#These two shots are almost contradictory in a way

[writtebycamus]

From a Prince to a King: David Tennant in Shakespeare plays throughout the years

Hamlet (2009) // Macbeth (2023)

[servicpop]

obsessive ( nsfw ) obsessive toji f. x oblivious bttm male reader

Toji hated how oblivious you were.

You could run your pretty little mouth to a cafe worker and overlook the yearning in their eyes, or you would turn a blind eye to when your co-worker at your part-time job asks so blatantly for your number, but you just disregard it as just so you could be called in when they call sick.

He doesn't say anything about it, not when you two are out getting drinks — since it was your payday — and he sees a girl approach you, batting her eyelashes blotted black with mascara and throwing meaningless compliments at you. He only glares, his hand slipped around your waist, squeezing the soft flesh there as if he was voicing his complaints through actions.

But of course you brush him off, saying something along the lines of 'she probably wants to be friends,' which undoubtedly ticks him off.

A smile, however, graces his scarred lips when he sees the girl's eyes flicker to the hand around your sides and backs off ever so slightly and he swears he would never but he most definitely flipped her off while your attention was on her.

When your drinks were finally done, the worker handed it to you, and god did Toji almost throw a straight punch when he saw your fingers brush together. Why was everyone gunning for you? When he first started going out with you, he simply assumed that no one would dare come close because of his looks, but now, people didn't even look in his direction, only yours.

"You're like a fucking angel," He grunted under his breath, placing the paper straw that would eventually disintegrate from him chewing on it inbetween his lips to take a sip. You turn your head to ask him what he said, not being able to hear it through the rumble of his voice, but he replies with a blunt, "nothing."

Throughout your whole 'date,' Toji was just getting increasingly pissed off about the whole ordeal. Guys and girls were approaching you, trying to start up a conversation, and as the sweet little oblivious boy you were, you'd engage, which always ended in Toji having to scare them away with a glare and a hand wrapped around you.

The ride home was fairly quiet; Toji wasn't a man of many words but he couldn't shake off the jealousy that he desperately wanted to bury. His fingers brushed against his scarred lips, a habit he's adopted over the years, and his leg bounced repetitively before the words just spilt out from his mouth like gates opening. "Does it not bother you?" he speaks in a rather hushed tone, almost like he's trying to restrain the jealousy in his voice.

"Bother me how?" You question, getting out from your seat once you've reached your home. Toji is left trailing after you like a stray dog while the key chains on your keys clink together as you unlock your front door.

"When people are always coming up to you," Toji grumbles, extending an arm above your head to hold the door open for you. "They're interested in you, can't you see that?" His hands find their way to rest on your waist and he pulls your back to his chest. "I'm right here and you still wanna shoot your shot with someone else?" Toji has forgotten all about keeping his obsession over you at bay, all he wants to do is knock some sense into you.

Before you can even refute his words, Toji already has his hands crawling underneath your shirt. His large, thick fingers finding your chest to pinch at your nipples, twisting them lightly. One hand leaves your chest while the other is splayed across it, holding you back as he pulls at your waistband, stretching the elastic out to look down at you.

"Already hard and I've barely touched you," He tsked, and contradictory to his words, his hand wanders down to touch you more. He pulls at your pants, slipping them down until they pool at your ankles before he runs a finger along the bulge at your boxers.

You instinctively whine and grasp his forearms in a futile attempt to stop his hands but you just end up twitching in his hold. "What? Don't want it? Thought you loved attention," Toji slips his hand lower, trailing down so he could press the pad of his fingers to your hole through the fabric. There's barely any friction or penetration to get you going so your hips jerk back, pushing against Toji which elicts a low groan from the man.

"Yeah, yeah you do, you fucking love it," His laugh comes out harsh and he's folding himself ontop of you, getting you to bend over more. Both his thumbs link underneath your waistband and pulls it down with a small whistle. Toji's arm then constricts around your waist where your body bent, holding you up so you didn't fall or escape. For a second he holds you still and all you can hear is the clink of his belt coming off and the small pops of his buttons.

"Stay still for me yeah?" He growls in your ear, tugging at his own clothing to get them off. He snakes his hand to your front, curving underneath to slip a finger inside. His arm is brushing so lightly against your now erect cock, but he refuses to touch it.

You could feel every knuckle pushing into you, squeezing against his fingers as you panted. His other hand finally makes it to your dick, using his fingertips to pull your cock against your stomach, tracing his nails along the underside. This ripped out a moan from your throat, your arms thrashing around from the feeling but Toji's arms are so tangle with yours its hard to move.

"Oh? So that's where you're sensitive, huh?" He's blatantly mocking you, taking his anger out on you. You whine again when Toji starts to spread the fingers nestled inside your walls, scissoring you to stretch you out. "Open up for me baby, I know you ain't shy," he keeps his fingers apart, taking his own dick and lining it up to your gaping hole.

He pushed in, and once you fit his tip through, he pulls his fingers back out, plugging you with his thick dick.

Toji hums contently, grabbing both your arms and pulling them back to his sides. You're already arching and he's got a great view of your back. "I feel like you're gonna split in half, God," its a shaky laugh because of how much you're squeezing him, wringing him out of whatever he has to offer. He pulls his hips away from you before he slams back in, the hands on your wrists pulling you against him with each thrust.

You can't do anything with your hands pulled behind your back, Toji's just using your body, handling you like you were a puppet and your arms were the strings.

You can hear Toji groan in frustration but before you could question it, Toji moves his hands, gripping your thigh and pulling it up. His other hand holds your side, as he pistons his hips into you in this new position. "That's deeper, yeah?" He groans into your ear, and you wobble from being forced to stand on one leg but Toji just tightens his grip around your waist.

Your whole body shudders when Toji finally reaches your prostate, hitting right up against it. A grin slowly emerges onto Toji's face when he sees your eyes go blank, and he knows he's found your sweet spot. "There we go, shit I was getting mad 'cause you weren't reacting that much." Toji's fingers dig deeper into the plush flesh of your thigh, and he laughs breathlessly at the obscene sound of his balls hitting against your skin.

"You take it like a champ y'know," he whispers through his teeth, "I'm so mean to you but you don't complain, huh?"

You're too far gone to even hear his words, your warm, wet walls clenching around him as you let out a small cry before coming as hard as you could, the sticky liquid falling straight onto your wooden floors. Toji's condescending laugh rings through your ears as the hand on your waist moves to your tummy, pressing down so he could feel himself rearrange your guts.

And apparently, that gets him off. Alot.

With one more thrust, Toji groans loudly, emptying for all he's worth into you. He pulls out almost immediately so he could see the white globs drip down your inner thighs. He lets go of your thigh that he was previously holding in the air and squishes them together, slotting his cock back between your sticky thighs to ride out his high.

He's peppering light kisses and small bites on your shoulder before speaking in a husky voice, "You gonna let people hit you up?" He asks, and you can barely reply from the physical exhaustion, "...No."

[satorugu]

In Every Era (Sukuna x f!reader)

She is the reincarnation of his love, and he plans to be with her in every era.

Warnings: Blood, violence, fighting, making out

Note: The readers technique relates to ice and being able to lower the temperatures around her enough to create it. Both Heian era and the version of Sukuna in Itadori's body is included.

"There are three victims we need to find, correct?" (Y/N) clarified as the group walked down a corridor.

It was oddly lit, the sound of their shoes echoing off of the walls as they made their way through the juvenile detention center. This was simply an investigation, much easier than other missions they had received. As sorcerers, finding dead bodies was considered casual, but there was a slight chance they could run into something else.

A rumor of a special grade being discovered inside was circulating, meaning it could spawn at any moment.

Although it was just a rumor.

It was rare for cursed wombs to produce them, which is what caused the massacre in the first place.

"Yes, and the dog remembers the scent of the entrance," Fushiguro said, referring to the white dog trotting in front of them.

"Simple enough," Itadori nodded.

The second set of eyes underneath his pre-existing ones were contradictory to his own, with red irises that never showed a hint of emotion. Itadori was the opposite, almost always seen smiling or at the least content. (Y/N) hadn't seen the second pair close, as they never seemed to take their gaze off of her.

Every time she looked at him, she saw them staring back at her.

She thought it was coincidental, that they followed anyone who shot Itadori a glance, perhaps an intimidation tactic of Sukuna's.

His reputation already surpassed a level of intimidation though.

(Y/N) feared ever being in Itadori's presence when Sukuna came out.

Everyone did.

"Look!"

Both she and Fushiguro turned to the sound of Itadori's voice, seeing a corpse sitting in the back of the room they entered. Fushiguro crossed his arms, standing next to the pink-haired boy and taking in the sight.

"That's one down," he commented. "It's odd there aren't any others here."

"Yeah, wouldn't there be some sort of trail?" Itadori added, considering the behavior of a cursed womb.

The body was cut clean, the upper half being all that was left.

(Y/N) crouched down on one knee in front of the two, running her hand across the floor.

The cleanliness wasn't purposeful, she noted, as she felt dirt pick up on the pad of her fingers. No one had tried to stage this, if they did, the floors would be cleaned due to having to wipe up the blood.

"A cursed womb didn't kill him."

Then it clicked, uneasiness sinking into the three sorcerers like an injection.

Sweat budded on both Fushiguro and Itadori's foreheads, the two now frozen in place.

It was eerily silent, as (Y/N) felt the temperature around her hand drop. She was trying to muster up the courage to swallow, as she stared forward in horror.

They were supposed to investigate a detention center haunted by a cursed womb.

Not fight a special grade curse.

And now it was right next to them, closing the gap between Itadori and Fushiguro. Their only security from it was beheaded and bleeding out, that security being one of Fushiguro's Divine Dogs.

The special grade was different from most curses, having a human-like body that was well in shape. It was tall as well, with pale white skin and eyes attached to a pair of arches on its head.

(Y/N) huffed out a cold breath, cursed energy being conjured in her arm.

They were going to die if they ran.

And there was a low chance that they could beat a special grade.

A heaping amount of ice shot out of her hand on command. It formed a barricade between the curse and the sorcerers, causing the two boys to back up and snap out of their fear-induced trance.

It was only for a moment though, as a wave of pure force shattered it in return and sent all three tumbling back. It was like acid, burning through the floor and causing smoke to emit into the air.

(Y/N)'s eyes widened.

"We can't fight it! We need to find an exit!" Fushiguro shouted.

Her ice was supposed to be impenetrable, nothing had ever broken it like that before.

She was airborne.

The second she spent reflecting on the attack sent her flying backward again, as the special grade sent out another wave. She hit the wall immediately, turning the surface in on itself as an indent now marked it. The wind was knocked out of her lungs, watching Itadori pick up speed, making an attempt at close combat before being sent back in a similar fashion.

Fushiguro went to summon his second Divine Dog, clasping his hands together and opening his mouth.

But the words never came out.

Rather than a wolf appearing out of a shadow, an abnormal black hole appeared underneath him.

He fell in, his scream being cut off as soon as it shut.

The special grade curse turned to the two sorcerers, having separated the other.

Itadori shouted out in pain, falling to the ground after he had been tossed aside. He held onto his head like it was the end of his life, mumbling a spiel of panicked words that (Y/N) couldn't understand. She didn't pay that close attention to him though, distracted by the curse now approaching her.

It was forming another kind of cursed energy surge in its hand, aiming at her as she tried to form a counterattack.

The back of her head was bleeding, and a pounding headache formed across her forehead.

She was destroyed.

(Y/N) let out uneven breaths, standing up wearily and attempting to make another offense. She thought of freezing it, barreling towards the curse, and using the slipperiness of the ice to help her move even quicker. It was like skating, as she shot out a wave of ice that wrapped around the special grade, and trapped it.

There was a micro-expression of a smile on her face, before the solid block of ice began to glow orange.

A crack began to form on the exterior.

Then the entirety of it burst.

The special grade took its large claw around (Y/N) neck and lifted her up, squeezing the air out of her lungs.

It opened it's mouth, a massive sum of cursed energy forming inside as it aimed for her face.

This was death.

She couldn't breath, yanking against it's grasp and trying to free herself. Either she would suffocate from lack of oxygen, or have her face burnt to ashes.

She was a fool not to run.

(Y/N) saw the cursed energy dart out towards her, feeling the heat right against her eyes as she closed them for the last time.

It sounded like a blade cut straight through something.

Arms from the side of her slid around her back and under her legs, holding her bridal style as she collapsed in it's hold. She felt whatever was holding her land in a crouched position, still keeping her to itself.

She felt her head rest on a beating chest, a hot breath landing on her nose.

Her eyes opened to meet a pair of red irises staring back at her.

The silence was pregnant.

Sukuna.

The great amount of fear was evident in her expression, as she swallowed back and dared to move.

He set her down, as the sound of the Special Grade crying out could be heard from behind. Sukuna had took off it's arm, but it seemed to have grown it back, turning to face the King of Curses. It summoned a massive amount of cursed energy in it's hands, forming a sphere that shot out towards him.

"Pathetic."

With one hand Sukuna shielded both himself and (Y/N) from it, standing almost casually.

"Allow me to show you real Jujutsu Sorcery."

The Special Grade was still, horror evident in the screech it let out. The King of Curses raised his hands, putting them together in a specific formation.

This was ten times worse than being choked or burnt to death.

"Domain Expansion, malevolent shrine."

Suddenly, everything around them vanished, as a pitch black abyss consumed (Y/N)'s vision. The small, unkempt detention center had been remade into an atmosphere that she couldn't describe. She was sitting on water, a lake to be in fact. The entire floor was water, except for a Shrine that sat in the middle of it. It was built off of a pile of skulls, Sukuna standing on top of it all.

He had a white Kimono on, looking directly at the curse that was frozen next to her.

One moment it was there.

The next, it was cut into ten different parts, burned alive by purple flames.

She thought she was next.

Sukuna walked off of the pile, making his way towards her in the dimly lit domain.

(Y/N) thought of running, her heart pounding faster by each step he took. She was frozen in place, unable to get up as she looked into the eyes she had seen a thousand times. Always the same, always red, always emotionless.

She was thinking of the worst death possible, wondering if he had saved her only to kill her himself as he towered over her helpless form.

The King of Curses knelt down, as she sat leaning back on her hands.

"Soon, you will understand," were the words that left his mouth, as he pressed a delicate kiss to her forehead.

(Y/N) couldn't register what had transpired, as she felt an overwhelming amount of exhaustion kick in and couldn't resist falling asleep.

It was the Heian era, the golden age of Jujutsu.

(Y/N) fiddled with the red dress she was wearing, as she stood by the fountain in the garden. It fit her body well, with thin straps that showed off her shoulders.

This is where she spent her free time, away from the servants and maids. It was peaceful, always well kept and bright. The flowers were watered properly, and the stone that marked the grounds were always cleaned of dirt. There was no war here, it was fitting of her personality.

A familiar pair of strong, big hands wrapped around her waist, along with another pair coming to hold her upper arms, stroking her skin lightly.

She felt his gaze on her, as she held onto one of his hands and looked up at him.

"You were right, it is quite peaceful out here," her husband, Ryomen Sukuna, said.

"It's very fitting of you," she teased.

"Is that so?" he leaned down, pressing a kiss to her neck.

He felt her shiver, letting out a breathy laugh and turning around to face him.

The look in his eyes was filled with affection, a soft smile in place of an emotionless and deadly stare.

It was clear he was in love.

And so was she, as he picked her up and she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him passionately. Two of his arms held onto her upper thighs, while the other two rested on her head, one running their fingers through her hair, the other cupping the side of her face. If it wasn't for the fact that she was human, she might've not let go. Yet she broke away from him to catch her breath, resting her forehead against his.

Her hot breaths landed on his nose, as he held her up high enough to look down on him. She couldn't help but smile, as he refused to take his gaze off of her.

He leaned in, stopping just before their lips could meet, and whispered something.

"I will love you in every era."

For a moment she thought he was making an effort to be romantic, but it was clear in his tone that he was sure of it.

He would love her in every era, even if she didn't remember him.

(Y/N) shot up, and for a moment, she thought she was still in the detention center, stuck in the domain.

She was in her bed, the covers tucked in around her, arranged just how she liked. Her dorm was cleaner than she left it, an outfit sitting out for her by the desk. All of her wounds were fully healed, in fact, she hadn't felt this rested since she came here.

She reached for her phone, seeing that it was almost eleven in the morning. (Y/N) never slept in that late, nor slept that deep. The only reason she hadn't been woken up was because it was the weekend.

Then, she thought of her dream, and Sukuna's words from before.

Soon, you will understand.

(Y/N) threw off the covers hurriedly, putting on the outfit laid out without question and rushing towards the door.

She opened it to see both Fushiguro and Itadori standing outside in the hallway, talking amongst one another.

It was odd.

"Oh, hey (Y/N)!" Itadori exclaimed.

"Are you two okay?" she panicked, looking at Fushiguro specifically.

"Yeah, why?" he asked her.

"What happened?"

"I don't know, honestly, we both just woke up here."

"Yea, the Special Grade got taken care of, along with the three victims we were assigned to finding," Itadori added casually.

"By who..."

The boys both shot each other a look, shrugging almost comically. She didn't know what to say, as her eyes trailed down to the pair that were below Itadori's.

They were staring directly at her, once again.

She flushed and swallowed back, thinking of the dream she had. First, he kissed her, followed up by her somehow falling asleep and having a vision about the two of them. It wasn't the version of Sukuna that saved her though, it was his true form, the one that was most prominent during the golden age.

(Y/N) looked down at her outfit, eyeing the red top she had on.

It fit her body well, with thin straps that showed off her shoulders.

That wasn't a dream.

A/N: Part two?

[mj-fintastic]

Dumb, dumb feelings.

|Donatello X Reader one shot | Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff |

After you’ve been gone a whole college quarter, you come back to the New York sewers to spend winter break with the Mad Dogs. Except Donatello is acting rather strange…

………………………………………………………………

“Y/N!!” Mikey screeched, throwing himself at the girl. She was able to drop her bags just before contact, grasping onto the box turtle so that he wouldn’t fall to the floor.

“Woah! Be careful, I coulda dropped ya!” She mustered, as the boy was squeezing the life out of her.

“It’s nice to see you again, Y/N! How’s college going?” Raph put his hand on his hip, his signature snag tooth popping out of his smile.

“Oh, we’ll it’s been-!”

“BOOORIIIIING! Have you met anyone? Found any cute guys? I’m sure college is just FULL of em!”

“Leo!”

“Yes yes, everybody is positively thrilled to see Y/N again, now can we PLEASE focus on the task at hand?” Donnie sighed, rubbing his temples.

“What, the Jupiter Jim Jupithon?” Raph raised his brow.

“yeES! We haven’t even made popcorn, and while my palette is very refined, TUMMYTELLO IS HUNGRY! Can we at LEAST order a pizza before we get all mushy?” Y/N picked her bags up, struggling to walk as Mikey had attached himself to her leg.

“Someone is hangry, I see.” She smiled, making Donatello pout. Little did she know, Donnie had been seemingly unreasonably moody, almost gloomy, for the last two or so months. It was something everyone noticed, but nobody really knew why.

“It’s nice to see you too, hun.” Her gaze softened. No one questioned it, seeing as she had a habit of calling people nicknames, such as sweetie, honey, etc.

It had been awhile since he heard her refer to him as such though. His expression softened, no one particularly seeing his cheeks change hue slightly.

“I’ll go put my stuff in the lab. Thank you so much again for letting me stay during winter break, D.”

“Yes, yes, you’re welcome. Just hurry, or else I’m starting the movie without you.”

He was unusually dismissive towards her, which didn’t escape her as her smile lessened and she turned away and headed towards the lab. The turtles all turned towards Donatello as he walked to the kitchen and reached into a lower cabinet, trailing behind.

“You know Donnie, she came all this way to see us. Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know…a little nicer?” Raph prodded.

“She’s been gone for SO LONG!” Mikey dramatically whined.

“Please, Michelangelo. She’s been gone for a little over a college quarter. Besides, we have-what, three weeks with her?” He nonchalantly grabbed a bowl from the cabinet, closing the door with slightly more force than usual.

Besides, what do YOU know about her, anyways? He clenched his jaw. He knew he was being unreasonable, but something was just nagging at him. Something was bothering him, and the fact he didn’t know what it was…it was driving him insane. He wanted to watch the movie, but he wanted them to go away. He wanted to be left alone, but he didn’t want to be alone. Nothing was making sense, his contradictory wants and desires making him grasp at straws. And his brothers were simply just distracting him from figuring it out…or so is the logical conclusion, he thought. Clearly, that’s why he was upset…right?

“Seriously. Broski. You’ve been even more grouchy than ever, and being grouchy is like, your thing! So, it’s a little impressive, but also…kiiind of a mood killer.” Leo chimed in, as Mikey nodded enthusiastically.

“I mean, you’re kind of acting like you’re not happy to see Y/N. Did you not miss her?”

“What? Wh- of COURSE I missed her! Did you just happen to forget she’s my BEST FRIEND?” He strained his tympanum to make sure she wasn’t coming back yet, there’s no way she’d get over him calling her that in front of someone else. Let alone his brothers. He took a bag from the box of popcorn off the counter, before tossing it into the microwave and putting it in for 3 minutes…promptly ignoring the popcorn button that his brothers loved oh-so-much, despite the packagings instructions advising against it.

“Then what’s the DEAL, YO?!!” Mikey shouted, causing Donnie to tense. All the attention, confusion and noise was becoming too damn grating on his nerves. It was too much, all at once.

“THERE IS NO DEAL, “YO!” NOTHING IS GOING ON, I AM PERFECTLY FINE AND NORMAL AND NOT AT ALL UPSET!” He grated his teeth, body tense as he slumped and his volume increased.

There was a pause, as tension was thick.

The popcorn had started it’s signature popping process.

The other turtles stared, eyebrows raised.

“Ooookayyyy, sure Donnie. Whatever you say. Anywhizzle-“ Leo broke the silence. “-You’re gonna share that popcorn, right? Cause oh boy I am STARVING!” He turned, chuckling as he made way for the living room, shouting as he spun on his heel.

“Raph, order a pizza! We must be prePARED, to fight for INTERPLANETARY PEACE!”

The popping from the microwave slowed, the smell familiar and comforting.

“You know what I like, Raphie. THE CHEESIEST CHEESE PIZZA THEY GOT!! I can feel that warm, melty dairy bliss on my tongue as we speak!” Mikey turned to follow his blue brother, practically bouncing off the walls. Donnie grabbed the bag from the microwave, tearing it open before a large hand softly placed itself upon his shoulder. Donatello felt his muscles tense yet again.

“Donnie. I know something’s wrong. You can’t hide that from me. I may not be the brightest, but I’ll be damned if I don’t know my brothers.” Raphael said softly. Donnie inhaled deeply, relaxing slightly.

“Okay, fine. There may be a SLIGHT CHANCE…that something is wrong. BUT, HERE’S THE PROBLEM, RAPH-AI-EL.” His jaw tightened, turning to face his brother.

“I DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT THING MIGHT BE! NO CLUE! NOT ONE IDEA!” He gestured wildly upward, causing Raph to step back.

“AND IT IS SO INFURIATING. I HATE NOT KNOWING THINGS, RAPH YOU KNOW THIS ABOUT ME! HOW ON EARTH AM I SUPPOSED TO FIX WHAT IS WRONG IF I DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT IS?”

“Oh man. This might be a better job for Doctor Feelings.” Raph looked on helplessly.

“No offense to Doctor Feelings…” Donnie paused.

“Okay, full offense- I hate Doctor Feelings.” He spat out the name like an unsavory strand of meat fat. Gross.

“What?! Why?”

“You know I don’t do well with…Emotions! They have no rhyme or reason, they’re inconsistent, they-“

“Okay, lemme stop you there, cause I know if I don’t, you’re gonna be at this all night.”

The purple clad turtle pouted and sighed, but knew he was right. He did tend to ramble, and no one was really fond of when he did…Except Y/N, but she was a rare exception. He felt the weird pang in his chest again, feeling his frustration only grow.

“Listen, I’m no Mikey. But I feel like while this has been an issue for a while, it got worse when Y/N got here. So whatever it is, maybe it’s gotta do with her. Maybe she said somethin’ that made you mad, or…I dunno, stepped on your shoes somehow. Figure that out, then go talk to her, alright?”

Donnie raised a finger.

“POLITELY.”

He lowered his hand.

“Alright, now come on, they’re gonna start without us!” He chimed, pulling out his phone as he dialed Tony Lou’s Pizza. Donatello sighed, putting another bag in the microwave. Something just wasn’t making sense.

………………………………………………………………………………

“Save me, Jupiter Jim! They’re going to make me swim in this comedically large piranha pit with also snakes and vipers and sharks if you don’t set me free!”

“Alas! Having to choose between saving planet JupiJarturNebula or save my partner…! What a heartbreaking, but extremely easy morally ethical decision!”

Everyone was on the edge of their seats, as the alien race of Angler-fish donkey people snidely chuckled with Red Fox in their clutches…Everyone but Donatello.

What could she have possibly done to make me angry? He questioned, occasionally stealing a glance at Y/n between fistfuls of popcorn.

I mean, we haven’t talked much while she’s been away, sure. How could one NOT want to talk to ME?! ORTHELLO VON RYAN?!!! However, he had to admit, college was difficult. Especially going full time AND having a job? He could see how she may not have had time. Besides, he was just as much at fault. As much as he missed her and thought about her, he never quite had the time between missions and projects to shoot her a text or call. Clearly, that couldn’t be the reason.

But nothing else came to mind. He had missed her so dearly, wanted to see her so badly…and now, here she was, hanging out with everyone. It wasn’t that he was upset she was here…what was it?

He paused as he stole another glance. The light brought attention to her nose, cheekbones…specifically her eyes. The reflection of the projection of stars, laser blasts and beautiful blues and purples made her eyes seem to shine. How he wished she would look at him, give him a better view, give him the unadulterated attention she was giving the projection on the wall.

His chest felt heavy again. Or…was heavy the right description? It felt like…a burning, but not the painful kind that a triple cheeseburger from McDonalds would give you. Once he embraced it, it felt…almost…nice.

Something happened in the movie that made her burst out laughing, and yet he couldn’t look away to save his own hide. If she looked now, she would most certainly notice his gaze. His face grew all the warmer, but he was too lost in thought to notice.

Her laugh was rather loud, he noticed. Unlike when they had first met. She was…quieter then. She had grown into herself a lot, gotten more comfortable. And it was…

Lovely.

Her voice struck a chord within him. It always had, but he never really noticed. He really had missed her. Her presence, her voice, her eyes…all he wanted was for her to notice him again.

And then it clicked.

“Alright, y’all! Two movies down, a JupiterJillion left to go!” She smiled, as the brothers roared in excitement.

“Oh! Uh, actually, Y/N…” Donnie started, before he felt a wave of nervousness splash him in the face once she turned to look at him. Her lips curved upwards towards her eyes slightly, as she made soft but direct eye contact.

Oh, God, what did Raph say? Run away and hide forever and throw away all means of communication and never ever ever - AND THAT’S TWO EVERS -under any circumstances talk to her ESPECIALLY ABOUT HOW YOU FEEL-yeah that sounded about right mhm totally!

“What’s up, D?” She gently prodded, urging him to continue.

“Can you…meet me in my lab in a moment? I want to talk to you about something.” He stood up, breaking the eye contact as he pulled out his phone, desperate to do something with his hands other than let them dangle awkwardly at his sides. The way she looked at him made him feel weak. He had gotten exactly what he wanted, for just a brief moment, before he had ruined it. Gosh, why couldn’t he just be normal around her?

“Of course! I’ll be there in just a minute.” She replied, cheery as ever, as she got to her feet as well.

“I’m just gonna start some more popcorn really quick.” She added as Donnie walked away, as he hummed a confirmation and made way to his lab.

As she walked to the kitchen, the brothers shot glances at one another as a familiar beeping sounded in the kitchen.

Another pause hung in the air, as they strained to hear her walk out of the kitchen.

“Okay, what’s going ON with those two?” Leo sputtered.

“I dunno, but I’m gonna make sure D ain’t being rude. It’s her winter break, after all! She deserves to have a good time, and I am fed up with his bad behavior.” Raphael concluded.

“Raph, are sure that’s a good idea? I mean…it seems pretty private if you ask me.” Mikey hinted with a raise of his brows. The snapping turtle, however, was dense to the implications.

“Nonsense! I’m sure nothing could go wrong by just checkin’.” He smiled, before heading off in Donnie’s footsteps.

…………………………………………………………………

Why was this so hard? He wiped his hands on his shorts a third time. His heart was racing, and he had no idea why. What was he going to say? His mouth felt dry, as he tried to think of what Mikey would say…

Just listen to your heart! You’ll feel much better if you’re honest with not only yourself, but the people around you! Communication is the key to any relationship, as is honesty.

Right, he scoffed. As if the truth does anything except hurt people. He found that no one really liked it when he told the truth, and sometimes all it did was hurt people’s feelings…or ruin a perfectly good friendship.

Yes, the truth can hurt. But sometimes, pain isn’t a bad thing. Pain is needed to learn, heal, grow as a person. And having someone lie to you can cause a lot more pain then telling the truth.

Well…that was true. What was he even going to say? He still didn’t really understand how he felt. How could he communicate it if he didn’t know what was going on?

Well, Mind Mikey wasn’t being very helpful anymore. He sighed, placing his hand on his plastron to feel his heart pulse rapidly. He hated this. He didn’t know what he wanted.

“Knock knock!”

He nearly jumped out of his own shell, as Y/N’s voice came from behind him.

She was barely peering in, hesitant to enter without permission.

“Did you seriously say that instead of, I don’t know-JUST KNOCKING?”

“You’re one to talk, hun.”

His stomach did a flip. Why now was the nickname giving him trouble? His eyes shifted, a soft hue of red accenting his cheeks. She didn’t fail to notice, brows furrowing.

“Donnie, is something…wrong? I know you don’t like talking about your emotions, but…” she spoke quietly, as she approached him. He couldn’t muster to look her in the eyes.

“I want you to know I’m always here for you. Whether you want to talk, just hang out…anything.”

“Nothing’s wrong, I just…” he hesitated. What to say? Would it really be…okay? He bit his lip, feeling his face begin to burn as he only grew more nervous.

“Okay well maybe SOMETHING is wrong but I’m not really sure what but I think I maybe know what it is? But at the same time I don’t know for sure and I-I just-“ he rushed through his words, speaking with his hands before sharply inhaling and restarting.

“I…I feel as though…I may have made you feel like I wasn’t happy to see you again, which is absolutely not the case. I just…” another pause.

“It’s okay, take your time Donatello.”

He looked at her with big eyes. Her expression was soft, understanding and comforting as she smiled patiently. He felt himself melt ever so slightly. Taking a moment to compose himself, he looked away again.

“…I just…missed you so much, I…The fact that I wasn’t able to spend time with you first made me upset, when in my mind I had envisioned something different…I felt like…” this was humiliating. He could just see Dr. Feelings watching and giving him a thumbs up in his head…he hated it.

“Like…my brothers were stealing you away from me, and that…you liked them more than me.” Dr. Feelings shot him a look.

“Did I make you feel that way?” Her brows turned upwards.

“No. I realize that, while I want to spend time with you the most…my brothers want to spend time with you too. So therefore…this was the best solution. To spend time with everyone at once before spending time with people individually. But at the same time, knowing that…didn’t change how I felt.” He shrunk in on himself, feeling small. Until she placed a hand on his shoulder.

“That’s completely normal. And, if you want, we could stay in here for awhile and spend some time one on one. I wouldn’t mind, I missed you too, you know.”

The look in her eyes were so warm, and the gentle touch made him lean in slightly. He folded, hugging her around her waist and burying his face in her stomach. The feeling of her touch after so long…he didn’t realize how much he longed for it. He felt her hand pull his goggles off, setting them to the side, before she started gently petting his head as the other laid on his battle shell. Normally, he hated being touched. But she…she was an exception. When it came to her gentle, graceful hands…he melted further and further into her.

…………………………………………………………………………………

Raph huffed as he made his way to the lair, his steps quiet.

“Man, if that Idiot is hurting her feelings I swear…Good thing Raph’s not gonna let that happen!” He chuckled to himself, before preparing to peer in.

“I’m surprised I’m not hearin’ fighting-“ looking in, he stopped in his tracks.

They were both sitting on the floor, Donnie with his arms around her and face rubbing into her lower abdomen, eyes wet as she held him and cooed softly.

“It’s alright, Donnie, I’m here now. We have so much time to spend together, and trust me…you’re going to get the brunt of the attention.” She laughed softly.

“Three weeks isn’t enough.” He murmured, making her blush slightly as Raph’s jaw dropped. Never in a million years did he think he’d see Donnie this open with someone. Honestly, he felt a little jealous that he wasn’t that open with him, but clearly something happening between them that was…much different. Suddenly, he realized exactly what Mikey has meant by private.

“I’ll only be gone for another two months or so, again.”

IT WAS TWO MONTHS?? Raph connected the dots in his brain. The whole reason Donnie had been a gigantic grump was because…he missed her? God, Donnie is a real knucklehead when it came to feelings.

“I know…I don’t want you to go.” He whispered, a single tear threatening to spill.

“I missed you so much. I don’t want to miss you again.”

The blush on her face only worsened.

“Oh, Donnie…Honey, it’ll be alright. I’ll always come back. You think I could ever go without you for more than a quarter? You’re my favorite person in this world. You’re the one I’ll always look forward to coming home to.”

Donnie pulled away, her words striking a chord within him as he looked at her. With a single sentence, she had made him melt to his core.

You’re the one I’ll always look forward to coming home to.

Suddenly, in one movement, Donatello moved up towards her face, hand cupping her jawline as he suddenly embraced her.

Her eyes were wide, taking a moment to process, before she melted into him with a small, content hum. His brows turned upward, resting his other arm over her shoulder as he slightly twisted his head to better fit her lips.

Welp. Despite his utter shock, now was absolutely the time for Raph to dip, he thought. However, he didn’t move an inch.

Hey, wait. What’s going on?!! I should probably get moving! He thought again.

HE HAD HIS FIRST KISS BEFORE ANY OF US?!! DONNIE?!!! Mind Raph roared.

Uh, Mind Raph, We should probably go. This is getting kinda creepy.

What? This is like a Soap Opera, I gotta know what happens next!!

Hey, that’s our brother, not free entertainment!

Even better, we should record them. I mean, no one’s gonna believe us otherwise.

WHAT?!! ARE YOU INSANE?!!

No, I’m Mind Raph. Thought that was pretty obvious.

That would be SUCH AN INVASION OF PRIVACY!!

Yeah, but it’d be funny.

…

Raph quickly pulled out his phone, and snapped a quick picture of the two. I mean, how much blackmail does Donnie have on him, I’m comparison? Plus…It was just too gosh darn cute to see his baby brother have his first kiss. With that, he walked away.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………

Her soft lips pressing against his made him shiver, wanting to feel them thoroughly as he pressed again and again. He wanted to spill everything, how inexperienced he was, how sorry he was for randomly embracing her the way he did, but also how long he had wanted to do it for. And yet, he didn’t need to. And when she had hummed the way she did, he felt weak to his core. Her lips were heavenly, sweet with a hint of popcorn, and just the fact that he got to know what her lips tasted like made him utterly breathless. He felt her arms around his waist, hand caressing the lower back of his battle shell, and suddenly he had the urge to take it off.

Am I ready for that? He pulled away, looking into her eyes as he thought.

Would she love me the same? He bit his lip nervously.

“Donnie?” She murmured, sending a chill up his shell.

Only one way to find out.

He let go of her for a moment, reaching up to the straps connected to his Plastron and pressing two small hidden panels simultaneously. The battle shell fell behind him as Y/N moved her hands out of the way slightly. Her eyes widened, a blush accenting her cheeks.

“Donnie…I…” she paused, as he listened tentatively and nervously.

“Can I…?”

He nodded.

He felt her hands gently place themselves onto his soft shell, another shiver going through his body. Her hands were warm, soft…nice. He felt his eyes flutter closed as he bit his lip. It felt amazing, her delicate touch as she caressed. He leaned into her, before fully wrapping his arms underneath hers and leaving his hands on her upper back as he buried his face in her shoulder.

“God…” she whispered beneath her breath, before chuckling softly.

“I hate how in love with you I am.” She smiled, turning her head to place a kiss on his head. He responded by nuzzling further against her.

“I love you so much.” She cooed.

Normally, he would despise being treated this way. And yet…he had never felt more loved, more safe.

It was quiet. The only sounds were those of their breathing, and her hands moving across his shell. It was cold in the lair, and yet, he felt the most warm he had ever felt. She smelled ever so slightly of perfume, and he could faintly taste her on his lips. It was fairly dark in the lair, but the purple lights comforted him in a way he couldn’t describe. And everything was just so…warm. Perfect, safe, warm…

He pulled away slightly to press another chaste kiss into her lips, feeling almost entranced by the atmosphere and by his own feelings for her. When the kiss ended, he only moved far away enough to give him room to speak. When he did, he could feel his lips brush hers ever so slightly.

“I…I’m so in love with you.” He whispered breathlessly. “I never want you to leave.”

She only smiled, gently pressing her forehead into his.

“I may leave, but I’m still yours. No matter how far away I am.”

She held his face in her hand, and all he could do was nuzzle into her touch more. No matter how close they were, it just wasn’t close enough. For once, he wasn’t thinking. All of his focus was directed towards her loving embrace.

RING RING! RING RING!

As if snapped out of a trance, Donnie jumped and reached for his phone in his pocket. His screen displayed Red Leader, as he felt himself flush.

“Hey Donnie~ How’s it going with Y/N?~” His older brother said, his tone slightly strange.

“O-OH, UH- Marvelously, fantastic, why?” He sweated, face red.

“Oh, I bet. Enjoying some…quality time?” He cooed, and Donnie could practically see his eyebrows wiggle.

“Uh- why are you talking like that?” He answered, monotone, trying to mask his nervousness.

“No reason…no reason at all.”

“Right…why did you call me?”

“Well, when are you two coming back down for the marathon? We’re already done with the next movie!”

“Oh! Erm, well…Soon?”

“Alright then, hurry it up!…Buncha smoochers.” He added teasingly at the end.

“WH-WAIT HOW-“ Click!

How the fuck did he know? DOES HE KNOW?!!

“Well, what’s up, D?” Y/N touched his shoulder, making him even more of a flustered mess.

“OH WELL UH-“ he cleared his throat. “Raph was uh-just-curious if we were coming back for the marathon soon.”

“Are we?”

“…”

“…”

“Ok maybe another few minutes wouldn’t hurt-“

“Oh yeah absolutely they probably won’t notice.”

[3hks]

Types of Comic Relief Characters

We all love a good funny character, but some of us just have no sense of humor and no idea how to create such a jokester! With that being said, today, I'll show you that writing a comic relief character doesn't always require hilarious quips and jokes! So, here are several different types of humorous character archetypes that you can include in your writing pieces! Just a heads up, I created the names for these types of characters, if they have a different one on the internet, I apologize! (I only did this because I couldn't find any real references on the internet.)

The Commentator - This character is just there to comment random things during situations to brighten up the atmosphere. Usually, they're really just a minor character who lacks depth because their only purpose is to make mirthful and entertaining remarks.

The Annoying One - This character loves annoying and frustrating people however they can. They tend to not take anything seriously, and in the eyes of characters, they are bothersome and irritating. But to the audience, on the contrary, they should seem endearing and witty! It's their personality that makes it so interesting to read and write about them, especially when you add more complexity to their persona! (Which is highly suggested, by the way.) Lastly, when creating this character, it's important to remember that part of the humor is derived from their words and actions, while the other part comes from the responses and reactions based on how other people react towards their antics.

The Happy-Go-Lucky Character - This character doesn't actually have to be super funny, as their main purpose is to relieve tension with their positivity! The Happy-go-lucky character is designed to appeal to the audience by appearing cute and wholesome with their upbeat energy. This way, they're typically a fan favorite! Additionally, they're often a pretty major character, so I suggest giving them some dimension! Again, they're not produced to be the most humorous type, but they're a great fit for any comical situation!

The Stupidly Smart One - Exactly like what the name states, this character is just stupidly smart. Typically, they're very impressive academically, but they lack logic and rationale. They also hardly use their abilities to their fullest potential because they have an abundance of motivation. They're often an incredible asset during any major event, but other than that, they're just there for the party!

The Hard-to-Read Character - This character archetype does not have a strictly set personality. In other words, it should be challenging to describe them with one adjective! They have a blend of several different personality traits that sometimes may seem contradictory, but it really just depends on the situation they're in! The main thing about them is that at times, it's difficult to tell whether they're joking or serious. For example, maybe they state something serious, but their expression displays otherwise. Writing this style of character will require a lot of effort and creativity, but I find that this archetype is very rare in novels so it's definitely worth a shot!

The Chaotic One (Duo) - This is an amazing archetype if you want your audience to have some laughs! I personally think it's much more fun to read (and write) about a chaotic duo, instead of just one character. This way, you can create hilarious conversations and interactions between the two! This character type lives almost solely to troll and isn't very reliable with things that don't matter to them. However, if you're writing a fantasy story, note that there is nothing wrong with giving them some overpowered abilities, as it shows more of their dimension and potential! If you're creating the duo, make sure that the characters causing the mayhem each have a separate personality. Typically, there is a 'ringleader,' who leads the shenanigans and is the most chaotic of them all. Additionally, there's usually a semi-serious character, whose job is to keep them in line. Nevertheless, they still join in the antics and reckless actions! Interactions between the two are mostly meant to be humorous, wholesome, and fluffy, so just have fun and let loose when writing this archetype!

Okay! These are six different types of comic relief characters you can use for your stories! Hopefully, this is able to serve as inspiration and/or a guide for you all! If you need any tips on bringing these archetypes to life, just ask, and I'll try my best to provide the quality information you all deserve!

Happy writing~

3hks :D

[father-defroques-hair-gel]

Okay so. A few Ghovie thoughts

1. The ghouls were way more well behaved than i was expecting but every shot of them was so cool my jaw was dropped

2. Okay was anyone else getting heavier Christ symbolism than usual? Like specifically the death of Christ. This is why i was so sure copia was going to die until the end twist. Because-

2a) The conversation Nihil and Copia had. Where Nihil told him to do a crucifixion and Copia said it sounded horrible and he didnt want to do it. He didnt want things to end. But Nihil clarified and said to do a crucifixion pose to show that “he had given all he had to give”. HEAVY christ parallels here, pretty reminiscent of the temptation of christ where he is saddled with the fate of dying for everyone’s sins at the will of his father and he has to grapple with the fact that he is intended to die

2b) The shoe change. Was it planned? I dont know. But what it really made me think of was mary magdalene washing jesus’s feet. And this furthered the parallel i was seeing.

2c) I was so hoping to complete this parallel by spying some kind of last supper or temptation imagery but i didnt really see any. And copia didnt die. Unless we count his rebranding as a rebirth of sorts.

3) They really made Copia the jellicle choice. I did not see the hot air balloon coming.

4) This may be a crackpot theory and im not 100% knowledgeable on every detail of the lore but im kinda thinking now that jim defroque is copia’s brother and will now become the new papa. Why do i think this? For one, the two baby reveal?? Before Sister’s death?? That was implying copia has a sibling right? And then there was some kind of thing involving the apparition of jim defroque’s face albeit changed and almost made more papa-like (to what i can understand???) at download fest. It would be so fascinating to continue to go down this contradictory priest/televangelist theme and to have a Papa that was once a Christian priest. Plus the interesting duality that is the concept of two (twin?) brothers, separated at birth, going down opposing paths of life in opposing faiths only to eventually cross again. Just an idea.

I will still be thinking about this for days im sure 😵‍💫

[agoodroughandtumble]

Roronoa Zoro x Reader - Birthday Part 2

Status: Complete? Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Reader – I haven’t beta’d but I don’t think Reader is a particular gender (obviously comment if you think it needs changing) Summary: It’s Reader’s birthday Warning(s): 18+ Language, alcohol A/N: I couldn't decide whether I liked the open ending of Birthday so I wrote this

Zoro didn’t dare move, didn’t dare open his eyes. He could happily sink into the infinity of this moment as long as you sunk with him.

The silence was loud – abundant with all the words he could have, should have said. Abundant with the lie he had just laid at your feet. Of course you were still in his head – how could he possible let you leave? You were intrinsic to his very being – despite how much he hated it. Because he did. Wholeheartedly. Hate you. With every fibre of his being. He hated that you had buried yourself so deeply within him that even the lacklustre attempt at banishing you from his head still left you in complete control of his heart, hopes and soul.

Naïvety was not usually a word found in his lexicon but he was certainly aware of it now, heart racing, heat coursing through his veins as he naïvely hoped that you would still want him after everything he had said.

You pulled your head away from his; the lack of contact burning against his skin more than a thousand kisses could. And yet there was a contradictory ice running through his veins. His entire being was hanging on a thread pulled by your whim.

“Why are you doing this?”

Your words shot through him – as if he hadn’t already spanned the entire spectrum of humanity just to get this far. Words were never his friend at the best of times but now they seemed dead set on being his enemy. Laying his entire life in front of you, in that earring, had been easy – but articulating it? A piece of him was literally and figuratively in the palm of your hands. It wasn’t your fault, obviously, it was entirely his. The whole damn situation was his fault. The fact that he could do everything but tell you how he felt about you was entirely his fault. But why was he doing this? Surely you knew. You must know.

Your question echoed in his head. Because he didn’t want to love you, because he didn’t want to allow himself to be so completely out of control. Because he didn’t want you in his head – because he wanted so, so badly for those words to be true. For this gift to be enough, the end, him moving on – a token of a life almost lived. For you to understand what he was saying, only that was impossible. He didn’t know what he was saying. Did he want to pull you into him, to make love to you there and then? To show you how ferociously consuming you were? Did he want you to leave, to walk away so he could pick up the pieces of his broken heart in the solitude he had already become accustomed to?

“Zoro.” Your voice was annoyed, demanding. Eyes ice cold and focussed on him. “If you’re going to be a cryptic arsehole I’m going to bed.”

“Wait,” instinctively he grabbed your wrist.

You rolled your eyes, already fed up with the ‘conversation’. “For what?” You snapped, “What is this bullshit?” You thrust the earring back into his free hand, “All the mind games? You never speak to me and now this? Do you really think I’m that fucking easy?”

Zoro’s hand on your wrist was conflictingly comforting as you stared at him, chest heaving with the effort to retain some sort of composure. You could feel the heat of anger within you, biting down on your bottom lip so as not to explode. You didn’t want an argument, but you didn’t want whatever this was either. You didn’t want his love if it was so fucking traumatic, if it was such a repulsive feeling for him to have. Screaming it from the rooftops was certainly not what you had in mind, but it shouldn’t be this fucking hard for him to just admit that whatever it was, there was certainly something between the two of you.

A small smile found its way across your lips, the lack of an answer from him only solidifying your decision. Okay. Enough.

Your wrist wriggled out of his, “I did wait.” With a heavy sigh you retreated to your bed, hoping the sake would be an adequate excuse in the morning.

[suchamiracle-does-exist]

Dear @faisonsunreve thanks for the tag. This was definitely a time taking task but so much fun to do. A true time travel to your watching history. To my surprise there are three French films and three Tom Hanks films included. 😄

A few comments about certain choices.

Favorite film of all time: The Thief of Bagdad (1940): The jewel of the film is Conrad Veidt’s insane Jaffar dressed up with the turban.

Best script: Some Like It Hot (1959): The story about two antihero musicians trying to make a living and avoiding gangsters by dressing as women and joining a female band and traveling to Miami is still unique to watch.

Favorite poster: The Empire Strikes Back (1980): Memories from the childhood. Darth Vader’s perhaps a little too epic posture promises you an emotional adventure and that promise will be fulfilled.

"I’ll watch it some day": Napoléon (1927): @missholson and I were introduced to this 6-hour biopic of Napoleon and we were stunned by the shots of the twenty-minute triptych sequence, where widescreen panorama is made by projecting multiple-image montages simultaneously on three screens. Blu-ray is waiting on the shelf.

Big personal impact: Elvis (2022): I wasn’t prepared for the narrative where female gaze and male vulnerability are allowed and validated.

You like, but everyone hates: Angels & Demons (2009): Don’t know today’s reception but when it was released the film was heavily criticized by the critics and the audience. I like both this and The Da Vinci Code (2006), but having more convincing characters, plot and hold for the entirety makes it better than the first one.

Underrated: The Ninth Gate (1999): Polanski is a very contradictory director for his sexual abuse charges, therefore it feels shameful to admit liking his films or considering his films to be valued. Many find Gate as a dull thriller. The film doesn’t rely on jump scares or gore but the mystery around the occult books and the things you can’t see. 

"Why do I like this?": Bachelor Party (1984): This is my favourite question of them all. I discussed with @faisonsunreve about on what basis you should answer this and does it reveal your true movie taste. The 80’s crazy comedy is a silly and out-dated genre and that is why the films of this era fascinate me. Bachelor Party is full of lame humor and over-the-top characters. Yet the storyline is versatile and entertaining. Young Tom Hanks embodies the past. 

Great soundtrack: La Cage aux Folles (1978): Ennio Morricone has said first he has to understand the film, the images, the story and the director’s intentions before starting to compose. I would like to know his study for Folles, because the soundtrack has such a humorous, characteristic and warm sound. 

That cinematography: Furiant (2015): I was balancing between Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (2011) and La double vie de Véronique (1991), but this short film stands out with the way the rural landscapes, the dimly lit rooms and the unspoken moments are visualized (and edited) by the producer, director, writer, cinematographer and editor Ondřej Hudeček.

Criminally overlooked: Angélique film series (1964-68): Yes, you could put almost any Conrad Veidt film here, however I chose this. I have been fond of Angélique films since I was a child. These spectacles tell the story of Angélique in the time of King Louis XIV of France. Romance, adventure, scheming with breathtaking soundtrack and costume design, beautiful Michèle Mercier in the leading role and the flashy way of speaking French offer us an exquisite interpretation from the 60’s. 

Favorite active director: Peter Strickland: I have seen only The Duke of Burgundy (2014) and Flux Gourmet (2022), nevertheless his style of using the aesthetics of Italian genre films and the intimacy he creates is just heartwarming.

Anyone who wants to make their own version, please do and let me know. 📼📀📦🔦

[jellisdraws]

hello, idk if this is the right place to ask but I'm going to be a first time DM soon (I think) and I'm looking for some advice? specifically about the premise of my campaign

for a bit of background I have never played dnd in my life. as a player or DM. but after watching Fool's Gold I realized hey! I have a story that could maybe be put into a campaign! (disclaimer: I am aware that I will never be Exactly Like a professional nor do I want to be)

the problem is. almost EVERY "tips and tricks for beginner DMs" video on yt and post on reddit or whatever has told me to NEVER homebrew a lot as a first time DM. which uh. . .oops

without spoiling anything (don't want to chance one of my players seeing this) it's going to be a mashup of dnd and a Super Mario AU that I'm starting to realize is much more of the AU than it is dnd-

the campaign would have completely homebrewed monsters, locations, spells and pretty much everything. there are even modifications to rules that some people consider "core". (e.g I'm replacing spell slots with what is basically mana)

I can go into detail about the plot in a follow-up ask but I would prefer if you answered that one privately

Hey, I’m honored for you to send this ask my way! Thank you!

First of all- there’s absolutely no reason not to go fully into homebrew from the beginning. You’re already doing something really important which is learning and getting interested in running a game by watching/listening to an actual play game. That’s a fantastic way to learn rules and flow of game by osmosis.

I homebrewed games right from the get go- though I had played as a player first in pathfinder. Creating a world or using a one and expanding and extrapolating it out to fit around the story you want to tell with your friends is incredibly fun and worthwhile and you can have amazing experiences doing it.

I think my advice would be two fold:

1. Jump in. prepare a one shot/two shot and do everything you want to try to do for a campaign but in a much more limited scope with a really defined ending. A small adventure in the world you want to play in. Get a feel for it and for your players, and learn and have fun together. Fun is the point- so focus on fun before rules.

2. In homebrew, and as a new dm take advantage of existing systems and stat blocks. You can reskin any stat block to fit your world. If you’re playing a version of 5e, use the vast array of free resources and things available through Creative Commons so that you can focus on your narrative and creativity. Mold the game to fit you and your players. This will sound a little contradictory to what I just said above but Knowing the rules and having a feel for the game makes it so much easier to break the rules or bend them in the way that is most fun for you and it takes the burden off of you as the DM of having to reinvent the wheel of a TTRPG system while also dming for the first time and crafting a world for your players.

I think your idea sounds really fun and I’d be glad to chat about it more if you want to send more asks or dm me, that’d be great. I hope it’s ok that I answered this ask publically?

[princeescaluswords]

A lot of Scott haters generate very poor analysis of the show because they are operating on a fundamentally flawed premise, namely, that the characters they like have the same opinion of Scott that they do. (This isn't exclusive to Teen Wolf fandom, I've seen it in other fandoms, it's a common error fandoms make.) I may have problems with certain actions taken by Stiles but I would NEVER claim he doesn't love or care about Scott or would choose Derek of all people over him. That's not Stiles.

Nothing supports your conclusion more than fandom's "re-interpretaton" of Master Plan (2x12). In this episode, Stiles makes several very clear (and very emotional) statements about how he feels about the most important people in his life: his father, his mother, Lydia, and Scott. His actions conform completely to those statements.

He makes it clear he loves his father, Lydia, and Scott. He acts to protect his father, Lydia, and Scott. He lies, concealing the truth behind his kidnapping, to his father, because he doesn't want his father anywhere near the Hale-Argent feud. He shouts at Lydia to try to dissuade her from pursuing Jackson, revealing the depth of his feelings toward Lydia, the danger she is in, and how that is influenced by his own mother's death, but he still guides her to the climactic confrontation in the warehouse. He doesn't seek out Scott immediately because he knows that his kidnapping and beating is meant to apply pressure to Scott "And look at my face, huh? Come on, you actually think this was meant to hurt me?" In the aftermath, he reassures Scott that he has his back always.

Stiles always figures it out, and he recognizes the dangers that the people he loves are in, and he acts accordingly.

But then here comes fandom. Since the majority of fandom seems not to be all that attracted to Lydia, they don't care about her. Since the majority are busily projecting their own issues with their parents onto the Sheriff, they don't recognize how his position in law enforcement complicates his relationship with Stiles. Since the majority of the fandom are outraged that Derek isn't the main character, they are primed to see Scott in the worst possible light.

The fandom wants a Stiles who dwells exclusively on his own physical and emotional pain and who doesn't look at what has happened -- as the Canon Stiles does -- in terms of the health and safety of his family and friends. The fandom also wants a Stiles who worships Derek the way they do, so they conjure concern for the Hale pack, even though Stiles didn't mention Derek (and Derek didn't mention Stiles) during the final two episodes of Season 2. They want Stiles, as their stand-in, to make the case for shifting the focus of the show to Derek, so they perform incredible feats of doublethink, taking Stiles's earlier shots at Scott (which they have interpreted before as Stiles's way of showing his love for Scott) as literal, critical and damning judgment of Scott's value while simultaneously believing that Stiles would be shocked and blindsided by Scott's behavior.

Of course, to accomplish this new paradigm they have to eject 70% of canon. Derek didn't try to kill Lydia, Derek hasn't been alternatively brutal and manipulative toward his best friend, Isaac and Erica didn't attack Stiles on Derek's orders, and Derek didn't create the kanima which almost murdered Stiles's father. Fanon Stiles doesn't love Lydia enough to challenge Peter and Gerard, he doesn't care for and have faith in Scott enough to ignore his own physical and emotional trauma to support him , and he certainly didn't leave Boyd and Erica in the Argent basement in order to prioritize protecting his father. I imagine this level of editing is hard work.

Of course, when people like us point this out, they have two primary and contradictory declamations. "We're not bound by canon!" fandom cries only to follow that up immediately with "Why can't you let people enjoy things?" But by discarding canon to this degree, they're not just enjoying things: they're creating things. And when anyone creates something and puts it out for public consumption, the audience for it -- which includes you and me -- gets to react to that creation, just as we react to Teen Wolf.

And the red flags in their creation are consistent and widespread. Fanon Stiles is not Allison's friend and not in love with Lydia but still pays attention to their actions, he resents the fact that Scott simultaneously relies on him but doesn't do anything to discourage it, and desperately wants to be part of Derek "Like a hyperactive spaz" Hale's pack. Fanon Stiles cannot stand Scott because he hid his plan against Gerard from Stiles (even though there's no evidence Scott actually did that) but is more than willing to defend Derek's repeated instances of concealing information (the existence of the alpha, biting Jackson, the approach of the alpha pack, and Peter's resurrection). Fanon Stiles cannot forgive Scott for the Neck Grab of Destiny because it is morally wrong and crossed boundaries (regardless of the threat to Allison), but literally has not the slightest concern that Derek dispatched teenagers to execute an innocent Lydia repeatedly.

When we interrogate them about the choices they made for their creation, they get defensive. If they're willing to rewrite that much of canon, why does their product consistently celebrate the white male characters and diminish or demonize female and/or minority characters? After all, as they'll state forever, they're not beholden to canon. Yet, there has been no other offered consistent explanation for the specificity of Fanon Stiles's behavior from the fandom, because they obviously can't come out and say that they wanted to discard Canon Stiles's fantastic personality and actions for one that takes revenge for a Latino being the main protagonist and not a white man.

BUT IT'S NOT RACISM.

[mariequitecontrary]

This is a bit late but...

Happy Halloween! 🎃🍬🍭🍫

If you're still doing tarot readings, could I get a reading from Swerve, for me, about life advice? Thanks! :) 🍻

You wait by the bell on the counter, watching the blue wisps of light bob up and down on the ceiling until a stocky red and white mech ambles in, shaking a large cocktail shaker.

“Sorry about the wait,” he calls over to you with a shake shake shake of his shaker. “I’m just finishing up an experiment! I wanted to add a new drink to the bar menu for some of the human kiddies that come around sometimes.”

His optics brighten as he looks you up and down, a smile widening across his face. “Hey, you’re human right? Wanna test it out for me? Non-alcoholic of course, though if you’re above the humans’ legal drinking age I can totally add a shot in there for ya!”

The mech goes behind the shop counter and pulls out a human sized glass. Does he have a mini bar back behind the shop counter or something? You try to peer behind the counter as he continues to ramble on, “The name’s Swerve, by the way. I own a bar that’s connected to this shop with a portal. Was really surprised when I bought the place and found a witch stumbling in with a herd of horses after I had closed up for the night! I almost banned magic from the bar right then and there ‘till she explained herself. Now we help each other out. I occasionally man the shop and she gives me harmless potions to add to my drinks! Now…what can I get you?”

He listens to you speak and is nodding before you even finish your sentence. “’Course I can give you a reading! I may not own this shop but that witch loves to talk and talk and talk while at my bar,” Swerve complains, as he talks and talks and talks, “so I know a thing or two about tarot!”

He continues on about how he has watched a few videos online, who they were by, and what he thought about them as he shuffles and pulls three cards. “-but anyways! Let’s see what the cards want to tell you to do with your life!”

“First off, the reversed Hierophant! Don’t be afraid to break from tradition. Conformity and fitting into a social group isn’t inherently bad at all, but it can sometimes stop us from breaking free and being ourselves. Though don’t break away too far!” Swerve held up a finger, “Or else you’ll find yourself lost.”

“Next, the Four of Wands! It’s time to party!” Swerve grinned, “That’s pretty crazy actually, there’s a party happening back at the bar right now, why don’t you swing by after this and have some fun? The cards say you should.” He tapped on the card before you. “Have some fun and revel in whatever successes come your way. You deserve a good time.”

“Aaaannnddd finally! The Hermit. Kind of…contradictory to the last card but its no less important. Take some time for yourself. Relax, soak in that solitude and reflect on your current emotions and circumstances. Sometimes, the only way you can see what you need to break from, or how to get those successes to celebrate…is to look from an out of the box perspective.”

He leaned back and nudged the your forgotten drink closer to you, “So relax, have fun and don’t stick to the status quo.”

[best-movie-ever-tournament]

Mais où est donc passée la septième compagnie? was described as follow:

during the 1940 retreat, a bunch of french soldiers from the seventh compagny of transmissions and communication get lost like idiots and fumble their way back to their lines, pretending to be german soldiers, british aviators and a full regiment of frenchs instead of just three dumbasses.

La Grande Vadrouille was described as follow: (under read more because boy is it long. nothing triggering though)

1942. A Royal Air Force bomber is shot down over Paris (thinking they're over Calais because their navigator is bad at his job) and three aviators survive to meet out in the Turkish Baths of Paris. Their leader, nicknamed "Big Moustache" (coincidentally? he has a big moustache) lands in a zoo and has the help of a friendly zookeeper who gives him clothes in exchange for the parachute's fabrics, while the other two fall, one on the roof of the Opera Garnier, where he's helped by the whining, "i'm helping you out of moral and patriotic duty but boy do i wish I weren't" music conductor Stanislas Lefort, and the other on a house painter's scaffolding. Said house painter is at that moment repainting a wall belonging to a german military building and the british guy landing on his scaffolding makes a huge pot of paint fall onto a german parade just beneath, signaling his presence and forcing both to run away by the roofs. A woman helps the house painter (Bouvet) and the british guy n°3 escape a german search by pretending to be the wife of Bouvet and to be in the middle of an argument with him, making the germans leave early out of awkwardness, while the british guy is hidden in the elevator shaft. Lefort and Bouvet meet Big Moustache in the turkish bath, convene of a plan, all three run through different means to the station to take a train for the free zone but only british guy n°3 (Peter) and the girl get in it, the others narrowly miss it and steal a postal van. Peter is made a prisonner after reflexively saying "sorry" (in english) to a guy he accidentally walked into in the train, in ear reach of a german officer. However! the german officer takes Peter to Meursault for interrogation, but that's the city he was supposed to find the other two soldiers and the three french lads and girl! After again pretending to be married, Bouvet and the girl escape the vigilance of the nazis, Bouvet declares his love to the girl, Bouvet and Lefort are put in the same double bed because there aren't a lot of rooms left, two german officers are put in the same bed in the only other room, and because it's room 9 and 6 and one of the room's door's number fall, it looks like idk 6 and 6 or 9 and 9, and Bouvet and Lefort, after time in the kitchen, the bathroom, etc, go back to the wrong rooms and end up each sleeping in the same bed as a german officer. "There's only one bed but platonic and better" as someone summed it up. The next day, nuns help the british guys get to the free zone except OBVIOUSLY the nazis get them again after an accidental package swapping. The french guys get arrested too because some rabbits made their guiding dogs stray. All of them, all disguised in various stuff (german soldiers, wine barrels... long story) end up in the same building as Peter (british guy n°3) who notices them and makes a scene about being pushed around by a soldier to attract their attention and make them see each other (the french and british guys not the german ones, he's not a traitor or anything). The next step of action is obvious. Set fire to the building, confuse an interrogation officer to almost a panick attack by giving such contradictory and stupid statements that he can't stand it anymore, run away in a horse drawn carriage and put a plane with no propeller off a cliff in hopes to land on the right (free) side of the valley. And it works. Makes no sense. My favorite movie ever. If it makes it into the bracket I will try to find my favorites scenes in english on youtube to send them as propaganda and it IS a threat.

[one-way-dream]

No Way Through (One-Shot)

Rating: General

Words: 1700+

Media: Persona 5

Characters/Pairings: Akira Kurusu/Goro Akechi, Masayoshi Shido (mentioned)

Tags: During Canon, Character Study, Complicated Relationships, Complicated Feelings, Light Angst, Unresolved Tension

Warnings: Mentions of canon-typical violence

Chapter: 1/1

Link to the original work

AO3 Summary/Except:

He runs his tongue over the roof of his mouth to get rid of the taste to no avail - It’s bitter. It’s too acidic. He thinks he might even hate it.

--

Goro has a not-so-great experience at LeBlanc, and probably says too much for his own good.

Author's Notes:

baby's first shuake fic that they wrote in like an hour or two for practice (<- suffering from writer's block) while running on the fumes of caffeine exhaustion o|-< it's not my best work but i thought i'd post it anyway

The door chime rings as usual, and the strong smell of coffee and spices hits Goro with all the grace of walking into a brick wall.

Admittedly he's a little used to it – a bit too used to it. But keeping an eye on Akira Kurusu had its perks in a way, and that included the occasional complimentary coffee and being able to chat with the unsuspecting object of his fascination and frustration.

It was a little strange, admittedly; for as much as he despised Akira, actually talking to him was a different story.

“What’ll it be?”

Goro’s head shot up from the worn dark hardwood to Akira’s face, straightlaced as usual as he expertly works without looking down at his hands. Frankly his dexterity made him a little jealous, but that repulsive feeling wasn’t anything new – as much as it pains him to admit.

“Not even going to greet me with a ‘hello’?” He chuckles, settling in his usual spot and leaning his arms against the countertop, briefcase secured on the seat next to him to keep strangers from straying into his space. Perfect posture as always. “That’s a little cold of you, isn’t it Kurusu-kun?”

Akira grins cheekily, “Well I’m sure the coffee will warm you right up, anyway.”

He doesn’t say anything to that, opting to politely chuckle instead. Tucking away a loose lock of brown hair behind his ears, he quietly watches the other boy work wordlessly, tirelessly.

It… feels nice sometimes, as much as it feels contradictory to his beliefs, to spend time around him.

On one hand, he enjoys the amicable silence between them in between witty remarks and careful small talk, the way the two of them can exchange their words without reservation. On the other hand, he loathes Akira Kurusu with all his being.

He smiles bitterly to himself, wondering why he was dealt both in either hand. Why did these feelings mix like oil and water? Maybe if he could make some sense of it, it’d explain the queasiness that twisted like a knife in his gut.

One day, Akira would slip up. One day he’d tell him that he feels the exact same way. Maybe he’d even get to pull the trigger before then. That’d be a first for him, wouldn’t it?

Because he’d wait for it, knowing that it’d arrive without fail – it always did – the day he’d be abandoned by his so-called “friends and acquaintances”. It was like clockwork by now; more fuel to add to his undying fire.

Akira pours his coffee into the pristine white cup, a schooled expression on his face. Goro finds himself frowning the slightest bit. No matter what he does, he can’t get a read on the other today. Truthfully the same could be said for him, but he couldn’t afford to be as carefree as Akira. He was already skirting the line just spending his evenings in LeBlanc day after day.

It’s ironic, almost pathetic, how Akira is the closest thing he’s ever had to a “friend”.

Today it was just the two of them; Sojiro running errands for Futaba Sakura very likely, and the overcast weather driving away the rest into the safety of their homes. Goro didn’t know if he liked the rain. He didn’t know if he liked much of anything, except perhaps LeBlanc’s coffee.

He watched Akira stir in a teaspoon of sugar in slow circles, careful not to spill a drop. Controlled, careful movements, yet somehow still confident. It’s honestly not unlike Joker himself, and somehow that makes his breath catch in his throat.  

“It’s all yours,” Akira speaks in that deep voice of his, lulling Goro out of his trance once he finds the cup of coffee in front of him, “Enjoy; it’s on the house.”

He chuckles, swiping a thumb over the rim and feeling the heat through his gloves, “Well, I won’t say no to free coffee.”

As soon as he picks up the cup and takes a sip, he regrets it.

Goro’s mouth twists the slightest degree at the taste, somehow managing to swallow without choking, and while most people wouldn’t be able to notice the difference in his expression, Akira Kurusu had always been unlike any other – for all the ugly reasons or worse.

“Something wrong?” He asks mildly. A steady stream of scalding hot water pours into the filter as billowing steam dances around his busy hands, slightly fogging up his glasses.

Goro hopes he didn’t catch the way his trigger finger twitched around the rim of the cup at his question.

He sets his cup down, cushioned with his pinky finger to avoid making the grating noise of ceramic against ceramic. He’d done it just as he’d seen so many pretentious adults do at those boring old parties, with loud stuffy people packed in like sardines under a gaudy chandelier. All of them faceless and indistinguishable, insufferable .

But yes, they were blatant enough with their so-called-maturity, social polish, and peculiar quirks that even Goro, freshly sixteen years old, was able to pick up on and absorb like a sponge; desperate to fit in, to belong anywhere that’d allow him a space to breathe. Such thoughts didn’t rest on his mind for longer than a fortnight, however.

After all, that man would always come first.

Goro Akechi’s justice and control would always come first.

His scowl deepens for a fraction of a second before falling entirely.

He runs his tongue over the roof of his mouth to get rid of the taste to no avail - It’s bitter. It’s too acidic. He thinks he might even hate it.

“Nothing at all,” He pleasantly chirps instead. “The coffee is wonderful. It’s just nice to be able to let my hair down here.” And then he slips into an easy smile; plastic is more like it, actually. It fits him like his well-worn black gloves, hides his nature like his concealer hides his exhaustion lines and dark circles and old acne scars.

Despite this, a laugh bubbles up naturally in his throat. Considering the state of Akira Kurusu, he didn’t really have to pretend all that much, did he? That wasn’t to say that he was unattractive by any stretch, but at the end of the day, an unkempt piece of criminal attic trash was just that – trash.

Then sure, he’ll let his plastic smile falter for a moment. If the boy knows better, then he won’t bother to pick up the pieces.

“…There’s something more to it, isn’t there?”

But of course, a fool would always be a fool.

The bitterness isn’t the pleasant kind, the kind that has a sweet aftertaste once the worst of it passes. It’s overwhelming on the sides of his tongue, and it’s just as infuriating the way nothing seems to go right for him when he’s been so particular all his life. Not even his damn coffee tastes right when it’s the only thing that can somewhat soothe him.

So then, why didn’t it feel bad to let his shoulders relax, let his posture slouch a little and cave into the scratched up and lacquered-over walnut countertop?

Why didn’t it feel bad to glance at the other boy and drink in his earnest gaze? The same one that called him out on his bullshit, piled layer on top of layer over the years.

Maybe it was cathartic in some way to be finally called out like the liar that he was.

“…Work was just frustrating today,” He quietly admits in a low tone that bordered on biting, “That’s it. Is that all you wanted to get out of me?”

“Perhaps.”

Goro lets out an annoyed sigh, ignoring the prickle and burn in his chest.

“I… don’t get you.” He says, unfiltered frustration woven into his voice, “Despite opposing the Phantom Thieves so openly, you still humour me. Treating me with kindness when you already know this much about me, treating me like I’m one of your… friends .” He struggles to say the word, feeling a pressure closing in on his ribcage as he focuses his faze on the dark liquid cradled between his palms. A truth serum, perhaps.

“And yet you never stray too close. Not like you are right now.” Goro picks his thumbnail across the rim of the cup, ignoring the sound of blood rushing in his ears, “Sometimes I feel like you might…”

Akira grins and leans over the countertop, into Goro’s space in a way he’d never let anyone else do before. Not before Akira. Dark steel grey eyes bore into his own, almost challenging, almost enough to make him bite his tongue, “Might what?”

Might what?

Might know of his plans to overtake Shido Masayoshi. Might know of his plans to put a gun between his eyes and fire. Might know of the way conflict stirred uneasily within him when he was around Akira, nipping away at what little sanity he had left in this ludicrous balancing act that he had to keep up his whole life.

And it’s with uncertainty and something like anxiety that he breathes out the words, quiet enough over the distant whirr of the old refrigerator and bubbling coffee siphons, “…That you might know more than you let on.”

“I doubt it.” And he says it so easily, without a care in the world, that it brings back that ache of frustration and something else, “After all, you’re the detective here, aren’t you?”

Goro huffs and clenches his jaw, turning away from Akira’s collected expression – the one that looked like it was prying him open, dissecting him. He didn’t need this. He didn’t need any of this.

And yet, he can’t quite say that it feels terrible to be pulled apart piece by piece.

He downs the cooled down coffee like the bitter medicine his mother gave him as a child, Akira watching his every movement with a keen eye and lighthearted smile.

Just like that, against all odds, his chest feels lighter than before. He doesn’t bother setting the cup down gracefully, letting the clack resound in his ears like a switch was flipped in his brain. Goro gathers his things slowly, loosens his tie the slightest bit, and makes his way to the door without another word.

“Thanks for the coffee,” The door chime bids him goodbye when he hears nothing from Akira. Goro smiles to himself, “It was terrible.”

The second he looks back over his shoulder, his smile wavers. He realises that he lost a game he didn’t even know he was playing.

A casual stance and a knowing smile.

“It was my pleasure.”

[neko-naruto]

Punch your lights out (hit the pavement)

Summary: Epic learns about Crosses job, shame Nightmare to move along his plans swiftly.

Warnings: Violence, fractures, check tags for further warnings.

Authors Note: HOLY FUCK TWO FICS IN ONE DAY???? yes, two fics in one day, all because its April Fools Day and I thought it would be funny if I wrote an Undertale fanfic, turns out its lot a harder to write crackfics than expected, anyways, reblogs are worth more than likes, hope you enjoy!

Magic shot directly to his skull to compensate for the cracks running from the edge of the preexisting tear, it hurt, watching Cross retract his fist and stand emotionless hurt more. Phalanges raised to cover the cracks, he could feel chips of calcium come loose and magic ooze to try and cover the marrow. He still standing, but his stance was wider, as though he was waiting for whatever was to come next, but nothing came, instead The King of Negativity slowly formed from the ground up.

Fear shot through Epic, but he didn't feel safe to lower his hand just yet, his eye socket was still vulnerable. He only stared at Nightmare instead, watching as a tentacle pulled Cross closer, the latter of the two raising his hand that was coated in specks of Epics magic.

"Thank you Cross," Nightmare said, his tone was low, his tone was discordant, it hurt to hear but Cross looked unfazed, "for the magic sample that is," Nightmares expression lifts at Epics small reaction.

"What the fuck Cross?" Epic got out quietly, Cross didn't answer, he couldn't formulate one that would satisfy Epic and keep both of them alive in the presence of Nightmare.

"Cross didn't tell you he works for me? Oh, how cruel Cross, what a terrible thing for a friend to do," Nightmare said, his tone was almost mocking and he no doubt caught the way Cross tensed for a millisecond, simply ignoring it instead, "what do you have to say for yourself?"

There was a brief pause of silence as Nightmare leaned closer, the thrum of his corrupted soul whispering along Crosses bones as Epic waited. He needed to hear it, whatever Cross had running through his mind that was always full of so many thoughts, but he wasn't given an answer swiftly. Cross heaves a full body breath, he feels like his soul is on display, he forces eye contact with Epic despite the discomfort it causes- his answer doesn't make much sense but it still cut deep.

"I'm doing this for your own good, I'd rather you were just some random Sans than a dear friend," Cross said calmly, his voice was devoid of any clear emotion, but Epic could pick up hints of sorrow, Nightmare could as well, but he acted like he didn't, "your magic will be put to good use." Epic shot a small blast of magic at Crosses raised hand, it stung, it burnt, it was pure; the expression Epic wore was contradictory.

"You better put it to good use bruh," Epic said, his voice was light and it didn't make any sense to Nightmare, or Cross, betrayal was supposed to fill him with negativity, why is it failing?

Nightmare sunk back into the ground, and in a second reformed behind Epic, tentacles hooking his eye sockets and pulling his head back at an awkward angle. Epics smirk was still lazy, and it only made Nightmare even more confused by it all- negativity seeped into his skull and threatened to crack it in twain yet he didn't falter. Instead, he only shrugged his shoulders, Nightmare threw him forward, a sickening crack sounded off, it should've drawn a sound of agony, Epic tried to laugh instead.

"How desperate are you for my mojo bruh?" Epic asked, propping himself into a seated position and pushing off his cloak revealing a cracked humerus, his purple magic oozed from it in copious amounts, it was worrying, he still scooped up the semi gelatinous substance that made up most of his marrow and licked it off his hand.

"Don't make me change my mind on letting you off like this," Nightmare snarled as a warning, yet again, Epic shrugged his shoulders, this time he had to withhold a groan of pain due to his humerus being shifted, Crosses expression stayed still, but his pulse was racing despite knowing Epic could take it.

"Touche, touche, whatcha want ma rizz for anyways?" Epic asked, desperately reaching for humor, anything to distract from this horrible predicament he's gotten himself into, he'll make it through anyways, if not for himself than to spite people like Nightmare.

"Extraction, if you picked up a biology book even a fool like you would be able to guess," Nightmare said, his tone was snappy and the insult tore into Epic, of course, of course it was extraction, he was a scientist how could he forget about trait extraction? He knew his magic had traces of Perseverance, but what would a group of murderous Sanses need the impossibly small amount of Perseverance he had?

"So you want my Perseverance?" Nightmare shook his skull, Epic quirked a metaphorical brow, "then you're lying about the extraction."

"For someone who used to be a scientist you sure do know jack shit about how Soul Traits have been recently discovered to work," Nightmare said, he dropped into the ground before appearing beside Cross again, scraping the pure magic adhering to his hand into a jar instead, "Cross, care to explain it to your plebeian friend," it was clear Cross wanted to speak out at his friend being called a plebeian, but he couldn't.

"Some Souls have slightly different colors right, or just colors that don't fit our way of viewing it all together, the monsters in Sciencetale recently came to the conclusion that their is an entire spectrum of traits with all sorts of colors," Cross explained, he stayed still the entire time in hopes not to set off Nightmare, everything he said was accurate and he could practically hear the gears grinding in Epics skull, "you're magic while most likely having trace elements of Perseverance, it could also have Grief, Focus, maybe even Heroism, but probably not as your magic is purple, not pink," Epic was perplexed, he had never heard any of those terms in reference to Soul Traits, but, he had a hard time arguing with Sciencetale.

"Still, why would you want that shit bruh? Bad guys don't need heroism, and even more grief would drive you entirely insane," Epic explained, bring phalanges to his cracked humerus, his magic tingled against his fingertips and this time he's focused enough to notice- Nightmare only smirked and it sent chills down Epics spine, his soul was pounding against his ribs.

"I know it would drive them entirely sane, that's exactly why I'm doing this," Nightmare explained before gripping Crosses shoulders and waist, already readying himself to make an exit, he waited first, as though for someone to speak.

Cross looked like he was tearing up as he choked out a small Good bye Epic in place of their usual fist bump and hug before being on their way- Epic answered back and watched as the two simply melted down into the ooze. And then he's alone again, today was supposed to be simple, supposed to be easy, just a hang out with his bro, but turns out shit won't be easy for him. Because of course Cross works for the biggest asshole in the multiverse, of course he does, it guarantees some form of protection, but otherwise he can't see why.

Still, he pulls himself up off the ground, ties the sleeves of his cloak around his waist and starts on his way home, gripping his humerus to try and stop the flow of magic leaking from it. He staggers a little bit here and there, he feels a bit lightheaded, and pure negativity oozes from between his teeth and down his vertebrae- its uncomfortable and grimy despite being almost water like, far too thick.

He'll be fine, perfectly fine.

He needs to go to Sciencetale right now to make sure his trace trait isn't grief.

[itsclydebitches]

Totally agree with your take on The Blacklist “(…) I’m watching the stupidest plot-line man ever devised, or a character suddenly did a 180 with no explanation, and yeah that makes the meta-writing part of my brain seethe and bite her imaginary pillow to muffle screams of rage… but then the characters have A Moment™, or there’s an actually well done twist, or we get an action sequence that yeah, is pretty silly when all is said and done, but it’s fun and I remember why I want to watch this show through to the end.” is exactly how I feel when watching lol

You know, I'm two episodes from finishing Season Three and while killing time today my poor brain was trying to unpack the roller coaster that has been Liz's opinion of Red lately:

Grows quite close while on the run, to the point where she'll impulse hug him and seek comfort in other ways following traumatic situations (like almost being shot). Fantastic. Love to see it. Makes perfect sense given 2+ years of interactions, revelations, and Liz's current circumstances.

Gets her life back and immediately decides that she wants Red out. Okaaaay. I've never questioned the whole 'I want a normal life and you make that impossible' perspective, but you'd think that everything they'd gone through would change her stance a bit from what we've seen in Seasons One and Two.

They settle back into working together non-stop, but Liz simultaneously insists that she doesn't want him around, a contradictory desire that's been a problem since the show's start and is pretty much ignored instead of being resolved. (Which, given the show's premise that requires them working together, should be resolved by Liz changing her stance on what a 'normal' life means. Which is what I THOUGHT we'd accomplished post-fugitive plot-line).

We get a series of episodes where Liz is literally pushing him away in the first half and then, like, holding his hand in the second??

Is completely adamant that she can't have a kid because Red is in her life.

Decides to keep the kid in large part because Red insists she should have the child in her life.

'Omg, Red, you need to stay away you're not safe for my family!'

'Omg, Red, I'm so happy you came to the wedding! :D'

Has pretty normal (for them) interactions surrounding the wedding debacle, including quippy dialogue and making light of horrifying situations. We're on familiar ground.

Is, again, her normal self where she (understandably) is pissed about shit like giving birth in a night club, but ultimately caves to the insanity that is her life.

Takes a hard turn into full-blown fury. No, you can't hold my baby. Get out. Get away.

A few minutes later Liz is falling into a coma and holds Red's hand: "Oh, Raymond. I do love..." Use of 'love.' Use of 'do.' Use of the first name. Supposed last words. Blah-de-blah I'm about six years behind and fans have analyzed that scene way better than I ever could.

Okay so Liz has been conflicted in a lot of non-persuasive ways and yeah, so much of this is contradictory/nonsensical, BUT if we're charitable we can write a lot of it off as traumatic venting and when the chips are down these are her real feelings--

Psych! She apparently faked this whole thing to try and achieve her normal life.

(Don't even get me started on stuff like the long scenes of Tom grieving when, from what I understand, he was in on the plan the whole time? You should only show the audience moments of 'grief' when he's around other people so we can later understand it as an act! Showing the viewer private moments of him talking to Agnus when he has no reason to hide what he really knows/feels in that moment doesn't work!!)

So I'm quietly seething at the absurdity and lost potential, heading home all, "That's it. I've got better shows to watch. I'm finishing this ONE EPISODE and then we are done, Blacklist."

The episode:

[Aram is the cutest cutie to ever cute, adorably blundering his way through working with Tom]

[Cooper stands his ground and announces to friend and enemy alike that he'll never stop trying to get justice for Liz]

[Red pulls a legitimately impressive one-over on the bad guy du jour]

[Unexpected moment of relief when a background character nobody survives a bomb]

[Dembe exists]

"FINE. I'LL KEEP WATCHING. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?"

(╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻

[tparadox]

I have questions, or at least thoughts, about how Geordi LaForge actually ranks as disability representation, though as a sighted person I don't know if I'm qualified to draw conclusions.

He's blind and they make sure you know it, but his adaptive equipment is so effective that him being blind is irrelevant 85% of the time and actually gives him superpowers 14% of the time, with about 1% of the time it actually mattering that he has no visual awareness of the world without those cool sunglasses he always wears.

I can think of two whole times he's forced to grope for his VISOR. On at least three occasions, his implants are hijacked to mess with his mind. On two of those occasions, that causes a major security breach. In three out of four movies, he changes from very visible "cool sunglasses" style adaptive tech to "weird contacts" adaptive tech you can only really notice in closeups and VFX shots showing them off. He could have clone eyes at any time and chooses to live with headaches instead. His friend gets GodModded and gives him natural sight for about two minutes until he asks the friend to take back the "gift". A negative space wedgie temporarily regenerates his optic nerves on two separate occasions.

I can almost understand Geordi turning down natural sight at every opportunity even though two out of the three times he has working eyes he takes a moment to savor the appearance of something beautiful the way everyone else sees it. I know Deaf people have a culture distinct from the hearing and don't necessarily salivate at the prospect of assimilating. But I don't think that aspect of Geordi is written well. It's pretty much always just a vague "this is who I am, wearing high tech glasses that let me see much more than everyone else does, blind for the ten seconds a day I take them off, shrugging off headaches that get mentioned only two or three times ever".

I'm not sure what "well written blindness with almost perfect adaptive gear" would be. Most of the times it's taken out of commission it might come off as demeaning, most of the times it's relevant it's because he's now artificially superhuman, except for those times it's a liability that's completely unrelatable to the modern day. Across seven seasons of television and four movies, I can think of two, two and a half times his blindness seems to have been written effectively. He shares a traumatic childhood memory from before he got the VISOR where he was trapped in a fire and scared until a parent got him out and everything was okay, and he gets at least one moment to soap box about how his blindness is irrelevant to whether he can contribute to society/has a right to exist.

Is that contradicting myself to say that it doesn't come up enough, he isn't held back enough, but also some of his best moments are when he gets to talk about how he's thriving? Is it contradictory to say it's sometimes a massive vulnerability but also it doesn't matter enough? That he shouldn't be made to just grope sightlessly but also his childhood memory of not being able to see his way out of the fire is a good writing moment? Do all of these contradictions add up to good representation after all? Would it be better or worse if he had a few more asides about his headaches? What would be a more effective way to show why Geordi considers this an inalienable part of what makes him who he is than some hand-wavy "nah, I'm cool"?

There's an early episode where Data comes to visit him while he's shaving, and he's removed the VISOR to shave. (I only take off my glasses to trim my sideburns, but that's just me.) Maybe if we got more moments like that? I can imagine that if it gives him headaches that badly, he ought to spend a good amount of his downtime without it, at least in his quarters where he knows where everything is. When he sits down to read a novel, he could use a tactile padd and set the VISOR on the table.

I just... hear that he's great representation, but the conversation usually doesn't go much further than just hyping him up, and meanwhile his disability seems so well adapted away that he may as well not be blind, which is aspirational, but doesn't strike me as all that representational, and I don't really know enough to say what is and isn't good representation for stories in the technotopia future that have to be relatable to today.