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creamflix · 21 days ago

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MAKE SOME NOISE FOR THE DESI BOYS! — featuring gojo, nanami, sukuna, toji, choso, geto content warnings: south asian & desi settings/culture/reference(s), certain non-english phrases or words have been written in italics. established relationship, more of character headcannons than x reader moments. lots of fluff and crack and very self indulgent. part one

gojo makes the most ridiculous pick-up lines that don't even make sense. “you're the gulab to my jamun.” you still tolerate him. he's raiding all the vogue india magazines you have and is critiquing every single cover as if he knows what he's doing (suprisingly he does). he hates not being the center of attention so he goes so far as to learn bollywood choreography, screeching at your cousins when they miss a step. throws a tantrum when he is dragged off the stage to make way for the next family performance. if he figures out you like paani puri, you best believe he is finishing his plate even if he is left with tears and a runny nose at the end of it. he needs to prove he's the strongest even if he keeps asking for multiple sukha puri at the end. needs to be chained under a tree during diwali because no gojo, you cannot light twenty rockets at once. begs you to take photos of him with lit sparklers or bombs in his hand. he's the only man you know who can burn milk while making kheer. he “covers it up" by adding five spoons of sugar. his excuse? “it needs to be sweet anyways!” he's also the type of guy who'd get along with literally anyone, even your bitchy grandmother from your dad's side. he loves arijit singh. he was the dude who defended kesariya's lyricism when it released. obnoxious when he plays tum hi ho super loudly during car rides, though his favorite song is raabta. can't get over deepika padukone, almost cried when you told him she's married and even has a kid now? demands om shanti om to be played during every movie night, ignoring everyone's groans of protest. unironically liked chennai express.

nanami is so insistent on cooking for your mother once that it turns into one of those “no please i insist” arguments in the middle of the kitchen. promptly solved by you ordering takeout, much to their dissapointment. sweats a ridiculous amount when he wears a kurta but insists on wearing it to every family gathering. insists on holding the edge of your saree when you’re walking down stairs because he’s terrified you’ll trip. takes rangoli competitions way too seriously. he’s that guy using rulers to make the lines perfectly even while kids scribble around him. epitome of manners. always folding his hands and touching his elders feets. naturally, he is a family favorite. loves listening to lata mangeshkar after a long day. he's one of those people who listens to retro music while drinking tea. he loves amitabh bacchan's movies. adores the family themes in k3g, but mostly watches it for amitabh's towering presence.

suguru is the designated family member to oil everyone's hair with champi. you know that little train you used to make with your grandmother, your mom and you? yea he's leading it always. bonus points if he braids it after he's done. no one's allowed to oil each other hair because “suguru's hands have magic in them.” the habit of eating with his hands grows on him and he does so even when coming back home. loves drinking fizzy drinks out of those glass bottles - those really retro ones with the plastic straw. when you're not around he's secretly practicing the lyrics to all your favorite songs and sings them with your drunk uncle(s) during karoke night.when asked how he learned, he casually says youtube. a man of manners like kento - touching his elders feet and all that jazz. your family collectively swoons over his manners and looks. loves aishwarya rai's movies, quotes devdas occassionally, and you try not to ruin his moment by giggling.

sukuna spends half of the time in your the terrace, partaking in activities that are but not limited to; air-drying the papad he made himself, shooing away anyone who tries to get close to the home-made pickle he has sealed in glass containers (with a little help from your mom), and feeding the pigeons. pigeons. he takes the last job very seriously too, and throws a hissy fit if anyone gets to him before he does. comes back home every evening with a tan that gets darker and darker by day and complains about it to you. a very good bargainer. gives the women in his family scary dog privileges when he walks behind them with all their shopping bags. your cousin brothers love him because he’s the only one who can beat them at arm wrestling. will hold your belongings when you get your mehendi done. tries not to smile when he sees you hiding his initial amongst the design. this man....he's always blasting sidhu moose wala. i don't know why, he just seems like the type of guy who does. loves nawazuddin siddiqui. gangs of wasseypur is his comfort movie. yes, comfort. also loves sacred games, quotes the scenes to scare off random people.

choso is always tasked with buying the raw materials for family functions - extra vessels, flowers, paper plates, you name it. he leaves at the ass crack of dawn and comes back at noon with enough supplies to sustain your family's next generation as well. and yes, he did bargain well. but in all honesty he didn't even need to try that hard since the whole neighborhood loves him so they always throw in freebies along with a ridiculously low rate for literally everything. the first one to ask guests if they would like to eat or drink something, already rushing to the kitchen without waiting for an answer. the golden boy of hospitality. ends up sitting with the aunties during pre-wedding functions and learning how to play the dholak. gets ridiculously good at it by the end of the evening. loves sitting on the floor with your cousins to eat thalis instead of at the dining table. he says it feels more relaxed that way. likes lighting flower pots and sparklers during diwali as opposed to other crackers, prefers watching your family burst the bigger ones. i hate to say this but he probably listens to prateek kuhaad like a basic bitch and cries over his music because it "reminds him of you." what a guy. his favorite actress is alia bhatt and outright had a breakdown when he watched raazi with you. he was put on a movie timeout for one week effective immediate after that.

toji becomes such a diva the minute he finds out about matkas. always wants his drinks to be cooled and served from it, otherwise he refuses to drink it. water from a bottle? please, that is so 2020. always walks around with an unbuttoned kurta, not that anyone is complaining. in fact, you probably understand now why every aunty always gifts him a kurta for every occasion. the designated nariyal opener during temple visits. acts smug about his skill but secretly loves being helpful. knows all the family drama and fills you in on it every night before bed. refuses to let any random guy ask you to dance. he’s the guy standing in the corner, glaring at potential suitors while casually eating jalebis. eats mirchi like chips, leaving your family absolutely stunned. earns a ton of respect from your dad. i just KNOW this man listens to yo yo honey singh during his pre-workout...stop playing. his favorite actor's probably sunny deol, because "he's literally me."

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imninahchan · 9 months ago

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𓂃 ഒ ָ࣪ ⌜ swann arlaud headcannons ⌝ ⸙. ↷

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ↳ sfw + nsfw.

[✰] Paris se torna a sua segunda casa, não tem como. No começo, é um encanto pros olhos, é a cidade das luzes, do amor, mas depois você fala nossa nem é grandes coisas assim, que cheiro ruim, que pessoas chatas, e ele fica putinho que você não está mais apaixonada pelo aesthetics dele. O mais engraçado é que mesmo morando nem tão longe assim do maior ponto turístico da cidade, vocês nunca foram na torre eiffel. Dá na semana de voltar pro Brasil que resolvem visitar tudo que não visitaram, um jantarzinho superfaturado no Le Jules Verne, depois ficar apreciando a vista no deck. Ele envolve a sua cintura, deixa um beijo no seu pescoço, você vai sentir falta daqui, bijou;

[✰] Mas a verdade é que quando vocês voltam pro Brasil, é ele que se esquece que um dia foi francês. Se adapta melhor do que você esperava, estava a viagem inteira ouvindo podcast de professor de pt br enquanto você dormia, e chega falando no sotaque mais fofo trouxe ela sã e salva quando aperta a mão do seu pai. Só fale com ele em pt br daqui pra frente, já vai tirar o cpf dele e virar um mineirinho que come pão de queijo com café quente antes do sol esfriar. O francês vira a língua de comunicação secreta entre vocês, cochichando pra explicar direito as fofocas pra ele compreender e ficar chocado passado;

[✰] E por falar em francês, se você estiver trabalhando na sua fluência, no começo ele prefere que você busque um professor mesmo, ah, eu não sei ensinar, não, ele faz manha, nega. Mas depois te ajuda a fazer os exercícios, todo paciente. Coloca os óculos redondinhos e fica com uma gramática na mão te cobrando um ditado. Mas sempre foge do assunto dos textos do livro, quer aprender uma palavra feia, quer?, te ensina tudo que não se deve dizer no dia a dia pras pessoas e, claro, seu vocabulário pra sexo é o mais abundante;

[✰] Por mais que adore o Brasil e a sua língua e cultura, não abre mão de uma dirty talk em francês. Na verdade, se pega conversando em francês contigo mesmo sem perceber, embora você, por vezes, até responda em português. E é sexy, sem dúvida, como o tom de voz dele é mais rouco, sedutor, na língua materna. Você sabe que ele está dizendo a coisa mais suja do mundo, mas a entonação francesa deixa tudo como se fosse um elogio, sem falar no sorrisinho de bom moço que ele ostenta;

[✰] Grande apreciador da cultura brasileira — de tudo no Brasil, na verdade. Se te vê com síndrome de vira-lata, é o primeiro a te fazer questionar. Adora os clássicos regionalistas, de Jorge Amado, José de Alencar, Guimarães Rosa, porque o faz imergir nessa fantasia brasileira tão diferente do que ele tá acostumado; decora algumas frases de cor de Gabriela, Cravo e Canela e recita pra ti — O amor não se prova, nem se mede. É como Gabriela. Existe, isso basta. Mas também aprecia outros momentos da nossa literatura. Leitor assíduo de livros de poesia modernista☝️

[✰] Na música, vai se apaixonar na primeira nota se você colocar eu amo você do tim maia pra tocar. Quando aprende a letra, canta olhando nos seus olhos eu amo você, menina, eu amo você. Mas, no geral, não vai ter um ritmo br que ele não aprecie. É daqueles que vai dar maior palestrinha em gente chata que gosta de menosprezar a música atual pra dizer que não se faz talento como antigamente;

[✰] É um Homem que dança, mesmo que não seja o maior pé de valsa (a gnt já viu ele todo desengonçado fazendo caras e bocas no after do oscar). Jamais vai ser aquele cara chato que só fica no cantinho com um copo na mão te pedindo pra ir embora. Nas reuniões de família, se você descuidar, ele vai estar dançando forró até com as suas vizinhas viúvas;

[✰] Apesar de Homem, é péssimo para trabalhos braçais e derivados. Precisa de ajuda pra montar aquela sua cômoda que comprou pela internet? Não chama ele, mas se chamou, ele vai. Fica meia hora sentado com o manual nas mãos, ajustando os óculos no nariz e relendo em voz alta os comandos e, se bobear, vão ficar o dia inteiro assim. Mas no final dá tudo certo — mesmo que sobre um ou dois parafusos quando claramente não era pra sobrar;

[✰] Tio do zap de vez em quando. Gosta de mandar áudio dizendo que tá com saudades, falando coisas bonitinhas em francês. Você mandou uma figurinha de meme pra ele, e agora criou um monstro porque ele só sabe se comunicar com essa figurinha, mesmo que não faça sentido nenhum no contexto da conversa;

[✰] Seu parceiro de passeata política e palestras. Literalmente já tiveram um encontro depois de uma manifestação. Ele aprende umas militâncias contigo e passa a palavra pra frente, militando em cima de todo mundo. Imagina ele te fodendo enquanto você usa aquela camisa do che guevara dele MEU SONHO DE CONSUMO;

[✰] Grande apreciador se ficar em casa sem roupa. No máximo, só um calção e pantufas, e te encoraja a ficar com o mínimo também. Meu deus, que sorte a minha, murmura, todo sorridente, vendo você passar nua pela sala, feito bobo. E o melhor é que, embora com a nudez, a intimidade entre vocês é tamanha que nunca leva ao sexo. Tomam banho junto, leem livros juntos, assistem tv com a mão dele dentro da sua blusa, massageando o seu seio, e é só reconfortante. Cotidiano;

[✰] A linguagem do amor dele varia conforme o que você necessita. Se está mais manhosa, carente, ele vai ser mais do toque físico, de não querer sair de pertinho. Mas se estiver mais distante, mais na irritação do ‘não me toque’, ele vai ser mais dos atos de serviços, de querer ser prestativo, te mostrar que se importa através dos gestos, de te lembrar de não esquecer dos compromissos, de te esperar em casa com um jantarzinho pronto mesmo que tenha que penar na cozinha sozinho. Agora, as palavras de afirmação nunca deixam de estar presente. Se tem uma coisa que ele mais gosta de fazer é deixar bem claro que te ama;

[✰] A sua opinião conta muito pra ele. Costuma compartilhar os roteiros que recebe pra que você dê uma olhada também. Quando está trabalho na direção de algum projeto, te leva nas gravações pra você ver ele dirigindo. Te deixa operar a câmera e tudo. Amor, quer que eu corte o cabelo?, te pergunta antes de cogitar ir no barbeiro, é que você gosta de ter algo pra puxar quando eu tô te fodendo, né? A mesma coisa com a barba, principalmente depois que você ficou tristinha porque ele raspou o bigode de puto, perdão, mon ange, perdão, je suis désolé!

[✰] Diz que não, mas adora quando você assiste os filmes dele. Fica igual um pimentão se você elogia o talento ou a aparência. Daqueles que derrete com elogios, que esconde o rosto, ou morde o seu ombro pra você ‘parar’. Fique com ciúmes das cenas românticas dele, e ele vai nas nuvens. Em contrapartida, não sente ciúmes nenhum de ti, é confiante de um jeito que o torna cinquenta vezes mais charmoso;

[✰] Você é a rainha dele, literalmente. Ele diz isso pra quem quiser ouvir. É a sua vontade que vai prevalecer no final, por mais que discutam, ele sempre é o primeiro a abrir mão. Definitivamente, alguém que diz ‘grande amor’ e ‘alma gêmea’ pra se referir à parceira. No entanto, te dá um apelidinho em francês pra implicar quando você tá mandona ou estressadinha. Cura seu estresse com um abraço por trás, um cheiro no pescoço, a voz mansinha dizendo ah, não faz assim, meu amor...

[✰] A gente já viu o jeito orgulhoso que ele olhou pra Sandra no oscar né? Os mesmos olhinhos cheios, brilhando, acompanhados de um sorrisinho em linha, sem mostrar os dentes, toda vez que falam sobre você, ou que está te observando. Ao ponto das pessoas comentarem ele te olha com um olhar apaixonado. E fica vermelho, é timidozinho quando está na frente dos outros, fica bobo quando se trata de você;

[✰] E esse tratamento rainha é usado na cama também, claro. Ele é do tipo que ‘adora’, no sentido de cultuar mesmo. Você é a maior referência feminina na vida dele agora, o seu corpo é um altar, é sagrado, ele é um mero vassalo. Não se cansa de dizer o quanto é perfeita aos olhos dele, até nas coisas em que você tem insegurança. Sabe de cada pintinha que você tem na pele, cada marquinha. Você senta no colo dele depois de um dia cheio, e ele tira os seus brincos, os seus sapatos, te pergunta como foi o dia. Se quiser, vai massagear seus pés enquanto beija a pele, sorrindo ainda;

[✰] Uma energia de subzinho que meu deus... É um grande preguiçoso, na verdade. Gosta de deixar as rédeas na sua mão, que você esteja por cima, que você diga o que quer e dite o ritmo, porém, porque gosta de agradar, pode brincar direitinho com as suas fantasias, realizando cada uma. Ama quando você pega no cabelo dele, quando senta na cara dele. O maior amante de oral do mundo, realmente ficaria horas com a boca entre as suas pernas, até a mandíbula ficar dormente;

[✰] E não é que seja, de fato, total submisso, é que acha gra��a no jeito que você quer mandar nele e depois fica toda bobinha. Então, vai continuar aceitando de submeter pra te assistir assim o máximo que puder. É alguém que demonstra dominância como se não fosse nada, dando um tapinha tão levinho na sua bochecha, na bunda, só pra implicar, chamando de putinha, petit salope, enquanto sorri, feito não tivesse feito nada. Que te puxa pra um beijo com a mão no seu pescoço ou na sua mandíbula, mesmo que pra um selinho cotidiano;

[✰] Nem liga tanto assim pra penetração, vocês costumam transar mais em outras alternativas. Às vezes, é mais gostoso pra ele ficar numa sessão de beijinhos molhadinhos e um masturbando o outro. Já manchou a cueca todinha se esfregando no meio das suas pernas, como se estivesse estocando; e o abdômen cheio de porra depois de te ter deslizando a buceta por cima do pau dele, duro, estirado na virilha;

[✰] Mamífero. Mamador de peitos. Petista, ama peitos. Te faz gozar só de chupar e massagear seus seios;

[✰] Um grande experimentalista — possivelmente o maior ‘fetiche’ dele. Lê ou ouve sobre algo diferente pra fazer entre quatro paredes e te pergunta na hora se quer tentar também. Já disse, topa qualquer coisa que você quiser na cama. É melhor fazer e se arrepender do que passar vontade, é o lema dele. O tipo de homem que fala que sexo é arte, e eu não preciso dizer mais nada, né???

[✰] Vou jogar aqui hein: cuckold;

[✰] Comemorar o aniversário de relacionamento no Crazy Horse em Paris, ou num show de Magic Mike. Você que manda🙌

[✰] Sexo. Literatura. Amor. Cinema. É isso. É só isso que ele precisa;

[✰] Não é grande fã de breeding, mas gosta de fazer uma bagunça com a porra, com saliva também. Pai de casal; primeiro um menino, depois uma menina. E o maior pai babão de menina;

[✰] Músicas da Bey pra ouvir e pensar nele — ROCKET, SUPERPOWER, CUFF IT, YES, THE CLOSER I GET TO YOU, EGO, II HANDS II HEAVEN.

⠀⠀

Bônus de momentos aleatórios com ele ↷

um cigarrinho de lei depois do sexo | já viram ele estressadinho e gritando em Perdrix? Eu não conseguiria levar ele a sério todo bravinho quando ele fala em minúsculo e faz biquinho francês | é o pai que incentiva os filhos a fazer abaixo-assinado pra resolver os problemas na escola | ficar deitadinho com a cabeça na sua coxa pra receber carinho até os cabelos grisalhos ficarem uma bagunça;

ver filme francês antigo | beber vinho dividindo a mesma taça, comer espaguete e dividir o mesmo prato, você sentadinha no colo dele | fica putinho contigo, mas só corre as mãos nos cabelos e diz tá bom, meu amor, tá bom. Literalmente o Agostinho Carrara no você é muito difícil, Maria Isabel. Eu te amo do tamanho da dificuldade que você é.

#ninguém pediu estou ouvindo as vozes da minha cabeça e eles falam muito #imninahchan #headcannon #swann arlaud #anatomia de uma queda #anatomie d'une chute #anatomy of a fall #vincent renzi

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meefy · 5 months ago

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Diverse Autistic Characters in Akagami no Shirayukihime

I could go on for hours about my dislike of how autism is, for the most part, portrayed in popular media - the butt of a cruel joke; autism representation by a non-Autistic actor; or centered around the plot of the story itself, where it boils down to the Autistic person "overcoming" their autism or some outside force "fixing" it (or, semi related, an Autistic character being shoehorned in as a token minority).

I think that's one of the reason I love Akagami no Shirayukihime so much. While none of the characters are confirmed as Autistic, the ones that are quite blatantly Autistic-coded are so diverse and so welcomed by the cast that it's both sweet and refreshing to see.

I have talked at length about Ryuu and why I love his character so much, so I don't want to get into it too much here because I've said most of what I want to say. He is, at first glance, the "typical" popular culture depiction of autism: the male child savant who has no friends, can't socialize, and has the niche restricted interests in science that seem to characterize every big Autistic character in media. But it doesn't take long to see he is so much more than that! His interests in poisons has granted him a field of study and work where he thrives and does what he loves day in and day out. His mentor, Garak, supports him and treats him as an equal, and looks for opportunities for him to grow - as does everyone around him, including Shirayuki.

Ryuu's time in Lilias was so beautifully depicted. The years he spends studying and working there are not him masking his Autistic traits or "beating" them; they are years of him feeling safe and supported enough to test his comfort levels and branch out because he knows he won't be mocked or scorned for it. He has found an environment where he thrives because of his Autistic traits, not in spite of them. And so, as of most recently, we see that he wants to remain in Lilias to continue his studies there because of this. His growth is not reduced to finally acting neurotypical; Ryuu being Autistic has not changed. But he has found others who share his passions, who support him, and who encourage him without changing who he is.

I also want to touch on Kirito specifically, because he is one of the few people Ryuu's own age who interacts with him. Kirito is too young to hold back his questions about Ryuu's behaviour. Why is he running away from a crowd of people? Why has he never had a snowball fight? But Kirito doesn't dwell on Ryuu's quirks; he accepts them, moves on, and focuses on what the two have in common - which is what I would hope for any Autistic person, myself included.

What is particularly special to me about how Autistic characters are depicted in AnS is the diversity. Too often I see Autistic characters depicted in the same way, like the author read a WebMD checklist and created a character around said list. Autism is a spectrum, and with that comes two ends of the spectrum.

Which brings me to Lata.

Although I haven't explicitly mentioned at length Lata + autism the same way I've discussed it about Ryuu (and although I could write a whole essay on it), I do want to go in a bit more depth because his overlap and contrast with Ryuu is exactly the kind of Autistic representation I live for. Ryuu actively wants to work to help people; Lata seeks to work in solitude. Ryuu is open and generally friendly with others, Lata is blunt and evasive. Ryuu's expressions are generally flat (and his voice monotone in the anime); Lata is quite expressive (even if he doesn't smile often, and neither does Ryuu). Yet we see certain similarities between the two; for instance, both have their own niche hyperfixations that they absolutely live for, and neither is totally at ease in crowds.

But leaving Ryuu out of the equation, one of my favourite things about Lata's character is that none of the Lyrias crew seemed genuinely bothered by how he acts. Like, even Obi's teasing is, by and large, in good faith. They're just like "Oh, that’s just how Lata is..." and move past it. Most recently in Chapter 133, Shirayuki is visibly happy to see him. And related to that, the other scholars always go out of their way to include and invite him to their outings - to their banquet celebrating the successful germination of the phostyrias, or to see them blooming in their lab. Even if he always declines, and they probably know he will always decline, they ask. Speaking on a personal note, I am like Lata and really, really hate parties or any large gathering; so people (understandably) stopped inviting me. And that hurt; even if I knew I'd say no, and wouldn't go, people actually thinking of me meant a lot more than they likely realized.

So, seeing representation of people actively trying to invite and include their Autistic comrade means so much to me.

Lastly, I want to talk about Shirayuki. It's not terribly often that Autistic representation in media is a female character, let alone the lead character. I know I am not alone in thinking Shirayuki is Autistic, but I do love its subtlety unless you know what to look for. The long running theory that there is a "girl" autism (versus the stereotypical "male" autism that is most commonly diagnosed and seen in popular culture) is absurd; autism is a spectrum, and just where some Autistics are reclusive, have a flat affect, and exhibit quirky behaviours and interests, there are plenty that are the complete opposite, or somewhere else along the spectrum. In many respects, this describes Shirayuki; she seems to have no trouble making friends, attending parties, or showing emotion.

And yet, she has the intense focus in herbalism and pharmacology that mirrors Ryuu's in many respects; she just does not express that interest in the same, "typical" Autistic way. She reads her textbooks to relax and spends time in a garden (the latter of which is, stereotypically, a perfectly expected behaviour for someone of her gender). It's easy to forget that, much like how Ryuu ran away from the crowd on his first day in Lyrias (a depiction of an Autistic shutdown), Shirayuki ran away from Zen when her feelings for him became too overwhelming. She asks Zen for a comfort object of his when she leaves for Tanbarun, much like how many Autistic people have a particular tangible object that gives them comfort. Shirayuki is also blunt; she tells Prince Raji to act more like a leader she can be proud of, and rebuffs the knight who insults Ryuu at the beginning of the story - her low rank does not deter her. Autistic people are sometimes known for apparently "not understanding" power dynamics and rules (which I doubt, as do most Autistic people - I think it's more likely that the rules and dynamics are simply unfair, and created and upheld by neurotypical people) - Shirayuki's behaviour certainly seems to fit this. She is not rude by any means...but where it might intimidate many others, a person's title does not keep her from speaking her mind. In many respects she reminds me of myself!

I could go on and on about this topic - and how different Autistic traits are present in different characters - but I'm comfortable stopping at Ryuu, Lata, and Shirayuki (at least for now), and reiterating that media like AnS proves that diverse Autistic characters can exist without being a punchline, can grow throughout the story without shedding their Autistic traits, and can be accepted, supported, and loved by others for who they are. This series is dear to my heart, and this is but one (albeit huge) reason why!

#meefymeta #akagami no shirayukihime #ans #snow white with the red hair #swwtrh #shirayuki #lata forzeno #ryuu akagami no shirayukihime #actually autistic

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desifleabag · 8 months ago

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Hello beautiful people out here!

I am Deepali. I am from Pune, Maharashtra. I am 21 years old (shaadi ki umar)

Desi fleabag? Because I relate the most with that specific character. Horny, messy, vulnerable, and crazy all the time but also considerate, expressive, and kind. I am a desi version of her.

🎀What I like? I like to dance, sing, journal, write poems and stories, and doom scroll all the time

📍Professional side of me

I did my bachelor's in philosophy. I have been working in an organization for quite a long time. I am a content writer. I am a writer/poet. I am an open mic performer. I have performed at esteemed platforms like tapeatale, poemsindia, kommune, and many more. I am a psychology and sociology student too. I am a co-facilitator and youth lead in different schools through my organization. I have worked on poetry anthology books.

The most important part of my life is being a poet or a writer. It's been a decade since I started writing, and professionally, it's been two years. My poetry and stories revolve around different and unique topics like mental health, family dynamics, feminism, societal norms and culture, romance, life intricacies, friendship, etc. I love being a poet and telling people stories about me and the world because I believe poetry is everywhere. I have a blog called Sip and Sofa Stories where I share the most wholesome blogs and fun-to-read stories.

Not much of a reader, but I like reading poetry by Sylvia Plath and more female writers.

💌 Movies and songs? I am a die-hard fan of Bollywood. I listen to 2000s Bollywood and retro songs. No one can challenge me the way I vibe on these songs and dance. My childhood is memorable because of Sunidhi Chauhan, Lata Mangeshkar, Kishore Kumar, RD Burman, Asha Bhosle, Sonu Nigam, Shaan, Arijit Singh, and many more artists. I also listen to Kpop, pop, indie type of music on days when I am dissociating at the fullest. Hold my clutcher, I am a Swiftie and Lana Del Rey fan too, bitch.

I love Bollywood movies, and I am yet to discover more Western movies. I have a bunch of comfort movies like Ye Jawani Hai Dewaani, Piku, Om Shaanti Om, etc.

🪕 My aesthetic type? A combination of Geet and Piku and a little bit of Poo vibe sometimes. But I love desi clothes. Kurti, jhumkas, bindi, bangles, oh god I love being a woman.

Interesting facts about me :

🌸I have three tattoos on my body (Crescent moon, "you're on your own kid" title, "grateful"). I love getting tattoos!!

🥃Loneliness who? I go to bars, cafes, and parks alone because why not. I fear no god.

💛I never was in a relationship, just some hardcore crushes who crushed my soul.

❤️‍🩹I have been in therapy for almost three years and on and off on meds. GAD (generalized anxiety disorder) gang assemble!

😶‍🌫️I love and hate spending time on LinkedIn. Girl boss era.

💬I write poetry about my crushes and defame my ex-friends. They know it very well! Lol.

I am a hopeless romantic and a professional delusional person. I will cook the best scenarios in my head and write about them. I romanticize life on another level though there are 156 rupees in my bank account by going to aesthetic cafes.

:¨ ·.· ¨:

`· . ୨୧⭒๋࣭ ⭑ 𝛢𝑛𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝘰'𝑠 𝑔𝘰𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠 𝘵ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝘰𝑤𝑛 ℎ𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑠,𝑊ℎ𝘰'𝑠 𝑔𝘰𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑤𝑖𝑝𝑒 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝘵ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝘵𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠? ⊹ ‧₊˚

🖇To connect with me

𖹭 kavitavali.deepali to read my poems and stories on instagram

𖹭 sip and sofa stories blog. I write monthly blogs

Thankyou for reading my long ass introduction! Flying kiss tumhai💋

#a much awaited intro mera!#bohot mehnat lagi bc #hellowww!#desi dark academia #desiblr #desi #desi shit posting #desi academia #light academia #dear diary #poems #poetries #short essay #spilled poetry

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allthebrazilianpolitics · 5 days ago

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These Brazilian caramel-colored stray dogs were long overlooked. Now, they're having a major moment

For decades, lanky stray dogs have scrounged for food on Brazilian streets, abandoned and overlooked

For decades, they have scrounged for food on streets across the country — undesired, abandoned and overlooked.

But today, the caramel-colored mutts of Brazil are having a major moment. The “vira-lata caramelo” (literally: caramel trashcan-tipper) is being exalted in memes, videos, petitions, an upcoming Netflix film, a Carnival parade and draft legislation to honor it as part of Brazilian culture. Caramelos' newfound cachet speaks to the value of resilience in Brazil — a melting pot of 213 million people known for weathering hard knocks with a smile — and inverts its supposed “mongrel complex.”

A scene from Netflix's “Caramelo” shot in October featured a beige puppy sitting beside a river in Sao Paulo watching picture-perfect families pass with their impeccable purebreds — a golden retriever, a miniature collie and a Doberman. At the director of photography’s signal, a delivery boy cycled past and the plucky mutt gave chase, following the scent of pizza and seeking a way to get by.

“The caramelo ended up becoming the great symbol of Brazil, a symbol for the people,” Diego Freitas, the film's director and co-writer, said after the day's shooting. “Netflix was sensitive to what’s happening with the zeitgeist. The caramelo is the spirit of our time.”

#brazil #brazilian politics #politics #image description in alt #mod nise da silveira

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ihrryboobies · 2 years ago

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Aventuras de Carnaval

Descrição : Onde Harry vai para o carnaval, assistir os blocos mas sem querer se perde de seu amigo, porém acaba se esbarrando em uma pessoa que estava de olho.

Avisos

Louis mais alto que Harry

leve exibicionismo

dirt talk

Harry como garota cis

Desuso de camisinha ( não faça o mesmo, isso é apenas ficção, se proteja)

Acho que é só isso

Lembrando essa é minha primeira one, então me desculpem se tiver alguns errinhos

Boa leitura💕

💙

— Licença, licença — Disse Harry passando pelo meio das pessoas para chegar mais perto dos blocos enquanto arrastava Niall junto para não se perderem um do outro.

Eles haviam chegado tinha um tempinho antes de começar tudo, para acharem bons lugares mas decidiram sair pra comprar duas garrafinhas de agua, cervejas e duas coca cola de lata.

Agora no meio da multidão, os dois estavam procurando outro lugar para ficarem pelo menos perto do palco. Harry carregava uma sacola plastica com as bebidas que eles haviam comprado. Logo chegaram em um lugar que estava relativamente perto do palco.

— Hazz, acho que esse lugar esta bom — Niall disse parando e olhando para a amiga que estava arrumando sua roupa.

Harry vestia um cropped preto, uma saia vermelha e havia uma tiara na cabeça com um ponto e com um cartaz na frente escrito "você chegou ao seu destino". Já Niall usava um short preto, sem camisa com uma placa escrita "me chama de traficante e vem conhecer minha boca".

Neste dia de bloco teria dois shows. A primeira seria da cantora Anitta, logo em seguida seria a Pabllo Vittar. Harry estava muito animada pois era muito fã das cantoras.

💙

O primeiro show estava acontecendo e os dois amigos estavam se divertindo como nunca. Estavam pulando, dançando, cantando mas sempre parando um pouco para descansarem e beberem água. Em um desses momento em que a menina descansava, reparou em um cara que não estava muito longe que também a olhava.

O homem vendo que mais baixa estava olhando, lhe deu um sorriso ladino, esse que harry devolveu dando uma leve mordida na boca. Harry não podia negar o cara era uma delícia. Ele possuía um maxilar trincado com a barba feita, olhos bem azuis que lhe chamava atenção. Usava uma bermuda preta e estava sem camisa, tinha uma pele bronzeada com várias tatuagens a mostra. A cacheada só de obseva-lo ja sentia seu melzinho molhando sua calcinha.

Harry foi tirada de seus pensamentos quando Niall o puxa para falar algo próximo ao seu ouvido.

— Hazz eu preciso muito ir ao banheiro, você vem comigo ou vai ficar aqui? — Niall terminou de falar, logo olhando para Harry esperando sua resposta.

— Eu vou também — disse depois de terminar sua cerveja, colando a garrafa de volta na sacola pra jogar a hora que encontrasse uma lata de lixo.

Pouco tempo depois os dois conseguiram sair do meio de toda aquela gente. Eles estavam atentos procurando um banheiro para o loiro usar, que logo acharam.

— Olha Niall tem um banheiro, pode ser que esteja vazio — Harry apontou e puxou seu amigo até o banheiro. Enquanto Niall usava o banheiro, a cacheada foi jogar a garrafa no lixo.

Quando ela voltou, viu que a porta do banheiro estava aberta e Niall não estava la. Harry foi procurar o loiro porém havia muita gente ao redor, então começou a ficar na ponta dos pés pra olhar por cima e ver se enxerga seu amigo.

Enquanto Harry o procurava, sem querer esbarrou em uma pessoa que ela logo reconheceu ser o cara dos belos olhos azuis. Ele estava indo em direção a uma barraquinha que vendia vários tipos de bebidas.

— Oh, me desculpe por ser tão distraída — Disse Harry com as bochechas vermelhas

— Não precisa se desculpar princesa — Disse o homem enquanto sorria. — Aliás poderia me falar o seu nome?

— Meu nome é Harry e o seu? — A cachada respondeu

— O meu é Louis, mas pode me chamar de uber. — Disse enquanto sorria e apontava para a plaquinha que estava pendurada na menina.

— Se você é o uber então parabéns que você chegou ao seu destino — Deu um sorrisinho devolvendo o flerte enquanto enrolava uma mecha do seu cabelo.

— bom saber princesa — Disse louis se aproximando dela — o que você esta fazendo sozinha? E seu amigo? — Louis mudando o assunto

— Na verdade eu não sei onde ele esta, a última vez que eu o vi foi antes de ele entrar no banheiro.

— se quiser pode ficar aqui comigo enquanto seu ele não aparece ou eu posso te acompanhar na sua busca — disse louis — além de que posso ser uma ótima companhia, eu só vejo vantagens.

Harry riu com o comentário do mais alto e aceitou sua companhia.

💙

Passado algum tempo, Louis e Harry ainda estavam procurando pelo loiro, até que harry finalmente o encontrou conversando com uma menina. A cacheada se aproximou e o puxou para falar em seu ouvido.

— Niall eu estava te procurando. Por onde voce andou? — harry olhou com os braços cruzados.

— A hora que eu sai do banheiro eu não vi você ali então eu fui te procurar. Depois de um tempo te procurando, eu desisti. Achei que você tinha achado alguem pra ficar — colocou a mão na cintura — e pelo visto eu estava certo — Olhou para louis que estava do lado do cacheado.

— Na verdade eu também estava te procurando. Então acabei esbarrando com ele, que se ofereceu pra me acompanhar. Eu não fiquei com ele mas eu desde que a hora que estavamos assistindo o show, eu estou flertando com ele. — disse sorrindo. — Ainda quero dar pra ele.

— Isso ai garota, aproveita. — Niall falou enquanto a empurrava de leve em direção de louis — Eu vou ficar mais um pouco. Quero aproveitar também, se não daqui a pouco vou estar cheio de teias. Mas qualquer me avisa ok? Boa sorte. — disse se despedindo do cacheado.

— Ok tchau nini, aproveite ai — disse indo até Louis

— Então princesa vamos aproveitar um pouquinho aqui, depois se quiser podemos andar e nos conhecer melhor. O que acha, hum?

— Pra mim esta esta ótimo.

Louis assentiu com a cabeça, virou o cacheado e abraçou sua cintura, colando os corpos.

Passados uns minutos, Louis teve uma ideia para atiçar Harry. O mais alto começou a esfregar seu membro meio duro entre o bunda coberta da cacheada. Este que como resposta começou a rebolar e soltar gemidos baixinhos.

Louis viu como a garota estava e começou a descer lentamente uma de suas mãos até estar por baixo da saia de Harry, tentando separar suas pernas

— Abre as pernas princesa. — Disse louis sussurrando próximo ao ouvido de Harry. — Quero sentir como esta aqui em baixo. — Deixou uma leve mordida em sua orelha.

Harry abriu as pernas, deixando Louis ter livre acesso a sua bucetinha.

Ele começou a passar os dedos lentamente pela grutinha que estava bem escorregadia

Os dois não estavam ligando se haviam varias pessoas por perto, Harry até gostava da ideia de serem flagrados e ela queria sentir mais do que Louis poderia oferecer.

— Veja como esta toda molhadinha pra mim. — Louis colocou dois dedos na entrada da garota. — Mas eu não fiz quase nada. — Ele tirou os dedos de dentro e os levou até sua boca e os chupou.

O gosto dela era maravilhoso, meio azedinha mas delicioso. Ele colocou os dedos de volta na bucetinha dela e pegou mais do líquido viscoso e os levou até a boca da menina.

— Experimente princesa, como o seu gosto é delicioso — Harry chupou os dedos do mais alto e assentiu com a cabeça, concordando com o mais velho

Harry levou sua mão até a ereção evidente do mais velho e começou a apertar. Ouvindo um leve gemido do mais velho. Ela vira e fica de frente para Louis e volta com a mão o volume no short e começa a brincar com a braguilha. Harry se aproxima mais do mais alto e fala em seu ouvido.

— O que acha de irmos para meu apartamento? — Disse a cacheada enquanto deixava uma leve mordida no lóbulo da orelha dele. — Quem sabe você possa me comer gostosinho e com força? — Harry se afastou e olhou para o de olhos azuis, logo fazendo um biquinho fingindo inocência.

— Olha que vadiazinha. Vamos princesa, estou louco pra te foder — Disse enquanto saia de traz do cachado e o puxou para fora daquela multidão. — Vamos no meu carro. — Disse Louis chegando ao seu carro, logo abrindo a porta.

💙

Harry abriu a porta do apartamento e puxou Louis para um beijo caloroso e molhado enquanto empurrava a porta com um dos pés. O mais alto empurrou de leve a cacheada na parede. Colocou uma das mãos dentro do cabelo do dela, levando a outra para baixo da saia e levantando um pouco sua perna .

Louis levou sua mão que estava no cabelo da cacheada para saia de Harry e começa a tira-la, jogando-a em qualquer lugar. Voltou a mão para a bunda dela apertando a carne macia.

— Louis.... Por favor — Harry disse entre gemidos levando a mão do de franja para sua xotinha. Esse que começou a deslizar em movimentos de vai e vem por cima da calcinha. Enlouquecendo a cacheada.

— Por favor o que amor? — disse com um sorriso.

Harry não respondeu. Então Louis a pegou no colo, deitando-a no sofá e abrindo bem suas pernas enquanto se ajoelhava. Ele começou com um leve selar nos labios da cacheada, logo descendo os beijos até chegar com o rosto perto da bucetinha da garota que ainda estava com a calcinha. Esta que não cobria quase nada da xotinha da garota.

— Então princesa, me diga o que você quer? — Louis puxou a calcinha para o lado. Com os seus dedos separou os labios da xotinha e levou sua lingua até a grutinha e dando uma unica lambida como provocação.

— L-Lou.. M-me come vai. — Harry gemeu quando Louis colocou a boca na sua xotinha enquanto levava seus dedos e os deslizava em movimentos de vai e vem.

Harry enfiou sua mão entre os fios de cabelos de Louis, os segurou com um pouco de força e guiou os movimentos, enquanto rebolava o quadril em busca de mais contatos

Nessa altura a cacheada não segurava seus gemidos. Certeza que amanhã chegaria uma multa, mas nenhum dos dois estavam nem aí.

— Lou... Por favor... — ela nem conseguia falar direito por conta do prazer que estava sentindo

— O que você quer babe?. — Louis sorriu com o estado da cacheada. — Me peça. Quem sabe eu possa te ajudar, hum?

— Eu quero muito te chupar — Harry disse aos intervalos de gemidos

— Você vai babe, mas eu vou te falar exatamente o que vamos fazer. Vou te chupar enquanto você me chupa, vou gozar nesse belo rostinho e te fazer gozar nos meu dedos, depois usar essa buceta como eu bem entender e te fazer de despejo de porra. — Disse Louis levantando do chão e ajudando Harry a levantar.

— Estamos entendidos?. — Disse louis segurando com um pouco de força o rosto da cacheada enquanto ela confirmava com a cabeça.

Louis deitou no sofá e observou quando Harry passou a perna pela cabeça dele. Ficando com a xotinha quase colada na boca do mais velho.

Ele direcionou suas mãos na bunda dela e as separou observou por um estante a bucetinha meladinha e logo deu um sopro de leve, ouvindo a menina gemer e soltar mais um pouco do melzinho que escorria até grelinho. Louis se apressou em levar a lingua e recolher para não desperdiçar uma gota.

Harry se debruçou no corpo de Louis, ficando com o rosto perto de seu pau, logo o pegando e começando uma leve masturbação enquanto deixava beijinhos na glande.

Louis começou a chupa-la, explorando cada parte da bocetinha com uma sequência de vai e vem, passando a língua no grelinho e descendo até a grutinha, sentindo seu rosto ficar lambuzado e enlouquecendo a cacheada.

Harry não demorou a chupar o pau de Louis, levando até o fundo da garganta e segurando por uns segundos, antes de tira-lo da boca e ouvir um gemido rouco dele. Ela tomou um pouco de ar e voltou a chupa-lo, subindo e descendo a boca até onde ela conseguia, usando mão para estimular o que não consegue colocar na boca, batendo uma punheta devagarinho para Louis.

Louis se deliciava a chupando, essa que gemia e lhe dava boas vibrações. Ele afastou sua boca da bucetinha da cacheada e começou a fode-la com os dedos. Determinado em achar seu ponto g, ele levou os dedos cada vez mais forte e rapido. Que não demorou a achar e começou a acertar o mesmo pontinho. Logo sentiu a menina largar seu pau e começar a gemer mais alto, como aviso que estava chegando perto de seu orgasmo.

A cacheada sente suas pernas tremerem e perderem as forças, sentiu seu ventre formigar, seu corpo esquentar, seus olhos reviraram e ela solta um gritinho agudo enquanto estava gozando em abundância, que escorria pelos dedos de Louis, logo caindo pelo torço nu do mais velho.

Louis estava fascinado no estado em que a menina se encontrava. Saber que ela esta assim por causa dele, o deixava com o ego nas alturas.

Louis tirou a menina com cuidado de cima dele e se levantou, ficando de pé na frente dela. Vendo ela se sentar no sofá e o olha-lo intensamente.

— Agora gatinha, eu quero que você juste seus peitos e coloque a lingua pra fora, para que eu possa gozar em toda essa sua carinha de puta.

Harry assentiu, se arrastando para aponta do sofá, separando as pernas para louis se aproximar de seu corpo. Ela levou as mãos até os seios e os juntos enquanto coloca a língua pra fora.

Louis observou a cena e começou a bombear o pau lentamente mas forte, perto do rosto da cacheada, intercalando em bate-lo em sua língua e na sua bochecha.

Ele encaixou o cacete em sua boca, sentindo a cavidade quente e molhada circulando glande, abrigando cada vez mais enquanto fazia um vácuo nas bochechas. Louis estava enlouquecendo. Ele não pensou em nada quando estocou com força, sentindo a cacheada tentar o abrigar cada vez mais.

Louis fodeu a boca da cacheada com uma determinada velocidade, enquanto a segurava pelos cabelos logo encontrando um ritmo certo. Logo sentiu que estava chegando perto de gozar, aumentando ainda mais velocidade das estocadas e os grunhidos ficando cada vez mais altos.

Louis punhetou o pau, com a cabecinha ainda entre os lábios da garota, não demorando até que estivesse gozando dentro da boca de Harry, também por todo o rosto e torso da cacheada.

Harry sorriu, erguendo os dedos e passando pelo rosto, recolhendo o que podia do esperma, os colocando na boca e chupando. Não deixando escapar nenhuma gota.

Louis desabou ao seu lado com respiração ofegante. Harry se levantou ficando de joelhos no sofá, ela se apressou em passar sua perna por cima da dele, sentindo as mãos rodearem seu corpo.

— Cansada gatinha? — Louis perguntou enquanto analisava a cacheada, mesmo sabendo a resposta.

— Ainda não babe, eu ainda quero sentir você aqui — Disse levando a mão do mais alto até sua xotinha, sentindo ele esfregar os dedos em seu grelinho. — Me enchendo com a sua porra — Harry sorriu ladino e segurou o pau de Louis, logo fazendo leves movimentos.

Harry se acomodou no colo de Louis, levando uma das mãos aos labios da sua bucetinha, as separando. Logo ela encaixou o cacete já duro em seu clitóris e começou a se esfregar, fazendo leve movimentos de vai e vem. No mesmo tempo a cacheada lhe deu leves selinhos, não demorando em aprofundar o beijo, logo ficando bagunçado e molhado com uma disputa por dominância, que a cacheada não demorou em alcançar.

Louis não estava mais aguentando a provocação da mulher, estava sentindo seu cacete todo molhado com o Melzinho dela. Ele agarrou seu pau e passou sua glande por toda sua bucetinha, recolhendo o maximo da lubrificação. Quando sentiu que estava bom, o introduziu de uma vez, sentindo ela se apertar em volta do cacete e soltar um gemido estridente.

Ele colocou os bracos em volta da costa dela e não esperou um segundo para começar a fode-la, com movimentos rápidos e fortes, se deliciando com os gemidos que ela soltava. Harry apoiou os joelhos no sofá para ir de encontro com louis, ajudando nos movimentos, subindo e descendo.

Louis colocou a mão em um dos seios da garota, começando a brincar com o biquinho, torcendo e apertando, ele estava alternando entre os seios. Logo colocando a boca, chupando e deslizando a língua em volta do mamilo vermelhinho. Harry estava extasiada com o prazer que estava recebendo, ela sentia as lágrimas escorrendo de seus olhos.

Louis trocou as posições e deitou a menina no sofá, voltando a foder a grutinha encharcada de lubrificação em busca do prazer de ambos.

— Era isso que você queria gatinha? — disse Louis enquanto procurava o ponto g de Harry. — Ser comida do jeitinho que eu estou fazendo, hum? - disse segurando o rosto da cacheada pelas bochechas.

Harry não respondeu por estar perdida nos seu próprio prazer, isso que não durou muito ao sentir um tapa no seu rosto, lhe fazendo olhar para o mais alto.

— Responde vadia, era isso que você queria? Ser fodida desse jeito. Ter minha porra nessa buceta de puta? — Louis disse ríspido enquanto aumentava a força das estocadas, sentindo suas bolas bater na bunda da garota, fazendo um barulho um tanto quanto alto e excitante de se ouvir.

— Sim.. Senhor, queria sentir seu cacete bem fundo na minha xotinha e ficar tão cheia do seu leitinho — Harry sussurrou as palavras bem rente ao rosto de Louis.

As palavras da cacheada foi o estopim para Louis, acelerando seus movimentos, na intenção de fazê-la ter um orgasmo e chegar ao seu próprio.

Logo a menina soltou em gemido alto, chegando ao seu limite, molhando toda a pélvis de Louis e fazendo uma bagunça enorme.

Louis continuou estocando nela, sentindo seu ventre formigar e o cansaço se apossar de seu corpo quando gozou em abundância dentro da cacheada.

Ele retirou seu pau e observou a grutinha da garota expulsar sua porra, que deslizava em direção ao sofa, que logo foi recolhida pelo indicador de Louis e o levando até a sua boca, sentindo o gosto dos dois misturados. Louis não perdeu tempo em beijar a cacheada passando o sabor para a lingua dela.

— Sinta princesa, como nosso gosto é maravilhoso juntos — Louis disse quando separou o beijo fazendo um carinho na bochecha dela.

— Você tem razão gatinho, maravilhoso — Disse sorrindo.

Os dois estavam muito cansados mas precisavam se limpar, então Louis pegou ela no colo e procurou seu quarto, tendo certeza que haveria um banheiro, não demorando pra acha-lo. Ele se direcionou ao banheiro e a colocou no chão, indo para o box ligar o chuveiro e deixa-lo numa temperatura boa. Logo trazendo a menina para lhe ajudar no banho.

De banho tomado, os dois se deitaram na cama da cacheada, não demorando a pegarem no sono pelo cansaço.

💙

No dia seguinte eles acordaram com o despertador do celular de Louis, os fazendo sair da cama quentinha pois tinham que trabalhar. O mais velho vestiu sua roupa e se preparou para sair pois tinha que ir pra casa se arrumar mas antes de se despedir da garota, pediu seu numero que rapidamente ela passou, para poderem marcar de sair de novo.

💙

Passado algum tempo, Louis ja havia passado em sua casa e se arrumado, agora estava entrando no prédio que ele vai trabalhar. Ele iria trabalhar como assistente da chefe da empresa, esse seria seu primeiro dia e não conhecia bem o lugar, precisaria se informar no balcão

— Olá bom dia, meu nome é Louis Tomlinson, hoje é meu primeiro dia de trabalho e queria me situar qual andar devo ir

— Bom dia senhor, é no ultimo andar e aqui esta seu crachá, você quer que eu o acompanhe?

— Nao precisa, eu me viro bem agora mas obrigado — Disse Louis colocando o crachá no pescoço e indo em direção ao elevador, apertou o botão e esperou o elevador abrir as portas.

Quando entrou no elevador, apertou o botão indicando o andar que deveria ir, esperando a porta se fechar.

Louis nesse tempo começou a pensar, ele não sabia muito sobre sua chefe, nem ao menos a conhecia pois foi outra pessoa que o entrevistou. Tudo o que ele sabia que ela tem mais ou menos 25 anos e herdará a empresa do pai quando ele decidiu se aposentar.

Chegando no andar certo, ele saiu do elevador e começou andar em um enorme corredor na direção da porta grande de madeira que logo em seguida deu uma batidinha. Louis abriu a porta quando ouviu um "entre", a primeira coisa que ele viu foi uma mulher elegante de costa, olhando para uma grande janela.

— Senhorita Syles? Eu sou.... — Louis não conseguiu terminar a fala pois foi interrompido quando ela se virou.

— Louis Tomlinson, é um prazer conhece-lo — Disse Harry com um sorriso. — Espero que goste de trabalhar conosco.

#louis and harry #harry styles #oneshot #louis tomlinson #hinter #carnaval #hbottom #ltops #larrysmut #larry stylinson

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neil-perrys-suicidal-tendencies · 5 months ago

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INTRO POST <3

Here's a long-overdue intro post.

NOTE - Do not dm me if we're not mutuals.

LINKS SIDE BLOGS: @i-think-im-breaking-down-again - more personal blog @cappuccino-circa-capillaries - mental health stuff /pos @a-bitch-can-write-poetry - poetry and web weaving reblogs, will post my original work if I ever get the courage @honestly-im-honest- silly stuff @edwinpayneshomosexualtendencies - dbda side blog

MEDIA: Pinterest Spotify Storygraph stats.fm

DA BASICS- ABOUT ME: Name - Lisa Avenir (you can call me Lise or Liz) Nationality - Indian Languages - English, Hindi, a1 French, aspiring German, a dialect of Hindi spoken in my home state which is completely incomprehensible to anyone who does not speak it to the point its an entirely new language (which it is but I'm not going to reveal it because I don't want my home state to be known) Age - minor Gender - Genderqueer Pronouns - they/them/she Sexuality - ace-spec lesbian Religion - Atheist DNI: Homophobic, Transphobic, sexist, racist, ableist, any kind of phobic in general No assholes allowed either I love receiving asks just no freaky stuff FACTS- 🪶Only Child who keeps losing friends 🪶I love any form of Noodles Soup 🪶I have a huge crush on Maya Hawke 🪶I love biology and anatomy 🪶I need psychological help /srs 🪶I cry a lot, it's an art 🪶I might have a migraine issue which might be getting better :D 🪶I have brown ass basic eyes 🪶Reading mythology is my bae 🪶My vocabulary might be good but I can't spell for shit. 🪶I love making little collages on PowerPoint 🪶I'm touch starved but touch aversed. Yes, we exist. 🪶I'm a nerd fighter 🪶I love dissecting song lyrics 🪶My aesthetic is dark academia, dark feminine(excluding the femcel bs), witchcore and sickly victorian child dying of the plague core 🪶I am a hyper-organized person who might have germophobia 🪶I'm pretty sure I have trichotillomania 🪶I have these sneeze attacks on a daily basis where I sneeze like 15 times over the course of 3 minutes

HOBBIES- 🪶Reading 🪶Writing poetry or songs 🪶Listening to Music 🪶Talking about stars 🪶The Universe 🪶Literature 🪶Science (fuck physics)

INTERESTS- MUSIC: I love listening to albums(like a LOT of them) 🪶Genre - Indie, Indie pop, Rock, Alt-Indie, Basic white girl pop, Pop-rock, Pop-punk, Folk, Old Bollywood, Male manipulator, Female Manipulator, Lesbian Manipulator, ghazal, anything that slaps 🪶Artists - Ricky Montgomery, Lana Del Rey, Chappel Roan, Flower Face, Taylor Swift, Hozier, Phoebe Bridgers, Girl in Red, Clario, Conan Gray, Hank Green, Hayley Williams, Joji, Indila, Sabrina Carpenter, Adele. Kishore Kumar, Lata Mangeshkar, Jagjit Singh, Muhammad Rafi, Asha Bhosle etc etc 🪶Bands - Wallows, Florence and the Machine, Sir Chloe, Hole, The Smiths, Paramore, Beach House, The Jayhawks, The Neighborhood, Fun Guns, Cage The Elephant, Arctic Monkeys, Chase Atlantic, Radiohead, My Chemical Romance, Hayley Kiyoko. 🪶Albums(favorites) - evermore and folklore by Taylor Swift, Montgomery Ricky by Ricky Montgomery, Depression Cherry by Beach House, Ceremonials and Lungs By Florence and The Machine, Superache by Conan Gray, Emails I can't send frwd: by Sabrina Carpenter, Hozier by Hozier, Riot! and Paramore by Paramore, AM by Arctic Monkeys, Party Flavors and I am the Dog by Sir Chloe, Punisher by Phoebe Bridgers, Rainy Day Music by The Jayhawks, Petals for Armour by Hayley Willams, The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess by Chappell Roan, Social Cues by Cage The Elephant, Live through this by Hole, Born to Die(The Paradise Edition) and Ultraviolence by Lana Del Rey, Nothing Happens by Wallows, Baby Teeth and Fever Dreams and The Shark in your Water by Flower Face, Lilt by Hikes, Get up and Move by Fun Guns, The Black Parade by MCR. 🪶Artists that I lowkey neglect but should high-key eat - Nirvana, Tame Impala, Men we trust, Cavetown, Pink Floyd, blink-182, Green Day, boygenius, Mitski, The Smashing Pumpkins, Suki Waterhouse. BOOKS- 🪶Genre - Dark, War pieces, Dystopias, Young Adult, Depressing, Dark Academia, Classics, Psychological Thriller. 🪶Ride or Die- The Book Thief, The Perks Of Being a Wallflower, The Picture of Dorian Grey, MAUS, Paper Towns, Looking for Alaska, All the Bright Places, The Midnight Library, The Handmaid's Tale, The Diary of a Young Girl, The Boy In The Stripped Pajamas, Circe, Before the coffee gets cold, Sharp Objects, The Martian, The DaVinci Code, The Emperor of All Maladies, Turtles all the way down, And Then There Were None, The Catcher in The Rye, No Longer Human, Grandpa's Great Escape, Wild Bird, The Giver. 🪶Honorable Mentions from my TBR - A Little Life, Bunny, If We Were Villains, The Secret History, 1984, To Kill A Mockingbird, Six Of Crows, Lord of the Flies, Piranesi, Cleopatra and Frankenstein, Crime and Punishment, How it Feels to Float, Orbiting Jupiter, Normal People, Fahrenheit 451, The Myth of Sisyphus, Lessons in Chemistry, Slaughterhouse-five, Dark Matter. 🪶Poets - Sylvia Plath, Emily Dickinson, William Wordsworth. Sappho,

MOVIES- Dead Poets Society, Good Will Hunting, Lady Bird, Whiplash, Spiderman: Into the Spider-Verse, Forrest Gump, Duck Duck Goose, Rapunzel SERIES- BBC Sherlock, Orange Is The New Black, Brooklyn99, Dead Boy Detectives, Heartstopper, Derry Girls, Modern Family, House md?

RANDOM IMAGES-

USERBOXES-

MOOTS APPRICIATION!!!! @lv3buzzz, @noctilucaa(my wife), @wilsons-three-legged-siamese, @yourfavvgal, @1mlostnow, @arrr-im-a-dead-poet, @perksofbeingpoet, @mighthavebeenmurder, @take-me-to-the-rooftop15, @poetsinnyc, @joonof1989, @deadcrowcalling, @pingunaa, @xxcherryberriezxx @burgundykicks (text me if you would like your name to be removed <3333 ) -🪶

#hello world #intro post #good evening sirs and ma'ams and enby overlords #a lise exclusive intro post just dropped #liz is short for liz bean #i can also be reffered to as gabe itch

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minalblood · 5 months ago

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The Winchesters 1x13 Review

Let’s just dive into this, it’s been a looong time coming:

-I completely forgot that John had had no idea what to do until he got the letter. I wonder if this is something that may have happened in OG SPN? Also, adding to this, we know that when Henry leaves in SPN, the Winchesters are still in Illinois, but in TW they are already moved. I want to know if there is a thread that matches the OG universe and if so when exactly it diverges. Like, did SPN!John have this feeling of complete loss of purpose when he returned from war? We have some hints to tell us yes, but ultimately we don’t know. Did SPN!John know Murphy? Did Murphy die/was his death impactful to John in SPN as it is in TW? I wish we had a bit more details about the similarities and differences in the universes.

-The fact that TW!John called Dean “sir” hurt me as much as it hurt Dean. You can see the pain. I also want to know how Dean left so quickly. Like suspension of disbelief is fine, but considering we have pictures of him in 1970s Lawrence in his car going place to place makes me think he’s at least somewhat constrained to physicality. So did he just dash? Also how did he get upstairs so quick also? So maybe he isn’t as constrained as I was picturing?

-Speaking of, how did Dean get that letter? I may be misremembering things here cuz it’s been a while since ep 1, but I always assumed that Dean would’ve gotten it from the MOL clubhouse prior to him deciding to interfere right? Is did we ever get this answer? If so though, I want to know how long Dean’s been in TW universe because it’s much longer than I remembered it being and how long did he ponder whether to interact with one of his folks?

-I fully believe Dean lied about the “one last hunt” to Bobby. There are reasons for this and I will mention it a bit later, but for now I want to mention that he can keep this promise and claim a loophole if he so chooses. He hadn’t left Heaven to hunt, he went searching for something personal and stumbled upon the Akrida. He’s still Dean Winchester, there was no way he’d be able to walk away and not at least try to help, nevermind the Akrida showing up because he and Sam defeated Chuck and he’d likely feel even more responsibility.

-I know this ep is coming full circle on all of aur characters growth, but I need to shout out Samuel here for asking Mary and actually backing away once she clarifies her own uncertainty despite his clear shock. The Samuel we met in the beginning of this wouldn’t have stopped until this devolved into a huge fight because Mary isn’t doing what he wants from her. Same to Millie, she just subtly prompted John about Mary leaving hunting and how he’s dealing without badgering or pushing. I also deeply appreciate both Samuel and Millie here inquiring about their kids’ emotional states, great progress.

-Joan mention! I cannot wait to get into this once she shows up fully.

-And speaking of growth of characters, I also love that for all we see everyone having evolved and developed, they are still to some degree who we met: case in point Mary’s knee jerk reaction if to withhold information. She ends up not really doing this, even trying to have a proper conversation with John later, but her reflex is still to withhold. It’s just that now she’s aware enough that she’ll change her approach.

-Adore the foreshadowing for the Akrida’s defeat “anything not of this Earth”. Especially with the sheer focus on Dean from both in-universe from the Scoobies and out of universe from the fans.

-Speaking of things I love though, can we just give a full round of applause for Ada not lying and keeping the secret about the spell from everyone? How many times has stuff exactly like this led to worse outcomes exactly because people didn’t communicate? And what’s more, it’s exactly because she mentions this that Lata gets a head start into a solution (second round of applause for this, especially since it’s so rare that we get actual contingencies set up before the really risky move is executed rather than scrambling for a patch work after the fact) and they don't end up using the spell until it’s really unavoidable which leads to the third round of applause for Carlos who prevents Ada from preemptively using the spell (hello direct answer to Jack turning himself into a bomb for Chuck and the plan derailing completely cuz they jumped the shark with it).

-Something to note though: souls function differently in TW apparently. In SPN the closest similar spell we have to what Ada has is Lily Sunder’s angelic magic which also uses fragments of soul as fuel, however unlike SPN where Lily burns piece by piece but ultimately still has the remaining soul after the spells, in TW they clarify that Ada’s soul will slowly dissipate if they take a fragment of it. It's so interesting to see the difference. I wonder why? Maybe souls evolved differently here, maybe the spell, by virtue of being one of Rowena’s (be it her own making a la soul bomb to kill Amara and save the sun or Book of the Damned bomb using your own life as sacrifice to close hell) makes it act differently? I really want to know.

-The bar being filled with Akrida possessed people is such a call back to the demon filled bars of SPN days and I love it.

-I do think that Joan knowing Dean couldn't interfere too much/make waves is very interesting. Especially since the Akrida are a Chuck designed failsafe.

-Also how did they get him into the portal? I need to know.

-Joan saying “his body will be torn to shreds for centuries” is doing multiple things for me. One, it’s recalling hell - especially having it be connected to Dean in pain for an extended period. Two, it’s giving us a hint of how Dean will survive while maintaining the stakes for the Scoobies (and to some degree for us since at this point on a 1st run through since we didn’t know how the portal would interact with Dean - dead or not he had a body that could be interacted with).

-“I’m not Akrida. I was human once” is sooo much fun to consider. Joan is very much this amalgamation of so many things, her former humanity, her ties to the Akrida and all that monster essence, and she’s essentially done it to herself, created Frankenstein’s monster outta Frankenstein. No wonder it went off the rails. She and Cuthbert Sinclair are two sides of a coin for me to be honest in this regard.

-It’s also here at the bar that Joan’s main strategy for dealing with the Scoobies gets shown, trying to appeal to the versions of them she has info on. Something that to be honest would’ve worked at the beginning of the season, even maybe halfway through the season might’ve worked. She tries with Samuel first, bringing up the hunting legacy of her family, then with Mary and John. Then when she gets to the clubhouse she goes for Lata, and in the final fight she once more hits John, Samuel and now Carlos. And she clearly pushes very specific trauma triggers for each, focusing most on John’s anger and Mary’s disillusionment with hunting because I think those are the ones she most relates to. Meanwhile with Lata and Carlos she almost pushes opposite by trying to point out how their changes are detrimental. By this I mean, with Mary and John she’s trying to reignite those feelings in them because she can tell they are still there to some degree (as mentioned they’ve both grown but still have a while to go) meanwhile for Lata and Carlos their growth was more foundational since they actively tried to heal versus Mary and John’s pushback against the healing. I hope this makes sense to y’all.

-Having Joan’s motivation be keeping hunters alive initially is so much fun to dig into. Everything she says to them about why she’s doing what she’s doing is something we’ve heard people talk about before, especially in SPN, especially Dean tbh. We’ve seen Dean struggle with the endless loss, with the weight of the responsibility to keep humanity safe, the toll saving the world took on him. Having Joan act as this dark mirror was a great choice. But also Dean would have never reached this point. Even at his darkest moments, he always drew a clear line about what he’s willing to sacrifice - yes, he also never had to deal with the loss of literally everyone everyone, there was always at least one thread, one person, but still.

-Lata fighting against the Akrida possessing her? Absolute queen behavior! Love her so much. Also Joan reducing her choice to be a pacifist as a black or white thing is very in line with what I was trying to say above. I can exemplify better here though so bare with me. Lata’s pacifism is both a very personal choice that means a lot to her and gives her personal meaning, is a part of her values. But it also used to be a literal blockage for her before ep 11 where any type of violence coming from her side reminded her of her father especially and of that trauma. More specifically, Lata also felt she had to be a pacifist otherwise she would be exactly like her abusive father. Ep 11 had her confronting her trauma and coming to terms with it, something she was already trying bit by bit to do, and re-evaluate what pacifism means to her. So Joan trying to reduce Lata attacking her to say that hunting has tainted Lata, is to completely ignore the complexity of Lata’s choice to be a pacifist and to ignore the very complicated relationship that Lata has to fighting. In this instance, Lata choosing to fight is a testament of how rooted in her sense of self she has become. She can fight back and not feel the guilt she used to, not feel like it’s a failure on her side to do so because anger and fighting do have a purpose and are important sometimes - like when your life is being threatened.

-Having Joan’s lover be the final thing that got her down the path of destruction is absolutely a choice on the writer’s side that I adore - definitely tying into the SPN!John of it all. I also find it interesting from another perspective. When I 1st watched the bar scene, Joan’s like of “that’s the John I know” had settled into my brain very differently to the point that I was almost certain they were going to reveal that Joan is actually another version of Mary a la Apocalypse world Mary who lost both her family and John, but much earlier. Basically, Joan is continuously this amalgamation of multiple things at once, the worst parts of each.

-Humanity wasting their second chance speech is giving Jigsaw to me tbh. I vibe.

-I love them figuring out that they can use the journal to bring Dean back, but imagine the version of this story where unsteady they use the journal to defeat Joan. It would’ve been hilarious.

-Love that the one Akrida that has had it out for John especially is the one possessing Lata btw. It makes the vitriol feel more personal and makes me think of both the Leviathan’s who hated playing Sam and Dean and of the disdain Lucifer has for humanity, but especially the Winchester brothers. I love this being another creature who is so pissed to deal with Winchester adjacent people that it’s begun just personally having a vendetta against all of Earth.

-“How many Campbells and Winchesters have to die” goes so unbelievably hard. Especially in the finale of the show now rewatching, but even on 1st watch I remember being hit right in the heart by that line. It’s the fact that I actually completely understand that reasoning and even agree with it that makes the Akrida and Joan especially so fascinating to me. She does have a point is the thing, especially considering the very personal interest God has had in the Campbells and Winchesters bloodlines. And following this up by talking about how history and legacy are playing a heavy role in this continuous suffering is also fantastic, because it is true, but it’s not the whole picture either. It’s not the only legacy and history the Campbells and Winchesters have to tell.

-And once again Chuck had done what he does best: created another world ending being that he then locked away to ensure the world doesn’t get destroyed ahead of time. He did this with Amara, Lucifer, the Leviathans, the Shedim, angels and demons getting thrown in the Empty counts too, the monsters being thrown in Purgatory also falls under this pattern of behavior. He really is a one trick pony on every level.

-Adore that Ada didn’t even hesitate to use the spell to save Lata. And even more love for the fact that everyone is sharing info so they can make a plan together, no one going off on their own like a moron, god the satisfaction of seeing this is unmatched.

-Cutting off Mary before she can say anything to John as they’re saying goodbye essentially, after he more or less poured his heart out? A choice on the writers part that I wholeheartedly agree with. Love the implications here.

-I also adore that it’s a swordfight. This show has gone out of its way to ensure minimal gun use and I think it was a great choice. Also love that all three of them, Samuel, John and Carlos get attacked at once by at least 2 Akrida.

-BABY!!! (this was the only reaction needed here - just BABY!!!)

-I wonder if Josie existed in this universe? Like did Joan just get rid of the MOL before Henry and Josie went to the church and meet Abaddon? Does Abaddon just not exist in this timeline? Did Henry even try to do field work in this universe? I have questions!

-Dean saving Mary will never not make me emotional ok? That’s what he’s wanted since he was 4!

-I also love that we have the most roundabout way of referencing Sam here. I will go into more detail why I especially love it, but just know I do.

-I do hate though that Dean still looks surprised that he got into Heaven and the reminder that he’s dead. I hate remembering that 15x20 is a thing that happened still.

-Living for Dean instantly jail-breaking Heaven though and then basically breaking his parole to interfere when he found the Akrida. Of course he couldn’t help himself, it’s Dean, he has never been able to ignore when something is wrong and he can help.

-Jack saying it’s time for Dean to return to his own story… I don’t disagree but I do object to the “there’ll be peace” mainly cuz Dean clearly isn’t done. And now I need t go into this a second. Because Jack is treating this situation with the Akrida as though this was Dean’s goal here. But the Akrida are the side quest, the thing that derailed the actual thing Dean’s been looking for when he took off from Heaven. Dean isn’t done. This may have helped him make peace with a chapter of his story, but that’s just it. It’s a chapter, the one about this parents’ tragedy. But he’s still looking. He didn’t leave heaven cuz he was looking specifically for John and Mary, he left the second he say Baby with no clear objective but the knowledge that he had to go. He found some meaning in his restlessness by looking for a version of his folks where they’re happy, but that’s just part of it. And you can see it by how he responds to Bobby in the beginning, how he talks to Jack here at the end. He isn’t done.

-“They’re family” is one of my favorite moments in this finale tbh. Because not only does he say this explicitly, he does so after introducing them by name. Which brings us back to what I was saying about Sam. In choosing to not name Sam to the gang, but explicitly naming Jack and Bobby who are Dean’s chosen family, it narratively sends a message that goes in direct opposition to what 15x20 was pushing. And to be clear, we do get Sam mentioned by name too, because Sam isn’t important to Dean just because he’s blood related to him, Sam is just as much part of Dean’s chosen family, but Sam is mentioned to Jack and Bobby, who, like us the audience, already know this information about Sam’s importance as opposed to Jack and Bobby who (and I am aware we the audience is aware of their importance too) are representative of all the other chosen family that gets pushed aside in 15x20 in favor of the blood relations. Sam here is important because of what he as a person means too the 3 of them, not because he’s Dean’s blood relative, but it does bare repeating that Jack and Bobby, not blood relatives, occupy the same level of importance in Dean’s life. This went so far in patching up some of the bullshit 15x20 peddled imo. I love it.

-I do gotta say I still think Jack was changed by the god power and I still don’t like it. Chuck won theory or not, Jack is visibly acting different from what we’ve become used to in SPN and that is a sadness I cannot begin to explain to me. He also deserved to live his life free of all this responsibility thrust upon him since he was conceived.

-Oh, I am so emotional about Dean imparting his journal to John and the Colt to Mary. I was mentioning earlier about legacy and history and this is exactly the part that contributes to that discussion. John, the MOL legacy gets the journal - the theoretical help more or less, especially with Dean’s journal having focused, as opposed to SPN!John’s very practical entries, on the emotional and mental side of hunting and how to handle all that hunting will throw at you. And Mary, the Hunter legacy gets the gun - the practical help, but even here, having the Colt be one of the only guns in the series makes it stand out without you needing to know the full significance of it being the Colt, and moreso, Dean is giving it as a protective measure as we the audience know it’s the only thing that can kill the yellow eyes demons. More than that, he is also actively healing with these both of the trauma’s SPN!John and SPN!Mary impart to him - with John the emotional absence and with Mary the physical absence while still helping these versions of them John with his still existing anger issues and Mary, as she’s navigating this no-hunting life, having the means to ensure she survives it. And on top of this, he is reclaiming the legacy/history of SPN!John’s journal and SPN!Mary’s death this way. I love everything about this choice.

-Now the ending scene. 1. The fact that we full on get to see that Ada will eventually be fine, adore it! 2. The reference to the famous beach episode wth, unmatched joy about it. 3. Mary and John actually compromising and finding a way to meet in the middle with everything? Fantastic. 4. Millie letting John go easily? Such a departure from the acidic words she’d thrown his way at the beginning of the show. 5. Samuel actually letting Mary know he’s going and saying he’ll keep in contact? Same vibes as Millie, love to see it. 6. Mary’s iconic baby blue car? I have missed it so much!

-And now, Ramble On closes us off and what a fantastic choice that they got it. It truly is the perfect song for this story. Because it makes it clear that this isn’t an ending. It’s a moving on to something else once you’ve finished whatever/wherever you were at. Dean’s story here has come to a close but he’s moving on to something else, he’s still behind Baby’s wheel searching. John and Mary’s story has ended for now, especially this chapter that had interference after interference from on high (Chuck’s especially via the Akrida and then Dean’s trying to clean up Chuck’s mess) and they can move on both from Lawrence geographically and from this predetermination that said interference was pushing via calling back to SPN as much as it was, now they can live their own lives, like Mary said, she saw every possible version of her and chooses to make her own path instead. (I do wonder what Dean saw, he was there much longer than her). So yea, the story has ended and the story goes on. Perfect choice for song closer.

-EDIT: I forgot to add about the title... oops! Basically, it's kinda tied to what I was saying about the song choice as well aka it's not an ending so it's not a goodbye per se. Something you have echoed actually by Mary and John twice in the episode. And it works as a pushback toward 15x20.

And so I am done too and figuring out what I’m moving on to! I’m sure there are still things that I can come up with to say about this show, and probably will continue to for a long while yet, but the reviews are done now and I’ve said most everything I wanted most to say so til I get something else I feel like mentioning, see y’all in the reblogs! Hope this was fun for you and I deeply appreciate all those who have been patient and stuck around to hear my opinion on this. Bye bye!

@shallowseeker, @noybusiness,@inspnity17, @pleaseraisemefromperdition, @doctorprofessorsong

#spnwin #the winchesters #spnwin rewatch #spnwin 1x13 #latika dar #carlos cervantes #ada monroe #mary winchester #john winchester #dean winchester

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deancasforcutie · 1 year ago

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While we’re I’llJustWaitHereThen.mp3 for Act Two of The Winchesters -or rather thee reboot, which should be known for the extra high bar it’s gained this year- I’d like us to round off 2023 considering a song choice from the finale I haven’t seen discussed, but illuminates Dean’s path going forward.

The moment Dean, Jack, Bobby, and Baby disappear, “One of These Things First” by Nick Drake plays. For the curious, Nick Drake is ingrained in the cultural consciousness as a precursor to the likes of Kurt Cobain and Elliott Smith for his musical talent, melancholic lyrics drawn from a troubled life, and (at 26, one year too young for the original 27 Club of Jimi Janis Jim Morrison) untimely tragic death.

Such allusions seem all too pertinent to our not-so-Mystery Man who’d also sooner burn out than fade away, huh? But first and foremost, “One of These Things First” here evokes the multiverse reveal - playing over scenes of Lata helping restore Ada’s soul and Mary and Samuel parting. The characters could be any number of things, but as Mary says of her possible alternate selves, “I’m gonna make my own”; with the meta knowledge that Dean is “picking the music” non-diegetically, this track’s relevance to his own life (and death) becomes apparent.

I could have been a sailor, could have been a cook A real live lover, could have been a book

From the start we see well-chosen lyrics for thee episode of Dean “Hello Sailor” Winchester; it goes without saying, here and in the series’ deafeningly loud negative space, how Dean’s desire to be “a real live lover” drives his search for happy endings in this Supernatural Romance. Genius.com notes that “a book” in Nick Drake’s metaphor means “someone who spent their time gaining knowledge about the world”; leaving them his own book, evidently a record of Supernatural’s main events and likely intended as a setup for revelations about his postseries shenanigans, Dean becomes their absent guide opposite John’s original series role through his journal.

I could have been a signpost, could have been a clock As simple as a kettle, steady as a rock

Following lyrics about metaphorical objects also evoke Dean’s role as a guide - but given his view that “I think I did” find a model for his found family’s happiness in them, it goes both ways (and so does he).

I could be here and now I would be, I should be, but how?

These last few lyrics played in the episode call to mind the final undying core of Dean’s self-doubt: his inability to move on, like so many restless spirits parallel him. Dean’s sensation that he is not “here and now,” being unstuck in time and lamenting that he’s “already dead,” highlights his distance from the lead characters and their sense of closure - as does his use of the James Hetfield alias as a false name, dodging the central question of Who You Are. For all his heroism, Dean’s role as the central mystery never fully solved implicates him as the haunting force derailing another story into his own as much as any reality-warping trauma parasites.

Minding all these exhortations to mind the gap, it’s absolutely relevant that the episode omits a second verse centering on romantic longings. (It wouldn’t be the first time - “So on your woman and your child/You release your bitterness,” anyone?)

I could have been your pillar, could have been your door I could have stayed beside you, could have stayed for more I could have been your statue, could have been your friend A whole long lifetime could have been the end

Mary and Samuel’s exchange (“Be safe out there” “I love you too, kiddo”) continues the theme of Just Saying It before any goodbye - acknowledging you can say “I love you” without saying it and be understood. But apropos of everything, the romantic pair never exchanges what they promise they will on reuniting - at once begging the same question as Dean’s aborted love confession(s) to Cas (indicting the heteronormative double standard that makes the answer “obvious” here) and keeping their promise of no goodbyes, meaning “Ramble On” with its tale of a romantic reunion can only refer to one yet to come.

So with Dean left to learn that death is no goodbye for him either, The Winchesters reaffirms Supernatural’s humanistic heart: the conviction that -whether for great artists we romanticize or fictional characters representing our values- we need not mythologize and bemoan death as “robbing” the world of someone’s promise at the expense of affirming the intrinsically worthy human life as they are now and forever (we will all live forever no matter how dead we may sometimes seem to be). A life cut tragically short was still a life worth living, and its legacy one worth carrying on. And I can think of no truth more apt from the series cut short at 13 traxx we will nevertheless replay and remix and resonate with for years to come.

As we ramble on to future installments, I reiterate: “If you had the chance to do it all over again, would you?” “I followed my heart. I don’t think that’s ever a mistake.”

#consider this my ''sleep well'' to the other coolest queer show I know #just heard Ramble On ONCE AGAIN on the car radio the universe is tryna tell me something!#the winchesters #it's underrated due for a reboot #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #destiel #spn meta #spnwin 1.13 #mine

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broadwaydivastournament · 6 months ago

Text

Movie Musical Divas Tournament: Round 1

Lata Mangeshkar (1929-2022): Badi Maa (1945) | Awaara (1951) | Mughal-e-Azam (1960) | Johny Mera Naam (1970) | Karz (1980) Ghost singer in all.

"She was the nightingale of Hindi cinema and her voice will forever be iconic. Often providing the voice to younger characters long into her career, if you pulled the name of a random Hindi film out of a hat, there's a high chance Lata ji sang for it. Just go look at this page " - anonymous

Zizi Jeanmaire (1924-2020): Hans Christian Andersen (1952 - Doro) | Anything Goes (1956 - Gaby Duval) | Charmants Garçons (1957 - Lulu Natier) | Folies-Bergère (1957 - Claudie)

"Zizi's typecast was "french ballerina who's better than you", which is both delightful and true to real life. Bright smile, iconic pixie cut and a lovely deep voice, what's not to love? Sadly none of her vocal movie musical numbers are on youtube (quite the travesty), so one of her ballet numbers from Hans Christian Andersen will have to do, but I recommend listening to "I Get A Kick Out Of You" from the Anything Goes (1956) soundtrack, if one wants to enjoy her voice." - anonymous

This is Round 1 of the Movie Musical Divas tournament. Additional polls in this round may be found by searching #mmround1, or by clicking the link below. Add your propaganda and support by reblogging this post.

ADDITIONAL PROPAGANDA AND MEDIA UNDER CUT: ALL POLLS HERE

Lata Mangeshkar:

youtube

Photos submitted by: @androgynous-bhajipav | Video submitted by: anonymous

Zizi Jeanmaire:

youtube

Photos and video submitted by: anonymous

#moviemusicaldivas #moviemusicaltournamentpolls #lata mangeshkar #zizi jeanmaire #mmround1

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the-morningstar-family · 4 days ago

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Alastor, does Angel know stuff about the drug that you were hit with? Bc you might be pregnant now

Angel: “Ah-! Holy fuck smiles, ya gave me a heart attack”

Angel puts a hand on his chest in a melodramatic gesture. He got spooked, but not that spooked. The radio demon's hanging miserably over the the toilet, looking greener that a vegetable.

Alastor, annoyed: “One's supposed to knock, Angel”

Angel: “Ya left the door a bit open, didn't see ya, sorry”

Alastor: “Then close it now!”

The spider pulls the door close, and sits down besides him.

Alastor, tense: “I was not inviting you!”

Angel: “Uhhu, ya look awful. I had some puke-y nights maself, I ain't leaving ya.”

He crosses his lower pair of arms, and using his other pair to get a cup from the drawer under the sink and fill it with water. Alastor rolls his eyes but not in the mood to protest.

Angel: “Unless ya want me ta get Lucifer instead...”

Alastor: “No need to worry him.”

Angel: “No offense, but I think he’s gonna find out ya sick sooner or lata”

Alastor, irritated: “I'm not sick!”

Angel stops, raising a brow.

Angel: “So what's this then, started to get a feel for drugs?”

Alastor, glaring: “No.”

Angel: “And why do ya think ya ain't sick, when pukin’ your guts out?”

Alastor: “....There's no pain, no fever. It goes as quickly as it comes. I can't stand the smell of my favorite coffee anymore, let alone digest it. But later on I can eat without issue. I'm sure it's just some temporary issue…”

The spider mentally goes through anything that might relate to this. Wait-

Angel: “Ya feelin’ more tired?”

Alastor, tense: “Yes?”

Angel: “How about moody?”

Al simply growls at the questions, inadvertently proving the point. The ex porn star is well aqouinted with Val's potions and if he's right that would mean-

Angel: “Holy- ‘kay, don't laugh. Remember what ya got injected with?”

Alastor, rolling his eyes: “It's been a month, I doubt it's after effects”

A sigh, Angel bites his lips. Fidgeting with his lower arms

Angel: “I think ya might be pregnant”

A beat passes. Alastor looks as if Angel might be mentally impaired. He speaks very slowly.

Alastor: “Angel. I am a man.”

Angel: “Something ya learn very quickly in my kinda work is, that with the right stuff, anyone in hell can get pregnant. Anyone. Not that it's legal for sinners...”

Another beat. Now Al's glaring. Angel silently says his good-byes, was nice knowin’ y'all.

Alastor, growling: “I'm not in the mood for jokes”

Angel, nervous: “Good thing I ain't jokin’.”

The deer massages his temples.

Alastor: “How would that even work? We never had-”

He stops short. They did. Because of the shot.

Angel: “Al?”

Alastor: “Noooooo- it's impossible”

Angel: “I got a friend to prove it -”

Alastor: “God try! But I am not falling for this!”

The false chipperness makes the spider frown.

Angel: “Ya really should take a test and tell short king-”

Alastor, radio dials: “No I don't!”

Silence, then Alastor clears his throat.

Alastor: “My apologies”

The spider hesitates. He might be more comfortable with an older friend right? And if short king's out of the running…

Angel: “Hey, wanna visit ya friend Rosie? Betcha she can help ya better than me”

Alastor: “Yes, she'll tell you this is utter nonsense!”

Angel let's out a breath. He knows he's right, but as long as he's gonna go to someone who he'll believe, he'll take it.

Angel: “If ya say so smiles”

#send asks #ask #ask blog #ask me anything #hazbin hotel ask blog #alastor the radio demon #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #angel dust hazbin hotel #angel dust hazbin #angel dust #angel #unplanned pregnancy #mpreg

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sabraeal · 3 months ago

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a heart felled by you, held by you; Part 2

[Read on AO3]

Obiyukiweek 2024, Day 1: Quadrille

It’s not that Suzu didn’t know Lata’s name or whatever; it’s impossible to forget when it’s stamped right across the office he refuses to use three months out of the academic year— why should I let the university know where to find me? he’d huff, stoking the forge. If they’re going to interrupt my work to harangue me about class numbers and securing grant funding, I have no interest in making it easy for them— and scrawled on every lower right corner of his notes. It’s what every colleague calls across the university atrium before he hurries to out pace the persistence hunter that is professional collaboration; and what Ryuu had tried to stutter through for a whole week when he confused formality for maturity.

But between the towering aisles of his yet-to-be-catalogued accessions, and the number of times Shirayuki— and sometimes even Suzu himself— have been left to make his excuses to professors and professionals far above their pay grade, the idea that’s he’s a noble— a capital ‘F,’ weasel-thing-rampant Forzeno— well, it doesn’t seem quite real.

Not until now, when the doors on this stately manor swing open, and—

“I thought you lived in a shithole,” Suzu blurts out, momentarily blinded by polished marble and gold filigree. He’s no expert on architecture and has only a dubious grasp on history, but even he can tell this place is old. Storied, his mental Kazaha supplies, buzzing through his thoughts like flies over an ungrammatical carcass. “Or at least, that’s what Shidan said when—”

“I said apartment.” Shidan glares at him, like it’s Suzu’s fault he spent ten highly memorable minutes complaining about the stack of specimens that almost toppled onto him that one time he tried to brave Lata’s front parlor.

“It’s a townhouse.” Lata’s all noblesse oblige now that they’re ensconced in his family’s home, acting generous and tolerant, like they’re a good friend’s dogs that he knows are going to piddle on the carpet and he’s determined to be gracious about it. The kind of patience that’s pushed out between a man’s teeth instead of welling up from some internal font of goodness or whatever. “Private land ownership is the only way to receive permission for a forge of that size. And yes, I do.”

“But why not hang out here?” Suzu peeks into one of the fancy urns lining the walkway— disappointingly empty— before letting it rock back onto its pedestal. “It’s big and fancy and there’s a bunch of people whose job is to wait on you hand and foot. I’d never leave.”

“The commute,” Obi offers, sticking his own head down some fancy pot too. “Or maybe the wallpaper bothers him.”

“That’s certainly one way to put it,” Lata mutters, steering Obi away from the crockery with a scowl. “This is family land, owned by countless generations of Forzeno since time immemorial—”

“672.” Kazaha strides down the runner with his hands clasped behind his back, like he’s the king of the castle— or like it might convince the man who is that he’s not about to have any sticky fingers. “That’s when Motouji Forzeno ordered a fitting home to be built for him within a day’s ride of the capital, which at that point was still based in Wirant, not in Wistal. That only happened once the Wisteria family inherited the throne from a series of strategic marriages over the previous three generations—”

“And in any case, not mine.” He clears his throat, shoulders pulling straight beneath the heavy wool over his tunic, looking more lordly per inch than he ever has at the university. “At least, not in name.”

For as long as Suzu’s known him, Shidan’s never been a confrontational kind of guy; Lata might duck and dodge and, if cornered, bite and rend any interference from the university’s board, but Shidan chooses the path of least resistance. Or more accurately, the path of least surveillance— he might sit and stay and sign the papers the higher up sent his way, but as soon as they had their back turned cajoling some of the more recalcitrant academics in their department, he’d slip right off the leash, doing what needed doing before the deans were any the wiser. That’s how they’d gotten into this whole orimmallys project anyhow, and that all worked out in the end. Mostly.

So when Shidan hums, all considering— the way he does when he’s about to quibble over wording on a paper, but so nicely Suzu won’t even know he’s gotten the run-around until he’s halfway to the dorms— it’s a sign. A portent, even.

“Your father gave you lease over the entire place, didn’t he?” He’s got his gloves caught in his hand, running fingers along some fancy wainscoting. There’s some gold leaf on it, gilding a few fussy fleur-de-lis, and his fingers run slow enough that there’s got to be some grit. Dust, even. “That’s what Garrack said, at least.”

Lata’s brow sours like samples left too long on the bench. “And of course, Head Pharmacist Gazelt would be the expert on my family’s internal affairs.”

“No,” Ryuu murmurs ponderously, so soft they all hush up to hear him. “But she’d be less invested in avoiding them.”

Big blue eyes blink up at his lordship, and if they were any less guileless— or maybe, if Ryuu was any less fifteen— there’d be some sort of dust up. Some flavor of raised voices and shaking fists, and maybe someone would end up with a cold ass on the big field of snow Lata calls the front lawn. But instead he just sucks in a breath, whistling like a hole in a window when the wind’s got its back up, and says, “I thought I was being quite generous offering you all a place to ready yourselves before the gala, but now I’m quite wondering just why I extended the invitation.”

“Because you’d rather be annoyed with us than risk being left alone with one of those lords?” Suzu barely realizes he’s spoken until five sets of eyes swing his way, goggling like he’s hauled off and said something out of band. Again. “Or ladies?”

A laugh’s dour cousin scrapes out from Lata’s chest as they climb what Suzu assumes is the grand stair, if only because it’s larger than the last three. “Yes,” he agrees, more weary than waggish. “Something like that.”

“Hey.” Obi hangs back, lingering on the landing with one thumb hooked over his shoulder. “Is that you?”

There’s a portrait beside him, larger than he is— or Suzu, or Shidan, or any man he’s seen living; so big that it must have taken a whole crew of footmen to install, if only to keep one of them from being crushed under a lordly boot. He’s got to squint to see above the knee, daubs of oils glistening in the gaslight, making it hard to pick out more than the curve of thick, dark hair, or the stern, squarish set the to jaw, or—

“I gotta say,” Obi hums, arms folding over his coat. “Quail hunter isn’t what comes to mind when I look at you.”

“I’m not.” Lata paces a step back toward them, then two, glowering up at the most detailed bird carcass Suzu’s ever seen outside the ruts of a country road. “That would be my father, in his youth. He had a great love of…working his will on the world, one way or another.”

“Ah…” Kazaha sighs, searching for something properly ingratiating to say. “There’s a certain, hm, strong family resemblance.”

Suzu seizes the opportunity to inform the professor, “He means that you both look grumpy.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Right,” he agrees blithely. “It’s what you meant. Like I said.”

Lata snorts, starting back down the hall. “If you think I am ill-tempered, wait until you meet my sire. Why, I’m practically a ray of sunshine next to that old—”

“Oh, are we gonna?” Obi whips around, determined to be underfoot as he asks, “Will I finally get to meet my Knight Grandpa? Sir Grandpa—?”

“I would thank you not to call him that. And no.” Lata’s mouth thins to a line as tight as his shoulders. “Besides, if we are to take Knight Grandpa at its most literal, it would not be my father, but instead the man who was my master as a squire.”

“Is he gonna be here? Can I meet him?” It’s not physically possible for Obi to wend himself around Lata’s legs, but by the way he bats his eyes up at him, he’s spiritually there. “I promise I’ll be a good little knight. I’ll even bow and scrape and write poetry about women lying in ponds—”

“No.” After a begrudging pause, Lata adds, “He’s dead, actually.”

Obi pops up, shoulders suddenly soldier-straight beside him. “Oh, well. That’s a pretty good excuse. Did he die from some battle wound or…?”

“The drink,” Lata confirms. “He wasn’t, honestly, a very good master. But he was a friend of my father’s. That seemed to matter more back then.”

A laugh saws out of Obi, rough enough Suzu’s surprised it doesn’t take a bit of throat with it. “Seems to matter just as much now.”

The professor doesn’t do anything so obvious as look at Obi, oh no— he just simply clasps his hands behind his back, favoring the hall in front of him with an approving nod. “Doesn’t it just.”

“You frown the same way.” Both men peer over their shoulders, but Obi makes confusion seem casual, whereas Lata just scowls. Ryuu, for his part, doesn’t seem to notice. “You and your father, I mean.”

“Yes.” Lata surveys the hallway over his shoulder before turning back around. “It runs in the family.”

A beat passes before Suzu dares to venture, “Hey, weren’t the girls supposed to get ready here too?”

“Yes.” The professor isn’t known to smile, and he certainly doesn’t now, giving them all a disapproving glare. “They arrived on time.”

“What if” —Shidan’s clever little botanist practically froths over the vanity like a flask left too long on the hob, spilling linen and lace where she leans— “I told him I had something in my eye.”

This is hardly the first volley of hypotheticals Garrack’s fielded from that quarter; oh no, the girls had all been down to chemises when the preliminary speculation began— what if…I said I needed some air?— and now what had already been a serviceable set of natural curves has become a feat of human engineering, bolstered by a bulwark of baleen and batiste. There’d been endless layers added on; bust improvers and corsets and girdles, all requiring additional helpful hands, and it lends a weary edge to Izuru’s, “Oh, it’s a him, now is it?”

Shidan’s long-time assistant hasn’t bothered to batten down her hatches— at least, not as much as the botanist girl’s— with only enough corsetry to turn her posture from academic to appropriate. Another assurance that she’s coming along nicely, just the way Garrack always thought she would so long as Shidan’s quiet perfectionism didn’t infest her work ethic the way his little pet project did the university’s water supply.

“What next?” It has to have been ages since there was a woman in this place— heavens know Lata isn’t bringing any inamorata around here to parade around in front of his mother’s mirror— but the painted wood Izuru slumps over is pristine. Or, well, as much as whale bone lets a body slouch. “Identifying details? A name?”

“He’s hypothetical,” the botanist snaps, which almost guarantees that he isn’t. Too bad she hasn’t caked on the powder yet; even with the lights dimmed as they are, it’s impossible to miss the flush that creeps up her shoulders, pouring onto that pretty face. “He doesn’t exist. Yet.”

There’s quite a bit Izuru seems to have to say about that; her shoulder straighten, her mouth cants, and—

“Is that supposed to be romantic?” Shirayuki frowns into the mirror, hands swallowed up by the untameable beast that is Izuru’s hair. “Having something in your eye?”

“Well, not usually,” the botanist admits, undaunted by the sharp elbow of reality bursting her dreamy little bubble. “But an eyelash…that’s all right. Delicate even! Demure. And when he bends down, BAM.”

Shirayuki blinks. “You hit him?”

“Kiss him!” The girl slumps into a chair— despite all her scaffolding, she makes a better show of it than Izuru— heaving the most world-weary sigh. “I would kiss him, Shirayuki.”

It’s years since she’s been that diligent apprentice, quietly working under Ryuu’s precise direction, but Shirayuki still flushes as red as her hair at the barest mention of grown adults touching in any way but a professional handshake. Garrack would have thought Zen would handle that— three years is a quite a lot of time, and considering what some of her cohort got up to on these cold Lilias nights, she’d have expected the bar for blushing to be a few sexual acts higher. Under the clothes, at least.

“W-wouldn’t that be an awkward angle?” Shirayuki busies herself with Izuru’s hair, letting it twist around her hands as she pins it in place. “You m-might crash heads! And noses.”

“Fine.” The botanist flops on her chair, thoroughly put upon. “What about dropping my handkerchief? I let it flutter, just like this”— there’s no fabric in her hands, but she sticks out an elegant arm, turning away as her fingers go limp— “and when he bends to retrieve it, I—”

Garrack snorts. Not a soft one either; for as unintended as it is, it draws quite the audience. The pretty botanist included, one of her well-shaped eyebrows raised.

It’s a struggle to keep the laugh in her chest from bubbling out, making this whole situation worse. Or injure this girl’s more tender emotions, at least.“Listen, you really think a lord would stoop? For a botanist?”

“He will if he wants to be kissed!” she huffs, arms crossed. Quite a bit of lace froths out over them, like a puffed-out pigeon’s chest. “Which he will, since I’m going to be the best looking girl at this gala!”

There’s one of these girls in every cohort— a little too pretty for their own good, always thinking about which assistants they might be able to catch alone in the fourth floor stock room. Clever, of course— you don’t end up in Lilias if you’re a slouch in that department— but just a bit silly. Whimsical. Destined to be disappointed when they find out royals don’t marry researchers.

At least most royals with most researchers. It probably doesn’t help that the statistical outlier is in the room right now, sending her a long suffering look. “Yuzuri…”

“That’s no slight on the rest of you, Shirayuki,” the botanist— this Yuzuri— assures her, “I’ve just been planning for this my whole life. Or at least since I found out Wirant throws one of the Solstice things.”

“We’re supposed to be here for professional purposes,” Izuru reminds her, having worked for Shidan too long to believe in mixing work with pleasure.

“Oh, boo, Izuru!” Yuzuri straightens, bustling over to the mirror to fuss with the glossy fall of her hair, pinning up parts of it with her fingers and frowning at the results. “Don’t be dull.”

“It’s not dull,” Shirayuki protests, placing the last pin in hopes that this time, Izuru’s hair might not simply bend the mess of them to breaking. “It’s what Shidan’s asking us to do. I’m not saying you can’t dance too, but if you’re going to be mingling with the nobles, maybe you should try to talk to some of them about what we’re doing with the Phostyrias. Just a couple of them giving permission for us to plant the bulbs would really be—”

“Oh, fine, fine.” She waves one hand— painstakingly manicured, done up in a pearly sort of polish that wouldn’t last five minutes once she was back in the greenhouse— but undeterred. “I can chat them up a little bit too. For the project.”

Tonight might be the darkest night of the year, celebrated in the coldest, most ass-end part of the whole country, but when Shirayuki smiles, Garrack might well be back in her office at Wistal, enjoying the mild summer breeze winding through her window. “Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

“You better,” Yuzuri huffs, twisting her hair in her hands. “Don’t think I don’t notice that it’s the girl with a guy who’s down to kiss her anytime, any place that’s asking the rest of us to consider this a work party.”

“I…” Shirayuki sputters, and hoh, there’s that blush again, with a vengeance. “Obi wouldn’t…I mean…that’s not…”

Well, well. Looks like she’s been a little behind on current events of the frigid north. And maybe not so wrong about royals and researchers after all.

“What if I asked him off into a side corridor? Or an alcove? Maybe a balcony,” Shidan’s botanist continues, saving Shirayuki a few more stumbles. “Those always have the right ambiance. And then I ask him to check the clasp on my necklace, and—”

“At that point you might as well ask him to kiss you,” Izuru is quick to point out, stepping up to help her hold a swag of hair in place. “You’re not really being subtle.”

Yuzuri groans, pins clattering against painted wood. “But where’s the romance in that? There’s got to be some uncertainty, some risk—”

“You do know,” Garrack hums, crossing her ankles on the convenient hassock in front of her. “Shidan and I are here specifically to help keep down the kissing, don’t you?”

The girl sighs, eyes rolling in her reflection. “But you’re not really going to do anything, are you, Master Gazelt? You know how silly this whole rule is. Aren’t you just going to look the other way?”

Her mouth twitches. It would be funny to see that old goat get twisted up over some twenty-year-olds playing mother-may-I with their tonsils. “Maybe,” she allows, “if I thought it was funny enough.”

It hardly seems fair to say Suzu is disheveled when he hardly ever seems, well, sheveled, for lack of a better word. But with his shirt still merely half-buttoned and flyaway wisps of blond escaping their tie with every scrape of his hands over his scalp, Shidan has little else to call him.

“Is the mazurka step-step-clap-turn, or is that the redowa?” His half-coat flaps out around him as he marks out the movements— poorly, but at least recognizable, even if Shidan would be at pains to reproduce them. “Or maybe it’s the waltz? Help me, Obi,” — he seizes the knight as he slips through the door, rumpling the black wool of his coat— “I can’t remember!”

“I’ll run you through the steps before we get out there,” he promises, detaching Suzu from his lapel with more gentleness than Shidan would, under the circumstances. Suzu is a valuable member of his team, a long-time collaborator who will perform any number of demeaning tasks to see a project through, so long as he can avoid a single shred of responsibility and complain about his sorry lot the whole time, but well— even Shidan has his limits. “It’ll all come back to you once you got the band to back you up. These things always make more sense with the music.”

Suzu stares at him, utterly blank, and Obi huffs out a laugh. “Theoretical versus practical knowledge, right?”

“Oh.” Suzu endeavors to smooth back his strays, but they only pop back up in his palm’s wake. “Right. Yeah. Of course. Easy, then.”

“Right.” Obi pats his shoulder with a purposeful sort of confidence, as if he could pass it through flesh and fabric with the ease that footrot does through hoofs. “Easy.”

That is until Ryuu glances up from his book, brow furrowed in the faintest vee, and says, “If that’s the case, then how are you and Shirayuki so bad at it?”

Obi whips around, wide-eyed with betrayal. “H-hey!” he squawks. “We’ve gotten better!”

Ryuu doesn’t reply— not verbally, at least— but the look he turns to Obi is eloquent enough to speak for itself. And what it says is: not appreciably.

“Why are you even concerned about all that?” Kazaha’s costume is so crisp carpenters could use it to cut corners, cape and coat and pants and stymieing haircut all in perfect place. “It’s not as if anyone is going to ask you to dance.”

“Why not? I’m dressed all nice.” Suzu blinks down at himself, taking in the uncuffed sleeves and half-buttoned shirt and the coat canted askew on his shoulders, and adds, “Well, I will be.”

Kazaha may cluck his tongue, may shake his head hopelessly, but even still, he reaches out, straightening Suzu’s cuffs before buttoning them tight. “Because you’re a man, idiot. Girls might inquire if you’d like to take a stroll down Pavilion Street when we’re at the university, but in a ballroom, men do the asking.”

Shidan can’t say Suzu’s ever been popular with the female population, especially among the more established academics who are already well aware of his reputation as a rather acerbic eccentric, more apt to be cozened under tables or smudged with sweat and grit from Lata’s forge than doing the more respectable pastime of benchwork. But there’s always a flush of fluttering young freshmen flouncing outside the lab each year, eager to catch a glimpse of— or even speak a word or two with— the herbology department’s most striking scholar. That is, of course, until they actually talk to him.

“Really?” Spoken like a man who has had invitations hurled at his retreating back for five years running. By Kazaha’s strangled sigh, it’s clear he’s thinking the same. “I’m very pretty, though.”

“That may help with young ladies wanting to dance with you,” Kazaha informs him, pulling his lapel into a shape somewhat approaching acceptable. “But it will be expected that you approach them.”

“Oh.” It’s startling to see that sharp face turn thoughtful. “So I don’t have to do this dancing thing at all.”

“You do.” Shidan’s order scrapes out at the same time Kazaha’s does, creating an odd sort of echo before he presses on, “We’re the guests of honor at this gala. The department is expecting us to socialize with potential donors.”

“Well sure, but that doesn’t mean I gotta—”

“You will,” Shidan promises him wearily. “And you’ll have to at least pretend to like it, if you want to continue our work in the lab.”

“And not in some tiny closet,” Obi adds, brightly. “Where you’ll have to knock elbows with Kazaha just to get a beaker on the burner.”

“Well, yeah.” Suzu slumps, waving off Kazaha’s continued ministrations. It’s too late, however— he already looks respectable. Not enough to pass for a peer, but someone well on his way to professor. “But what if I just hung out along the wall instead. Then I could talk to people, and—”

“It’s rude for young men to be idling when there are eligible young ladies waiting for a partner.” Obi’s words nearly sparkle for all their polish, but he ruins the effect with one of his slant-wise grins. “Don’t worry, I told you I’d show you how to cut a rug. It’s better than getting stuck in a conversation with one of those stuffy old—”

There is a gravitas to the way the doors open in this place, a stately creak that does not imply age so much at maturity; this manor was built long before the sovereigns of Wisteria sunk their roots into Clarines’ throne, and it would last long after they were nothing more than musty portraits in halls long forgot. For as much as Lata might chafe under the weight of that history, might complain about the burden of expectation placed upon a son— the son— of Forzeno, he looks every inch the part as he steps over the threshold, trousers tailored and coast pressed within an inch of their lives, more institution than man.

“The guests are arriving,” he intones with all the cheer of a funeral bell. “Are you through with your preparations?”

“Almost!” Obi sing-songs, helping Kazaha tug the sleeves of Suzu’s jacket straight. “There, done.”

Lata surveys them with the same sharpness as he does his specimens, assessing them as if their flaws were as easily apparent as a gem’s through a loupe. With a long-suffering sigh, one pristine glove pinches at his nose, as if it might be any help at all stemming the incoming headache.

“Passable,” he grates out, stepping aside. “Now if you would follow me, I will ensure that you all make it to the hall.”

Obi’s mouth twitches, threatening a smirk. “Can’t trust us to get there on our own, eh, sir?”

“I have been an academic for nearly as long as you have been alive.” The fit of his coat already has Lata at his full height, but he lifts his chin for good measure, just to give his glare a few more momentum before it meets Obi’s grin. “And there is not a single scholar alive that can travel from one point to another in a straight line.”

Both brows raise now, scrunching the scar right to his hairline. “Not even you?”

Lata clears his throat. “If you would all come this way please. In an orderly fashion,” he adds, when Suzu traipses after him, elbows nearly colliding with Ryuu’s nose as he comes up behind. “I would prefer to avoid any accidents before we even arrive.”

Obi slinks closer, like a cat approaching a precariously placed cup. “But not after?”

A heavy sigh flares out of Lata’s nostrils. “I would prefer you not. But ‘after’ is not part of my purview.”

For all that Obi enjoys dogging the professor’s irritable heels, he makes no move to follow him. Instead, he lingers just inside the door, watching as first Suzu, then Ryuu, then Kazaha pass. Being polite, Shidan assumes at first, but then the moment for him to fall in line comes…and passes, utterly unmarked, save for the amused glance Obi turns his way, gold flaring in the lamplight.

He’s a different man than the one that appeared with the snow, all those years ago. Even more so from the boy that simply manifested in the university’s library, slotting himself between the two royal pharmacists with an ease that had Shidan squinting even then, trying to figure out how such incongruous pieces could fit. Lilias drew all types, it’s true, but even so— he’d never seen one quite like this: a knight with a thug’s scar cut into his brow, swaggering through the stacks like they were old enemies.

Don’t be fooled, Garrack had written him once, loops spiking tight with barely restrained humor. He might look a little rough-and-tumble, but that kid cleans up well.

He sees it now— the strong line of his shoulder accentuated by the cut of his coat, the belt at his waist complementing the taper of his torsi, the loose trousers that only barely obscure the acrobat’s body beneath. There’s no way to cover the scar, not even with a judicious application of pomade, but there’s no need— not when it only makes him look roguish, like a man who might sweep a girl into an alcove and teach her the sort of things proper young ladies only learned from novels. Still dangerous, but not deadly.

Worrying, really, considering. Shidan doesn’t make a habit of listening to scuttlebutt, but, well, he does have eyes of his own. And red is hard to miss. More so than the black he always finds bent beside it. “Obi, if I might have a word?”

That brow of his pitches up, amusement apparent in every angle. “You academics really will do anything to keep from having to go where you’re told.”

Shidan blinks, confused, before shaking his head. “I only thought I might remind you, that er…” There’s no delicate way to put it, not when he’s already wearing a smirk that would set every fine young lady’s fan fluttering. “That this year there is to be no Solstice kissing. By Lata’s request.”

“So I’ve heard.” Obi’s head cocks, curious, though when he takes in the emptiness of the room, the pointedness of the request…the slant his brow takes is clearly…confused. “Is there any reason you’re telling me, specifically?”

It’s a romantic sort of night, he might say, and it’s easy to forget yourself in the moment. Or maybe, you already stand so close I couldn’t fit a paper between the two of you, all it would take to close it is a well-timed trip. Or perhaps more accurately, you’ve been together so long all you need is an excuse. Trust me when I say you should take it.

But Shidan knows better than to speak, not when silence is all the more eloquent. The mind, he finds, often finds the most pressing reasons all on its own. Especially when one's thoughts never strayed too far from them anyway...

“Hey!” Obi presses a hand to the placard of his coat. “I haven’t caused trouble for years.”

It’s a feat worthy of song that Shidan keeps from reminding him of the last time him and Shirayuki rode through these gates. And yet, there’s no graceful way to admit that he hadn’t been talking about that sort of trouble anyway.

“Months, at least,” he relents, grudgingly. With a few moments of thought, he adds, “I’ve been really good this week.”

Shidan, with the patience of a saint, restricts his reply to simply, “If you’re sure.”

Obi does him the courtesy of hesitating. “Well, none of that’s been of the kissing variety, anyway. Not like any of the ladies here are going to be looking to make time with a guy like me tonight.”

He gives him another one of those charming grins, and Shidan sighs, resigning himself to an evening of being pointedly unobservant. “So you say.”

#obiyukiweek24 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #ans #finally i have gotten to revisit this fic I worked on last year with annie #the draft has been sitting in my WIP folder forever #and finally i've gotten to take out a chunk of it #i think there should be...one more full chapter and an epilogue #hilarious that i thought this whole project would be 9K #looks like it might well be between 15-18K overall #but maybe i'll get to sneak out another bit of it before the new year #love to get something wrapped up for once 😅

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