a time I can meet with the Admiral to discuss my mistake?”

Rex began to respond, before Jesse stepped in, “I’ll go explain the situation to him. Caine, would you mind tagging along?”

“Let’s stop by my office to get her approval request forms. Anything that makes this take longer, it gets me away from the repair reports,” Caine guffawed as he walked away with Jesse, leaving the Captain and mechanic on their own. He shifted as her burning stare held onto him for an extended moment after the two had left.

“What?” he growled out, growing aggravated at the silent attitude she was giving him.

“You’re a fucking tattle tale,” she spat out before turning on her heel to begin picking up her tools and various discarded parts of the fighter, “Going to my boss because a form didn’t come your way.”

“What are you, a youngling?” he shot back, but striding over to help her out, “I’m doing you a favor! If Admiral Yularen had found out one of his ships had been tampered with, without his permission, he’d blacklist you from the GAR and put you in a ship to drop you on that same dirt ball we found you on.”

Admiral Yularen was much more empathetic than that, and would not go as far as that for a punishment. But she didn’t need to know that right now.

“I’m not tampering with it- don’t touch my tools,” she looked over to see him dropping her wrenches and welders unceremoniously into her box, “I’m not tampering, I’m fixing. I’m a mechanic, it’s what I kriffin do, I’m sure he’d understand.”

He continued to pick up her scattered tools as she turned back to the disorganized pieces of metal with a roll of his eyes, “That may be so, but the GAR has a very strict way of doing things, and unfortunately the line of command doesn’t just stop at Caine for you. In fact-“

“I said don’t touch my tools!”

“Y/N, I’m trying to help you!” he nearly yelled at her, his voice booming in the high ceilings of the hangar, “Anything I’ve done today, is to help you!”

She scoffed, unmoved by his commanding demeanor, “Sure, help me. You didn’t even want me on this ship to begin with!”

“That’s-“

“You still don’t like me, do you? Is that why you don’t respond to my advances?” she was stalking toward him now, her mess and tools pushed to the farthest corner of her mind until they got this discussion over with. He stood his ground as she got closer, standing at his full height but looking her directly in the eyes nonetheless.

“Y/N-“

“I flirt and tease you all damn day and you just ignore me! Or worse, you respond and then leave when you realize you might’ve reacted a little too positively. I’d at least like a solid no from you, make yourself clear, please!”

“Hey!” he laid two strong hands on her shoulders, giving her a slight squeeze, “Shut. Up.”

She glared at him, but complied, pulling her bottom lip in between her teeth as she stood defiantly to him, as tall as she could under his grip. He allowed himself a slow breath, inhale through his nose, hold, exhale through his mouth. He softened his hold, and let his deep honey eyes search her stormy glare, delving into the depths of her soul to make sure she understood, “I think I like you, Y/N. More than I ought to.”

He let that sink in, his cheeks flushing at his own sudden boldness but keeping a lock on her gaze. She raised her brows in surprise, eyes going wide as her agitation subsided, being replaced with something more delicate before sputtering out, “Oh. Okay. Uh, great. So...why aren’t you doing anything about it?”

He let out a dark chuckle, letting his eyelids get heavy, “Always one for tact.”

She shrugged under his grasp, a slight grin gracing her features at his amused expression, “Would you expect anything less?”

He shook his head, letting his lips twitch upwards as his thumbs absentmindedly rubbed circles into her shoulders, before clearing his throat, “If you had let me finish earlier, your chain of command doesn’t stop at Caine. It includes Yularen, Skywalker, and me. If I’m seen to be ‘romantically involved’ with a crewmember, I could be court martialed. And then you’d be-“

“Sent back to that rock you picked me up from,” she finished for him, letting a hand come up to rub gently at his right wrist, before sighing, “Maker, I hate it when you’re right.”

“It’s a miracle you still like me, then,” he let a cheeky smile pull through his face, causing her to let out a soft giggle. Somewhere between their dispute and his confession, his voice had shifted to a low, coarse whisper that made her want to hang onto every word. He let a hand off her shoulder, gripping her chin lightly between his thumb and forefinger, “Do you understand, cyar’ika?”

Her breath was stolen from her as she watched his eyes glance down to her lips, his thumb gently pulling at her skin to have her bottom lip pop out of it’s sharp hold. She shuddered, a pleasant quiver going down her spine as she nodded at him. She fluttered her lashes at him as he chuckled low at her response, “What does that mean?”

“Promise not to get mad?” he smirked at her, as a matching blush sweeping over both their cheeks.

“Rex,” she quirked a brow at him playfully, drawling out his name almost musically. He smiled wide at her, practically spellbound with how his name sounded on her lips.

“It’s Mando’a,” he paused for effect, looking around to make sure no out of place soldiers were looking over before dipping low, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, “for sweetheart.”

She laughed, the sound warm and full, splaying a hand over his armored heart, the plastoid cool underneath her palm, “Fine. But only you are allowed to call me that.”

She pushed him lightly, having him let go of her shoulders. They stood there, smiling at each other, skin burning where the other’s hands had been, gazes soft with mutual ache. Y/N sighed, “So, what does this mean? For us.”

Rex thought for a minute, walking around her to continue where they had left off cleaning. After she had joined him, he hummed in response, “I think it’s a promise.”

“A promise?” she repeated, finishing up putting all the spares and discarded parts in an unlabelled crate next to the fighter. She leaned against the crate, arms crossing as she grinned at him, “What kind of a promise?”

“After the war is done,” Rex explained, tone surprisingly optimistic, “we can travel the galaxy together. No enemies to be on lookout for, not having to worry about getting caught by my nosy men-”

“Does it have to wait till after the war?” she whined, but still watching him as if he were hanging the stars as opposed to just picking up her tool box. He handed her the plasteel case, latching it closed with one deft hand.

“We can discuss that later,” he sent her a sly wink. She rolled her eyes, righting herself off the crate and looking up at him with the familiar teasing glint in her eyes that he’s come to find very charming.

“Just because you’ve finally confessed, don’t think this means I’ll stop toying with you, sir.”

All he could do was let his smile grow, just thinking about all the alluring ways she’ll drive him crazy, “I never wanted you to stop.”

[more-stuff-of-pi]

Of Tapping and Starry Nights

a/n: I am too in love with silly boys throwing pebbles at windows to get their s/o’s attention. Gimme all the tropes, I love them. Also, it’s midnight and I haven’t legitimately read through this, so mind that, yoinks. Thanks as always to mother for encouraging me to write <3 @samwrights

notes: addition to Of Tapping and Fairytales (kuroo x gn!reader). If anyone would like to request someone else doing the tapping and what their lil midnight adventure would look like, I’m all ears :) find my masterlist here

pairing: oikawa tooru x gn!reader | genre: fluff | warnings: none :) | word count: 1,291

The glaring blue screen of your laptop was burning your eyes and you swore that you’d be seeing the imprint of your stupid essay for the next week. You had been at it for hours and still only managed to have barely more than a page worked out. The longer you stared helplessly, the more the constant blink of the black bar was starting to annoy the shit outta you. You know it was probably because it was midnight and you had been doing nothing else all day, but you could almost hear the stupid thing mocking you.

You rubbed at your eyes, groaning at the lack of inspiration gracing you like some kind of biblical revelation. And that’s when you heard it.

You were so zeroed in on the sound of your furious typing that you didn’t notice the tapping against your window. What in the hell was that? It wasn’t raining, there were no trees near your window, and certainly no birds were going ham on the glass this late at night.

Despite it being midnight and you very possibly could just be hearing things and needed to go to bed, your curiosity got the better of you. Intent on double checking that you weren’t indeed going crazy, you threw open your window and promptly heard a startled yelp followed by a solid thud. Confused, you looked down to see your dumbass of a boyfriend Oikawa Tooru lying flat on his ass. His glasses were crooked and his galaxy pajama shorts and matching sweatshirt looked rumpled, as if he dressed hurriedly.

“Tooru?” you called, still confused, but mostly amused by the sight of your boyfriend.

Fixing his glasses he answered with his usual chipper “Hi, Y/n-chan!” as he stood, rubbing at his butt.

“Mind telling me why you’re standing outside my window in the middle of the night?”

He smiled shyly and your heart swooned. It wasn’t often that the Oikawa Tooru did anything shyly. You loved him, but the boy had a tendency to be a little too full of himself. “It’s a really clear night tonight.” You leaned a little out your window, glancing up to see the stars were shining brilliantly, even amidst the suburbian light pollution.

Underneath his shyness, you could see burning excitement, so white-hot that you were surprised he wasn’t bouncing on his feet. “And?” you pried, wondering what in the hell could have Tooru so worked up in the middle of the night.

“And there’s this really cool comet--” ah, that’s what “--that’s supposed to be visible in about,” he glanced at the watch on his wrist, the worn leather one that you had gifted him, “an hour and I forgot to tell you about it earlier today because Iwa-chan threatened to hit me if I was late to practice again and I try to avoid being hit as much as possible though it ends up happening anyways because Iwa-chan is such a brute!”

“Well, you are the captain, Tooru. I don’t blame Iwa-san for wanting you to be a responsible one.”

Tooru pouted, whining, “Y/n-chaaannn, you’re supposed to be on my side!”

“I’m on the side of you being a responsible captain, Tooru-chan. Besides, you could have texted me about the comet, yeah?”

“You see, about that…” he said sheepishly.

“It’s dead, isn’t it? Your phone?”

He nodded. “I forgot to charge it.”

“You were watching footage of your last game, weren’t you?”

“No!” he puffed his cheeks, crossing his arms over his chest. “It was the game from last month.” You giggled at his childish demeanor and his smile came back easily at the lovely sound. It was one of his favorites. Your laugh, and the sound of volleyballs hitting a court. “So?” he continued.

“So, what?”

The shyness came back just as suddenly as before. “So, do you wanna watch the comet with me?” He gestured to a blanket at his feet and looked so hopelessly shy that you had to bite your lip to keep from chuckling at the rare sight. You glanced down at yourself, only in shorts and a thin shirt that wouldn’t stand against a cool summer night’s breeze.

“Give me a sec,” you told him. His answering grin was blinding, elated that you had agreed to spontaneous midnight star gazing.

You softly shut the window, changing into sweatpants and a sweatshirt that appeared to be Tooru’s if the green alien on the sleeve was anything to go by. Grabbing your phone and your house keys in one hand, you quietly made your way downstairs, slipped into sneakers, and snuck out the door without so much as a creak (thanks to the death grip you had on the railing to make sure that you didn’t biff it down the stairs).

Tooru was waiting for you, the natural light of the moon and the artificial light of the streetlamps mixing to create an ethereal glow behind him. He looked like an angel standing there in galaxy pajamas, his impossibly soft hair messy and glowing, his smile crooked and charming. You took a moment to appreciate that this absolute dork chose to tap on your window, chose to be with you. He reached out and took your hand in his, gently pulling you along with him. You two walked silently side by side, listening to the soft sounds of crickets and rustling leaves. After a while of simply just being with each other, Tooru tugged on your hand, leading you to a spot he had picked out in the park near your home. It was on a hill and overlooked the small lake, little ripples from falling leaves occasionally rocking the water.

He let go of your hand for the first time and spread out the large blanket -- in it was hidden another, smaller blanket for you two to wrap yourselves in. He laid down, patting the space next to him for you to join. You did, nestling yourself against his body, resting your head on his shoulder, curling your hand on his chest, tangling your legs with his longer ones. Tooru threw the second blanket over the both of you, ensuring that between both the blankets and his own body heat that you would be warm and comfortable.

You both stared at the stars, marvelling in the beauty of the universe, the beauty that is both creation and destruction, peace and chaos, light and dark.

All of the stress from earlier melted away. In that moment you felt nothing but beauty and love.

“Tooru,” you whispered, too scared to say it louder in fear of interrupting the magic that the stars brought.

“Yes?” He turned to look at you but you kept your eyes on the stars.

You smiled simply. “Thank you.” And you didn’t have to say anymore for him to understand. True, you were thanking him for bringing you there, but you both understood that this thank you ran much deeper than that.

“I love you, too,” he breathed. You looked at him and saw him returning your smile, his eyes alive with all of the secrets of the universe and the stars in the sky.

When a brilliant flash of light marked the comet and drew your gazes to the starry night, you couldn’t ever hope to describe in words how impossibly happy you were to be there in that simple moment with a charming boy who cherished you above any star in the sky.

“Y/n,” Tooru whispered, calling your attention back to him. He leaned in and you closed your eyes and let him kiss you and in that kiss you felt all of the love the universe had to offer.

And he was giving it all to you.

[allmyspideys]

Festival (h.o)

Summary: Harrison spotted a beautiful girl that he just needed to talk to. it's you. You're the beautiful girl

Warnings: light drinking, fluff, kissing, i guess a hint of a deep conversation

Words: 2k+

A/N: I felt really weird posting this bc I thought that my energies should be focused on the blm movement, but then I remembered that it’s okay to do both. You can be active and do other things, so to anyone worried that I don’t care or I’m not doing anything, don’t be. I am doing lots and if you want to talk about more ways to be active or educate yourself, come chat!! Anyway, I  really wanna go to a festival or like any social interaction... my extroverted ass is sad

It was supposed to be an easy weekend with Tom and Harry. He wasn't supposed to see a girl that would end up occupying his mind. It wasn't a boy's weekend per se, but they all needed a good fun weekend. But Harrison saw a beautiful, ethereal woman; her head was thrown back in laughter with her friends and the sun seemed to shine directly on her. He longed to hear that sound of her laughter. For a moment Harrison found himself thinking of every possibility of this woman: what are her eyes like?, her hair must be so soft, what does she enjoy?. Quickly though, he shook the thoughts out of his head and returned to Tom's story, but the image of the beautiful goddess was still in his head.

When your best friend invited you to a festival, you immediately said yes. It was exactly what you needed: a fun weekend away from work and full of music and new people. You loved the idea of meeting new people and bonding over your good artists. You were excited to say the least.

You and your friends were standing around, drinking, telling jokes, laughing, when you spotted a group of really cute guys. One of them was looking at you too, making you blush and turn away. He was with other guys of equal cuteness, but there was something about the sheer blueness of his eyes that pulled you in to him. It was as if you couldn't look away.

"Y/N let's go! Rex Orange County is starting soon!" your friend called to you and pulled you out of your trance. Still, as you walked away, you couldn't help but want to run into the blue eyed man again.

As you and your friends walked towards the stage, you looked around to admire all the people that were surrounding you. Part of you was looking for that guy who’s blue eyes were still ingrained in your memory. To call them blue would be an understatement. No, they were more like an electric cyan, but had the softness of a baby blue and a twinge turquoise. They were the color of young love; the nervous kind that went to the fair at night to look at the neon lights and buy raspberry cotton candy, but grew old to be warm and loving, if not a bit cheeky too. You began to wonder about him, all because of his stupid blue eyes. 

Though you and your friends had planned to get to the stage early, there were still many people that got there before you, making your spot to see one of your favorite bands farther back than you would have liked. Still, you were happy to be there and enjoying the buzz of everyone else around you. There was something special about festivals: the excited energy that combined with the chill attitudes and all summed up in the collective jump dancing. It was unlike anything else, that’s for sure. It really opened you up to opportunities that you’d normally question. For instance, hoping that the boy with the blue eyes would be legitimately interested and you’d actually meet him again. 

Just as you began to imagine the eyes once again, you bumped into something. Immediately turning to apologize, you were stopped by those blue eyes staring at you once again. 

“Hi,” you said with a breathless smile, “it’s you”. Quickly you realized how strange the statement was and began to stutter with an apology mixed with some comment about the concert, but thankfully, he understood.

“I’m Harrison,” he said, shaking your hand. It’s a total cliche, but it was true, there were sparks in that touch and there was no denying it.

“I’m Y/N”, again, a huge smile broke out on your face as you looked into those eyes that just kept popping up in your mind. 

The show began just as you both called your friends over. It was a bit of a strange meeting; this guy you had just met that was meeting all your friends, and you all his, but somehow it just made so much sense. Maybe it was the festival feeling, but something was just right about it. The lights were shining all around you and you let the music take you a place of pure feeling and happiness. You were dancing with your closest friends and about 500 other complete strangers, and yet, you felt the most connected with everyone than ever. Harrison found himself drifting to look at you; the pure contentment on your face and the freeness of your body in your dancing was absolutely amazing. He motioned to you, but you couldn’t hear him very well, so he took the opportunity to touch you, gently. Harrison pulled your face in close as he leaned to whisper in your ear. His breath was hot against your ear, but it caused shivers to run down your spine. 

“Do you want to get on my shoulders?” he asked.

“Are you crazy?” you laughed with wide eyes, “I can’t get up there!”

“Trust me. I won’t let you fall,” Harrison looked at you and wiggled his eyebrows. You let out a laugh and a gleeful scream as you took his hand. Harrison squatted down and gave you his knee, his eyes never leaving yours. After you got situated Harrison slowly stood back up, one hand’s fingers pressed into your thighs and the other interlaced with yours. You had to admit, the show was infinitely better from up there and Harrison made sure you were okay the whole time with an occasional squeeze of your hand. It was too soon to say you were falling, but there was a feeling running through your whole body that you were not ready to let go of. 

Harrison helped you off his shoulders as the show ended. Part of you was kind of sad that you wouldn’t have the feeling of his fingers pressing into your thighs and the occasional looks up to make sure that you were okay. The feeling was mutual for Harrison; he didn’t want to admit it, but he enjoyed having your legs over his shoulders and even if his mind went elsewhere with that idea, he enjoyed the simplicity of having that moment with you. Your friend turned to you, beaming with happiness, “Girl!! You wanna go get some drinks?? I’ll get the spot set up for fireworks”. You immediately knew that she had already invited Harrison’s friends to join you and was thinking of all the questions she was going to ask you on the ride back to the hotel. 

“I’ll come with,” Harrison perked up and looked to you for permission.

Not needing to answer, you winked at your friend and grabbed Harrison’s hand as you turned away to go find some drinks. You thought about holding it the whole way there, but decided against it. You had only just met and barely talked, but Harrison disagreed and as you let go, he tightened up, again looking to you for permission. You simply smiled and laced your fingers together. You had to admit, the fit of his fingers between yours was nearly perfect. It was a little tight, but only because you hadn’t held someone’s hand in a while, but the way his fingers wrapped around the back of your hand was the most amazing feeling that made you break out into a shit eating grin and caused flutters throughout your body. 

Once you got close Harrison ran ahead to begin collecting the drinks. 

“You go order the booze and I’ll grab everything else,” he said with a wink. Together you walked back to your friends, both arms full of goodies.

The fireworks started to go off, but neither you nor Haz could take your eyes off each other. You muttered to yourself again, those stupid eyes, as you watched the way the firework colors light up in his eyes. Honestly, it was magical; the way the firework color took over the almost translucent blue to become a wonderful purple or red in the glow of his eyes.

Harrison wanted to know everything about you. He wanted to know your passions and your loves, your past, things that you hated, especially the little things. He sat there looking at you with all this wonder and admiration in his eyes as you talked about your job and your future plans. He could see how passionate you were; he loved that you had dreams and were willing to go after them. Harrison was so enthralled by you and the light in your eyes that he didn’t realize you had finished until you said, “Harrison?”

“Oh! Uh,” he chuckled nervously, “sorry. I think it’s amazing that you know what you want to do and you’re going after it. It’s truly amazing… you’re amazing,” he said with a smile.

As you began to mention all the things he’s doing and the admiration you held for him, a young actor just trying his best and giving it his all, he stumbled over his thank you and turned the questions back to you.

“So,” you noted the curiosity in his eyes, “what don’t you like?”

Harrison marveled in the big laugh that you let out, again, finding himself thoroughly captivated in your stories. He couldn’t help but note the things that you loved and hated, just in case he needed them for future use. Meanwhile, you were taking as many mental pictures as possible to remember the look of someone who was truly interested in the things you were saying. It gave you hope; it gave you butterflies, no Harrison gave you butterflies. 

You talked about everything. Occasionally the conversation turned a little deep, but it was still so open. You felt free to be wholly you, the version of you that you wanted to be. Harrison helped bring that out of you. 

“You’re so great,” he said, looking down and biting his lip a little, “Why are you single? Wait, you are single right?” 

You could see the panic on his face, but you just chuckled, “yes, I am single”. Harrison looked at you expectantly. Had it been someone else or maybe somewhere else, you wouldn’t have answered truthfully. You would have said something like, “I enjoy it!” or “I’ve just been too busy to date anyone lately”, but you felt accepted enough to tell him the truth.

“I’ve been so scared to date anyone because I don’t date just to date. I want to actually like the person, right, and I thought if I got into a serious relationship while I was in university or just after that a few years down the road, after we’d become dependent on each other, that it would just crumble and I’d lose a friend. So I decided that not dating anyone would be better than losing someone I loved,” you looked away, unable to look at Harrison.

“You can’t live in fear like that,” he said while turning your face back to him, “but I understand”, and you knew he truly did. Once again, your body filled with those flutters as you looked into his eyes. 

The fireworks ended sooner than you would have liked and your friends began to pack up. Harrison routinely stole glances at you as he helped you pack away the day. Your friends began saying their goodbyes to the people they had grown close with over the day and your spirit started to fall. You tried to remind yourself to be happy that you got to experience everything, but you couldn’t help feeling a bit sad. Unwillingly you turned to Harrison to say goodbye and saw the same look in his blue eyes. Those stupid eyes, you thought. 

“Thank you,” you said. Harrison was rubbing your arms and looking deeply into your eyes. He was trying his best to remember the way that they looked.

“It was so amazing meeting you,” he said back. There was so much unsaid, but so much understood. 

As you were turning away from Harrison, the boy you had grown to have a huge, raging crush on, a smile broke out on your face. You were thinking of all the memories you’d think back on later that night and wish that you had asked for his number, email, something, but also be content in knowing that you had a moment. Harrison, however, was not content. He had just met this amazing woman that shook everything he thought he knew about girls. He was not done with you; he could not let you walk away. Quickly, Haz grabbed your arm and pulled you into him, placing another hand on the side of your face, steadying your body, and planting his lips on yours. At first you didn’t know what was happening, but very quickly, your body melted into his, and your lips began moving with his. 

It was everything you thought it would be. It was the fireworks you just saw. It was the spark that you felt when your hands touched for the first time. It was the flutters that took over your whole body and mind every time you looked into his eyes. It was the first time that Harrison saw you. It was the feeling of his fingers against your thighs. It was the pictures of you running through his head. It was the melody of your voice that filled his ears every time you spoke. It was everything you hoped and so so much more.

You broke for a minute and rested your head against Harrison’s, foreheads still touching and fingers still intertwined. You had a great day with a great guy and your friends. You met someone great. Harrison was feeling the exact same way. He never planned on meeting someone, much less meeting someone as amazing as you. It was meant to be an easy weekend and it turned out to be so much more. 

[smokeybrand]

Smokey band Movie Reviews: Wowza

The Suicide Squad is the best film DC has made since The Dark Knight. That’s it. That’s the review. If you want to know why i can say that with unassailable confidence, you can continue reading but from this point on, i am literally just going to gush about this f*cking thing like a straight up school girl.  It’s that good and you should go watch it right now. This is about to be a love letter to the best film I've seen all year, mostly because i haven’t seen any A24 flicks, but this thing is a fantastic consolation for that glaring disappointment.

The Inspired

The writing in this movie is easily the best the DCEU has to offer. I say that knowing there are some people who believe BvS is f*cking Shakespeare and MoS is Hemingway. They’re not. They’re both dogsh*t. The Suicide Squad absolutely is everything the neckbeard fanboys want those films to be. I marvel at how well the events blend, how organically the character interact, how real they feel in a movie with a giant kaiju space starfish as the driving conflict for the plot. It’s f*cking inspired and lays solid ground work for very exceptional aspect of this movie going forward. Your film starts on the page and James Gunn understands that sh*t very well.

The emotion in this movie is palpable. I literally teared up toward the end. That’s rare for me because I'm kind of an emotionless monster but that line, “I’m a superhero!” f*cking gut checked me. Gunn has done that to me three times. “WE are Groot.” "He may have been your father, boy. But he wasn't your daddy." It wasn’t Pete swinging in after the “On your left.” in Endgame but it was close. Dude is too good at that sh*t and it’s weird that Marvel is willing to let him go. They better lock that dude the f*ck up!

Chemistry is everything for an ensemble like this and this cast definitely has that. I bought their interactions without having to suspend my disbelief, not like in other, lesser SKWAD films. I particularly like the relationship between Ratcatcher II and Bloodsport. That sh*t was sweet and brought a legitimate smile to my face.

I mentioned how well this film was written but, aside from the brilliant plot that made all of these misfit killers relevant, the character work really goes a long way to selling this narrative. Like, you absolutely fall in love with Polka Dot Man by the end of this thing. They made Peacemaker an irredeemable bastard. Like, do you know how well you have to develop a character played by John f*cking Cena, for people to hate him? He’s the White people version of The Rock! That’s near impossible but they definitely pull it off. It’s like Gunn watched the first SKWAD, saw what they did with El Diablo and just decided to do that. And when i say “do that’, i mean actually write these f*cking characters as people instead of stereotypes and tropes.

The Great

This is an ensemble film, which means it lives and dies by it’s cast. Well, this motherf*cker is living mas! Not a single character was miscast in this. Not a one. From the supporting characters like Alice Braga’s Sol Soria and Peter Capaldi’s Thinker, to the expendable distraction SKWAD. Loved seeing Jai Courtney’s Captain Boomerang again and i even like Pete Davidson’s Blackguard. I can’t stand Pete Davidson. This cast is MCU levels of excellent but, of course, there are standouts.

Joel Kinnaman as Rick Flag does the best work of his career. This dude almost always sucks in the roles he takes on but I'm starting to think that’s because of the direction he’s given because dude kills it as Flag in this. I genuinely liked him this time around. He felt like a real person and not some caricature of whatever the generic US Marine is supposed to be.

Margot Robbie is the live action Harley Quinn. She embodies this character like Ledger did Joker and RDJ did Stark. It’s that good and this version of Harley is easily the best. She feels complete, like she’s finally the Harls in the comics and i love it. This Harleen is who the character should have been from the jump but a lot of that was on Margot. She had to grow into the character, develop her ability because the first time she donned that Puddin’ necklace was rough. She’s come a long way and so has Harley.

I touched on this before but John Cena’s Peacemaker is a f*cking bastard. This casting genius because of the message behind the movie. I’ll get into that later but casting the most All-America motherf*cker to play the villain in a film about US involvement in Sovereign Foreign nations? And for Cena to literally play up his Patriot shtick only to turn out to be an allegory for the sordid reality of America? Bro, this sh*t got over. Cena is outstanding as Peacemaker. This cat really does have the chops to be a movie star. Looking forward to this show they gave him, for sure.

Polka-Dot Man is arguably the best character in this entire film. I love what Gunn wrote for him and absolutely adore how David Dastmalchian gave the character life. He had the best arc in the entire film and i really enjoyed his journey. When he got his moment, i teared up a little bit. Dude deserved that. Dude earned that. For me to have such a visceral reaction to that scene is testament to how well  Dastmalchian did his job!

Listen, i love Idris Elba. I do. Cat has all of the swagger. He’s easily as charismatic as Obama and i dig that. However, he just plays Idris Elba. Like, his Bloodsport is literally just John Luther but, you know, murder prone. That’s not a bad thing, it definitely works, but, if I'm being honest, as a character, he’s the weakest of the lot but that’s how good everyone is in this. Idris f*cking Elba is the weakest character in this cast! What?? It’s not even like he’s bad or anything, he just plays the same dude over and over.

And now we get to my favorite character in this flick, Ratcatcher II. Listen, i have no idea who the f*ck Daniela Melchior is, but she is the absolute heart of this film, the moral compass of this team, and she never shirks away from that challenge. She has outstanding chemistry with Elba and the relationship between their two characters is the sweetest sh*t I've seen in a long time. It reminded me a lot of Logan and Laura. Melchior, if he chooses, can have a great career in Hollywood because she’s a real talent.

The Good

The plot to this thing makes sense. It’s not something as intricate as The Dark Knight but it’s head-and-shoulders better than anything the DCEU has produced and objectively sh*ts on the SKWAD that came before it. Destabilizing a small Latin American nation feels more like something Waller would have theses assholes do, rather than trying to kill a f*cking god with boomerangs and bullets. This movie is everything the first SWKAD attempt wants to be.

The violence and gore in this is ramped up to a eleven. There is a lot of grotesque sh*t in this thing and it starts the second Blackguard gets his face blown off. Like, his entire f*cking face. You see ALL of that sh*t and SO much more. Like, it gets grimy and i appreciated that. A SKWAD film needs that blood. This is a team of remorseless killers. We, as the audience, need to feel that and this flick delivers.

James Gunn can direct his ass off. When they announced he was going to be in charge of this film way back when, i knew it was going to be legit. When they announced t was a hard R, i needed it in my life. We’re talking Guardians with murder. Were talking the quintessential James Gunn vision and what a vision it is. Not only did he direct the f*ck out of this movie, but he wrote it, too! Mans has the only writing credit on this production. This is all him! It’s wild seeing the difference between directors on display. Gunn delivered a film that one could argue is the best of the year while Zack Snyder made f*cking Army of the Dead. The discrepancy between the quality of these two films is why i hate Snyder so much and have all of the love for Gunn.

The imagery in this thing is f*cking top tier. There are shot that are legitimate art It's a weird juxtaposition considering how bloody some of these scenes get but, f*ck, is it gorgeous!

I have to mention the editing. I usually don’t bother because it’s always adequate and, admittedly, it feels only slightly better in this film but it’s competent. It’s better than the first and you really feel that sh*t. Like, i watched the movie in preparation for this one and, oh my god, the difference in an actual team of professional film editors really cut a great film. Who’ have thought letting a f*cking trailer house construct your movie that it would end up feeling like a ton of trailers strung together and be bad?

This movie is overtly political. It has a lot to say about the influence of the US abroad. It doesn’t shy away from the realities of our international policy and really hammers home the reality of what the United States is, rather than the way we portray ourselves to be. This culminates in a struggle between Flag and Peacemaker; Both soldiers to the core but on opposite ends of the American ideal. It’s actually really brilliant and, if you aren’t paying attention, will go over your head. This is how you instill your politics into a film. This is how you execute ideals in a narrative. Gunn has a lot to say and he says it in the loudest way, but with the quietest voice.

The Okay

The only beef i can see people having with this is the exposition dumps. There are a few but they kind of stall the overall flow. I didn’t mind them too much because, by the time we get to them, the film has built up so much good will by being just fantastic.

The Verdict

I f*cking loved this movie, dude. Look how long this list of dope sh*t is. I literally itemized all of the reasons why this flick is so great. I can’t articulate it and more clear. I told you at the very beginning, literally the first thing i wrote, that The Suicide Squad is the best film in the DCEU and i mean that sh*t. Grace Randolph is a f*cking hack. Don’t listen to her incredibly bias opinion. Just f*cking go watch it and decide for yourself! It’s in theaters right now and on HBO max for free.

[thejudgingtrash]

Now hold up I would personally love to hear a full rant on this supposed adaptation I have never heard of until now. Like, legitimately, I wanna know what you have to say about this cause you seem to be one of the most valid PJO blogs

Uhhh what??? Me one of the most valid PJO blogs??? What kinda crack have you been smoking WHAT afahsgjskdh.

But still thank you 😊🥺🙈

Alright, you wanted a rant. You got a rant. Fuck the positives let’s just straight up jump into my aggression.

WARNING: Massive rant with a lot of swear words. If you can’t handle the heat, feel free to ignore this. I personally haven’t worked in Hollyweird, but I had some behind the scenes stuff here in Europe going on for a short period and also the trusty words of my college professors. So here will be a lot of prediction and speculation involved. Yes, I know that I’m a huge hypocrite for voicing my opinions based on stuff that hasn’t been pushed through in months and that I could be easily proven wrong in a few weeks/months. Still thank you should you actually take the time to read through this tomfuckery.

If things are wrong, please DO correct me!

Links to further reads will be included partially.

TL;DR: Keep your hopes to a low, stop harassing people online and mAnAgE yOuR eXpEcTaTiOnS!!111!!

Okay. First things first:

DISNEY

DOESN’T

GIVE

A

SINGLE

FUCK

ABOUT

YOU

Disney is a fucking multi-billion dollar corporation with many, many, many studios, stations, brands and franchises worldwide. The Percy Jackson franchise is a dime in a dozen. Disney doesn’t give a single fuck about the PJO fandom in general.

Disney doesn’t give a fuck about you 20-something year old with your 9 year old blog discussing which toilet paper brand Percy uses. And Disney also doesn’t give a fuck about you 16 year old, writing the worst fucking Solangelo fanfic I’ve read so far on this hellsite. Like goddamn.

Trust me, they know you are interested. They know they got you hooked. They see the numbers, they see the like/reblog ratio, they see the Twitter engagement. They see you with #disneyadaptpercyjackson. They see the petitions, they see how excited you were for the musical. You don’t get to be a gigantic conglomerate like Disney with playing stupid.

Also to you fuckfarts saying oH nO I wOn’T wAtCh It I dOn’T cArE aBoUt NeW sTuFf. Congrats dipshit. You are STILL alerting followers and people about what’s happening and creating more buzz, giving more awareness and adding to the transaction costs. You really cheated the system, you little edgelord. Again:

You are nothing but a number. You are a fucking walking dollar bill. You are a consumer waiting for a new shiny product to fill the void in your life for 45 minutes weekly or by two hours at some point.

The PJO movies 1. & 2 happened for a reason. Because Fox saw a popular book series á la Harry Potter, Twilight (and The Hunger Games) and wanted a piece of that action. They wanted your fucking money. Them entirely fucking up and ignoring Riordan’s advice is on them of course. But still. The movies happened. (And also saw people saying they were flops. Reception wise: hell yes. They are awful adaptations (not per se awful movies, there’s a difference). But money wise?? They made together over 245 million dollars in profit. Of course, that isn’t today’s Marvel level but it’s still fairly decent. Also don’t forget that the second movie still got greenlit. Interest was still there despite part one. You disliking something doesn’t turn it into a flop)).

Again, Disney doesn’t care about you. THIS is what Disney cares about:

1. MONEY

2. PROFIT

3. ENGAGEMENT

4. TOTAL GROSS

5. CONVERSION RATES

11. …. “Artistry“

So in terms of money, we gotta speak about the on-going woke culture. You know, lgbtqia+ stuff, poc representation and all the good shit we want and need in our life, right?

Well, I got bad news for ya. Disney being money hungry has its massive downsides. Because where is the money? In the east. Well and what happens if we include the woke stuff? Possible censorships (even retroactively! You know Gravity Falls went through that), bans, etc.

So all of you talking about representation and artistic vision and being bold and brave and blablabla… Throw that into the fucking trash. We can probably be glad if we get Grover back as the token black kid and a few other minorities sprinkled here and there. Open gay Nico? Doubt it. Your afro-latino Percy head canon? Definitely keep that but unlikely to be realized. And also, if you think that Annabeth wouldn’t get turned into the blandest whitest “I dOn’T nEeD nO mAn“ radfem, I got some bad news for ya…

The likelihood of everything being dumbed down, toned down with the exception of a few adult jokes or being even partially censored (depending on certain regions) is very, very high.

Also what makes you think we’re even getting close to the Heroes of Olympus and Trials of Apollo saga? I doubt you will see The Seven for a long time unless Riordan really says fuck it and throws his final ace card into Disney’s filthy greedy mouth.

So if Disney doesn’t have the fandom’s interest at heart, what are they interested in? Well… MONEY. Also NEW engagement. They know your funky ass is going to tune in. They know people will pirate the shit (Me waving like a maniac), they all KNOW that. Again, they aren’t stupid.

So: MORE engagement. MORE money. How do we get even more engagement? By luring new people into the fandom. Who is most likely going to get lured into a family friendly show/movie series because let’s not forget that we’re talking about Disney+? The targeted audience of the books. Who is the targeted audience of the books? MIDDLE SCHOOLERS. 11 to 14 year olds. Disney wants those kids’ (well their parents’ hard earned) money. They want to sell products, in that case books + Disney Plus subscriptions + possible merch. There you also have the likely future rating for the fucking show. Sorry to disappoint everyone that was hoping for gritty Game of Thrones filled with 12 year olds (like seriously wtf?).

Now that that’s settled, let’s talk about the outlook on the show/movie and Riordan’s influence that you people clearly overestimate.

How much power or say does Rick Riordan actually have?

ZERO. ABSOLUTELY NONE.

He’s in the worst fucking lose-lose-situation you could imagine.

Disney owns the books and Fox owns the movie rights. Wait. Fox got bought. By whom you ask? DISNEY, what a coincidence! In Rick Riordan’s own words:

Disney has him by his fucking balls and could crush them at any minute. And if you think, that Disney is letting go of that sweet sweet intellectual property you are fucking mistaken. Riordan isn’t a J.K. Rowling who OWNS the Wizarding World. You have no idea what Disney are capable of with massive lobbying that goes so far to influence copyright laws in the States (LINK)

So you can stop harassing him about a fucking Netflix adaptation as well! Or petitions that do nothing but annoy people.

These negotiations take up YEARS to get the simplest stuff done. No need to shit your pants whenever Riordan’s tweeting stuff.

Still: would Disney be fucking mad to do this without him? Absolutely!

Should Disney involve him to prevent a PJO movie 2.0 scenario?

Yes, they definitely should!

But CAN Disney do this without him?

OF COURSE THEY CAN! THEY OWN EVERYTHING.

In Riordan’s own words:

Read carefully what he has written. He doesn’t say he’s going to halter productions, he’s saying HE WON’T BE A PART OF IT. This also makes me curious about WHO approached WHO in the first place (my guess Disney tried to make some amendments because Fox ain’t shit and trying to alienate the author again would be a goddamn stupid move). Disney has the fucking film rights. Of course they can pump out shit without involving him. They could pull a Fantastic Four (the awful 2015 version) just to keep the rights and for the fuck of it.

There are the following possibilities with Riordan’s involvement:

1. Riordan as a producer: Dude’s gotta be loaded. We know that. But backing the production costs many, many, many millions and I don’t know if he’s THAT loaded. Also film producing isn’t his forte.

2. Riordan as a screenplay writer: Now we’re getting closer to something. Yes, many productions these days have authors directly involved which is great! But also can go the other way around (J.K. Rowling and her Grindelwald fiasco. Author’s do NEED to learn when to stop intermeddling with their franchises, just saying) Book writing and screenplay writing are two very DIFFERENT disciplines. You don’t have the liberties of book writing when it comes to film. The screenplay is the guide for the entire production, the visuals, the set design, the whole atmosphere of the product, the very first thing that needs to be done so that directors, designers and lastly the casted actors know what they have to do. Everything has to come to a point in a very short time and there are many, many, many versions of a screenplay before a final raw draft gets handed out. If that isn’t in Riordan’s interest (which I can completely understand) then that’s simply not happening

3. Riordan as a guide: Directors, screenplay writers, etc. sit down with Riordan on a regular basis to show him the written screenplay, which actors they have in mind, the whole vision and he has a mini veto right.

If you ask me, a mix of scenario 2 and 3 is the most likely to be the most successful. That means, that Riordan needs to have a good faithful team, that sticks closely to the source material. That isn’t guaranteed! Again: look at the PJO movies. But of course, we don’t know the internals of these meetings.

So… now the final part. The whole fucking “Animation vs. Live action“ debate. Well, both sides have their pro’s and con’s. And both sides are filled with a bunch of fucking morons. I won’t try to get you to either side.

But to those that want are begging for a live action version with age-appropriate actors I have the following to say:

FUCK

YOU

IN

PARTICULAR!

WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU WANT CHILDREN TO GO THROUGH THE HELL THAT IS DISNEY AND THE SHADY SHIT GOING ON THERE SO THAT YOU CAN BE ENTERTAINED FOR SOME MERE MINUTES?!

Oh my god…. You people REALLY really want a fourth wave Me Too movement in 15-20 years. Not every Hollyweird kid has a helicopter parent hovering around them on set and many do get abused/robbed by their parents. And the people involved in the production! Of course, animation has still a chance of this happening but the risk is somewhat lower when it just comes to voice acting.

Tbh, I actually wouldn’t mind an aged-up cast again just to prevent this as best as possible. Unfortunately, child actors will always be needed.

I have nothing much to add to this, I’ll just drop a link to an old small post from me about that right here (LINK)

Personally I lean more towards animation but in the big picture I won’t care. (Also the whole animation is for kids and dumbs down the whole narrative for PJO is fucking stupid, boo boo the fool. You being in your late teens/twenties and grown out of the targeted audience is the cause of nature. Animation can be mature or would you show Attack on Titan or South Park to your 8 year old cousin?)

I’ll be just tuning in to see if this is as messy as I’d expect it to be or to be pleasantly surprised.

Also again: this process is a long one. It’s going to be exhausting, depressing, demanding, pushing.

From the meetings now that will take a very long time, to a screenplay, which can take YEARS in finalizing, to hiring staff, location hunting and set design (should they go the live action route), to casting, to costume design, to rehearsing/production, to filming, to dispersing, to editing, to fx, to finishing, to marketing, to publishing, NOTHING IS SET IN STONE! This is a very, very, very, wanky process despite contracts and everything on paper. Let’s not forget, Disney can afford some good lawyers.

And even if everything goes as smoothly as possible. Higher up people could see the final edit of everything with editors having scenes close to the books in an a/b/c/d cut and some producer says NO! I want an c/a/b/d version that again fucks up the dynamics of the books. Or something terrible: everything is shot and done and THEN it get’s postponed. Or even fucking worse: SHELVED to be NEVER RELEASED. Aka Henry Selick’s career after Coraline (Coraline from 2009 is STILL his latest release because of his fucked up Disney contract and them cancelling his shit). Millions of dollars wasted and we won’t get to see ANYTHING. This is all very possible and happens constantly in the film business AND at Disney. This is nothing new.

And there’s nothing we can do about it. No one cares about Riordan, no one cares about the books, no one cares about the fandom.

DISNEY holds the cards. DISNEY gets to decide. Neither Riordan, nor you nor me hold ANY power in this.

So kids… what have we learned today? In conclusion:

Keep your hopes to a low, stop harassing people online and mAnAgE yOuR eXpEcTaTiOnS!!111!!

That’s it. That’s all I wanted to say.

WHEW.

[animebw]

Binge-Watching: Pokemon Johto Journeys, Episodes 22-26

In which we get a neat little superhero story, and Ash continues to grow in impressive ways.

Holy Flying Scorpions, Batman!

It’s safe to say that our current media landscape in the US is pretty oversaturated with superheroes. Hell, even the anime scene has huge titles like My Hero Academia and One Punch Man taking up a lot of the conversation. But I still enjoy a well-told superhero story, and of all things, Pokemon actually tackles the concept really well in the episode about Gligar Man, an amusing mashup of Batman’s cape-and-cowl aesthetic and Superman’s high-flying metropolis grandeur. That even looked like the Daily Planet in his sizzle reel, for crying out loud. But what I like about this little yarn is how surprisingly nuanced it is about the whole thing. It paints Gligar Man as a genuine do-gooder who helps the kids out, even as it acknowledges he’s kind of a bumbling washout who’s seen better days. And it lets the characters instantly figure out the obvious twist of his secret identity so they can actually explore his character more deeply. Hell, he even started dressing up as a superhero for a marketing scheme at first; it was only when he saw how positively everyone responded to it that he decided to go legit and turn super-heroing into a full-time career. But now he’s facing down the prospect of retirement and not sure how to pass the title down, considering his daughter just wants to let the whole thing die. There’s a full Marvel movie’s worth of backstory, legacy and character drama packed into this tight 20 minutes, complete with Not-Batgirl swooping in to save the day and help continue her father’s work to tie a neat little bow on it all. I would unironically pay to see a full Gligar Man film based on what he got here.

Older and Wiser

Elsewhere, Ash’s surprising climb toward maturity continues to be one of the coolest parts of Johto. There’s a really great moment where he’s coaching a little kid on how to listen to her Pokemon’s needs instead of rushing headfirst into everything, and when she says he must know everything, he respond with,  ”Trust me, I just made the right mistakes.” That’s a legitimately fantastic line, and it speaks to why I buy Ash’s journey so much. He has screwed up, many times over, and he’ll continue to screw up well into the future. But by making all those mistakes, he’s been able to learn and grow and get better one step at a time. He’s reached the point now where he’s regularly the more experienced trainer schooling young upstarts on the proper way to battle. The Heracross/Scissor smackdown was a really fun battle on a pure spectacle level, but it also showcased Ash’s ability to pull more stubborn people out of their shells and show them how to trust in the natural unpredictability of battle, like he’s learned to do across countless false starts. And when he later gets into battle with an untrained Cyndaquill and he’s thrown off by the Pokemon’s weaknesses, he quickly regroups and learns to roll with its incredible agility to bring them to victory. My little dude’s legitimately kicking ass now, and it’s really fun to see. The Azalea Town gym leader better watch their back!

Best of Team Rocket

-Wow, are we sure Jessie isn’t a Pokemon? She just used Hair Whip and Fury Swipes back to back!

-”We must fight to protect the integrity of costumed action figures everywhere!”

-The fact they’re so committed to the costumed supervillains bit is sending me. They aren’t even using their Pokemon!

-”My schoolmates were so envious they beat me every day!”

-”We’ll run ahead of them... and dig a big hole!”

-”Um, what does ‘download’ mean?” Ah, the early 2000s.

-”I’m downloading his whole computer!” asldjasdlkasdkjasdkj

-”Next time Team Rocket comes up with a motto, I’m demanding script approval!”

-”I’ve already had an alysis!”

-”You said take it out for a spin.”

-”We all scream for Eye-Beam!”

-”But it doesn’t seem so bad as long as you can look up at the stars above.” I love their relationship, man.

-”I’d give my right arm for a drink right now.” “I’d give your left arm as well.”

-”And we’ll just start drinking!” “Yes! Wait-”

-”From now on, use the secret weapons right away!”

Odds and Ends

-”Oh, Brock, why can’t you ever be serious?” ldkfsdkfj wasted

-When suddenly, Heidi of the Swiss Alps 2: Electric Boogaloo

-”Oh Misty, why couldn’t she be 10 years younger!” Brock isn’t into MILFS confirmed, I guess.

-”If you ask me, it looks like it doesn’t have a trainer.” “I am its trainer.” “Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t ask me!” pfft

-Alright, I know there’s a mythology reference in Muramasa/Masamune, but I’m not sure what. Curse my lack of Shinto knowledge!

-Okay but why would Brock, who was a gym leader, not be on the database? This just strikes me as lazy writing.

-”Good Quill Hunting” I’m firing all of you.

-sdkfhsdkfh Team Rocket just can’t catch a break this episode can they

-Uh... holy crap, Cyndaquill. That’s a flamethrower, alright.

-Wow, I didn’t know Slowpoke’s eyes glow in the dark like that. Freaky.

-Something tells me the sloths in Zootopia were inspired by these Slowpoke.

-God dammit, you’re making me yawn.

And next time, it looks like we might finally solve the mystery of the GS Ball! It’s about damn time. See you then!

[legobiwan]

What do you think Crowley, Loki and Obi Wan would do in each other's places?

WOAH, INTERESTING ASK, ANON

I kept coming back to this one and then closing it because it is one hell of a question, and I really needed to ponder all the possibilities here. (Well done, btw!)

Okay everyone, bear with me here, this is going to get WEIRD and I really have no idea what I’m talking about, hahahahaha. 

Obi-wan Switch

Loki: Okay, so let’s assume Loki is dropped into Obi-wan’s boots. We know Loki feels that he is underappreciated and overshone by his brother, that he has issues stemming from how he perceived his treatment by his father. I don’t see this improving under the tutelage of Qui-gon Jinn. In fact, whatever insecurities Obi-wan had would be intensified ten-fold with a Loki in place, who might have had more time to stew in his emotions than Obi-wan. Loki - who I love dearly - would probably be a far better candidate for the Dark Side under Palpatine, who I could see being a mirror for Thanos post-Thor 1 fall into the abyss. The question would be - would Loki crawl his way out?

Crowley: Now, if Crowley was dropped into Obi-wan’s boots. I think he’d just head for the hills. Crowley was barely skirting by in his work with Hell, and he’s not about to take the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders by trying to influence cosmic events. Except…Anakin is the Chosen and Warlock was kinda of the chosen one, in a way (or so they thought). So I’d imagine Crowley would either peace out to the nearest spice den and get involved in some shady deals with Hondo Ohnaka until he was able to get back to his own reality or he would very, very begrudgingly look after (not train, but check in on, in a more insistent manner) Anakin. But he no quests for good or light or whatever other nonsense. Ultimately, I could see him becoming a bounty hunter-type, helping out when needed but not getting involved.

Crowley Switch

Obi-wan: 

Hastur: *holds out basket* “Here, deliver the Antichrist.” 

Obi-wan: *not knowing anything about Western religion but having a bad feeling about this anyway* No. 

Yeah, I mean…Obes is not delivering the kid. I don’t even think that Obi-wan would have necessarily left Anakin on Tatooine had events gone a little differently in TPM. (I also don’t think Obi-wan would have brought him to the Temple to be trained, but that’s another story for another day.) Now, let’s just say for Narrative Convenience that Obi-wan makes his way to the infamous Soho bookstore with the child in tow. First of all, the accents of these two alone. Hahahahaa! Secondly, I just think everything would get derailed as Aziraphale and Obi-wan talk metaphysics for hours on end and reconciling Heaven/Hell with the Light/Dark. Perhaps Obi-wan gets some insight as to the bureaucratic nature of the Jedi he grew up with and Aziraphale is bolstered by some wise Obi-wan aphorisms. I think…this might be the healthiest environment for Obi-wan, as he can decidedly say “no” to Hell without feeling bad and help out Aziraphale while reading a bunch of books and drinking tea/wine. Obi-wan totally gets his nap in this situation and it is well-deserved.

Loki: Loki would *love* pulling stunts for Hell. I mean, this is his wheelhouse, this kind of semi-petty mischief, and for once he gets rewarded for being who he is instead of being ostracized at the Asgardian court. I could see Loki being pretty close to Crowley in action, but with fewer fucks left to give, and so when it comes to Armageddon, he’d just be like…”nah, nevermind.” Given their natures, I could see Loki being a gigantic pain in the ass to Aziraphale but them becoming friends just due to their mirrored natures and Aziraphale’s book collection, which Lokes really wants a go at. Plus, I imagine Loki would love traversing Midgard and, pulling stunts, and getting to live a semi-free life. Again, this is another best-case scenario for Loki, as it’s essentially an extended vacation. (And can you imagine - Loki, to the four horsepeople, Beezlebub, and Gabriel: “You think you fools know Armageddon, let me introduce you to my children, Fenrir and Jörmungandr. Now get out of here, I have to go mess with the stock market before my reservations.”)

Loki Switch

So I think the Loki switch is interesting because we can see in Crowley and Obi-wan two divergent paths of how things may have been able to go a little differently for Lokes.

Obi-wan: So Obi-wan has some experience being overlooked and I think he’d get really annoyed by Thor and his short-sighted family, even more so after finding out about any secret heritage issues. But! (And as much as I adore dark!Obi-wan), I think an Obi-wan in this situation would negotiate, hard, and even travel down to Earth to help out exiled Thor. In short, he would have been a decent ruler, shown his mettle, and maybe even brokered a legitimate peace with the Frost Giants. It would like…the best possible AU of Loki in Thor 1 (at least, for Loki’s mental health) where everyone just finally gets their shit together and team up to defeat Thanos. 

Crowley: In contrast, I think this situation would be out the worst tendencies in Crowley. He’s already insecure, wants to get into a fistfight with God, and without the stabilizing influence of Aziraphale and his trickster nature being looked down upon in Asgardian society - I think that’s when we’d get dark!Crowley, who just wants to burn shit to the ground, leave Thor to suffer on Earth, and bring the legions of the damned to Asgard and let them feast on the souls of those hypocritical warriors. It would be…the worst possible AU of Loki, in which Loki just lost all of his already tenuous moral compass in Thor 1. Crowley wouldn’t even need Thanos to screw up his mind, he’d be there already and what were once pranks would turn pretty damn malicious-to-murdery. Hell gets overcrowded in this one, for certain. 

What I think it fascinating about going through this exercise is the temperature of the different worlds. The Good Omens universe, by far, holds the most positive outcomes because it is the most upbeat world - I mean, both the TV show and book argue for optimism, which is why I think we get Obi-wan and  Loki in their better forms here. In the Asgard world, we kind of see both - the negative aspects and the redemptive ones and Marvel does tend to balance both, with the light ultimately winning out. Star Wars, however, is by far the most tragic universe, which is hilarious considering that it’s…you know, Star Wars! Luke Skywalker! Obi-wan Kenobi! Our heroes! Mixed with dirty politics, genocide, fascism, broken family bonds, slavery, torture, genetic manipulation, betrayal, etc. I think it’s why I’m so drawn to the Star Wars universe, as it’s so layered and so god damned Shakespearean and no one gets out unscathed. And so we’d see Loki devolve to his worst and Crowley, not devolve but just become totally amoral, a kind of extreme extension of his avoidance of Hell in GO. 

Anyway, this is totally off the top of my head, but thank you for the thought exercise, anon!

[clairelutra]

so in a stream of consciousness au babbled to @sixsaltysweets a few months back, i give you: shuann fake relationship/meet the family fic

where akiren needs to look nice and tame and well-behaved for his wealthy and extensive family after his stay in juvie

and he tries to finagle makoto into being his fake gf for the gathering (student council president, top student, sister of a lawyer, calm and passionate and reserved and basically exactly what his relatives would find most reassuring to see as his s/o) but she passes the ball to ann at the last second and akiren is Hurt and Betrayed™

now he has to pretend to be ann's boyfriend

he has to tell people that ann is his girlfriend

he has to live a LIE, MAKOTO

(but really it's that ann is distracting and not used to or made for any of this and he always ends up too soft around her and he doesn't want to show that kind of weakness to Those People, dammit makoto)

(if it were makoto they'd be teammate bros and it would be fine, but no. here he is juggling FEELINGS. here he is trying to keep ann away from his shittiest relatives. here he is trying to maintain a convincing level of pda while he usually relies on distance to keep his heart and dignity intact. dammit makoto.)

and then the Fake Relationship & Forced Proximity shenanigans begin.

- akiren drags ann into a corner when one specific relative is around because he knows they're a romantic and would just eat up a sweet rendezvous

- and he pulls her close to make getting their faces together look like a kiss

- but ann thinks he's legitimately going in for a kiss and closes the distance

- akiren does that anime thing where his head is actually steaming with a teapot whistling in the background.

akiren catching ann right as she's walking out of a bath and texting makoto

akiren: you're awful

makoto: hm? what happened?

akiren: awful.

makoto: is it really so bad to pretend?

makoto: i thought she'd be a good choice.

makoto: she's fluent in english and you're pretty good at looking, you know, attracted to her.

akiren: awful.

makoto: that bad, huh.

akiren: she smells so good.

makoto: ....ah.

(he's dying, man. how could you do this to him, makoto.)

family member: so what is he to you exactly

ann, thoughtfully: you know... he's my light :)

family member, to akiren: you landed a good one, kiddo

akiren, who knows that ann is a) completely serious and b) doesn't mean it like that: .........sure did

ann, blithely laying her head in his lap when they chill in the gardens: you know? i could really get used to this. we should hug more often

akiren: ...........................................................

ann's side of this is just fascinated with the way he manages his family tbh. "this both does and doesn't explain so much about you," and sometimes he, also, is fresh out of the bath and smells good.

she's not dying, per se, but she’s like "damn someone's gonna be lucky to get your attention one day," wondering why none of her defense alarms are going off when he gets close, even if she's never fully calm around him

it's unintentionally way too convincing that she's 100% in love with him and she marvels at how easy it is to fool his family—man she must be a really good actress, huh? :D

(meanwhile:

makoto: don't eat her or anything.

akiren: god don't make me think about it

makoto: ...........cannibalism is illegal in all 47 prefectures

akiren: that's not what i meant.

makoto: ?????)

they get back, shiho hears how deep in denial ann is, and

shiho: .................ann....... that's not.......... acting.

ann: :)? what else could it be?

shiho: ....................................................

shiho: i am THIS close to beating you ass

ann: ....your fingers are touching

shiho: exactly

//ann proceeds to run for her life, shiho screaming on her tracks

anyway i think they make up somehow, possibly after a brutal pillow beatdown from shiho.

makoto asks how it went

ann: hm. well... we sure have established that akiren would be a perfect boyfriend :D whoever he falls for is gonna be so lucky

makoto: ........i don't even know where to begin with that one

ryuji, equally oblivious but like. with sense: idk man why don't you just date him?

ann: man, idk if i'm his type. :/ he really wanted makoto to do it, right?

futaba, who knows and is a Huge Troll: 'type' is nothing to proving you'd be good girlfriend material :D you should put more effort into it!! :D :D really seduce him, you know? :D :D :D i could help~ :333333

ann: [actually considering it]

ann: i dunno thats kinda dishonest considering i'm not in love with him, you know

futaba: oh that just means you have to seduce yourself in the process!! it's easy :D :D just try it!! :D :D :D

(and THAT'S what finally breaks the oblivious denial)

she gets like half an hour into thinking about what it would be like to be in love with akiren and go out with him and it's like "wait literally nothing would change except i'd get to make out with him, which would be a really good thing, considering how often i want to— oh my GOD"

(and she completely skips the seduction because she just kind of comes out with it the very next time she sees him because she always ends up telling him everything anyway)

anyway TL;DR the moral of the story is that fake relationships occasionally trigger real relationships and sometimes accidentally setting up your friends, and also that futaba knows no shame

[sob-dylan]

Hey! Maybe a stupid thing to ask, but you reblogged a post saying how “Kylie Ren is x coded”. What does the coded part mean? Like I get what they’re trying to say with the x coded thing but when did I it start/is it an academic term/how do you understand it?

i may not be the best person to answer this because i’m a 21 year old dumbass who hasn’t taken any kind of english or lit crit class since high school, but . . .

as i understand it, when a person says a character is “x-coded” they’re either A) referring to subtext they think that they have inferred or B) they’re arguing that the character is broadly symbolic of some human condition, such as the female experience, the gay experience, the trans experience, etc., even when the character themselves is not female, gay, trans, etc. this may be evidenced by the character exhibiting certain mannerisms or possessing certain attributes commonly associated with that demographic.

A would be most commonly used to describe works in which the author, for whatever reason, felt they couldn’t or shouldn’t make certain aspects of the character explicit, (am i just . . . defining subtext? perhaps). a good example would be the talented mr. ripley (at least the book is— i haven’t seen the movie). they never explicitly define ripley’s sexuality, but he’s pretty heavily queer-coded. and i’m not just pulling this out of my ass. the book was published in 1955, (by the same woman who wrote strangers on a train and the book that carol’s based btw), so it would have been difficult to if the “hero” was explicitly gay. nonetheless, it is widely, widely accepted that ripley’s behavior was largely motivated by repressed homosexual urges. like, it’s so widely accepted that this is what the story’s about that matt damon turned down a lead role in brokeback mountain because he didn’t want to do two “gay” movies back-to-back, even though i don’t think the movie made it much more explicit than the book. so, in summation, if the term “coded” is used as a way to describe subtext then, yeah, sure, that’s a perfectly appropriate tool in the literary/artistic analysis toolbox. (apropos of nothing: i recommend this book! it’s a fun, quick, easy beach read. but i would not read it at the beach if you plan on taking a boat ride alone with a friend).

B is a little trickier. i can’t think of any good examples related to specific characters off the top of my head, but for a class i took last semester i read this paper by queer theorist jack halberstam about “trans interpretations” of the work of avant-garde artist gordon matta-clark. matta-clark is best known for his idea of “anarchitecture.” he would perform large scale operations on existing buildings in order to subvert architectural norms/challenge how we interact with the built environment. some examples: 

i first learned about matta-clark in a freshman “intro to environmental design” course. zero mention of any non strictly architectural interpretations. then, a couple years later, i read this paper for another class, and i suddenly had a whole new lens through which i could view his work. matta-clark wasn’t trans, he certainly didn’t set out to embody the trans experience in his work, but halberstam was able to find myriad similarities between the ethos of anarchitecture and his own experience as a trans individual. just as matta-clark subverted architectural norms, halberstam argued, the trans experience subverts normative ideas about gender. just as matta-clark challenged how we inhabit the built environment, the trans experience challenges how one inhabits their body. (there’s also something about surgery in there, but it’s nearly 5 am and i haven’t slept, so i’m not gonna bother re-reading the article). in this way, matta-clark’s work is trans-coded. (i won’t spend a lot of time breaking it down, but if you’re interested in this stuff you can check out this lecture i attended a few months back. this guy talked about the place of genderqueer individuals in architecture and architectural criticism, and how alienating it is when critics use heavily gendered and queer-coded language to dismiss postmodernist architecture. like “voluptuous” to describe a zaha hadid building or “flamboyant” to describe a frank gehry building. it was a pretty decent lecture, so watch it if you have the time and interest, but i would definitely recommend the halberstam article over this).

i’m not sure when this kind of use of the word “coded” became popular, nor am i aware of how frequently it’s used in serious academia. obviously, it’s proliferated widely across the internet, and often with little thought or nuance. e.g. in that post i reblogged: the assertion that loki is “jewish-coded.” of course he isn’t fucking “jewish-coded.” first of all, he’s a marvel villian. it’s not that deep.  didn’t he try to commit genocide in the first avengers movie? i doubt anyone could make a strong argument for loki being “jewish-coded.” but people keep on saying shit like that and “kylo ren is femme-coded.” no! what?! that’s so dumb! as you can see in the halberstam article, it’s totally possible to make a strong argument supporting an interpretation of a work that clearly doesn’t mirror the creator’s intentions, and it can be a perfectly legitimate interpretation because art is a two-way street! art doesn’t stop with the creator! it demands engagement with an audience, and an audience can never truly divorce their interpretations of a work from their own lived experiences! but imo, for it to be “legitimate” or “valid” or whatever, it’s gotta be a sort of marriage between creator and audience. you can’t just completely ignore a creator’s intentions and rewrite your own story over their work. i find that when the term “coded” gets used out here on the great, wide internet, it often means someone has found a character that they like and has decided to projected onto them and/or sanitize them by forcing them into relatable, “non-problematic” categories. people just see what they wanna see.

P.S. i’m not really all that plugged into stars wars, so i spent a long time staring at this ask, just trying to figure out who the hell “kylie ren” was. for a minute there i legit thought it might be a nickname for kylie jenner. i was fully getting ready to talk about her exploitation of black femininity.