#They sure did đ
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posted by club halifax, the australian openers of sydney's show on february 2, 2024.
#This is what I was trying to post in the wee hours#Sorry if someone else did? I didn't see on my dash today? I was working. I'm sleep deprived.#Okay#Enjoy the rainbows#They sure did đ#They look so pretty#flashing tw
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Yeah, I don't know about you, Fidds, but I'd fold at this đ
Previous!!
Next!!
First!!
#no Stan don't use the puppy dog eyes Fidds won't be able to say no!!!#yeah I don't know where this is going but i made more lol#should i keep going i actually don't know#are you guys liking this PLEASE ANSWER ME đđ#stan has hit the luck goldmine in his lifetime of the exact opposite#the last time he was this lucky he was born and even he's not too sure how lucky that actually was đ#Fiddleford does NOT want to rebuild that portal guys đ#i have a feeling that he might anyway though đ¤đââď¸#cole's art#art#gravity falls#grunkle stan#stanley pines#gravity falls comic#yeah cause i am drawing comics now#that small drawing i did as a joke has really run away from me..#fiddleford hadron mcgucket#fiddleford mcgucket#fiddlestan#vampire fiddleford#werewolf stan pines#werewolf stan#gravity falls halloween au#i love you guys that followed me for this đ#why is stan spilling his guts about pushing his brother into an interdemensional portal to the first shmuck that walks by??#well..... idk he sees Fidds and hears that he knows Ford and he sees him as Ford's friend and he thinks oh man he deserves to know#mullet stan
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#the Nowhere Man who waits and the God of Stories who watches
#mobius#loki#lokius#mcuedit#lokiedit#marveledit#loki spoilers#owen wilson#tom hiddleston#owenwilsonedit#marvel#dianagifs#đŠđ#what... in the most tragic of romances did i just witness#gotta rewatch tomorrow but cannot BELIEVE how okay i am with everything atm???#their story clearly isn't done their burden is obviously going on without each other and they exist fundamentally connected#they've lost everything but being able to see mobius every step of the way is enough for loki to make the sacrifice#and mobius left for his timeline with no other purpose than to make sure loki could do just that#now they're lost without each other?? the only thing mobius can do is exist for a moment in loki's creation i'm UNWELL#god this is the star crossed angst that's gonna keep me going for the rest of my LIFE they're my everything#loki s2 spoilers
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uhmhmhmmm just occasional thoughts about Daniel's interaction with Marius
#(can't wait to see old Daniel shutting him up immediately)#sorry i can't stand Marius's hypocritic ass and since his role in Lestat's life is unavoidable then i just need to see Daniel's reaction#because old Daniel is definitely going to be much different from the book one (who ended up living with Marius at some point đ)#like oh damn he isn't going to deal with Marius's bullshit and his âim the smartest person in the roomâ behavior#and ofc im sure he is going to call the fucker out for all the shit he did to Armand#iwtv#interview with the vampire#amc iwtv#amc interview with the vampire#iwtv daniel#daniel molloy#marius de romanus#iwtv fanart#vampire chronicles#my fanart
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2024 Canadian Grand Prix - George Russell's Victory Pose
#im gonna gif more of this post quali#but this obviously deserves its own post đđ#i thought he did it but i wasnt 100% sure#AND THEN THEY SHOWED THE REPLAY#god hes so silly i love him#f1#formula 1#george russell#gr63#we do a little bit of f1#2024 canadian gp
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Rogue One + completely accurate character descriptions [x]
for @rifle-yes, I hope this is what you had in mind! đ
#rogue one#rogueoneedit#cr1post#swedit#starwarsblr#thestarwarsdaily#starwarsfilms#starwarshub#swcreators#starwarsedit#filmedit#filmgifs#tuserjyn#tusersimone#usertina#*gifs#*ro#*1k#for some reason cassian's gif failed to upload and i failed to notice and almost posted without it agfgfgf#imagine everyone would have been like why did she leave out her favorite character?? lmao#i was gonna post this a while ago but then the booping and jyn week happened and i decided to wait a bit#not sure about some of the choices but i got a little over-ambitious and wanted to do all of the important characters#and then it got hard to think of different stuff đ
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sleepover with the buddies.
#no this is not old art hahahahahaha what?#literally miss them sm anyone got jew content im so far behind#obey me raphael#obey me thirteen#obey me 13#obey me mephistopheles#obey me mephisto#raphael#13#mephisto#obey me#ok but why am i actually kind of proud about this#sure i hate Mephisto's ugly ass pajamas but everything else looks cute#wait a minute WHERE THE FUCK ARE THEY??? đđđ BITCHASS WHERE DID I PUT THEMM..... .......
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Birthday with his adopted children!!!!
#edit: i didnât mean to label this as mature!! đ#bro papaw JUST woke up đ#Iâm sure I couldâve made this shorter somehow but I love adding silly filler drawings sorrrryy#I did most of this in a moving vehicle⌠it was painful#adventure time#fionna and cake#simon petrikov#finn mertens#marceline abadeer#adventure time bmo#doodles#my art
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Disgustingly messy and crusty sketch dump but I couldn't get my own terrible theory out of my head and ended up making a bunch of sketches about it. Also at the end a bonus dickbats and Damian doodle bc I was reading an issue of their Batman and Robin run (IDs in Alt)
#dc comics#dc#batfamily#batman#damian wayne#stephanie brown#tim drake#dick grayson#cassandra cain#duke thomas#anyway. zdarsky run sure is something huh?#its still so funny to me that half of 148 was leaked a few days before like someone has it OUT for that book over at bleeding cool ig#i don't necessarily think this theory will come true I'm just imagining how stupid it would be if it did#I'm not super happy with the dialogue in the cass+duke+dick comic but i felt my og dialogue might've read too fanon#mainly just bc cass' last sentence was originally shorter/just ellipses and duke said smthin like ''wait? villain arc?''#which you could easily find in wayne family adventures. even tho it would've been appropriate for this situation đ#now the dialogue just sounds kind of generic (esp cass') and it's BOTHERING ME AUGHH. this is the comic book fandom panopticon /j#anyway Bruce is in the retirement home in this scenario /j#me n my friends were talking over discord and came up w the cursed scenario that jason is tims robin in this (apart of the 'redemption' arc#-that he's been nail gunned with in this run. god this run is so weird when it comes to jason. like it doesn't outright dislike him-#-like it clearly does damian and (more obviously) cass steph and duke) but the tone of everything w jason is still bizarre#god. anyway yeah i didn't draw him but please picture grown man tank Jason in the robin undies (ala tt 03 but dare i say better)#also the dick being silly sketch was bc the issue i was reading had damian refer to dick as 'jolly'#specifically like ''unreasonably jolly'' or something like that (god i love when ppl find dicks cheerfulness deeply unsettling hehehe)#and i thought it was so funny. bc damian met dick when we has going through his ''bruce is dead'' depression-#-and STILL thought that dick was extremely unserious. he sees happy dick and is like ''what is wrong w you. genuinely''#but at the same time he loves it#i need to stop reading their batman and robin run so scatteredly (or i can just reread nightwing must die...always a possibility)#anyway yeah đ bad sketches be upon you#mine
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Making Incorrect H:SR Quotes Until I Run Out of (hopefully) Original Ideas - Pt. 3 - Random Screenshot Edition
[Pt. 1] [Pt. 2] [Pt. 4] [Pt. 5] [Pt. 6]
#hsr spoilers#hsr#honkai star rail#hsr textpost#hsr incorrect quotes#honkai star rail memes#hsr memes#honkai star rail meme#hsr meme#stelle#hsr trailblazer#boothill#jingliu#bailu#dan heng#blade#kafka#jing yuan#yanqing#dr ratio#aventurine#sunday#ough so many character tags. what a mess of a post. as always i sure do hope none of these have been done before!#anyways i've once again spent too long on these and can't tell if they're actually funny anymore but oh well i'm still postin' em#i've once again struggled and done my best to make good ID's in the alt text but i still don't know if they're done right aaaaa#also realized while doing so that i forgot to put Jingliu's face over the tumblr post's icon but i'm not fixing it now! just pretend i did#i don't believe i'll make any more like these bc it's harder than you'd think to find the exact images/screenshots to fit with the posts#but these were most of the ones that i felt needed the extra context anyways. now i'll return to my usual lower-effort edits#oh god also ignore how the sandpit one is flipped. i had to do that to get them on the right sides to match the messages đ
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Center Stage in a Gilded Cage (chapter seven)
18+ 7k. homelander x f!reader. stalking, kidnapping, imprisonment, abuse, forced relationship, slow burn, heavy dubcon, fingering, clothed/unclothed, dry humping. gif credit | fic directory | AO3
As promised, Homelander allows you an opportunity to say goodbye to the life you knew. After which, he does what he must to prove that you belong withâand toâhim.
Days spent with Homelander are simultaneously long and yet strangely fluid, hours blending seamlessly into one another. Every day that he comes home, you endure the flip into what youâve privately begun to refer to as âperformance mode,â in which youâre playing the role of doting girlfriend.
So long as you maintain the idea that itâs a performance, you donât have to think too much about how good the heat of his body feels against yours. You donât have to question the ease with which youâve taken to toying with his hair while the two of you watch television, or why you donât mind it so much when he rests his head in your lap.
There was a day he came home early and caught you absently dancing in the living room while you tidied. That alone was embarrassing, but it was mundane enough of a thing to be brushed aside, to forget. Except that he wouldnât. Heâd fixated on it like a dog with a bone, and youâd had to endure his relentless teasing about it for the rest of the day.
âYou act like youâve never seen anyone dance before,â youâd said.
âI havenât,â he said. âNot here.â
Your role here has many names: girlfriend, cook, therapist, maid, lover, and reinventor. Itâs about more than just romance. It's a complete transformation of his empty, lonely world.
Itâs what you must do to survive.
You learn quickly that heâs a creature of habit, favoring the same routine each day. He gets out of bed at the same time every day, showers for the same amount of time, and asks for the same breakfast that he does not eat.Â
It drives you crazy to cook a breakfast only to find yourself emptying it into the garbage not an hour later, but the drastic and often unpredictable fluctuations in Homelanderâs moods have made you reluctant to question or criticize him.Â
Besides, what do you care if he eats your food?Â
Caring is a creature with sharp teeth. It sinks its fangs into the deepest part of you and opens you up to deeper infection. Caring can hurt more than a punch, more than broken bones, more than anything that bleeds. Caring doesnât break you clean. Itâs a bone that doesnât set, a cut that doesnât close. Caring is to be vulnerable, to live as an open wound, and one thing youâre entirely certain of is that Homelander cannot be trusted with your vulnerability.
Yet you could not bring yourself to turn away from him. Not after he snapped at you, not after he screwed his eyes shut, not even as he began folding in on himself like a dying star readying to implode. Even though every primal instinct in you told you to run, your feet remained rooted.
You took him into your arms for the same reason you smother a flame rather than blow on it. In doing so, part of you has caught fire, embers continuing to burn.
The way he kissed you lingers on your lips like a ghost. His touches haunt every part of your tingling body, your fingertips numb with adrenaline as you pick up the containers from the coffee table. You can still feel the trail his hot mouth seared down your throat, branding your skin with the memory of his hunger.
He hadnât embraced you so much as heâd clung to you, his hands testing every inch of the reality of you. He disappeared somewhere so deep in his own mind that it had shocked him stiff when you held him.
A panic attack�
Strong hands settling on your hips break you out of your daze. Looking over your shoulder, you see Homelanderâs smiling face. His eyes are bright and clear, his cheeks no longer streaked with tears. If you didnât know betterâknow how easily and abruptly he can switch gearsâyouâd think you had hallucinated the entire thing.
âOh, sorry,â you say, recognizing that expectant look on his face. Whatever he said, you didnât hear it. âI was just thinking. What did you say?â
He huffs a little laugh. âGeeze, talk about a space cadet. Câmon, letâs get you airborne!â
Though your stomach flips, you nod.
Iâll take you flying again. Youâll be conscious this time around.
As soon as you have the containers of food safely tucked into a bag, he wastes no time scooping you up into his arms. The ease with which he lifts you is jarring; itâs less like being picked up by a person, and more like being strapped into a rollercoaster. Thereâs no sense of give in his strength, and all at once youâre shunted back to the memory of the night you were abducted.
It had felt the same way then, too. His arms coiled around you like steel, his chest a brick wall at your back. Heâd held you then as gently as he holds you now. No matter how hard you thrashed, there was no give.Â
No escape.
Your heart beats hard against your chest, apprehension tightening around your throat like a collar being pulled tight.
When will it stop feeling like this when he touches me?
The derangement of the thought strikes your addled mind belatedly. Never, you remind yourself. His touch should never evoke anything but the fear heâs earnedÂ
A sudden rush of cool air from the door opening hits your face, the shift in pressure briefly paralyzing your lungs, halting your shallow breaths. You turn your face from it, nestling instead into the thick, textured fabric of his suit while you fight to catch your breath.Â
Somewhere over the furious drumming of your heart, you hear him laugh, feel the rumble of his chest against your cheek.
He adjusts you higher up, bringing your face to the crook of his neck. Youâre more secure in his grasp this way, and admittedly, youâre grateful for it.Â
âRelax,â he purrs in your ear. âI wonât let you go.â
Yes, heâs made that abundantly clear.
In an effort to gain some modicum of control, you slip your fingers into the front of his suit collar, gripping the fabric tight. Itâs stiffer than you expected it to be, but it at least serves as a good handhold that way. His pulse can be felt in his throat, the beat of it fluttering against the backs of your fingers. Itâs quicker than you expected it to be.
You wonder what in the world he has to be nervous about.
âJust give me a warning before you take off, okay?â you ask, focusing on steadying your breathing.
âBefore I take off?âÂ
Thereâs a particular playful lilt to his tone that makes you uneasy.
âYes.â
âHm. Can we pretend I did that thirty seconds ago?â
You rear back to look at him, and before you can think better of it, you turn to look down. Your vision tunnels, the edges of it blurring as your eyes fight to adjust to the sudden distance between you and the earth.
The reality of it sets in. It was one thing to understand his capacity for flight in theory, what it would be like to fly with him, but nothing could have prepared you for this. Thereâs nothing stabilizing you but him, the plummet below a nauseating hundred storey drop. Against your every wish, your stomach starts to churn violently.Â
Tucking back against him, eyes screwed tightly shut, you mumble, âIâm gonna throw up.â
Homelander sucks in a breath through his teeth. âThatâs really gonna ruin someoneâs day down there.â
âShhhâup,â you slur, white-knuckling his collar with one hand, the other clutching the bag of food to your chest. âI changed my mind, take me back, take me back. Can we please just take the elevator and drive? I really donât want toââ
âHey, hey, relax,â he coos, tilting backwards, bringing more of your weight against his body. The movement only makes you feel sicker. âClosing your eyes only makes it worse. Yâgatta adjust.â
You shake your head and swear you can feel water sloshing back and forth in your skull. âTake me back, please take me back.â
Warm lips press against your forehead, his breath wafting over your scalp.
âItâll pass,â he says with the certainty of experience. âItâs worth it. Trust me.â
Trust him? The audacity of the ask is enough to make you temporarily forget your peril and look up at him through narrowed glassy eyes.Â
âWhy in the world would I trust you?â you ask through your teeth, emboldened by your incredulity despite the way the tension in your body makes your muscles tremble faintly.
His grin doesnât falter as he asks in turn, âWhatâs your alternative?â
Your lips part on an incredulous breath, disbelieving that he would be so blatant about it.Â
In the three days youâve spent with Homelander, there have been both ambiguous and unambiguous moments of cruelty. Moments where you were certain he was rubbing your captivity in your face, mocking you.Â
Other times he seems so desperately lost you can almost understand the way he clings to you. Times where his cruelty comes not from an understanding of what will hurt you, but a complete inability to comprehend that youâre a living, breathing person with your own complicated innerworkings. Â
âYouâre unreal,â you say, mystified by the enigma he presents.
âAnd youâre flying,â he says in your same tone, those ocean blue eyes glinting with self-satisfaction.
You take in a breath to retort, but pause. Though your grip on his collar remains tight, youâre no longer shaking. For a moment there, youâd honestly forgotten where you were. Leaning against him like this, with more of your weight supported on his wrought iron frame, you donât feel quite so much like youâre precariously dangling.
Though your heart is still racing, and your mouth's as dry as sand, you donât feel immediately ready to eject your lunch anymore.
âDonât look down this time,â he tells you, towards the horizon. âLook out.â
Hesitantly, you turn your head to follow his gaze.
The view is surreal.
The afternoon sky is a clear and vibrant blue that the maze of steel buildings below reflect, giving the entire city an oceanic hue. Hundreds upon hundreds of windows lit with warm lights dot the way like fireflies in a field.
In the distance, the sun has fallen low enough that it casts a golden glow across the water. It refracts the light in endless shimmering waves. The spectacle of it is enough to make you forget that this isnât some fantastical world, that you live here.
Never could you have fathomed seeing the world like this with your own eyes.
âFuck me,â you murmur, slightly dazed.
Homelander barks a laugh. âWhat, now?â
Ignoring him, you tentatively let your gaze drift lower. From this distance, all you can see of the lives below you are faint black dots, the flow of them reminiscent of an ant colony. The same loud bustling streets that you used to walk every day are silent from this vantage point, giving the city an uncharacteristic sense of calm. Itâs the worldâyour worldâas youâve never seen it before.Â
âSee?â You feel the heat of the word against your temple as much as you hear it, his lips brushing along your hairline. âI told you it was worth it.â
You tear your attention from the cityscape and bring it back to Homelander.
While youâve always distantly acknowledged that heâs attractive, heâs undeniably beautiful like this. Bathed in the glow of golden hour, his skin looks Midas touched, and the blue of his eyes is even more vibrant, the light giving them an almost crystalline appearance.
All over again youâre struck by the fact that, whether you want him or not, heâs inexplicably yours. Your captor, your roommate, your warden, your boyfriend, your gilded cage. Youâre only where you are nowâsoaring above the city beyond the confines of that penthouseâbecause you found it in yourself to be all the things he wants you to be. The more you give, the more you get.
Play your part. Reap the reward.
This is survival.
âYou were right. Itâs beautiful,â you say, relinquishing your grip on his collar to instead slip your arm around his neck, leaning in to press your cheek to his in a make-shift embrace. You feel his surprise in the slight hitch of tension in his body before he relaxes back into you.
âCan I ask you something? Something about us. Or⌠about me, I guess,â you say, staring at the world from over his shoulder. Only now has your pulse begun to calm enough that you can properly hear yourself over the rush of your own blood.
His flag of a cape billows in the wind behind him as he flies languidly through the air, giving you something near to focus on.Â
âSure you can,â he says, feigning ease that doesnât quite ring sincere.
He doesnât like it when you ask too many questions, or start poking holes in the idyllic little fantasy youâve been living for him.
âWhy did you choose me?â
Thereâs a pause while he mulls over the question, the droning winds around you filling the empty space. Your stomach gives a small flip as he shifts, changing his flight path, making you wonder if youâve made a mistake, said the wrong thing.
You draw back to meet his gaze, but his expression doesnât betray any kind of upset.
âIâll show you,â he says, the words punctuated by a wink, though the gesture doesnât exude his usual self assured bravado. Based on the tension in his jaw, you get the sense heâs actually masking a buried nervousness.
Within minutes, youâre soaring over a part of the city you recognize with stark familiarity. Seeing your route to work from this angle has a surreal quality to it, like remembering a dream in vivid detail. Itâs difficult to fathom that less than a week ago, this was your life.
Drifting to the ledge of a nearby building, he sits on the edge of it, adjusting you on his lap. While the height remains dizzying if you think too much about it, you canât deny that the warm strength of his arms have given you a firm sense of security.Â
âI used to come here a lot during my downtime. Between meetings and location work,â he explains, taking in a deep breath.
You do the same, cool air filling your lungs. Itâs warm out, but the altitude brings in enough of a chill from the ocean to offset the late afternoon summer heat.
âI got familiar with this spot. The people, their routines,â he says, head lightly bobbing side to side.
âYou saw me,â you fill in as understanding dawns.
âYeah. I saw you,â he echoes, following the walkways below as if heâs tracing your path to work in the same way you are. âEvery day.â
âYou were really out here every day?â you ask with a lilt of surprise, looking at him. âI never saw you before.â
âPeople almost never do. Youâd be surprised how rarely people ever look up.â
You hum quietly. Already you feel isolated from the world below. Nothing more than an observer. Knowing him as you do now, you can only imagine how outside of it all he really feels.Â
âDo you ever⌠go down there? Not as Homelander, but just as yourself.â
âI am Homelander.â
âNo, no, I know, butâŚâ You falter, wanting to be delicate. âYou were someone else first, werenât you?â
His gaze turns distant, no longer focusing on the streets below. âNo.â
You think again of the young boy in the empty room holding back tears, and your heart grows heavy in your chest. That childâand the man he grew intoâhad to have had a name once, didnât he? Itâs unfathomable to think he didnât. Homelander isnât really a name. Itâs a persona, a product patented and sold by Vought.Â
To have a name is to exist in peopleâs minds and hearts as a whole person. Whether the name is a gift or a choice, there is soul in a name. More than just an identity, a name is a love language. Be it a given name, nicknames, pet names, to name something is to love it.Â
Names begin in the heart, form on the tongue, become shaped by lips and cradled by voice. They're an intimacy not only of the body, but of the mind and soul.
Surely he has a name beyond the heroâs title of Homelander.
Project Odessa.
You take in a breath, the question poised on your tongue, but Homelander speaks first.
âI donât remember when, but you started to stand out. Couldnât take my eyes off you. I wanted to know more, so⌠I learned more. And I saw that you were lonely,â he says, but youâve learned to read between the lines when he tells you things about yourself.
I was lonely.
âYou needed someone.â
I needed someone.
âSomeone to take care of.â
Someone to take care of me.
âI wanted to save you.â
IÂ wanted you to save me.
âAnd I did.â
He looks at you then, his expression difficult to parse. Thereâs a challenge in his gaze, as if heâs daring you to contradict him, but that defiance isnât enough to cancel out the fragility that always seems to linger when he admits to any sort of genuine feeling.
âI saved you,â he reinforces, voice quieter, firmer.
Sitting hundreds of feet in the air, youâre reminded that this isnât a normal conversation.
This is a matter of survival.
Play your part. Reap the reward.
âThank you.â
The tight line of his lips relaxes, spreading into a smile. It radiates the same sort of satisfied pride that he always gets when you show him gratitude for all heâs done for you.
To me, you correct yourself, fighting to keep those lines from blurring. When you look at your life through his eyes, you cannot deny that it looks small. Inconsequential. Lonely. Sad.
None of that changes the fact that it was yours. That it is yours. That he had no right to take it from you when he had every opportunity to ask to be part of it.
The worst part is that, given the choice, youâre starting to feel like you would have said yes.
Itâs a conflicted kind of relief when he closes his eyes and presses his lips lightly to yours. The heat of his mouthâthe instant memory of his tongue, his teeth, his roaming handsâsends a hot rush through you, but unlike last time the kiss is fleeting and chaste.
âAaaalrighty,â he says, his voice suddenly full of vigor and performative boom. Itâs a wonder he doesnât give himself a headache with how quickly heâs prone to switching gears. âLetâs get this grubhub goinâ.âÂ
He pushes off of the ledge and your stomach lurches the way it would at the start of a rollercoaster, a drop followed by a sudden lift. Your arm tightens around his neck while his smile lingers, clearly pleased by the clinginess this has imposed on you.
You donât have to tell him where to go. He knows exactly the alley to land in, sinking between buildings to the very back, as not to be observed by the bustling crowd below. Youâd grown used to the noise of the crowds, but after several days of quiet, the clamor of New York is borderline deafening. It makes you wince and reflexively press on one ear, plugging it while you adjust.
Regardless of the noise, you feel an instant relief when your feet hit the ground. Homelanderâs hands linger on your hip and your elbow, steadying you.
âWell?â he prompts. âYou glad we flew?â
âLetâs not get carried away,â you say, huffing a quiet laugh. âI very much almost lost my lunch, but⌠yeah, Iâll admit it was worth it,â you say, checking on the containers of food packed away.Â
Youâd considered hiding some kind of message amidst the food, but it felt too risky. There was too good of a chance that Homelander would check, and if he did, you wouldnât have made it this far at all.
For all you know, he did check. Youâre still not certain if he really has x-ray vision, or if thatâs an invention of Voughtâs for the movies. Better safe than sorry.
Maybe you wonât need a hidden message. Maybe youâll be able to get across to John, without saying a word, that something isnât right.
âIf you wait here, Iâll beââ
âWhat, Iâm not allowed to meet your friends?â he interrupts, hands on his hips.
âOh, uh.â You blink, holding his gaze uncertainly. âI didnât⌠think youâd want to.â
Homelander waves his hand dismissively.
âIf heâs important to you, heâs important to me,â he says, slipping an arm around your shoulder and squeezing lightly.
âBesides, next to children, the unhoused are our most vulnerable population,â he says, sounding entirely too much like a politician with a list of talking points. âAnything could happen to him. I can keep a close eye on him for you, make sure he doesnât get into any unnecessary trouble.â
His smile is too wide, too wolfish, and with a terrible chill you understand the words for the threat that they are.
If John causes problems for him, Homelander will remedy them.
Am I making a mistake?
Swallowing thickly, you nod. âOkay⌠Sure.â
Despite how heavily Homelanderâs words hang over your head, you very nearly take flight yourself with the swell relief that hits you when you see John sitting at the end corner of the alleyway, hands busy with a Rubikâs Cube. Heâs an imposing looking man in his late thirties, bearded and tall, but heâs never made you feel unsafe. Heâs kind, and most importantly, heâs familiar.
You take in a sharp breath of excitement, his name on the tip of your tongue, but a crimson leather clad hand clamps over your mouth and pulls you back into the shadow of the building. Homelander pins you back against him, one hand keeping you quiet while the other slips around your middle, locking you in place.
Did he change his mind, or was this all just a game from the start? Your wide eyes prickle with tears.
âGround rules,â he says, voice low in your ear. âWeâve been together for a couple of weeks, but for your own safety, itâs been kept a secret. You quit your dead-end job and traveled to Europe with me, from which weâve just recently returned. Got it?â
Huffing shallow little breaths from your nose, heart racing, you nod.
âIf I see any funny business, Iâll break his neck.â
You close your eyes, every beat of your heart a painful jab. His voice has the same cool hollowness it did when he warned you not to lie to him. Itâs him, and yet simultaneously sounds like an entirely different person.
âNod if you understand.â
A beat, and then you nod.
âGood girl,â he says, his smile audible in his praise. His hand slips away from your mouth and he kisses your temple, straightening out your clothes. His arm slinks around your waist, hand settling heavily on your hip. âNow, letâs get this over with.â
Rattled, you rub the tears from your eyes and take in a steadying breath, trepidation replacing your excitement. Dread pools in your stomach, the tide of it rising with every step, but you still manage to smile once youâre in earshot of your friend.
âHey, John,â you call gently, lifting a hand to wave when he meets your gaze.
John does a double take, glancing up once, then twice, recognition flipping to confusion, and then rounding back to delight. He smiles broadly from beneath his wiry beard, pushing off of the wall heâd been leaning against.
âIâll be damned,â he says as he approaches you. âYou had me worried! I was beginning to think yââ he stops himself, belatedly noticing Homelander at your side. His eyes widen a fraction, and then his brows furrow.
In his myriad of expressions, you recognize yourself. That first night you woke up, how confused you were by where you were and who you were with. The whole thing felt like a dream, and John looks as though heâs wondering if this is one, too.
As a New Yorker, seeing Homelanderâor any member of the Sevenâin the flesh typically means one of two things: youâve stumbled onto a promotional event, or trouble is close at hand.Â
âIs everything alright?â he settles on asking, the priority of his concern for you instantly warming your chattering heart.
âMore than alright,â Homelander answers when you take too long, flashing a winning smile. He gives your hip a squeeze, prompting you.
You clear your throat, lifting the bag off of your shoulder. âYeah, yeah, yes, Iâve justâIâve been away,â you say, already tripping over the lies catching in your throat.Â
If I see any funny business, Iâll break his neck.
Thanks to you, Johnâs life rides on this conversation, and he has no clue. You kick yourself internally, desperate to get your shit together for both your sakes.Â
âIt was really impromptu, but, uhm, I didnât want you to worry, and I have news, so Iââ you flash Homelander a look, as if to say let me sell this, and he reluctantly withdraws his arm. âI asked Homelander if heâd come along, because I honestly didnât think youâd believe me,â you say, forcing out a little laugh.
John hesitantly takes the bag when you offer it, but heâs looking at you like youâve grown a second head, his eyes occasionally darting over to Homelander, who continues to stand akimbo behind you. âBelieve youâŚ?â
âThat Iâm dating Homelander,â you say, pulling your lips back in what you can only hope is a convincing smile, and not just a manic show of teeth.
âOh,â he says, looking no less puzzled.
The whole situation is bizarre beyond words. That you would come to him, an acquaintance that youâve known only through habit, through the quick conversations youâve had in the transitional spaces between work and home, seems insane. That you would care that he knows or that he believes youâre dating New Yorkâs premium hero.
Of course he wonât see that youâre a hostage. Why the hell would he?Â
You feel out of your mind the same way you did sitting on that stupid couch, punching in website after website after website. Itâs futile. Youâre outside, youâre right in front of another person, someone who would be just as horrified as you are to know the truth, and yet you canât say a damn thing.
This will always be true. Whether youâre standing in front of a stranger, an acquaintance, or your dearest loved ones, your truth will put them in danger.
All because of one lonely little boy.
Your smile holds firm, but your eyes well with tears.
âI quit my job,â you say, fighting back the sob threatening to choke you. âSo I wonât see you anymore. But I, uhmâI just wanted to say goodbye. So, goodbye,â you say, moving to turn away before your emotions betray you any further, but John catches you by the shoulder, his touch light and painfully human.Â
âHey, you take care of yourself,â he says, looking to be shaking off the shellshock from what youâve presented. âYâalways seem to be taking care of other people and their problems, so⌠Take care of you, too. If not for yourself, youâll do that for me, yeah? For old timeâs sake,â he says with a smile, giving the bag a little shake.
You stare at him, the confession of it all sitting heavily on the tip of your tongue.Â
Help me! you want to shout. I canât do this alone. I canât take care of this myself. I need help. Itâs too much. Iâm scared.
You start to move towards him, and his opposite arm opens, as if ready to embrace you.
âLucky for her,â Homelander interrupts, hoisting you suddenly into his arms and out of Johnâs reach, shattering any potential illusions. âSheâs got me to take care of her now,â he says, his Hollywood smile stretched instead into a thin sneer.
âGreat to meetâcha, pal,â he spits, voice devoid of any actual camaraderie. Tears burn in your eyes as his fingertips dig into you, his grip like a vice, like chains slipping back around your limbs. âEnjoy the food.â
Anything John might have said in response is swallowed up by the rush of air parting around him as Homelander shoots up into the sky, leaving your world in the dust, and any hope you had with it.
The flight back to the penthouse is quiet.
Homelander flies faster than he did on the way out, itching to be back within the safe, predictable confines of home. Youâre tense in his hold, but both of your arms are wrapped around his neck, your face tucked in under his jaw, and he takes pleasure in that, at least.
Itâs a miracle he didnât rip that filthy fuckers arm off for the way he grabbed you, for the way he tried to pull you into his arms.
God damn pervert is what he is.Â
Youâre too naive to see it, but he isnât, and there wasnât a fucking chance he was going to let the guy cop one last feel before you were spirited away for good. The thought alone is enough to set his teeth on edge, to make him consider paying the son of a bitch a little visit anyways.
He grits his teeth.
No one touches his things.
It sets off something primal in him. A gnawing, feverish compulsion to claim you so thoroughly there could be no doubt that youâre his. He wants to fuck you, to mark you so obviously that no other man will ever touch you like that again.
By the time he lands on the concrete slab of his balcony, youâre shaking up a storm. He maneuvers inside without putting you down, as youâve made no move to let go of him.Â
Something isnât right.Â
He rubs your back, mimicking the patterns you make when you rub his, pausing when you suddenly make a choked noise that sounds suspiciously close to a sob.
What the hell? He did exactly what you asked him to. Youâre supposed to be happy.
He carries you to his bed, a dozen versions of the two of you reflected back in the surrounding mirrors, and sets you down gently. Your arms slide loose from his neck and fall limply to your sides. Bending down, he cups either side of your face and brings your gaze up to meet his, perplexed to find your eyes brimming with tears.
âHey,â he says softly, swiping a tear from your cheek with his thumb as it falls. âYou got what you wanted, didnât you?â
You shut your eyes and make a sound he canât make sense of, something between exasperation and agony. Though you try to pull out of his grip, he holds you in place, refusing to let you run from this.Â
From him.
âNo, no. Look at me. I did what you asked,â he says, impatience slowly wringing the gentleness from his voice.
Your eyes are red and glassy, fat tears rolling down your cheeks and over his thumbs.Â
Christ.Â
This is a far cry from what he had in mind when he thought earlier about how youâd make it up to him.
âI canât do this anymore,â you sob, taking hold of his wrists. âI just want to go home.â
His expression falls, brows furrowed in confusion, dismay, anger.
âWhatâre you talking about? You are home. Youâre happy here. You have everything, youâIâve given you everything,â he says, though a voice in the back of his mind reminds him that isnât true.Â
He hasnât given everything. Not yet. Heâs been holding back. You both have, and now youâre both suffering.
Enough, he thinks. Hasn't he been deprived long enough?
Haven't you?
You try again to pull away, but this time he pulls you forward, pressing his lips to yours. You make a sound against his mouth that sounds like surprise, but all that matters now is the thrum of your skin against his.
âDoesnât have to be like this,â he says between kisses, following you as you pull backwards, his knee hitting the bed as he crawls over top of you. He lets his hands roam, learning you in the way heâs been aching to since the day he decided that you would be his, and that he would be yours.Â
âYou have no idea how fucking good I can make you feel.â
Pleasure has always been his greatest comfort. The ability to shut down his brain, to quiet the voices and focus solely on the physical. He needs it, and now more than ever, he can see that you need it, too.Â
He kisses your jaw, your cheek, kisses the wet streaks from your skin and licks the salt of them from his lips.
âI can make it go away,â he murmurs, undeterred by your hands pushing against his chest. You have a nasty habit of fighting whatâs good for you.Â
âIâll make you happy if youâd just let me.â
Your clothes put up less resistance than you do, the designer material tearing with ease. He swallows up your gasp with another kiss, slips his tongue into your mouth and grazes your teeth with it, daring you to bite.
Your pulse thunders in his ears, but not even the acridity of the fear coursing through you can hide the sweet heat of arousal seeping from between your thighs.
His own body aches in kind, cock throbbing needily behind his cup. His mind has already started to fog, the sting of rejection soothed by the need he can feel building in every part of your body.Â
You want him. You do. He can feel it in the drumming of every climbing throb he hears your body give.
âAll this teasing, this tension, it can all end. Weâre so close to what we both want now, what we both need.â His hand slips lower, forcing your legs apart enough to drag his middle finger over your cunt through the satiny fabric of your panties, savoring the way it makes you shudder.
âI donât want this,â you say, hardly sounding convinced of it yourself.
âYou can lie to yourself all you want, but you canât lie to me, â he says, taking his hand away only to bite the tip of his middle finger, tugging his glove off with his teeth and tossing it aside. He moves it right back to your pussy, pressing in firmly to finally feel the hot, soaked patch of fabric against his bare skin.Â
âLook whoâs all wet.â
âWhy are you doing this?â Thereâs a tremble running through your voice, through your body.
He huffs an incredulous little breath.
âIâm doing this for you. For us. Iâm doing this because you donât know how to let yourself be happy,â he says, drawing back to look at you. Youâre beautiful like this. Eyes glassy and vibrant, skin hot under his touch. âAll you have to do is let go, and Iâll make all the bad stuff go away.â
You donât respond, but he knows by the look of you that heâs struck a chord. He kisses you again, and this time, you donât try to turn away. Instead, both of your hands slip into his hair, and to his elation, you kiss him back.
He moans against your lips, shifting onto his side next to you so that he can better maneuver his hand, bringing his fingers up to slip them into your underwear, letting out a low sound for the feel of your velvety wet cunt under his bare fingers.
âKeep breathing,â he reminds you, acutely attuned to every inch of you, including when your breath catches. âThatâs it⌠Good girl.â
The last thing he needs now is for you to pass out.
He kisses a trail down from your shoulder to your chest, nipping at the swell of your breasts before he kisses an apology into the soft skin, only to suck a mark at that same spot. He spreads your own slick from your cunt to your clit, massaging it between his middle and index finger.
You suck in a ragged breath, you whimper, and in that sound he knows he finally has you hook, line and sinker.
Thatâs when you catch sight of yourself in the mirror above. You shudder, turning your head away as if ashamed, but he wonât let you hide from this.
âAh, ah, none of that. No shame in this. Itâs a tale as old as time, sweetheart,â he says, pressing his middle finger slowly into the silky clench of your pussy.Â
âBoy meets girl⌠Girl falls for boy⌠Boy fucks her brains out,â he half laughs, half rasps, hooking his leg over yours both to pull your legs wider apart, and to give himself your thigh to grind against.
He angles his thumb to rub your clit while his finger crooks, stroking inside you until he finds that delicate, puffy little bundle of nerves heâs been taught to look for. More than just by the feel of it, he knows heâs found it when your hips jerk suddenly, and you look at him as though heâs just invented the spot.
âI told you,â he rumbles, kissing you slow, wet, hungry, âthat I would make you feel good.â
He adds another finger, fucking you with them slowly, his pace building gradually. He imagines how itâll feel to have his cock where his fingers are, and he nearly comes in his pants at the thought alone, his hips jerking against you.
âLook at yourself,â he sighs, his other hand cupping the back of your neck. âLook at yourself,â he says again, harsher this time, and your eyes snap up to the mirror above you.
Youâre a mess, clothes torn apart and splayed under and around you, hickeys forming where heâs abused your skin with his lips. Youâre fucking yourself down on his hand entirely of your own accord now, one hand fisted in his hair, the other in the sheets. Your tears have dried and thereâs only sweet, mindless pleasure left in your eyes.
Heâs never known a pain he couldnât fuck away. He knew youâd be the same.
âSo fucking perfect for me,â he coos, breath hitching on his own mounting pleasure. Your pussy squeezes his fingers, the lewd cacophony of pleasure filling the room the closer you get to the brink.
âHomelander,â you keen, voice fractured and sweet as sugar.Â
He kisses his name from your lips, licks up the honied taste of it while he fucks you deeper, faster, his pace never once faltering, not even as you begin to thrash against him. He canât tell if youâre trying to get closer or further, but he holds you tightly in place, gritting his teeth against the pleasure while he shamelessly humps your leg.
Your shallow breaths take on a pitchy sound as you writhe, as if part of you is still fighting him, fighting your pleasure, but in the end, itâs a battle you lose. Your cunt locks up like a vice around his fingers, your orgasm throbbing inside and out, your clit fluttering against his thumb.
Youâre robbed of breath, of sound, and of sense as you come, capable of nothing more than a silent cry as pleasureâthe pleasure he gave youâwracks your body.
He fucks you through it, relishing the way your quivering cunt squeezes his fingers, greedily pulling him back in on every thrust. Itâs too muchâyouâre too muchâand he loses himself to it, giving a ragged gasp as he comes shortly after. His eyes roll back, pulse after pulse of sweet pleasure filling his cup with liquid heat.
âI love you,â he gasps, nearly choking on the words, rocking against your still-trembling form. âIâfffuck, I love you, I love you so much.â
Heâs languid but no less ravenous in the way he kisses your chest, your throat, your jaw, your mouth, all while his fingers rock lazily in and out of your cunt. Still coming down from his own high, he doesnât stop until youâre grabbing his wrist and pushing his hand away, pleading your overstimulation with nothing but soft noises.Â
He licks his fingers clean, intoxicated by the feel, taste and smell of you. A shiver runs through you, and itâs only then that he realizes he forgot to shut the balcony door behind him.
Too enraptured to move, to risk breaking the spell your bodies have cast over one another, he drapes his cape over your naked body, tucking you in against his chest.
Satisfied that heâs made his point, that you finally understand the gift heâs wanted to give you all along, he wraps both arms around you and nuzzles against the top of your head, pressing a kiss to the crown.
While ending your first tryst sticky and wet in his pants wasn't his ideal scenario, he'll take it. The weight of you in his arms, the taste of you on his lips, more than makes up for it.
âThatâs it,â he murmurs, the words slurring together slightly. He strokes your back, holding you close as the tremors subside. He gladly takes credit for the way your breaths even out, for the way you sink into his arms, the resistance wrung from your muscles.Â
All thatâs left now is bliss.Â
âThatâs my girl.â And you are, without a shadow of a doubt, his.
#i did it!!! đ#i'm not ENTIRELY sure all the correct ways to tag this chapter but it's a heavy one#homelander x reader#homelander x you#homelander#x reader#yandere x reader#my writing#homelander fanfiction#center stage in a gilded cage
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thinking abt how satoru is one of the only adults in the jjk universe who can separate the child from the situation/cards they are dealt with⌠yuji took in sukuna as a host and heâs the only adult who sees yuji as a child/his own human being while other adults see him simply as âsukunaâs hostâ who needs to die. thinking abt how satoru was also one of the only adults who stepped up for yuuta and thatâs one of the reasons yuuta appreciates him so much⌠same with when he took in megumi. at the end of the day gojo satoru is the only one in the universe that knows what itâs like to be used/seen as a weapon or Entity rather than a person and he wonât let his kids feel the same way/heâll do everything in his power to make them feel better & actually LET them be children!
#and yes i do mean one of the ONLY adults#suguru didnât see yuuta as a human being/child he saw him as someone to kill and overtake#which is so interesting considering what happened to riko like suguru really did just continue the cycle of killing kids to further agendas#nanami at first didnât see yuji as a child but rather sukunaâs host and it isnât until satoru has that convo w him in the bar#that i think nanami realized how much satoru cares about these children#which in turn ofc we all know how much nanami loved/adored/cared for yuji :â3#and then ofc teen gojo taking in megumi/tsumiki#i know people always say gojo was never a father heâs more of a brother/uncle etc etc etc#like sure he may act like that but . he did take care of them in a fatherly way#just bc he acts silly doesnât mean he canât be a good paternal figure đ#i think abt how tsumiki had the biggest and best room in the hospital when i watch the anime and how gojo definitely pulled that#idk i just. satoru doesnât get nearly enough credit for the simple act of CARING. for children especially#moreso than any other character in the manga and iâll die on that hill#gojo satoru#personal
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smallidarity highschool au
came up with this au like actually 2 years ago where it's mainly empires 2 smallidarity centric, with Jimmy as a student council member and Joel as an honours student who doesn't like the way Jimmy runs things around the school.
As payback for the regulations Jimmy put up that Joel thought was stupid, Joel does these elaborate 'The Office' style pranks on Jimmy (specifically) while Jimmy retaliates by trying his best to dig up dirt on Joel. This banter goes on for a whileâ however Joel ends up doing the pranks less as a statement, and instead more just to see how Jimmy would react... with his comical, cartoony villain yells, and... weirdly cute face....? (YAOI YAOI YAOI YAOI)
very very old au drawings below:
from July 2023
đđ joel does NOT look like a highschooler here đđđđ (i also wanted to draw angst in the first two ig idk a year later it's pretty cringe [i am still cringe]) (also partially inspired by when I read "Go for it, Nakamura!" and the mc reminded me of joel for no actual reason. or maybe i was just thinking about that manga while drawing smallidarity. idk)
from November 2022:
I think these doodles were genuinely the first instance of me converting from being against mcyt shipping to for shipping LMAOO
#smallidarity#my art#empiresshipping#finally writing out this au GOSH it's been in my head for so long#despite that I'm still not very sure about the au plot-wise ? đ#like idk if i want canary curse limited life angst or not#(eg. Grian is the occult club president and Grian warns Joel about Jimmy's forboding demise#or to keep this au romance drama? without any fantasy stuff yk?#this was my first time making an au idk how else it goes lmao đ#anyways hopefully day 2 of posting daily âď¸#smallidarity highschool au#<- I POSTED OTHER STUFF ON THIS AU BEFORE PLS CHECK IT OUT MAYBE#also btw this is separate from that highschool isekai harem anime posting i drew a few months ago#extra thoughts: 'solidarity' and 'smallishbeans' are nicknames they got for themselved#'Solidarity' (probably) comes from Jimmy's campaigning for Student Council President (which he's tried for and failed many times)#and 'Smallishbeans' comes from a running gag between Joel Lizzie and Oli from a bit he did when they where kids#where he would act like a 2010's millenial tumblr girl and call himself a 'smol bean'#smallidarity daily#day 2
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*dusting off another drawing found in my old folders* Oh waw early 2020 connverse. And I drew in 97 dpi RIP
#I remember redrawing the first one but I couldn't remember if I ever posted these outside Facebook.#Man I drew Steven a lil weird lol#I don't think I can draw in this drawing style anymore. đ¤ I switched from android phone+finger to a laptop+drawing tab and my style shifted#I was so sure there was a different one where Steven is running towards Connie with open arms as she was just closing the door of her#dad's car#connverse#Connie Maheswaran#steven quartz universe#steven universe#my shiz#old drawing#OH RIGHT! I DID post the first image! It's just the second one that wasn't posted outside FB.#The one where Steven is running to Connie disappeared completely tho#SU#Guys. I am having flashbacks to when the people in the SU FB group I'm in were getting more and more agitated the more SUf episo#des came out without Connie. đ#Now that I think about it. I might have drawn this in late 2019 after the movie went out.
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Sundayâs worldview sucks, his outlook and perception of himself and others sucks⌠and thatâs why heâs so interesting
In honor of his drip marketing releasing tonight (or maybe yesterday for you depending on when I get this out), Iâd like to talk about why I think Sundayâs beliefs and perspective is very, very flawed and how his own biases rather than the actions of those who oppose him are what led to his downfall.
Sunday is entirely responsible for his own failure, and thatâs exactly why heâs incredible.
This contains mentions of leaks and spoilers for the Penacony quest line⌠you have been warned
To start with, oh my lord do Sundayâs preconceived notions kick him in the ass.Â
I think the best example of this is his conversation with Dr. Ratio in which Ratio pretends to betray Aventurine, selling out his plan to Sunday. Now, whatâs incredibly interesting about this exchange is that Ratio doesnât fully lie to Sunday once in this exchange, rather he says half truths and makes vague statements which Sunday himself interprets as being in support of him.Â
Take what Ratio said the whole, âA scholar knows their position and wouldnât forsake it for the sake of petty pride.â In retrospect, we know this line is actually referring to Aventurine- aka Ratio is saying heâs not just going to sell him out to Sunday for the sake of information about the Stellaron (which he would get anyways if the IPC attained Penacony, plus Mr. Incredibly Dedicated Knowledge Spreader probably has other means of gaining it then through The Family).Â
However, since Ratio answered the invitation Sunday gave him, Sunday assumes that Ratio is on his side, believes his cause is righteous, and that he won Ratio over with offering him information about the Stellaron, therefore making that previous statement of Ratioâs null, because Sunday interpreted it as, âconvince me this is worth my time + prove to me youâre correct,â when it really meant, âthere is no way in hell Iâm about to sacrifice my friend to you, and there is nothing you could offer me to make me do so you crazed lunatic.â
But why did Sunday not weigh the options? Why did he unquestioningly believe his perception of the situation was the correct one?
Well- partly itâs because Ratio and Aventurine were doing their damndest to make it seem like they hate each other and that their plan was going off the rails.
But the more important part is that even without Ratio saying a word or even accepting the invitation, Sunday already believes heâd be on his side.Â
Let me demonstrate this through Sunday's perspective:
I am a righteous person, I am doing the correct things, my worldview is the correct one. Dr. Ratio is also a righteous person who seems to be doing the correct things. Therefore, since we are both on the side of good, and Aventurine is clearly not on that side considering his status as Stoneheart and his negative relationship to Ratio, then Ratio will naturally want to be on my side. After all, the good guys work together, do they not?- and together will vanquish this evil villain.
This perspective is a simple one, but Sundayâs unshaking belief (up until the end of 2.2) that he is 100% in correct and in the right, that any and everyone who he also perceives to be in the right (like Ratio) would believe/side with him without truly needing to be convinced. Sunday doesnât come out the gate offering the Stellaron information- he only keeps it as a backup just in case.Â
However, this is complicated because Sunday is also not an idiot, and heâs extremely paranoid, so heâs going to make sure that the way he views the world is 100% correct on the off chance heâs wrong which could foil his plans- which is why he invited Ratio in the first place. Nevertheless, this isnât him hunting for new perspectives, but rather him desiring to prove himself right again, which is a bad thing because Sunday is very much not right.Â
A perfect world is a perfect pris- *gets shot*
Reference that approximately 2 ½ people will get beside, Sundayâs ideology that he is fully confident in.. sucks. It sucks ass, itâs terrible, and let me explain.
Iâm not going to try going over all the little intricacies to how the dreamscape works because I a) donât know and b) donât particularly care because they arenât relevant to the argument I will be making- which is that Sundayâs ideology is inherently flawed and immediately falls apart under scrutiny.
Essentially, he desires to create the perfect fake reality, enveloping the whole galaxy in Enaâs dream and fulfilling their every desire and whim within it, with himself as the sacrifice to allow it to exist. The seven rest days, no illness, no pain, no challenge, you get the idea.Â
And, this perfect world paradoxically sucks ass because of its perfectness.
Improving society is great, eliminating hardship is great, increasing quality of life is great.
But declawing reality itself- absolutely not.
Iâm going to try to explain this through my favorite strangely specific anecdote- the process of obtaining diamonds in Minecraft.
Stay with me now.
You essentially have two options- go out and mine them yourselves the hard way, which takes hours, gives you less diamonds per the amount of time spent on it, and likely with you exhausting some of your resources like food, torches, and tools which you will need to replenish.
Or.
You can just.. get them from creative mode or commands, and you can get as many as your heart desires.
However, despite the fact that option one is harder, gives you less diamonds and takes significantly more time, I, as well as hopefully you, would pick it every time (at least in a survival world, although honestly idk why you would even need pure diamonds in creative).
And thatâs because the first option is rewarding.Â
You did not earn the diamonds you easily and magically summoned into your inventory, there is no struggle, no journey, no challenge to it, therefore it feels entirely unremarkable, as compared to the feeling you (hopefully) get from mining diamonds, which makes you happy because you earned it. Yeah, it was harder, but the process itself is fun- the anticipation of not knowing when youâre going to find them, if at all, the danger, the fighting and digging and mauvering you will have to do in the process.
And with this unconventional example, the fatal flaw with Sundayâs ideology is revealed- itâs boring.Â
Itâs boring as shit.
Yeah, for the first few months or even years it might be enjoyable- having everything you could ever want served on a silver platter. However, humans are a) inherently a bit greedy and b) desire challenge, and this scenario fulfilles neither of those things. Naturally having everything means your desire for more can never be fulfilled, leaving the wanter forever unsatisfied, whereas in the real world, things are truly out of your reach, meaning that even if you never end up getting them, they are still a tangible thing just out of reach⌠as strange at it sounds, we like being tantalilus-ed more than you think. After all, if what you want is so easy to get, you will never run out of things to want, and eventually that gets draining.Â
Continually, if everything is easy, if everything is just right there whenever you want it- existence itself no longer has stakes.Â
And thatâs the problem, because much like how a story with no stakes is extremely hard to find compelling, a life with no stakes feels boring at best and downright pointless and meaningless at worst.
Iâm just saying, there is a reason why the Nihility was such a strong presence and problem in Penacony.
Anyways, like with the diamond problem, a lack of stakes means that nothing you do feels rewarding, because you didnât truly earn it.Â
Which is where the Sundayâs idea of a âperfectâ reality falls apart, because the most enjoyable reality for humans to live in is not one literally devoid of any possible flaw.
So why does he believe in it? When itâs so clearly flawed?
Well, itâs because Sunday doesnât think a better alternative exists.
The world made you this way.. and you chose to continue what it started.
Iâm sure I donât need to repeat the story of the Charmony Dove all over again because trust me, weâve all heard it before. Nonetheless, it reveals something important both about Sundayâs personality and his ideology- heâs fundamentally a defeatist.
He doesnât believe that there is any alternative for the dove, that it could ever be able to fly again with its deformed nature, so instead of being âcruelâ and letting it âinevitably fall to its death,â heâd rather keep it in a cage all its life where it has no freedom, but at least it would he alive and âhappyâ.
And this is where his defeatism reveals itself- Sunday doesnât believe reality itself can get better because improving it when there are so many factors and things out of your control is hard at best and impossible at worst. Therefore, he resorts to creating an escapist, false version of it- a perfect golden cage, because constructing that is far, far easier than trying to help the dove fly again.Â
The universe has endless possibilities, if Robin and Sunday had tried hard enough, they probably could have found a solution. Sure, they were both children, so the capabilities necessary to even attempt that were likely far out of their reach. However, it was still possible, but Sunday doesnât believe in possibilities- he believes heâs right above all else, which is where that stubbornness and arrogance comes into play again.
Sunday doesnât think better solutions than his exists, and he believes everyone would could possibly stand in his noble way are either villains, or horribly misguided; so itâs his job to show them the light.
This is why he lets the Express Crew + Firefly try to change his mind- Sunday wasnât actually interesting in shifting his perspective, or really what they wanted to say. Rather, he just wanted to let them say there peace, because well, Sundayâs a good, righteous person (at least from his perspective), and good, righteous people listen to others. Good, righteous people will let these poor, ignorant souls offer their foolish words before exposing them to the harsh truth- or at least thatâs how Sunday sees it.Â
Moreover, this also explains his arrogance. If he believes his worldview is the sole correct one, then why listen to anyone else? Heâs this world's savior, or at least heâs been raised to believe that- so why not relish in it? He enjoys punishing Aventurine, enjoys the bastard who stood in the way of Sundayâs plans, shrinks away in âdefeatâ and get what he âdeserves.â Despite how miserable it sounds, Sunday also takes pride in having to be a martyr to bring about his beautiful dream. The belief that he is a selfless, good person is a selfish desire of his, even if a genuine one, and itâs what leads to his downfall.
Sunday could have actually listened. He could have reevaluated his loss to Aventurine and realized it was not through the others clever deception, but through his own biases. He could have actually taken the Expressâs and Fireflyâs advice. He could have looked for other avenues to help the people he truly does care about.Â
Despite Gopher Woodâs manipulation- Sundayâs decision to go forward with the pain is entirely his own, because he truly believes- even with all the evidence for the contrary- that he is correct.
And thatâs why he fails. Not because of the Express. Not because of Ratio. Not because of Aventurine. Not because of Gopher, or even the rest of The Family.
No, Sunday fails because he is flawed, and he is wrong, and he is the arrogant, selfish and biased one, and his worldview is wrong.
So what now?
This might have seemed like I think Sunday is pure evil and irredeemable, but I think itâs quite the opposite.
He has very good intentions, and he does genuinely care about it the well being of other people around him. He gives Aventurine a chance to prove his innocence, even if he never intended on changing, he does listen to what the Express + Firefly have to say. He pauses when Robin shows up, as sheâs the one person (until the very end) heâs actually willing to accept the perspective of. The whole reason he ended up here in the first place is because Gopher Wood twisted Sundayâs good intentions into a fatal arrogance and utmost belief in a flawed worldview.Â
However, what really sells me on Sundayâs goodness is when eyes widen at that final moment, the light draining from him as he realizes he is wrong.Â
And once Sunday realizes he is wrong, those flaws that bind him can finally be examined and improved upon, as they all stem from that worldview he no longer believes in.Â
His whole life, Sunday has been enacting out someone elseâs plan for him, even if heâs come to internalize it over time, at the end of the day- it was never his, and without it, heâs empty.
Which is exactly why the only place he can go now is the Express, and the only thing left for him is redemption and growth.
Dan Heng is right- Sunday has a noble soul, and now that he has stopped believing in himself, heâs no longer shackled by the past either. Improvement or utter demise (in a likely nihility-flavored manner) are his only options remaining.
I understand a lot of people want to see him become a Stellaron Hunter, but imo, that just does nothing for him. Heâd still be following someone elseâs path/script, and Mr. I Will Sacrifice My Whole Existence To Become The Sun To Illuminate These Wandering Souls probably wouldnât be so on board with the whole.. terrorism part of being a SH. Like yeah, they are our friends (kinda), but they absolutely kill innocent people and cause millions of dollars in property damage to people who donât deserve it.Â
Also, being on the Express Just Makes Sense. This is a game about choices, a game about accepting the mistakes of your past, but not letting them define you in order to move on and forge a better future for yourself and others- with the Astral Express + Trailblaze as a concept being the literal embodiment of it. Thereâs a reason when you switch to the Trailblazerâs POV in stories, it includes Kafkaâs most important words to us- âWhen you have the chance to make a choice, make one you wonât regret.â
Therefore, I hope the choices Sunday will make in 2.7 are ones heâs proud of, and I canât wait to see how exactly they get him on board with the crew, because there still is a LOT of development he needs to do before then.Â
Anyways, thank you so much for reading, and if you have any thoughts Iâd love to hear them. This was a stream of consciousness mess, but I hope it was still valuable nonetheless! Also if you are reading this on the day it was written, I hope we donât get disappointed by his drip marketing!
#Highkey did not proofread this to make sure it flows well so if it gets a bit messy I apologize#I had to somehow turn the disjointed musings of my brain into an actual analysis and it probably shows#Somehow managed to make this damn thing 2.2k+ words because of that though#That I wrote in like an hour and a half LMAOO#Iâm unstoppable once I am hooked on a topic#Again thanks for reading!#Sunday#hsr Sunday#Sunday hsr#sunday analysis#Yes I should have mentioned Gallagher in this but I forgot and by the time I remembered him#Heâd only serve as just another example#Sunday fans might annoy the hell out of me a lot of the time#But heâs a great character#I just wish they would actually acknowledge his flaws⌠thatâs literally the whole point of him#No Sunday was not onto something đ he was very far from something infact#Hsr#honkai star rail#hsr analysis#More tags than the amount of hatred I have for [redacted] Sunday ship#ifkyk#anyways
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Pose practice! áŚ(ò_ĂłË)á¤
#these were actually pretty fun to do! ŮŠ(ŕšâá´âŕš)Űś#lmk sun wukong#lmk macaque#lmk mk#lego monkie kid#lmk fanart#digital art#my art#I tried making mkâs outfit a mix of the two#shadowpeach#sorry Hetalia followers I have been on a wukong kick lately đ#I like that little monkie manâŚ#not just Lego but in general#yo I might do the black myth one next cuz that final boss had me giggling and kicking my feet#I literally looked like this đ¤ had to stop myself like GIRL GET UP. HAVE SOME DIGINITY đđđ#either that game studio did not think about people with degradation kinks or they thought way too much of em#that boss was disreSPECTful#is young sage x og wukong a thing? if not they donât call me a creator for nothin#itâs basically just clone fuckin to em anyway Iâm pretty sure every iteration of wukong has done that already#including the jttw one#bet those parties on flower fruit mountain got fucking WILD#anyway hereâs mk and his dads sorry bout the ramble :)#love that four ears headcanon for him thatâs big brain#family bonding activity can just be one guy and his two divorced dads heâs trying to parent trap by himself#no I forgot their masks⌠o(-( cuz I usually just color them inâŚ..no..
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