#The character reminds me of him in good ways

[kkuzushi]

May I request a Popular kid Scaramouche x Nerd reader (basically a power bottom scaramouche)

Also can I be 🐀anon

“ 𝐀 𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐞 ”

✦ characters: powerbottom!Scaramouche x amab!reader

✦ cw: no nut November, college setting, academic rivals (sort of), handjob (receiving & giving), slight praising but mostly humiliation, riding

✦ word count: 2.549k

✦ notes: I’m inexperienced with writing power bottoms so this took some time, I hope I did it right despite being more used to sub-bottom characters. Welcome to my blog as well, 🐀 anon! <3

You sat cross-legged on the couch, your laptop opened and displaying an earlier announcement. The debate competition you had joined was held today and your opponent? It was no other than the confident and quick-witted Scaramouche. However he was no match to you as always—when it comes to academics, you were simply 1% better, and that’s on being humble.

In your dorm, there was another competition being held. A staring contest between you and Scaramouche, both engulfed in silence. He glared at you, most likely sulking in his defeat.

“Fine.” Scaramouche sighed, putting his hands up in mock surrender, “You won, enjoy while it lasts.” His voice was laced with irritation and amusement. It’s not like he’ll deny that you did good but he won’t admit you were better.

You smirked, crossing your arms, “I plan to.” You looked away once the silent staring ended, taking your laptop and switching to your spreadsheet. There’s still a lot to do before the day ends and you intend to be productive.

You pushed up your glasses to the bridge of your nose, getting ready to continue on your day. Working’s about to be more fun, after all, it’s not everyday you crush someone who’s so sure they’re better than you.

Scaramouche rolled his eyes, seeing you ignore his presence easily in turn of concentrating to your works again. “We’re not done, you know,” He says, pushing himself off the wooden chair he was sitting on.

You glance at him, with a raised eyebrow you replied, “We are, unless you want the principal to reannounce the winner.” Scaramouche glared at your smug smile, he decides to push it aside, this is just one of your few wins over him, no big deal.

He walks closer to you, getting too close for comfort. “Don’t get too cocky now or you might lose this one.”

You blink, “Lose what?”

Scaramouche grinned and quickly plucks your glasses off your face. “Scara–” You warned, your arm extending to take it back from his grasp but he was quicker, keeping it out of your reach.

“Since you made me lose–”

“I didn’t make you lose,” you interrupted.

He rolled his eyes, “Okay, let me rephrase that.” Scaramouche cleared his throat, “Since you won the debate, it’s only fair I win something, right?” He grinned, the curve of his lips reminding you of a mischievous cat.

You raised your eyebrow, crossing your arms, “You’re not making sense.” Before you could even add more to your statement, Scaramouche walked closer and pressed a hand on the cushions behind you, trapping you on the couch.

“A fair trade,” He muttered, “You win the debate, I win this.” To emphasize his point, his free hand pushed your laptop to the side as he straddled your lap. Your legs uncrossed out of instinct despite being caught off guard by his actions.

You moved back against the cushion, feeling rather awkward with the sudden proximity. “A seat on my lap, really?” You joked, but the glint in his eyes tells you there’s more to this.

Scaramouche’s grin widens, his legs closing in on you to further trap your body in between them. “Don’t play dumb. I’ve heard of this little challenge you’re participating.. NNN, was it?” He drawls, his hands tracing your chest.

Is he kidding? There’s no way a childish challenge like that was enough for him to feel satisfied.. I mean, it’s not like you’re taking it seriously, right?

“You don’t dare–”

“Oh but I do.”

Scaramouche chuckles, his hips starting to grind against your crotch. His movements were slow but precise, intended to tease you to your limits.

Your hands gripped his waist, forcing him to pause for a moment. “Stop that.. I have better things to do right now,” You breathed out, a clear sign of warning in your eyes.

Scaramouche almost considered your words but he just smirked, carrying on with his movements. “You expect me to believe that?” His face leans in closer, “You’re getting hard awfully fast.” Without waiting for a reply, he closed the distance and captured your lips in a deep kiss.

He can feel your arousal building right beneath him with every roll of his hips, just the mere thought of turning you on was enough to turn him on. Amidst the kiss, Scaramouche was already thinking of ways he can easily make you lose this no nutting game, and he got just the right idea for it.

The both of you pulled away from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your mouths. The atmosphere in the room isn’t helping you at all, but then again, making out with Scaramouche means you’re already fucked.

The indigo haired brat was quick to get into action, his movements sharp as if he was determined to either make you lose or get to the real thing. Or both. In a blink of an eye, your pants were pulled to the floor, and next would be your garment which he was already fumbling with.

You gripped his wrists firmly, attempting to push him away. “You can't actually be going through with this,” you protested, voice sharp with disbelief.

But Scaramouche only laughed, the sound low and smug, his mischievous eyes glinting with confidence. Before you could protest any further, he twisted his wrists around to escape your grip. The realization hits you too late—he was completely serious about this.

And just like that, the tables turned, leaving you bare and vulnerable beneath Scaramouche. Your cock stood rigid, thankfully not yet leaking precum—after all, that would be quite the embarrassing sight for you, wouldn’t it? But the man before you is nothing if not stubborn, and there’s no chance he plans on taking it easy.

Scaramouche slowly wraps a hand on the base, stroking you to full erection. You bit your bottom lip, suppressing the noise of arousal that’s threatening to escape. You can’t let him win right at the beginning, it’ll inflate his insufferable ego.

His violet eyes observed you intensely, as if daring you to slip up, while his movements grew more deliberate. The room felt warmer with every second, your self-control being pushed to its limits under his relentless teasing. You couldn’t give in, not now—not with that smug grin of his silently declaring his impending victory.

Concealing your noises wasn’t enough to hide the evidence of your arousal, though, as a slick warmth began to drip down to his fingers. The sensation only served to spur Scaramouche on, his movements becoming smoother, aided by the telltale fluid that betrayed your resistance.

“Well, would you look at that..” He murmured, leaning in until his breath ghosted against your ears. The obscene sounds filled the air, wet squelches echoing louder than your restrained breaths. “Seems like all that fight of yours is slipping away,” he taunted, his thumb brushing over the angry tip of your cock.

Scaramouche props himself, nimble fingers working to unfasten his pants. Even with that infuriating smirk plastered on his face, it was impossible to miss the way his breaths had grown shallow, his eyes tainted with want despite the composed facade he’s been putting up.

“I’m not the only one turned on, huh?” You muttered, a teasing edge to your voice as your eyes glanced up to his. His smirk faltered, eyebrows furrowing as he shoved his pants off.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, I’m still in control here.” Scaramouche scoffed as he continued to strip himself. Finally, his own dick springs free from its confinements, hard and almost begging for attention. You stared for a while, temptation waring in your mind. Maybe you can turn the tables if you teased him enough.

As your gaze lingers on him, Scaramouche’s smirk deepens. The obvious look of hesitation and temptation in your eyes was another opportunity for him. “Careful, your stare might melt me,” he teased, his voice dripping with a playfulness.

He shifted, lowering his body to yours, the head of your cock resting in between his ass. “Touch it,” He grinned, grinding himself against your weeping dick. “You want to, don't you?” He adds, there was no mistaking that Scaramouche wasn’t exactly asking; he was commanding.

There goes your chance of regaining control. Your hand trembled slightly, the tension in the room thick as you fought the urge to give in. But Scaramouche wasn’t making it easy. His body was so close, his scent intoxicating, and the way he was looking at you made it hard to think straight.

Once your hand makes contact with his shaft, you feel the man twitch a little. With a quiet gulp, you start to stroke him like he did to you. He continues to grind himself against you, movement in sync with your palm.

Scaramouche’s grin widens as you obey his words, his breath becoming uneven with every passing second. His hands rested firmly on your shoulders, squeezing gently. “Just like that,” he praised, his voice breathless yet undeniably smug, as if he had you exactly where he wanted you.

Were you actually into this? The thought crossed your mind as Scaramouche’s commands and praises echoed in your ears. Pondering over it, the man above can feel your hand faltering, contemplation filling your face.

Scaramouche took the opportunity to lean in, his lips brushing softly against your ear. “Don’t stop now,” he whispered, his voice almost a challenge, one that made your pulse spike. “Unless you’re starting to want more?”

“I don’t–” He was quicker than your protest, a gasp leaving your lips as you feel something tight constrict your length. Scaramouche groaned as he lowered himself further on your cock, precum lubing his insides.

“Fuck– Scara, wait–”

“Gonna cum already?”

“No! That’s not–..”

It felt as though you could dissolve completely under the sheer heat of his inner walls, the tight warmth clinging to your cock already making you see stars. Despite teasing you, Scaramouche had his face buried in your neck and hands gripping your shoulders, hot breath hitting your skin as he adjusts to the intrusion inside him.

After a few moments of silence, Scaramouche began to move, riding you with slow precision. Wet, obscene sounds filling the room in an instant. Every glide of your cock inside him has you moaning, while he was watching you with a smirk.

The brat could see the subtle shifts in your expression—the way your body responded, betraying the calm front you forced to keep. He was in complete control of the situation now as he watched you squirm under his attention, every little shift sending a ripple of satisfaction through him.

“Don’t forget that NNN challenge of yours,” Scaramouche grinned above you. You almost forgot about that, the only thing you can focus on is his weight pressing down on you, tight entrance swallowing you whole.

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping lower, teasing you further, “Or perhaps you’re losing already?” He continued as your face flushed even deeper. “You’re halfway there, aren’t you?”

You looked him straight in the eye, lips barely moving as you gritted your teeth. “Fuck off,” You muttered, trying to sound nonchalant, though your voice betrayed the slight tremor of frustration. Your hips start to move with a mind of its own, shallowly thrusting up to Scaramouche, movements small yet evident to the man receiving it.

Scaramouche didn’t miss a thing, of course. Even the slightest twitch of your muscles told him everything he needed to know. You weren’t as composed as your earlier facade tried to show.

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “How cute,” he purred. “You can’t stop moving. You’re just giving in without even realizing it, aren’t you?”

Every part of you screamed to resist, to regain some semblance of control, but Scaramouche’s inner walls clung to your shaft, forbidding you to pull away or stop the rise and fall of his hips.

The indigo haired brat’s hands tightened their grip on your shoulders, his smirk never faltering as he tilted his head down to meet your gaze. “Are you finally enjoying this?” He drawled, enjoying his control over you.

He leaned in, lips brushing close to your ear. “How humiliating for you,” he added, his breath warm against your skin. His tone was laced with mockery, but the way he moved left no doubt that he was just as lost in the moment as you were.

Your thrusts were just helping him get his impending victory, but you couldn’t help it any longer. He was clenching around your cock on purpose, making sure you were losing your control without any fight.

Your hands gripped his waist as soon as he picked up the pace, “You’re twitching already?” He teased, voice dripping with condescension. His breath ghosted over your cheek as he whispered, voice soft but full of mocking intent, “Can’t take it anymore, can you?”

Precum starts to dribble out of his hole, the evidence of your crumbling resolve bringing him satisfaction. “Poor thing,” He added, a chuckle slipping through his lips, “and here I thought you’d have more restraint.”

Scaramouche’s chuckles quickly change into breathy sounds of pleasure as your cock hits his prostate dead on. His fingers tightened on your shoulders, grounding himself from the unexpected pleasure.

“So desperate..mnhh♡–” He managed to murmur between breaths, though the quiver in his voice betrayed his earlier dominance, the sensation overwhelming him, leaving him as lost in the moment as you were.

His head tilted back, eyes fluttering shut as another gasp broke through his control. “You’rengh–still pathetic..” He whispered, though the shiver in his tone made it clear he was no better.

“Hmn–ironic.” He glared at you for that. Your patience was wearing thin, and despite everything, your body couldn't stop reacting, your movements becoming more desperate. Consequences be damned, you’re teetering over the edge already. November comes around every year anyway, but coming inside Scaramouche might just be a once in a lifetime activity.

You were already where he wanted you to be right from the start, and for the last time, he smirked before losing himself in the overwhelming pleasure. A knot draws up in your abdomen, your thrusts growing erratic as you chase your climax.

"Don’t stop..hAngh–♡" Scaramouche gasped, voice breaking as you pushed your body into his, meeting his every move with urgency. “F-Faster–go faster!” he stammered, but the need for more was clear in his frantic pace.

With one final thrust, you released yourself inside him, ropes of cum spurting out as he came on your stomach at the same time.

The two of you collapsed into each other’s arms, chests heaving as you tried to catch your breaths after everything that transpired.

As the haze of pleasure began to fade, reality sank in like a cruel reminder. Shame and irritation bubbled in your mind as the thought hit you—you really lost No Nut November because Scaramouche rode you.

“This was.. so lame.” You groaned, burying your face in his shoulder.

Scaramouche heard your muttered complaint loud and clear, a raspy chuckle escaping his lips as he tilted his head to look at you. “Seeing you lose made it worth it.” But amidst his relentless teasing, you can feel him grinding on your cock, pushing your cum deeper inside him.

[ariiadnes]

ㅤ╭ ⿻ ･ beneath the universe ( part ii. )

AT THE END AS AT THE START , & THROUGH ALL THE IN-BETWEENS , I LOVE YOU

ଓ.° ・ kaveh ･ dehya ･ cyno ･ ayato ･ diluc. genshin impact. quote cr : amal el-mohtar & max gladstone. repost. each character's parts are limited to 150 words! ・ ・ ・ pt i.

❀ ��˚࿔ kaveh

"of all the creations i've made, none can compare to your beauty."

kaveh has always been a romantic, love language born from touch and fervor. you blink, disoriented expression meeting your lover's through the mirror. it is barely morning. you've just woken up, head out of sorts as you brush your teeth. you wouldn't say you're the epitome of beauty at this moment, but he thinks otherwise.

how can someone be so radiant in the most mundane of things? he leans against the doorway, watches as you get ready for the day. you toss a reluctant glance in his direction, but he simply smiles.

"already hitting on me, huh?"

he hums, beckons you closer.

"what can i say? i'm an honest man."

his hands rest on your hips as if that's where they have always belonged and he presses a gentle kiss to your temple in greeting.

"good morning, dearest."

❀ ⋆˚࿔ dehya

"sunshine, you're not blushing, are you?"

dehya is not one to be trifled with, strength and skill in combat unmatched. she is not as intimidating as she lets on, altruism in her nature.

no, dehya isn't one to be messed with, but you do it anyway. with one hand in hers, the other pressed against her cheek, you grin, almost think it might have grown warmer after your words. she has yet to become accustomed to these nicknames, and in truth, she does not think she ever will.

"sunshine? you..."

she sighs, knows this is already defeat. she has fought many battles, none of them this difficult.

"not a fan? should i call you something else?"

she blinks furiously, tries to hide her flustered visage. she clears her throat, fails to maintain eye contact, but squeezes your hand all the more.

"i'll only let you call me that, you know."

❀ ⋆˚࿔ cyno

the first time cyno made you laugh is the most memorable, he decides. his jokes, while quite humorous, often miss the mark, so he vividly recalls that moment, knows it to be one he cherishes ever so dearly.

the flow of time is one that cannot be changed, days gone by as he seeks out those who taunt justice. it is an arduous role, but one he carries with pride.

it's when he finally comes home to you that he feels at ease, heart lightened, and so he is once more reminded that the passage of time is not one to be taken for granted.

"did you know," cyno begins, "that your laughter is one of my favorite things to hear?"

"are you saying that because i laugh at your jokes?"

cyno grins, loves the way you naturally place your hand in his when he reaches out for you.

"maybe."

❀ ⋆˚࿔ ayato

the role as the head of the kamisato clan is seldom easy, ayato's past filled with hardships paving the road to a masterful deception, fabricated smiles shown with ease despite a quiet suffering.

how warm you are, he thinks, so he relaxes in your hold, allows a rare vulnerability in the presence of the one he's sworn devotion to.

"what a special occasion." he comments, wavering between consciousness. "you're hardly this kind to me."

you've always been used to his banter, but there is something dispiriting in his teasing tone, so your fingertips lightly trace circles into his skin, your lips against his forehead in reverie.

"what can i do for you, ayato?"

he leans into your touch, and you know the smile that blossoms on his lips is one of genuine happiness.

"you've done enough. so long as you remain by my side, i could ask for nothing more."

❀ ⋆˚࿔ diluc

diluc does not know when the right moment is for declarations of adoration; although you've already exchanged confessions, it has always been a challenge.

maybe it's the way you weave cecilias into crimson locks, tuck a stray strand of hair behind his ear. maybe it's how you smile, look at him wordlessly yet announce your love for him. diluc is uncertain, but he recognizes this feeling that takes over and makes the echoes of a heartbeat terribly known.

it is instinct, the way he draws closer to you when your fingers trace his jawline with utmost reverence. you still at the little space that exists between two lovers, and perhaps the silence is louder than ever.

i love you is spoken in the way diluc kisses you, and in the way he pulls you closer, there is a i love you, i will gladly give all of myself to you.

[poughkeepsie99]

stay gold - dw x fem!reader

warnings! slight mentions of violence, suggestions of depression, mental health, spoilers for 'the outsiders', use of nicknames; sweetheart, sweet girl

word count: 1.5k

pairing: dean winchester x fem!reader

a/n: hey guys! this is my first fic ever so I'm really nervous to publish this, and also I wrote this at like 1 am... but also formatting was a pain in my ass so I apologize if this is ugly. this is totally random but I recently just rewatched the outsiders AND saw the play on Broadway so now I'm obsessed and can't stop thinking about it. so anyways, here it is!

"c'mon sweetheart," dean groans, turning his head to give you a look as you selected the movie on the screen.

"no, dean, it's my turn to choose, and you agreed to no complaining," you counter, unable to stop the smile from spreading across your lips, eyes locked on the tv as you press play on the screen.

you had a point, and you knew it. it was your and dean's weekly movie night, and as you had said, it was your turn to choose. normally, you chose a movie that you at least somewhat liked, but also knew he would enjoy, that way you would both be happy. but the past couple weeks had been rough, and honestly you just wanted to curl up on the couch and watch something familiar, something comforting.

'the outsiders' had been one of your favorites since you were younger, the brotherhood of the greasers, and just the story in general bringing so much comfort and warmth to you. even though it was inherently a sad movie, it was the good kind of sad. the kind of sad that left an ache in your heart that you could just wallow in instead of the problems in your own crazy fucked up life.

"m'not complaining," dean grumbles, settling back onto the couch, a slight pout on his lips. "just tryna make a suggestion.."

"dean, c'mon, please? just this once, for me?" you ask, turning to look at him with a look that was almost pleading. you were trying to hide how tired you were. how beaten down and defeated the past couple weels of nonstop hunts and constantly being thrown around were making you feel.

dean opened his mouth as if to argue, but he seemed to notice something in your face, and his expression softened. he let out a sigh, placing his arm on the back of the couch and holding out his other one, motioning for you to come closer. "alright, alright, but i don't wanna hear any complaining from you next week when it's my turn."

you simply hum in agreement, scooting closer to him and nestling into his side with a small smile on your face as the familiar opening credits play. dean's arm curls around you, holding you close to him and gently brushing his knuckles over the soft skin of your arm. you lean your head on his shoulder, eyes glued to the screen as you take a deep breath, allowing yourself to relax in the comfort of the moment.

as the movie goes on, you occasionally glance up at dean, surprised to find him thoroughly invested in the film, eyes slightly wide and zoned in on the screen, the glow reflected in his irises.

what you failed to notice, however, was dean doing the same. every so often, his eyes would drift down to you, taking in the way the soft glow of the tv highlighted your features, tracing the curve of your cheek and lips with his eyes. he found himself liking the movie a lot more than he would admit to you, and he could see why you liked it.

his favorite character was dallas, of course, but he also found himself drawn to darry, seeing himself in the eldest curtis brother. the way darry looked out for his brothers reminded dean of his childhood, how he took care of sam the same way. his eyes widened in surprise when ponyboy woke up to johnny having killed bob, and he actually let out a small gasp when the burning church collapsed on poor johnny. he watched eagerly as the greasers prepared for the rumble, secretly cheering for them in his head.

dean's hand never stopped it's comforting movements on your skin, whether it was your arm, or your hip, skin exposed where your shirt had ridden up, he was always touching you in some way, making sure you knew he was still there. dean had noticed that something was off for a while. he hadn't said anything, he was gonna let you come to him when you were ready, but he saw your exhausted, almost crushed expression when you had pleaded with him about the movie, and so he gave in, content with just making you feel better with gentle touches and soft kisses on your temple throughout the movie.

through the emotions going through his head as ponyboy read johnnys letter at the end of the movie, dean heard your soft voice next to him. he looked down, about to ask you to repeat what you said, but then he saw how your eyes were still glued to the tv, your lips moving in time to the characters on the screen.

he smiled, warmth blooming in his chest as he listened to you quote the scene, your voice soft and quiet. though the scene kept going, dean couldn't take his eyes off you, the movie just background noise now as his eyes traced over your features that he had memorized many a time, but always found himself wanting to learn again.

finally, when the movie was over, you felt his eyes on you, and you lifted your head, cheeks flushing when you met his intense gaze.

"what?" you ask, your voice barely above a soft whisper.

dean didn't reply right away, his eyes full of adoration and love as he continued to take in your face, his heart beating just a little faster as he noticed the faint blush on your cheeks. "nothin', m'just looking," he mumbles, reaching up his free hand to brush a stray hair from your face.

that only makes your cheeks flush harder, your eyes rolling in faux annoyance, but you lean into his touch slightly, eyes fixed on his.

"did you even watch the movie?" you ask accusingly, raising an eyebrow at him.

"i did," he defends, smiling at your reaction to his touch, hand cupping your face and thumb running gently over your cheekbone. "i actually really liked it."

your eyes light up at that, your lips parting softly in surprise as you stare up at him. "you did?"

"mhm. its a good movie. i see why y'like it so much," he says with a gentle shrug, a soft smile playing at the edge of his lips.

"im glad you liked it." you smile widely up at him, your heart warming at the fact that he liked the movie.

dean just smiles softly back down at you, tilting his head down to place a kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering for a heartbeat before leaning his head down and pressing his forehead to yours.

you two stay like that for a moment, eyes closed and just breathing each other in, basking in the rare moment of peace. dean breaks the silence first, opening his eyes to look at you, but not pulling away as he speaks softly, his voice a deep whisper. "m'always here for you, sweetheart. always gonna be here."

you open your eyes to meet his as he speaks, shocked yet again by how well he knows you, how he's able to read you and see that something was wrong. you don't say anything for a moment, lump forming in your throat and your eyes scanning his as if trying to memorize the way the colors swirl in his eyes. your head is telling you to brush off his words, mutter back something about how you know that, and how you're 'fine', but you're just so tired, and you can't bring yourself to.

"thank you," is the quiet whisper that comes from you in response, the sincereness evident in your soft voice, and the emotion written across your face.

dean just pulls you closer with his arm around your shoulders, pressing another kiss to your forehead, tucking you into his neck and resting his chin on your head, holding you close and silently letting you know that he understands.

"never gonna leave you, sweet girl, you've always got me," he mutters into your hair, his other arm coming up to wrap around you, holding you impossibly closer to him.

another older movie comes up on autopilot, one that dean thinks you've both watched before, but he doesn't make any move to stop it, just holding you close, gently rubbing your back and hip until you fall asleep in his arms. when he hears your breaths even out, he turns down the volume of the movie, pressing a kiss in your hair and letting his lips linger, inhaling your scent that smells like home.

"goodnight sweetheart, i love you," he whispers into your hair, even though he knows you can't hear him, and dean doesn't think he's ever meant any words more in his life. he spends the night holding you, and though his back hurts when he wakes up the next morning on the couch, the sight of you, asleep in his arms, expression peaceful, dean just thinks about everything he would give, just to keep you happy.

there it is, my first fic! lmk what u think and please feel free to send in asks/requests on my blog or on the google form linked on my page

tysm for reading and I hope ur having a great day/night! - bri

[elkian]

More about GGG's finale and core plot (that is, BIG SPOILERS BELOW)

One recurring trend is loneliness. King's actions help connect people, and our protagonist continues in her footsteps, but the loneliness of the characters who play antagonists is especially notable.

The God Awards (which I've mentioned before, the whimsy of them made me totally blip over the red flags and implications) mention Inspekta doing everything for them. What would they be without him, Capochin asks?

"Lonely!"

Inspekta gathered the lonely hearts together. Gave them purpose. Gave them a charismatic leader to follow.

Saul is one of the most antagonistic non-Bizzy humans, and a recurring refrain in Milldread is how lonely everyone is. How gatherings are now somehow either discouraged or outright illegal (hmm, wonder whose idea that was). In fact, most of the Milldread citizens only have good or at least compassionate things to say about him.

(Sometimes I feel like the antagonists are shown a little much compassion given the way this plot goes, but it is also important to remember that deprogramming cultists etc. is based around showing compassion and reminding them that the world is not innately hostile to them. And there's only so much a single game can say in the span of a few hours, so, like, I get it.)

In fact, you have to insult Saul twice to progress in Milldread. How do you do this?

One, you get a dog to make a dog noise, and Saul loses it and comes over to harass the dog (and fail).

Two, after this point, he'll say that he "hates that shaggy little man". This is the line you need to give Budd to progress. When he asks for an insult levied at Saul, you can travel the town... and find that everyone has good things to say about him. He's misled, he's actually very sweet, his friends miss him.

It's very telling that the only way to effectively insult Saul to Budd is to use his own words to do it. Even writing this, I realize that this also implies a bit of a persecution complex with Saul - the people around him don't hate him, or even think he's particularly incompetent. They're worried about him. They understand that he's stressed. He was lead astray by a bad element but he snaps out of it (with help) in time to rejoin his community.

And speaking of throwing words back in faces...

Capochin shows a pretty regular skill for recognizing voices when you fling words at him - it's funny, because a lot of people in this game don't, so he's an outlier and that's amusing. In the battle against him, it means you have to work around him - you can't use his own words against him directly.

Instead, you put words in "Inspekta"'s mouth and bring that to Capo.

He shows an awareness, to a level, that this isn't really Inspekta talking. But this realization is a long time coming, and he can't repress it anymore. He can't deny reality when it's thrown in his face, when he's all alone, when nobody wants to work with him anymore. When even his god is only using him, spending more time with the Godpoke, leading him astray.

The Bizzyboys (and Hector; Yugo Limbo said that all of them come from Drain, hence them looking alike(?) ) evoke a very specific type of person, to me: the incel. Or at least, something adjacent. They're all referred to as "he" as Bizzys (I'm of a mind that Bizzyboys are all he/him while Bizzy, as, like, an honorary gender, mostly because it's just a silly idea; though in retrospect it also meshes with the enforced similarity situation). They're all lonely. They've banded together under a mutual purpose, but they don't really support each other.

And when they start to, between Hobbyhoo and BuzzHuzz? When they begin to collaborate, talk about taking a break from all this fash shit "investigating"?

Capochin shuts them down. Hard.

And Patty says he's scared of Capochin, but the other Bizzies say he would never hurt any of them. But when Capochin blows his top, all of them get really timid.

Capochin not getting involved in the violence until there's literally no one else to hide behind is so cliche that it almost just seems like a joke, until I took in the rest of the story.

Playing this game makes me think a lot of Fallout: New Vegas, a game where you can also destroy fascism and avert a cataclysm as a vaquero-themed courier.

One thing that becomes achingly clear in FNV is how the Legion is a cult of personality: it's not just the Legion, it's Caesar's Legion. Legate Lanius is terrifying, yes, but nobody talks about him as a leader so much as a warrior. Once Caesar dies, it seems obvious to me that the entire thing is going to crumple like a house of cards. Caesar didn't leave any backup plans, any true heirs, because the whole thing was his vanity project. There's no point to the Legion without Caesar, and he never once considered that there should be.

Inspekta and the Bizzyboys work very similarly. The whimsy and goofiness of the setting, which we also see in Smile For Me, lead me to miss some major red flags (I am also just. very dense.), which is a known problem in real fascism - the use of cutesy facades to cast absurdity on any claims of propaganda.

Anyways. My point is that the Bizzyboys seem at first to be a group, but are really more underlings in a cult of personality. Everything falls apart when faith in the system - in Capochin, in Inspekta - is lost. And Capochin is the Joshua Graham to Inspekta's Caesar; both of them culpable, both of them seeming in charge, with Capochin primed to take the fall as soon as things go wrong. But he volunteered for that! He wanted to be Inspekta's #1! The right-hand chump! The prime goon! He's getting everything he ever worked for, so don't question the system, Capo, because that's the same as doubting Inspekta. And doubting Inspekta means you're not a good Bizzyboy. Means you're ungrateful. Means that maybe what you have should go to someone who'll appreciate it.

They literally have their names stripped away - and I think the constant belittling and name-withholding of Patty, who genuinely displays real competence and intelligence at points if you pay attention, is a deliberate ploy. You don't want to be like P. You don't want to be a failure. Look at you, earning your letters! You almost have a full name! Not like that loser at the bottom of the barrel. You're a real winner, here.

And you, P? You need to try harder. Look how Alexei has his whole name back for doing hardly anything! How can you fail to get even a single letter back, compared to him? When Patty asks for his name back in Milldread, Capochin mentions solving mysteries - mysteries of "what does Capochin want for lunch", etc. It's silly, but it's also sinister. It's the most overtly self-centered bit of Bizzy lore we get for maybe the whole game. Capochin outright says he comes first and we laugh because of the delivery.

(The videos are fantastic, because they really set up the reveal in a lot of both subtle and unsubtle ways. Even the very first video, where Capochin insults Patty for asking a scripted question, before moving into the answer, is foreshadowing for the constant emotional abuse all of the Bizzys and Patty in particular are subjected to. There's probably much more I'm forgetting.)

Under the whimsy and humor of the game is a very real statement about cults and fascism and the kinds of people they recruit, and how they do it. They amplify the concerns of the disenfranchised and alone, people who have difficulty connecting with a community. They give those people somewhere to belong, ideals to uphold, and targets to gang up on.

Anyways. Good game.

[ikkyfics]

Dave Lizewski x fem!reader

Summary: you decide to teach your boyfriend to drive

Warnings: fluffy, cute scenes, sweet couple, light humor, needy character because he deserves all the love in the world

Materlist

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“Alright, now all you need to do is ease your foot off the clutch. Slowly,” you said, your neck craned at an awkward angle as you tried to peek at the car’s pedals. Your voice carried a sweet patience that only you seemed capable of offering Dave, even after he’d almost stalled the car at least five times that day.

Dave took a deep breath, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. He nodded with determination and began lifting his foot off the clutch.

“Not so fa—”

Your sentence was cut off by the car’s abrupt jolt, and the engine stalled. The silence that followed was broken by Dave’s frustrated groan as he let his forehead fall against the steering wheel with a soft thud.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice heavy with discouragement. “I’m a total loser.”

Your eyes immediately filled with guilt on his behalf. He hated letting you down, and even more than that, he hated appearing clumsy or incompetent—especially in front of you. Dave had this habit of carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, as though every small failure was proof he wasn’t good enough.

You chuckled softly, reaching out to poke his ribs. “Hey, you’re not a loser.”

“Yes, I am,” he shot back, still leaning against the steering wheel.

“Alright, maybe you are. A little.”

Dave lifted his head, shooting you a wounded look that was pure drama, yet somehow irresistible. “Thanks? Was that supposed to make me feel better?”

Feigning innocence, you twirled a strand of your hair between your fingers and spoke in the sweetest voice you could muster. “But you’re my loser, Dave.”

He let out a low laugh, the sound warming the air between you. There was something endlessly endearing about the way he seemed to struggle to stay frustrated in your presence. Dave was like that—a storm of insecurities and neediness that you loved soothing with smiles and gentle touches.

Still holding the steering wheel, he sighed. “I don’t know how you have patience with me. I don’t even know why you bothered trying to teach me. You know I’m a lost cause.”

“You’re not a lost cause,” you replied, your hand sliding to his arm and giving it a firm squeeze to drive your point home. “You just need to relax. Stop overthinking.”

Dave turned his face to look at you, and his blue eyes were so full of quiet devotion that your heart skipped a beat. “It’s kinda hard not to overthink when the girl I love is watching me mess everything up,” he admitted, his voice low and hesitant.

The confession stole the breath from your lungs for a moment. Dave had this special talent for dropping these heartfelt lines that seemed pulled straight from the depths of his soul, and his vulnerability was always so genuine it was impossible not to feel a deep warmth spreading through your chest.

“You’re not messing anything up,” you assured him, leaning in closer. “And even if you were, it’d still be adorable.”

The flush that crept up his cheeks was immediate. He opened his mouth to respond but closed it just as quickly, seeming to lose his words. Dave always got a little flustered when you were that direct, and it was one of the things that made him all the more endearing.

After a few more attempts to start the car without jolts—which you met with encouraging words and light laughter—he stalled the engine again and threw his hands up in theatrical defeat.

“This is impossible!” he exclaimed.

“Impossible? I can do this with one hand tied behind my back,” you teased, crossing your arms.

“Of course you can. You’re like a driving prodigy. Remind me again how you started so young?”

You smiled, recalling the story you’d told him before. “My dad used to let me sit on his lap and hold the steering wheel when I was a kid. Obviously, it was just to entertain me. I wasn’t actually controlling anything. He always said that instead of blood, we’ve got gasoline running through our veins.”

Dave raised his eyebrows, a sly grin creeping onto his face as he shot you a long look. “So… maybe that’s what I need. You sit on my lap, and I’ll figure out how it’s done.”

You arched a brow, feigning disbelief. “Are you suggesting I sit on your lap while you drive? What do you think we are, Dave? Megan Fox and Shia LaBeouf in Transformers?”

He shrugged, his grin widening. “No, but I think it’d make for a great learning moment. Plus…” He trailed off, leaning in just a little closer. “I’m kinda partial to the idea of you right here with me.”

It was impossible to resist that look. Dave’s eyes were practically weapons of emotional destruction, brimming with a shy intensity that made your stomach flip.

You rolled your eyes dramatically but couldn’t suppress the smile spreading across your face. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible or genius?” he countered, already shifting to make room.

Sighing, you relented and climbed onto his lap, carefully adjusting yourself to avoid pressing him too firmly against the seat. Dave immediately placed his hands on your waist, the touch light and hesitant, as if he were still processing the fact that you were this close.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

“Don’t get any ideas,” you teased, though it was hard to keep the casual tone when the warmth of his hands seemed to radiate straight to your skin.

“Not a chance,” he murmured, but the grin curving his lips was full of mischief.

When you placed your hands on the steering wheel, ready to show him how it was done, he leaned forward to press a light kiss to the curve of your neck. The gesture was so unexpected that you almost lost your composure, your heart pounding as his lips left a trail of fire on your skin.

“Dave,” you chided, though your voice sounded more like a sigh.

“I’m learning,” he replied innocently, while another, slower kiss landed just below the first.

It was hard to focus. In fact, it was impossible. You could barely remember what you were supposed to be teaching because all you could feel were his fingers firm on your waist and his warm lips on your skin. One of his thumbs dipped under the hem of your shirt, tracing lazy circles on the soft skin of your stomach. Unable to help yourself, you relaxed against his chest, sighing at the path of kisses he trailed along the side of your neck.

“If you keep this up, I’m going to crash the car,” you whispered, unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

“We’re parked. It’s fine,” he replied with that boyish tone that always melted your heart.

You closed your eyes as his nose brushed against the sensitive curve of your neck, inhaling deeply, as if he wanted to be intoxicated by your scent.

“You’re impossible,” you murmured, with no real intention of scolding him.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” he answered, his smile pressing into your skin.

Turning your head to face him, you tried to summon a seriousness that was slipping through your fingers. The way he was looking at you didn’t help—his eyes sparkled with a mix of admiration and restrained longing, as if you were something too precious to touch yet impossible to resist.

“If you’re trying to distract me to avoid another attempt, I have to say you’re succeeding,” you remarked, raising an eyebrow.

Dave shrugged, his fingers still sliding absentmindedly along your waist, occasionally daring to dip down to your hips. “Not my fault I’d rather do this than… you know, wreck the gear shift again.”

You rolled your eyes, but the laugh that escaped you was as involuntary as it was inevitable. “Okay, I admit, driving with you is already one of the most chaotic experiences of my life. But if I survive this, I can survive anything.”

He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes as if he were seriously pondering that. “So, you’re saying I’m like the final boss of patience challenges?”

“Something like that,” you replied, leaning closer, your fingers gently brushing a few of his dark curls away from his face. “But I’d also say you come with your rewards.”

Dave smiled, the kind of smile that lit up his entire face—a delightful combination of surprise and joy, as though he still wasn’t used to the fact that you loved him.

“Rewards, huh?” he asked, his voice slightly hoarse, his vibrant blue eyes fixed on your lips.

You nodded slowly, letting the tension in the air between you build. Your gaze flicked to his mouth, and before hesitation could creep in, you closed the distance, kissing him with all the intensity the moment demanded.

His taste was familiar yet always felt new, an addictive mix you could never seem to get enough of. Dave’s hands tightened slightly on your waist, pulling you closer, as though he needed to feel every part of you to believe this was real. You shifted, fumbling a bit with your legs before finally settling more comfortably in his lap. Your fingers quickly tangled in his hair, drawing a soft sigh from his lips.

Dave loved you, every part of you, but your mouth might easily be one of his favorites. Not just because he could lose himself in it, but because your voice was one of the sweetest sounds he’d ever heard. It was like a siren’s song, pulling him closer until he was completely wrecked. And those little noises of pleasure that bubbled from your lips—he adored hearing them, even more so because he was the one causing them.

His hands tightened around you as he left gentle love bites on your lips, only to kiss them sweetly after. He slid deeper into the kiss, stealing the breath from your lungs as though trying to leave an imprint on your soul.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, but the goofy smile on his swollen lips made your heart stumble all over again.

“Okay,” he began, his voice low and slightly shaky. “If that’s the reward, I promise to be even clumsier.”

You laughed, giving his shoulder a playful smack. “Don’t even think about it.”

He laughed with you, though the sound soon faded as his gaze caught something else on your face. His smile softened, and he tilted his head as if trying to solve an invisible puzzle.

“What?” you asked, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks under his attentive stare.

“I just… sometimes I wonder how you can look at me like that,” he confessed, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m…” He paused, searching for the right words. “Like I’m important. Special.”

Your heart tightened in your chest. Dave had this habit of underestimating his own worth, of believing he was just another ordinary figure in a world that barely seemed to notice him. But he wasn’t ordinary to you. He never could be.

“Maybe because you are,” you replied, without a hint of hesitation.

His face turned a shade of red that always made you want to squeeze him as if he were the most adorable thing in the universe. He looked away for a moment, clearly trying to hide the grin threatening to grow wider.

You decided not to give him the chance to argue or get embarrassed. Cupping his face in your hands, you forced him to look at you. “You’re special, Dave. To me, you are. You always have been.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if trying to absorb your words, to tuck them away somewhere deep inside himself. When he opened them again, there was something different in his gaze—a mix of gratitude and vulnerability that made your heart feel like it might burst.

“I really don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he murmured, his voice so low it seemed meant only for you.

“You don’t have to do anything,” you replied, your thumb stroking his cheek. “Just be you. That’s enough.”

For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade. There was no car, no driving lesson, just the two of you, so close it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

But, of course, Dave was Dave, and the silence didn’t last long.

“Alright,” he started, his voice carrying an obvious attempt at humor to ease the intensity of the moment. “So, I guess we can call it a day for the lesson. You know, I’ve learned a lot already. Especially about rewards.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’ve still got a lot to learn, Mr. ‘I-can’t-release-the-clutch.’”

He sighed dramatically. “Fine, but only if you promise to keep being the prettiest teacher in the world.”

“Dave…”

“What? It’s a legitimate compliment.”

You laughed again, unable to help yourself. He was a disaster behind the wheel, but when it came to melting your heart, Dave was an absolute pro.

And there, sitting in his lap, with the sweetest blue eyes in the world shining back at you, you knew you wouldn’t trade those moments — no matter how chaotic they were — for anything.

[dream-with-a-fever]

Hi! What is your favorite Hinny scene in the books?

hi!!! i LOVE this question. i have a few favourite scenes — and i also know i’m not alone in these scene choices.

the library scene in ootp is just perfection. it’s so simple and brief, but there’s something so special about it, the way harry lets his guard down around her and tells her what’s been bothering him when he hasn’t been able to do that with anyone else. i think this is also a scene that shows how good ginny is at reading harry and his emotions, and knowing what he needs, when to push and when to lay off.

the break up scene in hbp is also in my opinion one of their best. because it shows how well they both understand each other. ginny doesn’t want their relationship to end but she also knows harry, and knows he will do anything to stop this overhanging evil in their lives, feels he has a responsibility to do it. and while she hates him for it, it’s also one of the reasons she fell for him — his selflessness and courage. he also knows that she wouldn’t expect anything less of him. i’m not articulating my reasoning very well here, but i really do think this scene is a perfect example of why they work together.

the little moments where we get to see harry and ginny as a couple are also perfect like the core four sitting in the common room, ginny up against harry’s legs, setting up jokes for each other, comfortable intimacy and love.

can’t not mention the ‘lucky you’ scene too - another pivotal scene for their character development. she is the only one who isn’t scared of his volatile moods and rages, she stands up for herself and calls him out. she manages to calm him, and hold her ground all at once, and demands respect which he quickly gives to her. she is someone who can absolutely handle harry - at his best but also at his worst

THE KISS IN GINNY’S ROOM. that scene is just pure romance. it’s this pining and longing for connection, this moment of closeness they’ve both been yearning for that is prematurely ripped from them (ffs ron) and this sort of tragic goodbye kiss, don’t-forget-me kiss, please-come-back-to-me-in-one-piece kiss, a kiss to remind them what they’re fighting for. ginny’s emotional maturity in this scene is gorgeous. and poor harry just wants to be a teenager in love for five more seconds…like ouch

honourable mentions: ginny sassing harry during quidditch practises, all the little interactions during the summer of hbp where harry starts to see how hilarious and wonderful ginny is, their married couple bickering energy before and during the battle at the department of mysteries, when they’re setting the table at the burrow talking, the little kisses and casual displays of intimacy (kissing each other goodnight…..???:?) i could go on and on and on.

it’ll never be ENOUGH! which is precisely why i enjoy canon-compliant works of them so much, because we deserved to see so much more. stay tuned for my half blood prince missing moments one shot <3

[21milespastblue]

this is pondering mostly onto myself but im little confused by the role of alternate universe powder in act 3. she serves to reconcile in ekko his perception of jinx, to remind him of how good she might have been, remind him of her potential in a way? a jinx that grew up far more supported and less spurned by the world is the best of every merit we've seen in jinx, her creativity and genius, her ability to connect, her compassion for the people she loves (however that may manifest).

something im seeing a lot of the online discussion about this to me is that ekko leaves, mourning somewhat this perfect life that could have been. i believe that as he makes the hard decision to leave that is definitely an aspect of everything that's going on in his head. but the greatest contradiction to me is that i don't think that ekko *personally* loved for alternate jinx. as much as i love me alternate versions of a character, im of the school of thought that loving this alternate person/version is the same as loving your own version. that's not to say that ekko didn't have any affection for her, he showed a great deal, but one can argue that these affections are as much a manifestation of his feelings for his jinx as they are a reflection of his feelings for alt. jinx. ekko's return and reaching out to jinx symbolizes that to me in a way; alt. jinx was a prompting to remember everything about her that's good not in spite of what makes her so complicated complex and difficult to categorize morally outside of grey but because of such. his jinx may have lacked the support that alt. jinx had in the wake of tragedy, may have had her life go to shit in a way that alt. jinx's life quite didn't--but he is reminded she is still very much capable of so much good, to be so much more than she thinks she is.

seeing that any universe i think that jinx is self-doubtful in a sense, not aware of how much value she truly has is an important aspect of the takeaways for ekko's dimensional adventure. aside from a display of his boundless determination and strength of character, ekko is able to fully realize the bulk of who his jinx is at her core. he tells alt jinx he "doesn't want her to change," thanks her for everything. at this point, i feel myself repeating the show; ekko monologues that in getting consumed in all the days the undercity wasn't, he forgot what it was, what it is--that same idealogy applies to his jinx.

to approach redundancy,

ekko: "I gave up on it. Gave up on you."

this was written to appease my own mind! and relate back to my earlier point that alt jinx simply reminds ekko of all the affection he used to and still has for his jinx. i think he loves her in the same way you may love any alternate version of someone you love, but he knows they are not the same. this is sort of response to all the people calling ekko the goat for leaving behind a perfect life with the girl he loves and the world substantially better (he still undisputably is!). but it's just a little different to me, not so much in that he's leaving behind this "perfect" jinx--she isn't his jinx and he's still very much leaving behind an almost ideal reality to his own--but that he's leaving emboldened to "save" our jinx. this relates back to what arcane asserts to be one of its major themes in the series finale. jayce languishes (platonic/romantic/3rd catergory love? sure! not love? no way) to viktor in a way that perfectly encapsulates it; "flaws" are irreparable and important parts of the people we love and are not barriers to love, but its cause. we love people because of who they are, warts and all, and not bc of what they lack.

TL;DR: i think that alt jinx wasn't supposed to be a "perfect" jinx for ekko to leave behind to show how badass he is (purely, still plays that role in some aspects), she's meant to remind him that his jinx, flaws and all, is worth loving and "saving." we love ppl bc of all their fucked up little bits and pieces not in spite of them

[zepskies]

Lost in Translation

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Female POC!Reader

Summary: Living with this man isn’t easy, and you’ve absolutely had it with him. Supe or not, you’re one step shy of kicking him out. Will he try to make it up to you? 

AN: So after getting requests for a Soldier Boy x POC!Reader, I’ve had a short series in development called Unravel Me. I’m a bit stalled on the outline right now, so I thought this could be a fun way to introduce their relationship and see if you guys think I should continue with the prequel, kind of like how I did with Checkerboard and the Break Me Down-verse.

This story would take place after Unravel Me, after a fair bit of character development lol. It also fulfills a bingo square for @jacklesversebingo!

Prompt: “Whatever you’re going to ask, the answer is No!”

Song Inspo: “Damage�� by H.E.R.

Word Count: 3.4K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, bit of dirty talk, fingering, edging, some angst, fluff and feels. The reader is a mixed race POC (Afro Latina), with textured hair. 

The apartment was quiet, but not peaceful.

You were in the kitchen washing the Mt. Everest of dishes piled in the sink, partly because someone hadn’t rinsed off his own plate of carne guisada.

Ben had asked for beef for dinner yesterday, and you’d graciously delivered with your grandmother’s recipe for the stew. It was filled with chunks of tender, fall-off-your-fork beef, garlic, onions, carrots, and more—all marinated to perfection, if you said so yourself. You even added in some little yellow potatoes, both for taste and texture.

Apparently, he couldn’t be bothered to put those meaty man muscles to good use, aside from shoveling three helpings into his mouth.

A bottomless pit and a freakin’ man-child, I swear to God, you inwardly groused as you scrubbed the ceramic a bit too hard with the rough side of the sponge. No matter how many times you asked, nicely, it seemed your boyfriend couldn’t manage to pull his weight around here.

Okay, you knew his job could be demanding, but so was yours.

What the hell is this, Maid in Manhattan? Newsflash: I’ve got shit to do too! 

“And I cooked!” you muttered in indignation. That reminder propelled you to scrub a bit harder. The least he could do was clean the kitchen. Or take out the trash. Or toss the laundry into the washing machine once in a while. Like you really wanted to handle his dirty boxers all the damn time.

Did he have no shame? Couldn’t he do anything for you without you having to ask him three million times?

Es que él es bruto, mija, as your Dominican grandma would say about your grandpa, often while swiping a tired hand over her long braids. Es como un animal con ropa.

Just then, you heard his heavy steps creaking on the wood floors in your bedroom. Today was his day off, so he was probably taking his sweet time rolling his ass out of bed.

Meanwhile, you were hustling to get the place at least decently clean before you got yourself together for work. The thought made you simmer as you continued to place dishes on the counter rack. Each one clacking to rest was satisfying, but it also ticked up your internal dial to a fine boil. 

You heard him bang the bathroom door open and cringed internally, your teeth grinding. You’d reminded him three times already about the neighbors and the noise.

Sabes que, supe or not, I’m about to— 

“Morning, sweetheart.”

Ben’s voice washed over you, deep and still a little rough with sleep as he stepped into the kitchen. His old man loafers slid against the floor with every step when he approached you from behind, and his heavy hands found a familiar resting place on the curve of your waist.

He swiped your slightly wild curls to the side and pressed a tantalizing kiss into your neck. His voice, his touch, the brief scrape of his beard; it all caused a small shiver of delight up your spine.

“Hmm, you smell good. Good enough to eat.” And he teased you with the graze of his teeth, biting gently enough where your neck met your shoulder. You flinched with half a huff, trying not to smile. 

Just like that, it took the edge off your irritation…a little. You opened your mouth to reply, but before you could…

“Hey,” he said, “since you’re already up and about in here, how about some breakf—”

Your spine tightened once again.

“Whatever you’re going to ask, the answer is No!” you snapped. You moved out of his arms to grab a hand towel to dry your hands with. They were all pruny from washing dishes.

“I’m already running late. Why? Because this place is a fucking mess, and the only one who seems to care is me!” you exclaimed. First, you gestured to the dishes now drying on the rack. “Hmm?”

You then opened up the lid to the full-to-bursting trashcan. “What do you call that, huh? You said you’d take this out last night. After I asked you twice. What, was I not speaking English? Did something get lost in translation, or are you already losing your hearing? Just let me know, ‘cause I can sure as hell crank up the volume for you!”

Ben raised a brow. You read his thoughts in his surly frown. You have some fucking audacity, talking to him like that, but it’s still early. He hasn’t even had his coffee, for Christ’s sake.

If he was more awake, no doubt he’d be barking back at you. Instead, he heaved a sigh, drew closer to you and shut the trashcan lid. At least there was one lid he knew how to close.

“All right, it’s just a little mess. No need to get fucking hysterical,” he said, trying to grasp your arm to placate you. You shrugged out of his hold and crossed your arms in anger.

“Ben, it’s not just a little mess. And what is this, 1945? I’m not hysterical!”

His lips twitched at a smirk, making you even angrier. But he’d caught enough smoke from you in the past to know he didn’t want it at 8:00 in the morning. He grasped your arms and rubbed them up and down, trying to sooth you.

“Okay, okay. It’s a little early for all this Latina temper, don’tcha think?” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Your gaze snapped up at him with a glare.

Oooh, this man. He knew how to get you mad fucking tight.

Not in a good way.

Instead of exploding like Mount Fuji, you kept it all under your skin. You turned away from him and aimed to continue getting ready for work, but first, you took out a Greek yogurt from the fridge and wholly ignored him taking up space in the kitchen. You wouldn’t answer him when he called your name. In fact, you were going to give him the most frigid of cold shoulders—so cold he’d get hyperthermia through that invulnerable skin.

He waylaid your plans when he grabbed your hand, swinging you back into his arms. You gasped at the suddenness of it, looking up into his cocky, charming smile. You couldn’t stare too long at his green eyes, or the rest of his handsome, bearded face. Not when he knew exactly how to use it against you.

“Don’t think that’s gonna get you out of this,” you warned him. You set your yogurt on the kitchen counter and pushed at his chest, but it was no more effective than pushing at a mountain and expecting it to move.

His hands spanned your waist, his fingers beginning to press into your soft sides. He bowed his head, brushing his lips against your neck and the shell of your ear when he said, “Out of what, baby doll? Looks to me like we can still have a good morning.”

His voice once against trilled heat and tingles through your body, but you managed to lean back, holding the pads of your fingers to his lips.

“Hey, I’m not playing around here. If we’re gonna do this,” you pointed between him and yourself, “then let me make one thing really clear. I’m not la sirvienta around here, okay? I’m not your fucking maid. I’m your girl. Your partner. And since you live here now, I’m gonna need you to do your part.”

Ben almost rolled his eyes, but you grasped his chin. He frowned at you with furrowed brows. There was a time where he would've been inclined to grab your wrist and try to intimidate you with his temper. You saw it lying in wait behind his pursed lips and irritated stare, but you weren't afraid of him. Not anymore.

“Listen to me. I get that you haven’t lived like us commoners for most of your life, but this stuff is important,” you said. You took a deep breath, and you counted to three. You met him with a calmer gaze. “Ben, I love you.”

You let go of his chin and lowered your hand, letting it splay over his chest. He softened, ever so slightly, even though his frown remained.

“I love you,” you repeated, “but I don’t need a man-child.”

"Excuse me?" he did snap this time, his hold loosening from around your waist. "The fuck did you just say?"

You narrowed your eyes right back at him.

"You heard me," you said. "I want a man. A man who's going to be my rock when I need him. Can you do that for me, like I do for you? Are you gonna be my man, or do I need to claim you as a dependent on my taxes?"

His expression sharpened again at your thinly veiled accusation…but the longer he looked into your eyes, no longer angry, but earnest and imploring, the more he actually listened to what you were saying. His jaw worked for a moment in annoyance. You subtly softened him with your hands soothing up and down his arms, a slow back and forth over solid, warm muscle.

Eventually, he was able to curb his instinct to bark a callous reply. He nodded, expelling a breath through his nose.

“Fine,” he said.

Your brows rose. “Fine?”

“Yeah,” he said flatly.

You knew it was the closest you were going to get to an agreement, as well as an apology. You were still working on that last one, but dating this man was a work in progress, for both of you. With a sigh, you patted his arms that were slowly wrapping back around you.

“Okay, I’m really running late now,” you said.

“You should probably get a move on then,” Ben said.

Still, he didn’t release you. He stared down at you with an amused smile while you struggled against his hold. You uttered a laugh.

“Babe, I need to get to work.” You leaned over and spied the oven clock. “Oh, shit! it’s almost 8:30! If I’m not there by 9:00—”

“You sure you want to go now? Tense, body all tight,” he said, his voice deep with sensuous suggestion.

His lips neared yours, but he didn’t kiss you. Not yet. His lips veered away to brush against your cheek. He inhaled deeply as he moved, taking in the floral scent of your soap, mixed with the army of products you styled your hair with, and the faint imprint of your perfume from the night before. He skimmed down your neck and along the shell of your ear.

“Wouldn’t you rather I fuck all that tension right out of you?” he offered. “Leave you nice and warm and satisfied, have that pretty pussy coming hard on my cock.”

You let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes as his filthy mouth and the timbre of his voice struck a chord through your body, tinging warm arousal between your legs. Your fingers tightened on his strong arms, digging into the fabric of his loose robe. Ben took that as a wordless confirmation. He bent at the knees and grabbed you up by your plush thighs. You wrapped your arms around his neck on instinct, with a small gasp.

But you recovered quickly. Taking his face into your hands, you met his lips roughly with yours in a devouring kiss. He set you down on the kitchen counter hard enough to make the clean dishes rattle. His hands were just as claiming as his mouth, squeezing your hips and thighs as he spread them open to make more room for himself.

While your tongue dueled with his, you shoved the robe off his shoulders, followed by his sleep shirt pooling to the floor. His hand slid under your top as well, and almost ripped it at the hem in his haste to get it up and over your head.

“Ow, ah-ow!” You giggled when the collar got caught on your hair. Ben’s breathy chuckle reached your ears. He was gentler in how he helped get the shirt off the rest of the way. Your mane of hair fell into your face, and you huffed.

Ben did you the favor of brushing the thick curls away from your eyes, tugging several strands behind your ears, even though most of them didn’t obey him. He framed your face with his big hands, and his thumbs swept along your skin, the rich complexion shining in the morning light filtering through the kitchen window.

There was more care in his touch now, his strength tempered just for you. Fond amusement colored his features. For as much shit as you gave him, you still gave him more of yourself; more of your trust, your patience...and all the rest of it. You gave him more than anyone that had come before you, and deep inside, he doubted anyone that might come after you.

You smiled up at him, a little wryly. You leaned up and met him for a gentler kiss. Your eyes fell closed at the feeling of him, and the spicy hint of his aftershave. It was a scent that often clung to his pillows. When he was gone on a mission for days on end, you wouldn’t admit to clinging to one of them to help you sleep, and make you feel safe. 

“Mmm, you smell good,” you whispered. And it was true. He smelled like mint and spicy aftershave. You plied his lips with deeper kisses, licking into his mouth with a sensuous tongue, before you stole his words. “Good enough to eat.”

He uttered a groan deep in his throat. It satisfied you, enhancing the warm flood between your legs.  

Fuck it. You were calling in sick today.

You drew him back into the pull of you, winding your arms around his neck and your fingers in his hair. It was getting long again, but you liked it. You liked something to hold onto, just as much as he did. Your nails brushed against his scalp, down the back of his neck, earning a hum of pleasure from him. You wound your legs tightly around his hips and invited the press of his hard cock against your throbbing core, even through your panties and pajama pants. A faltering groan caught in his chest.

“Needier that I thought this morning,” he remarked. His warm hands drifted down to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over dark, pebbled nipples. You sighed into his mouth in response.

You heard the cocky grin in his voice, but for once, you didn’t care. You did need him. You wanted him to fuck the stress and chaos out of you.

…Well, he’d caused most of it, but still. He was gonna damn well fix it.

And he aimed to do just that, with his hands sliding farther down your body with purpose, grabbing the waistband of your pajama pants and roughly sliding them down, along with your panties. Your bare ass felt cold against the tile counter, but you didn’t have too much time to think about it with Ben’s thick fingers probing between the wet, glistening folds of your pussy. He soon found what he was searching for, circling firmly over your clit.

Your hips raised off the counter as you whimpered against his lips and ground yourself against his hand. You broke from his kiss to bury your face in his neck. Ben’s free hand grasped your hip and pulled you right to the edge of the counter.

There he held you down, his brows furrowing in concentration. His fingers sought your entrance and slipped inside you with ease. By now, he knew what angles would have you squirming, writhing, your body arching into him, while your inner walls clenched around his hand.

“Fuck. That’s right, baby doll. I’ve gotcha,” he said roughly, continuing to fuck your pussy with his fingers. His thumb rubbed against your clit between strokes.

The coil in your lower belly began to tighten, the delicious throbbing deep inside beginning to make your thighs shake. But just as you felt yourself tipping over the edge, Ben withdrew his fingers from your sopping channel.

You struggled to catch your breath in shock. Your head raised from Ben’s shoulder to glare at him. When your mouth opened to deliver an indignant protest, he silenced you with his mouth claiming yours. Your nails bit into his shoulder in retaliation, even though you knew it wouldn’t hurt him in the slightest. In fact, it only curved his lips into a smirk against yours.

You slapped him on the shoulder, immensely frustrated, but also laughing. “You’re such an assh—”

Before you could even finish cursing him, he gathered you up again and lifted you off the counter. He walked you over to the couch in the living room. He would’ve loved nothing better than to lay you out across the two-seater table in the kitchen, but he thought the shitty old wood might just give out under the strain of him fucking you. So the living room was a close second, and in this tiny-ass apartment, it was barely a few feet more to walk.

He laid you out underneath him on couch, and it groaned and squeaked under both of your weight. You squeaked too, if for a different reason. It had Ben smirking down at you. He freed himself from the confines of his pajama pants and coated his rock-hard arousal with the leftover wetness coating his hand.

“I approve of the scene change,” you said breathlessly, once again stroking his arms. Your fingers slipped over every dip and plain of muscle.  

“Didn’t think you wanted to be fucked on some cold tile,” he said, even if the sentiment behind his words warmed you. You were pretty sure he didn’t used to care about that. At least, before he met you.

He grabbed your hips, lined himself up to your entrance, and his cock breached you smoothly, pushing into you until his hips fit snugly against yours.

“Oh, fuck,” you choked out, your thighs squeezing around his frame.

“Feel good, sweetheart? All fuckin' filled up,” Ben teased, a bit breathless himself. You were a tight fucking fit. He slid out of you experimentally, drawing a moan from your lips. You nodded.

“Yeah, baby. So good,” you freely admitted, panting all the while.

Ben’s hot gaze drew over you as he continued moving hard and fast inside you. He took in your every bare curve, the way hot breaths and sexy moans fell from your lips with every thrust, the way your hair fanned out underneath you and hung off the side of the sofa cushion, the way your hands still explored him and touched him, demanding, but still loving.

For that, it was all the more tantalizing against his skin, warming even the darkest places he tried not to show you.

And every drag of his cock inside you stretched your inner walls in the most delicious of ways. It wasn’t just that he was able to fill you to the fucking brim. He also just knew his way around a woman’s body. He knew you, and he knew exactly how to make you come undone. Even quick and dirty on your couch, he made you feel brand new. 

He was right, damn him.

The coil deep inside you snapped. Pleasure crested through you and made your inner walls squeeze him tight, fluttering and pulsing with warmth. You came hard on his cock, hard enough to milk his release shortly after for all he was worth.

His forearms fell to the cushion on either side of your head. You were basically being smothered, but for the moment you didn’t mind. You just held his sweat-slick body against yours while you both caught your breath, each of your heartbeats falling back into a steady rhythm.

He was always so damn warm. It was nice, considering how cold it was this winter, but the thought always made you a bit sad. It reminded you of the power housed in his chest, and every memory he caged there as well.

You laid a gentle kiss on his shoulder. In return, his lips found the side of your head and hesitated there.

“You’re not going to work,” he said. It was more an observation than anything else.

You laughed breathlessly and shook your head. “Nope.”

He nodded. “Let’s go out for breakfast.”

You could get behind that. Your kitchen was finally clean, which meant your kitchen was closed until further notice.

“Shower first,” you stipulated.

You felt Ben’s smile grow against your dewy skin. “All right.”

You sighed, and he guided you to your feet along with him. You had a feeling “breakfast” was going to be lunch by the time you and Ben finally escaped this apartment.      

AN: Lol hope you had fun with this one! Let me know if you'd like to see more of these two! 💚💚

Spanish Translations:

Es que él es bruto, mija. Es como un animal con ropa.

It’s that he’s stupid, my daughter. He's like an animal with clothes.

However, “bruto” can also mean brutish, crude, and/or like a beast, so it fits in more than one way. ��

Sabes que, …

You know what, …

La sirvienta

The servant (or maid) (female)

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[hotvintagepoll]

Donald O'Connor (Singin' in the Rain, Francis, Call Me Madam)— LOOK AT HIM. Those giant blue peepers. Those tappy tappy little feet that don't quit. The ears that stick out like little wings, ready to lift him up to goofy heaven. The way his face contorts into the strangest yet most endearing expressions. His ability to sing and dance alongside the hunk that is Gene Kelly and yet pull all attention away with his big-eyed buffoonery. The way his energy is unmatched in songs like "Make 'em laugh" - bouncing off the walls and tumbling through the air straight into my cold cold heart. Who else but a true scrungly lil guy would sit upon the witness stand and defend a talking mule with all the love and affection in the world - staring out into the court room with his bright wide eyes and eternally mouse-like expression, openly admitting that the mule is his best friend?!??! I see him and I want to pull him from the screen into my hand and just squiiiiiiiiiiiiish with all my might. I want to pinch his cheeks and have him bat those eyes at me. He just makes me go "eeehehehehehe" every time I see him and his silly little self. He is pure chaotic, ridiculous, scrungly perfection!

Rene Auberjonois (Brewster McCloud)—I feel like anyone who was in a Robert Altman movie should count as scrungly, and this guy was in many a Robert Altman movie.

This is round 2 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you're confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here. Reminder this is a poll about old films, not TV, and no TV based propaganda will be accepted.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Donald O'Connor:

My silliest little guy. My funnyman. My horsie. I have watched many a bad movie for this man. The scrungliest fact I know about him is that he was supposed to star as Danny Kaye's role in the iconic White Christmas (1954), as he had known Bing Crosby since he was a child, but couldn't because he caught a mule disease while working on those Francis the Talking Mule films Universal endlessly made him do. I wouldn't exactly recommend those movies, but Don's character getting psychologically tormented by a sardonic mule does make for quite a good movie night, if you know what you're getting into. Are You With It? is another one I don't exactly recommend, but it does open with Donald as a math genius actuary who is about to kill himself over a displaced decimal point before getting taken in by a traveling carny instead. His more well-known and beloved roles have plenty of scrungliness too, in my opinion. This man slapsticked so hard he wound up bedridden for his physical exertion! Rather than submitting Make 'Em Laugh, which the electorate has likely already seen (I hope), I'm submitting an underrated dance number of his, where he explains maths through tap dance. That movie is Not good, but god do I love him in that role.

I think it's arguably very scrungly to seemingly be a real life cartoon character made out of rubber, as proven by how slapsticky the list of scrunglies is so far. In which case, Donald O'Connor? He scrungles supremely. He even played Buster Keaton in a movie (that apparently can't be recommended, but still).

Rene Auberjonois:

[almayver]

GMM2025 Lineup Game / Tier List

Rules: write your thoughts on all the GMMTV series pilots released (or just the ones you plan to watch) and tag people whose thoughts you wanna know about!

@jojotichakorn @wangxianinventedromance and @valentinaonthemoon tagged me in basically different variations of this, so I'm gonna smush them all together. Thanks for tagging me 😊 I love to be given the chance to ramble.

Prefacing this with a reminder that I am the personification of CinemaWins so I find things to like in everything, and that I was born to yap, so this will be long :)

I'm going to do it in the order of the trailers and put the tier list at the bottom. I'm adding a twist to mine and tracking the most important thing to me, Will I cry? (mostly just so I can look back and see if my guess was correct)

Dare you to death: I LOVE a good murder mystery. Yes. Give it to me. Snarky partners solving a crime was THE dynamic i was raised on and I still love it. It's going to be so entertaining trying to pick up clues and stuff while seeing these two bicker and fall in love. Don't think ill cry on this one, but serial killers, brothers, possibility of whump? There's a chance.

Head 2 Head: FUCK YES. Starting with the fact that I adore SeaKeen with all my heart, this one has me so invested!! Their bickering-flirting? ON POINT. When Sea says the line of “I've been saving my lips for you for ages” while flipping him off?? Yeah, that's my shit. But add to that the whole magic plot of seeing that they are in love and together years in the future, but then he dies!!! In his arms!!!! Yes. Yes. Just yes. “I will do anything to prevent that from happening…except not loving you”?? Yep. They made this show for me specifically, the rest of you can stay only if you are nice. The side couple also has me 👀. Basically, I loved every single second of it, and I'm ready for it. Oh, I will absolutely cry. No doubts about this one. These boys had me weeping with their soft rom-com, adding looming visions of death to it? yes, I'm ready to cry.

Burnout Syndrome: I'm intrigued by this one! Looks very messy and full of complex feelings all around, with some very very interesting characters. I don't actually have more to say about it except !!!, and it's on the watch list for sure! Hmm from what I get, I'm thinking is going to be more in the stressful, thoughtful side than in the emotional one for me, so maybe teary eyes but not full-blown crying.

I Love “A Lot Of” You: I've only seen one thing in which this topic didn't feel wildly offensive, so. Hmm. Even without that whole can of worms, I'm not fully interested in it? It seems cute and fun I guess, and the title is very sweet but eeeh. Not in the watch list for now, unless it gets some strong endorsements once it starts airing.

Whale Store xoxo: Oh this looks lovely! So so so warm and sweet. Having a character in just full-blown crisis and feeling lost, is always the best way to get into my heart. Add to that a sweet girl, full of joy, trying to help?! And the You've got mail vibes with the whole small business being threatened by the family of the love interest, plus feeling a duty to the store because of a parent without knowing if its what you truly want? Say less babe, I'm there, I'm seated. The side couple story also has me really intrigued. Oh yeah, tears will be very much present. Not full on wailing, but rom coms do make me cry, I see some tears due to both the angst and the character finding herself.

Only Friends-Dream On: Making the entire first half of the trailer one shot that manages to explain all the dynamics is enough for me to put it in the watch list no questions asked. I haven't watched Only Friends and from the bits I know and have seen I know I wouldn't enjoy it purely for weird personal reasons. This however? Oh yeah bestie sign me up, ill have popcorn ready, let the messiness begin. Also, the cast is insane and as someone who was absolutely taken by Ohm and Leng week after week, I'm so excited. Hmm, I'm going for yes. At least one of these assholes is going to be broken in a way that speaks to me and I will cry about it, I see it in my future. (Side note, please tell me I'm not the only one that laughed at the characters being called Jack and Dean)

That Summer: I CHEERED. Troublemaker sent to the beach to find some discipline finds a kind, amnesiac prince is something that i didn't know I needed so hard but fuck i do. It's going to be so fucking charming, and it has this very quiet emotional vibe to it that I'm going to eat up weekly, yes sir. I have no thoughts except loud cheering, I'm just excited for it. I was going to say I hope it comes in summer like that means anything to me. pft. Umm, yeah probs some tears, nothing too big, but I can see some emotional moments hitting hard specially considering the two people acting here. *side eyes that We Are scene that I still can't fucking rewatch because it did enough damage once*

My Romance Scammer: Marriage scam!!!!! I could cry of joy. This is the kind of shit I love sorry. It's so messy and at its core very silly, and I'm just going to have such a good time watching. It's going to be fun! I also feel like some of the backstories of these characters are going to be interesting and emotional, I'm excited for that. I was going to say I won't cry, but I always cry with fictional weddings and I'm guessing some sort of “real” wedding is going to happen at the end that will break me, so maybe.

Melody of Secrets: I'm fucking thrilled. As a horror fan, I don't know what I did to get this gift but ill fucking take it, thank you. This was SO WEIRD!!! Isn't that great!! What the fuck was happening? Is it ghosts, is it magic, is it a curse, is it trauma? I don't know, and the character doesn't know either, and ooof the journey we will go in while trying to figure it out! My only request for this show is that I want to say “What the fuck??” every episode. That's all. Whether I cry or not depends on where they are going with it so, no clue. Possibly.

Love you teacher: I had such a strong negative reaction to this, that it kind of went back around, and now it's in my watch list? It was a journey. So, fun fact about me, one of the fanfiction tropes that I adore the most and I will eat up every single time it pops up even though it's not that common is amnesia in an established couple (I'm sure no one was kind of scared I was going to say something else). I just love the idea of a couple having to kind of fall in love again, with the angst of one of them not knowing anything while the other has all the memories and feelings. It's specially interesting if the person with amnesia has a very different life in the present to what they expected/think they should have, or in a enemies to lovers dynamic? it fucks. So I was really really excited. And then he was 7 years old, and I got so shocked I stopped processing the trailer. But now I'm intrigued. I want to see if this show is going to surprise me, I'm going to be there seated for the first couple of episodes at least because there is something there that just, its intriguing. I think there is a chance this one will be special. I mean if I hate it I can just stop watching right? No big deal. The other thing is that Dome gave me a show so fucking special to me that I have to give the dude a chance. He already surprised me. I trust him enough to know that this will be fun at the very least. And also, if I do stick with it, tears 1000% guaranteed. The emotional beats of this will hit, absolutely, and motherfucker over there knows how to hit you with emotions with the simplest stuff.

MU-TE-LUV: Yeah so I'm probs only watching the SeaKeen and OhmLeng parts. Those are actually so compelling to me and I love watching them act, so I will be having fun with those stories. The rest fully depends on my mood and what other people are saying when it airs. Also, the Dew one that is just Amarres: la serie, kind of seems interesting. I kind of doubt this one will pull my heartstrings much but hey I'm willing to be surprised!

Cat for Cash: I have my blanket and my warm drink ready, I will be seating there just cooing at everything and feeling all the emotions. This is going to be a chill watch, it's going to be fun, and I love it for it. The familial shit is going to break me and sell me for parts, so that's going to be fun. And yes, absolutely going to cry, no-brainer.

Girl Rules: We all cheered. So what is going to happen is that I'm going to liveblog this, absolutely, and all the liveblogs are just going to be me being in love with Namtan, and I need everyone to be cool with that. In all seriousness, leaving behind my gigantic crush on her, this is going to be so gooood. Messy!!!! Hot!! FUN!!!!! The dynamics between all the characters are already delicious, and i can't wait for this one, it's going to be great. Grabbing pop corn and something to fan myself with. The NamtanFilm relationship has some real potential to pull some tears from me.

Boys in love: I love fluffy shit, sue me. We are going to sit here, and giggle and kick our feet and have a good ass time while doing it. The Chokun and Aston relationship drew me in so hard, I'm going to live there, but everything was just so sweet and delightful!! Its a fun time. Honestly, yeah, I can see a couple of tears. Not sad tears but more like, overwhelmed with softness kind of tears.

My Magic Prophecy: Once again, angsty visions of the future are always compelling to me, so I'm here for this. It's kind of in the same level as Burnout where I'm not shaking chihuahua levels of excitement but I'm interested! The relationship seems fun and touching, the science vs. magic thing could be interesting. If I get invested enough, yeah crying for sure.

A Dog and A Plane: I'm sure no one who has spent more than a minute in my blog knows this, but i fucking love these two so much. Shocker, I know. But seriously, they have something that makes me 20000% invested whenever they are together on screen and i didnt want to hope for a new show but i was secretly wishing for it and the universe decided to throw me a bone the size of Jupiter. And to add to it, they are bickering, they are horny, New is a fancy flight attendant and Tay Tawan is a paramedic with tattoos that wears a lot of tank tops. They both think the other one is better than them in some way. The plot is just the kind of rom com i eat up. And I know, I KNOW, I'm going to cry. I cry every time these two are involved. They will have one vulnerable moment and i will be in the corner cheeering with tears in my eyes. They will have the conflcit and the same thing will happen. They will have the happy ending and i will be weeping. I'm so fucking happy. Just one thing. I need them to fuck in that plane. I dont care where, I dont care how, but it has to happen. I have that small wish. Oh and MarcPoon!!!! Their bits seem so so good too.

Me and Thee: I made the joke that I read this Phumpeem au before, because actually yeah kind of, but also because these are the exact same vibes that drew me to Phum. The characters are super different and so cool, but oh lonely rich boy!!!!!!! I'm gonna have a new one for my list. And this one is so weird! and a dork! and loves soap operas so he is speaking my language. I love him already. The plot is also just for me. Teach me how to hit on someone?? And he uses it all on him!! yes yesssss. I cant wait to see more of them. I cant wait to see them each fall in love in such different ways and the conflict has the opportunity to be so so so my thing. In terms of crying, he is a sad lonely boy, i dont have to say more. I'm ready to imprint on him and feel very emotional.

WU: This was less of a plot and more of a "here, we heard you, they'll keep working together, dont kill us". I haven watched their show yet because of a silly reson, but i had been planning on binging it before the last episode next week, so im excited!! The brief glimpse we got compels me, i love me some red string of fate.

Memoir of Rati: I said I could watch them read the dictionary (and i fucking meant it) and instead they give me an intense period show??? I could cry. Look, one could say Great Sapol single handedly got me back into live bloging, i have a debt with the guy, add to that the fact that him and Inn became two of my favorite actors ever in just a couple of episodes? Yeah I'm here for this. They have an insane chemistry that is such a joy to watch, and i dont mind period shows, they arent my favorite but I find them charming if done right and they often teach me new things. These two are about to eat the shit out of these roles and i will be clapping while suffering. Also the AouBoom story is so interesting too!!! No notes. I'm going to cry like a baby multiple times. I still cry with their fake break up. This is going to kill me. Can't wait.

Ticket To Heaven: First let me list some fun facts about me. I was raised catholic in a very catholic family in one of the most catholic countries in the world. I still live in a house where my room is the only one that doesnt have some form of religious imagery. Bare a pop opera and Jesus christ superstar are two of my favorite musicals of all time. I ran away from religion before my confirmation but after my first communion, and every time i think about it i discover some new complicated feeling about it and a fun trauma it left behind. I am right now wearing a Look Khunnoo shirt.

They made this show for me and its going to break me. I'm already making playlists for it. I keep listening to Heaven while staring at the wall. This is just, gods, this is everything to me. The vibes of it are just so so so delicious. The aesthetic? The quotes? I am so going to relate more with Gemini's character, and thats going to be a fun painful little trip. And of course. These boys. I adore them. I'm ready to be killed by them acting the shit out of every single frame. I am going to cry in ways that will be dangerous to my health. I can't wait. There is no way that the ending isn't going to fuck me up, whether is super tragic, a time skip, a hopeful ending. Its going to be a Thing. Fucking Rosa de Guadalupe got me with its gay episode. and its. La rosa de guadalupe. This? Will murder me. I will listen to the ost and cry instantly like i do with Bare.

Basically im excited :)

And the tier list!!

I kind of did it in the scale of how much is it going to make me feel like a dog waiting for its owner, sadly pawing at the door, wanting to be let in.

I think everyone I would tag on this has already done it or has already been tagged so if you see this and you have thoughts that you want to share, you are tagged. This is legally binding. I want to hear your thoughts

If you read all that you can reclaim a cookie before leaving

[timid-owl]

Viktor's character through The Line lyrics

I can't fight this time, now.

How tired do you think Viktor is of pain, of having to constantly bear his ill, weak, failing body that has been dragging him down for so many years? How hard has it been that he's so tired he can't fight it any longer?

Honestly, I thought I was fully prepared for the threshold in store.

I guess I never really faced my fears before.

How scared do you think he is of losing himself one final time and for good? Is it why he has conjured the Hex-Sky, to remind himself of who he was and what he stood for? To keep him on course? Like an echo of himself, that now he has to abandon?

Stay with me.

Keep the memories of who I was before.

I think that's really heart-wrenching how he's equally scared and doesn't want to face it alone, and at the same time, he's trying to keep a part of himself alive somewhere, even in someone else's mind.

Did I disappoint you?

I do interpret the whole song as both a dialogue with himself and with Jayce. I like to think that after their Council room session, they kept some mental connection, and here it's Viktor asking the question to both Jayce and himself.

Stay your pretty eyes on course.

Do you think it's the first time Viktor refers to Jayce's eyes as pretty? Do you think, if it is in fact a dialogue, it feels like a slap to Jayce? Like he can't breathe, like it hurts, like he wants to scream but there is no air as it is far too late.

I guess I never really faced my fears before.

Now you may say, "But Viktor was once literally prepared to die." Sure, but that time he would have died before losing himself. That was the whole point: leave while still remaining precisely who he was. And now he's at the verge of completely destroying everything his very self is and going against his every principle, which is precisely the worst of his fears.

Now to the angstiest parts.

Sure, there's nothing left to try?

I do believe that is meant like a question, same as "stay with me?" Like a final cry for help, like he's hoping Jayce — or something — might save him after all. Like if maybe Jayce would have intervened right here, right now, while they're all gathered around Viktor's hex-egg thing, he would have changed his mind immediately. Which is also why it's sort of full of contradictions and questions like he's babbling - stay with me but I'd rather you not, will they let me over if a do that... But there is no answer, and nobody is there for him anymore.

Will they still let me over?

This I tend to interpret in quite a biblical way, as in "people who, let's say, cross the line are not let into heaven." So... yeah, they won't, and even if there is I guess no details on Piltover's religion it's still ment in a rhetorical way as Viktor knows they won't, there is no possible redemption after this. And what Viktor is worrying about is not "crossing the line of shroom genocide" but more "crossing the line of not existing anymore" (I again think it's literally in the text, barely an interpretation). Like he is leaving his final note, and while he's writing it, he tries to find something, anything, that would keep him from doing the thing. But, again, there is nothing left aside from the light on his face.

Again, for me, this being a dialogue, I also feel like the "stay your pretty eyes on course" is his way of shutting Jayce up when the su*c*de metaphor gets too close to the surface. Like Jayce would start to protest, and Viktor would shush him. It even translates in the rhythm of the lyrics:

What could be, my final form Stay your pretty eyes on course

Honestly, I thought I was fully prepared for The threshold in store Stay your pretty eyes on course.

So yeah, I think the way it's so tender but also so devastating and desperate is probably one of the most beautiful, brilliant things the show gave us.

[slowcatsisland]

I love your Post about Laws ideal type. 💯😍Do you see him more with a boy or girl?

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A/N: omg I love this question sm bc regardless of what points I say it’s ambiguous and up to the audience’s interpretation and ultimately Oda’s however I seriously doubt Law would have a significant other in the canon timeline. Ty Ty for asking I had a ton of fun writing this out!

- I’m not religious and haven’t read the Bible so don’t attack me if I say smth improper about any of the sects of Christianity bc I’m using my preconceived and second hand knowledge abt it. if u think of smth pls comment and share ur thoughts w me I would love to be educated by another further respectfully ^^

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Trafalgar D. Water Law; Boy or Girl SO Preference?

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If you look at Flevance, they resemble a typical small Christian community, even if it isn’t explicitly stated. There were religious crosses, nuns, churches. There was most definitely a theme in Flevance’s religion about hope and the good in others, as the nun that Law sees says smth like, “There’s always a hand to help you.”

Flevance also had a high status of wealth (the whole diamond scheme) and the average cost of living/luxury of the average person was reasonably high. There vastly majority of the couple in Flevance were also probably traditionally monogamous, with one man and one woman.

I think if Law had grown up in Flevance his romantic interests would solely be focused on a female partner bc that would be the socially acceptable way and he wouldn’t view males in the perspective of a potential suitor. (Idk if this is recent interpretations of the Bible or not but it’s realistic to say that there would be stigmatism surrounding same sex couples in Flevance as most traditional believers of Christianity view same sex romantic relationships as ‘wrong ish’. At least where I live..)

However, the destruction of Flevance brought change to Law’s character and perception of love. Because of this and his loss of faith from this experience, I think adult pirate Law would be more willing to engage in a same sex relationship. (Would actually be a good writing moment made by Oda if it did happen imo but I digress)

I don’t ship LawLu, but I think Luffy is a real example of the type of person that could help Law heal and has aspects of what Law would need in a relationship. LawLu is good on a companionship/spiritual level imo but sexually/potentially romantically I do not see it at all being reciprocated by either Law or Luffy.

Just the fact someone like Luffy exists that had met Law is a good argument for Law being with a male, just not Luffy specifically.

Law’s significant other to me represents stability, safety, and humanity. This can manifest in people differently though so I don’t see him looking for something based on physicality.

Because of that I don’t see Law in canon having a preference between boy or girl for a partner. Perhaps a leaning towards female because that’s the traditional way of his hometown and in the One Piece world it seems like.

He’d need someone emotionally before he’d need them sexually imo, so if he found someone that worked for him and he was ready, that’s it no matter the gender.

Sexually he would probably be more attracted to females, and a lot of times sexual tension is mistaken for romantic tension but I don’t see Law acting upon either.

Hate to leave this discussion without giving u a definite answer anon but I just don’t think there is a definite answer yk.

My personal preference tho is him with a female because I see him falling for someone with a strong maternal presence. Yk little instincts and gestures they do towards him and the crew that sometimes make them sigh ‘okay mom’ while drawing out the ‘o’ in mom. Someone that reminds him of the feeling of safety and peace he felt as a kid in Flevance where his body wasn’t so tense all the time.

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Hope u liked reading this and it helped u form ur own opinion on who you prefer Law with !

Mwah 😽

[obeymefanfiction]

Mammon: When Things Changed

Obey Me! Fanfiction Masterlist Featuring: Mammon X Neutral Reader Word Count: 1000 Disclaimer: Obey Me! characters are the rightful property of Solemare. Warnings: None.

You kissed that one time. It was late and it had been a long night.  Mammon was riding high from his winnings at the Casino. Even the curfew threat hanging over his head couldn't seem to deflate him tonight. Luckily you were there to save him from his own enthusiasm. Lucifer had sent you a message reminding you both that you needed to be at RAD student council in the morning. If you weren’t, he planned to place another curse enforced curfew on Mammon.  

You clearly remembered the last time that threat was carried out. So you promptly started using all your resources to get Mammon through the front door of The House of Lamentation ASAP.   Luckily it worked, and he had just walked into his room when he caught your wrist and pulled you after him.  "Mammon?" You yelped but immediately fell silent when he pressed you against the wall. His hands firmly encircled your wrists pinning them above your head. His body caged yours in, blocking any escape. Having him suddenly so close stunned you out of any objections you normally would have tossed his way.  "I did it tonight, didn't I? I showed ya how the Great Mammon can pull out all the stops. Give you the night o'yer life."   You couldn't help smiling back at him despite the odd situation. His gorgeous eyes were sparkling as he smiled back at you. His warmth was as contagious as his good mood.  "You did Mammon. It was amazing to watch you." "Yer lucky to be my human, aren't you? To have me as your first, right? The one you trust the most?" He released one of your wrists so he could cup your cheek with his hand. The warmth of his touch was so soothing you were almost sad when he placed his hand on the wall next to your head. Leaning in even closer. 

"That's right Mammon. I'm so lucky to have you protecting me. You truly are amazing. I promise I know that, and I've believed that for a long time."  You reached up to stroke his cheek with the back of your fingers, just the way he liked. You had learned that preference when he fell asleep on your lap during a study session. "Tonight was really fun, but with you it always is." You wanted him to know the truth. To see in your expression that you meant every word. Despite his unique approach to your friendship you had come to trust him. His loyalty and support were things you had come to treasure along with Mammon himself.  His smile seemed to hold an extra warmth tonight. His large blue eyes mirrored his delight at your praise. Instead of his usual bashful response he drew you closer into a hug.   Mammon's hugs were warm and familiar. You always felt safe and content when he hugged you like this. For the briefest moment the thought of staying right here, of asking him not to let go, flitted through the back of your mind. Of course, you couldn't ask that. Not really, and the thought made you sad. You and Mammon could only ever be human and demon. Even bound by your pact… you knew he had other concerns he didn't always share with you. Other aspirations that didn't involve you. There were times you wondered if that clever mind if his ever slept? The thought made you giggle just a little. "What're ya laughing at?" He asked playfully.  "Nothing important really. I'm just happy to be here with you. We always have so much fun, don't we?" You pulled back from his hug so you could look up at him again.  "We do, don't we? We-" He broke off as something in his expression changed. It was almost a softening… yet there seemed to be a flood of determination as well.  You hardly had a chance to blink before he leaned in and pressed a warm tender kiss against your lips. It wasn't the kind of kiss you'd have expected from Mammon. He was always so boisterous and energetic. Mammon and bold were practically synonyms. Especially tonight when he'd been swept up by his success. 

So, to have his mouth caress yours so tenderly… to have him be so careful with you as though you were something truly precious to him?  His kiss was more similar to his hugs. Gentle and protective you could hardly help how happy they made you. Likewise, you couldn't resist kissing him back. Reaching up your free hand to the base of his neck and leaning into the kiss hungrily. His phone went off seconds later. It was Lucifer demanding Mammon confess to one of his schemes and threatening his life if he didn’t make things right. He apologized and left in a hurry. Leaving you to wonder… how much had things just changed?

[justchillandshipit]

I've Been Trying to Make Sense of Eddie's Story in My Head.

There are several intersecting points that have me thinking. In different seasons, we have heard different stories about Eddie and his feelings for Shannon. We have heard that he met her when he was a kid, and they lost touch and later reconnected. (No problem here.)

Eddie also says his relationship with Shannon was like magic. He says this to Bobby in Season Six when he is trying to get back on the dating scene.

We also hear from him that he married Shannon because she was pregnant, but he didn't regret it. (I believe this was after he said it was like magic. It contradicts the previous comment but also tracks with a gay Eddie storyline. He lived in TX in a very comphet part of the country. FYI. They still, to this day, have conversion camps in Texas. So it is plausible that by marrying her, he was conforming to the expectations of his parents and his immediate social sphere.)

We learned that Eddie had questions for Shannon that he never got to ask. Like why didn't he get a letter when she left? He describes her dying as leaving him broken, and that is just his life now. (This doesn't sound like a person who felt love in the form of friendship. He has described himself as broken a couple of times though and this does remind us of what Athena's ex Michael said about himself as he was coming out. He thought Athena could fix him. So I'm unclear if Shannon made him feel like he was normal, and with her dead, he doesn't feel like he can feel normal again. This would be consistent with gay Eddie too.)

However, when Kim asks him if Shannon was the love of his life, he says he thinks so. We can zero in on the "think" part of that comment but in this show, characters use the word "think" an excessive amount. Most commonly, when someone asks, "Are you alright?" Someone will reply, "I think so. Yeah." (It is not a direct contradiction to his previous comment because he also adds that he didn't realize it at the time, but the whole thing is just confusing, and it ignores the fact that she had asked for a divorce. It ignores the fact that she felt there was something wrong in their marriage, and she didn't necessarily think it was Eddie because she talked about learning how to be a good mother and then figuring out how to be a good wife. I thought that was odd on her part. No one learns how to be a good mother before being a wife. Being a Mom is on-the-job training, and if necessary, there is some therapy to help. It doesn't happen before learning how to be a wife.)

Bringing us to this season, Eddie is saying things like he doesn't deserve to be forgiven. (For what exactly? For dating Kim? For hurting Chris? He didn't sleep with Kim. There was an alternate scene where they kissed, but that never aired, so the only thing Chris and Marisole walked in on was them hugging. Eddie broke things off with Kim. She came to the house and pushed the situation. Even so, Chris is understandably hurt and Eddie does feel guilty. I can understand that guilt, but not to the degree that he doesn't deserve to be forgiven for it or experience joy. Not when he had broken it off.) Eddie says he doesn't deserve joy. (Again, this seems overkill for what happened with Kim when all things are considered. Guilt is understandable, but not to this degree. He grew the mustache as a mask. He was afraid of seeing a failure in the mirror. (A failure at what exactly? Being a father? Being a husband?) There is a lot of meta on this being code for gay Eddie. The problem here is that at some point if Eddie is coming out, people who can understand subtext and gay coding should not be the only people aware of this possibility. The general audience doesn't know crap about gay coding, and that is one of the reasons I don't like the way the storytelling is going at the moment. If they intend to bring Eddie out in a way that is understandable to everyone something more than coding is needed. There needs to be something solid and not subtextual, so everyone can follow along with the journey he is on. The audience needs to see or know what he is thinking even if Eddie isn't out of the closet to the people in his life. The audience should know the struggle. As it stands, the only people paying attention are us Buddie shippers. (For the general audience, his struggles appear to truly be about Shannon. If Eddie comes out, they are going to think it's out of nowhere. ) I think clarification of these contradictions would help.

[sideprince]

When I tell you I'm tired of this "but Snape was mean to children and that's unforgiveable" shit. And it's always from anons.

I had a lot of awful teachers in school. Like the one who overwhelmed us with work and then tried to sabotage my grades at my next school after my parent told her off for it. Or the teacher who failed half the class because he was racist, and it was known around campus that he was racist but the administration did nothing about it except make him head of the department. Or the other teacher who tried to fail me because she just didn't like me (and when I went to the administration with a complaint, they made her recalculate my grade and it turned out I had earned over an entire letter grade higher than what she wanted to give me). Or the elementary school teacher I had when I was SEVEN who used corporal punishment and abusive language. Or the high school teacher who only allowed white kids in her honors class to take the AP test at the end of the year, and not the hispanic or black kids.

And yet somehow when I read Harry Potter for the first time, Snape didn't stand out to me as a particularly abusive teacher. Because in the landscape of 90s education, he wasn't. I found Fake Moody/Crouch disturbing because of how much he enjoyed watching Neville suffer during the Cruciatus demo and how wildly manipulative and sociopathic he was with zero administrative oversight. I hated Lockhart because he reminded me of the teachers who, despite being grown adults, were more interested in personal validation from a bunch of teenagers, and our grades and test scores suffered for it. But the teacher who stood out to me as particularly vile and reprehensible was Umbridge - because I knew teachers like her. Teachers who exploited adminstrative policies to feel powerful because they were small, unimaginative, stupid people who were unqualified for their jobs and they knew it. Teachers who were emotionally stunted and felt the need to assert their personal like or dislike of literal children by affecting their transcripts forever. Teachers who thought that if they disliked a student enough they could justify using corporal punishment against them. And you know what I did? I put together petitions and got every student in every period to sign it who was taught by the teacher the petition was about. I went to the administration and invoked my rights as a student - sometimes they said there was nothing they could do, sometimes they took action. One teacher ended up getting fired. One administrator's contract wasn't renewed. And I don't feel bad, because they failed in their responsibilities to their students. And because I actually did something, instead of sitting around and complaining. And if I'd been born later and this had happened more recently, I would have done the same things, instead of venting my frustration online at random strangers on the internet over a piece of fiction.

So I have a question for every one of the "Snape was mean to kids and Snape fans excuse it" people, who never seem to ask themselves why they get so riled up over this character but not about Umbridge. Because I've had teachers like Snape. And when I look back on them, I don't feel traumatized by them. I remember hating them at the time. And I also remember everything they taught me. Because they were good teachers. And tbh, we were little shits, and the attitude check they gave us was socially acceptable at the time, so they weren't exploiting their power because they could - the way an Umbridge does - they were just mean. Sometimes people are mean. It's not OK, but it's also not the irreperable heinous crime some people make it out to be. There's a lot of nuanced grey area between those two things. And what I was left with by those teachers is the knowledge it was their job to impart, and did so successfully, and I have no hard feelings - to the point where when I looked one of them up I was sad to find they'd passed away because I wanted to reach out and thank them. The same way as the ones McGonagall reminds me of, who was also mean to kids and made them unsafe. But when I think back on the teachers Umbridge reminds me of, my stomach tightens. My blood pressure goes up. I get angry and feel helpless. Especially the ones who weren't just teachers, but were administrators who abused their power and affected kids' entire lives and academic careers. I want to look them up too - so I can shout at them and tell them how vile they are. And I'm glad I can't do that, because for all I know they've learned and grown as people and changed for the better. Because they're real people and not a fictional character.

So here's my question: why are you @-ing strangers on the internet about fictional characters and are you doing anything in your actual life about the Umbridges of the world? Are you on your local school board? Are you someone your kids or nieces/nephews/niephews can talk to if they're struggling with someone abusing their power? Are you still a student and if so are you doing anything about these teachers in your school? Organizing with other students, going to PTA meetings to bring up these issues, starting petitions to bring the administration's attention to the fact that the student body has issues with a staff member? Are you actively involved in any way, or have you been at any point, in trying to protect students from teachers like Umbridge, or do you just go around sending anons to Snape fans because stamp collecting was too boring a hobby for you and apparently you slept through the section in Lit class when you learned about how to spot when an author uses a biased narrator as a literary tool?

Do you actually care about abusive teachers as a real social problem, or do you just like to argue about fiction from the comfort of your couch and feel superior to strangers on the internet you actually know nothing about?

Grow up. Do something constructive. And stop thinking you're the first person to come up with this asinine argument because it turns out,

okay, yes, snape suffered a lot but he also made his students suffer a lot. do you know what it must have been like for all those kids to be constantly humiliated??? if you like comparing with real life so much, what would you think of a real adult who abuses their power to feel better at the expense of children??? snape fans always come up with all kinds of excuses, but when it comes to the topic of his abuse towards his students, you always stay silent, and that's because it has no forgiveness.

Severus’s role as a dysfunctional adult is honestly pretty amusing to me, especially because while I never experienced bullying from peers or equals, I grew up in an environment full of wildly dysfunctional adults. On top of that, I now work on legal cases involving even more dysfunctional adults. And, to make it even better, while my classmates never gave me grief, attending a private Catholic school in the 2000s meant teacher-on-student violence was pretty much a daily occurrence. Not just at school—I've also had some truly awful professors at university. So, I get firsthand what it’s like to have authority figures who are supposed to guide and protect you but act like an absolute pack of jerks.

Here’s an unpopular opinion: if I compare my personal experiences with dysfunctional adults and terrible teachers, Severus is practically a lamb. I’ve witnessed some insane things. There was a case at my school where a teacher bullied three siblings (in different grades) so badly that their dad came to the school and physically beat the teacher up. And honestly? The guy deserved it. I’ve seen old-school priests handing out slaps. I’ve had a teacher in his late 30s openly flirting with 17-year-old students. I’ve had teachers who didn’t just throw out a sarcastic remark—they flat-out called us “idiots,” “morons,” "dickheads", "assholes", “worthless,” or said things like, “You’re all going to end up mopping floors because you’re useless pieces of crap.” Fun times with Mr. Antonio.

There was one teacher who made students stand up one by one so he could critique their outfits in front of the entire class, piece by piece, like he thought he was Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada. Another handed out nicknames that were humiliating and outright cruel. Or that elementary teacher who also taught catechism and would call up children who were not going to take their First Communion (this happens at 8 or 9 years old) to the front of the class and publicly ask them why they didn’t want to embrace Jesus Christ. She would even ask if they thought their parents didn’t love them because they weren’t letting them do the same as their friends. Or the second-grade teacher who called a boy up to the board because he didn’t know a multiplication table very well and started singing a mocking song in Spanish that goes, “Fulanito tururú, que no sabe ni la u” (basically calling someone slow-witted).

Then there was the fourth-grade teacher (9-10yo) who had a particular grudge against one of my classmates and kept threatening to lock him in places or scaring him by saying he was going to throw him out the window. The English teacher, who, when we were 14 years old, locked us in a classroom, made us skip lunch, and kept us there without eating until 5 PM. The technology teacher, a 50-year-old man with a very hands-on approach towards the girls in first and second year of secondary school (12-13 yo). And I could go on and on.

So yeah, I’ve seen some wild stuff in classrooms, and trust me, you don’t need to explain the trauma bad teachers can cause—I’ve had my share of them. And none of it is going to make me like Severus any less. If anything, the stuff he does in the books feels like 1% of the madness I’ve seen play out in real life.

[alyblacklist]

The Night Agent | Official Trailer | Netflix

Just finished binging this show - really good!