#anyway he's a symbol and a thought experiment anyway

[mcu-4-you]

War Child

Part two, read part one first Bucky Barnes x (Fem) Reader

Warnings: Traumatic flashbacks, hydra, blood, mentions of human experimenting, violence.

Description: You're a hydra experiment or had been since you were young, for years you lived in the cold walls of Siberia and when you finally get free, faces and demons of your past come knocking.

Reader is an enchanted superhuman, she has the super soldier serum giving her, super speed, super strength, a healing factor, fast metabolism, endurance, strong lung capacity & etc, she also has both fire and ice magic. The time line in this will review the past and present.Reader can look anyway you want. Her soon love interest will be Bucky.

Italy (Present, four months later) Your Pov

Rain droplets hit the windows of my apartment, the sound soothing to my racing mind and fast pounding heart as i gather my personal things around my apartment, which isn't a lot, i grab my get away back and gun, i check the clip making sure it's fully loaded and shove it into my jacket pocket once satisfied, i sling the backpack over my shoulder and make my way towards the fire escape, the sounds of loud thudding boots and German orders could be heard outside, my former apartment's door. I'm already out and down the fire escape, when the hydra soldiers knock down the apartment door with force, i'm tempted to look back but i don't, i run, picking up the pace, soon i'm crowded around the busy streets with a ton of people, i didn't need to run, now that i could blend in with the moving civilians, i look around, my eyes moving on every man in view, i glance at the making sure i don't see that god forsaken symbol, i once thought had meaning, but seeing i'm in the clear, a sigh of relief leaves me. It's not long until, i get away and closer toward a public transportation area, i get onto the train with no destination in mind, but i knew Italy was no longer somewhere i could stay. Siberia 1958 (flashback)

"My child, time for another procedure." Zola's voice rings through the intercom, his german accent thick with a dark intent, your cell door opens and one of the hydra soldiers walk in and grabs you by the forearm. you're pushed into the lab and you immediately take a seat on the metal experimenting table, you look around the lab, when suddenly your eyes land on a giant tube in the corner, in it lies a man, you seen him a few times over the past few years, he teaches you how to use weapons, seeing him like that makes something uneasy grow in the pit of your stomach and you can figure out why. "Interesting isn't it?" Zola's voice suddenly was right next to you causing you to flinch, to which he chuckles, he pushes you down on the table and nods to the guards to strap you down, "The machine keeps him alive, and well, until his help is needed again." Zola explains, as he lays down a tray of sharp objects, his eyes meet yours again and a grin appears on his lips as he speaks "You are growing my child, soon we will need you more than you think." he murmurs, while injecting you with something that makes you go numb and physically unfeeling immediately "This will only take a few minutes, don't be afraid." he says, his tone is meant to sound soothing but it sends coldness down your spine. He cuts into the upper side of your right arm and picks up a small chip, he clicks a little button and places the chip under the bloody skin, he then wipes the blood from your skin and he nods towards the guards. The guard nods back pulling something out of a flaming furnace, making the blood in you pump, the tool the guard pulls out is a hot metal rod, with a star embedded on it, the guard wastes no time to place the hot rod on the skin of your arm where you were cut at- The sound of the loud train horn awakens me, i look around panting as sweat trickles down my forehead, Thump...Thump...Thump i hear the sounds of my own heartbeat in my ears, i swallow thickly and wipe at my face, looking around there is barley anyone in the train cart with me, it's a bit eerie, i knew it wouldn't be long until they found me again. "Rain again? great." i think to myself, walking out of the train station, i walk past a few people and drop the small tracking chip into the trash can hoping it'll throw off hydra for a while, digging into my pocket i pull out a map, i had no destination in mind, only survival so i let my feet take me wherever.

Avenger's tower (Present) Avengers pov "Well Italy was a dead end." Tony huffs, and pinches the bridge of his nose, he leans back in his chair, the stress of this was wearing him down. "It was, but it also wasn't, she left in a hurry like she was panicked, her door was kicked in and the place was ransacked, my guess it was hydra." Natasha comments. "She slipped up though, she left behind a notepad." every ones attention turns to Bucky who had been silent this whole time, he sets down the little book for everyone to see, Steve is the first to pick it up and look at the first few pages, it has a few hydra base locations and leader names, Steve looks at Bucky and raises his brow, "You think these are still up and running?" Bucky shrugs in thought "Impossible, it can't be unless they're rebuilding." the conference room is silent, everyone is tense and unsure of what's to come.

Queens, New York. (Present) Your Pov

It had been a few days since i fled from Italy and came all the way to america, it was a big step and risky but, i think it'll throw hydra and whoever else that's looking for me off my trail, i had been trying to find a place to stay in that's warm enough to keep me from freezing to death, but there's only so many places i can go, New York is a big place. Turing into a darkened alleyway, i spot movement from the corner of my eye and i freeze and stand still, and slowly i move my body towards the direction, ready to fight if i have to, but instead there's no fight and just a cat...? my brows furrow and i walk into the direction where the animal is, it's almost as white as the snow on the ground, after approaching the cat i bend down to pat it but then i hear a voice coming into the alley, it's a voice of a young boy who sounds panicked "Oh no, Mr. Bucky is gonna kill me for this, Alpine! Alpine!" Peter calls out, his tone panicked." Peter continues to walk down the alleyway and stops when he sees me with the cat, he stares at me and i stare back, his expression is confused and slowly but surely it turns into recognition and a gasp leave him and he points "Hey y-you i-it's you, the women, you're Y/N the avengers have been looking for you."

i stare at the boy as if he had grown two heads and slowly i back away from the cat, and dart down the alleyway, the boy yells but i don't stand around to listen to him, i'm nearly out the alley but something gets stuck on my foot causing me to trip and hit my chin on the ground.

i ignore the pain and look at my foot and i frown wondering what the heck this sticky stringy stuff is on my foot, i pull some of it of and see the boy approaching me, he speaks while holding his hands in surrender "I-i'm Peter, miss just listen, you're in a lot of trouble, i can get some help." my eyes widen and i burn off the rest of the webs and stand "No, you will get no one, go away child." i tell him as i brush the snow off me.

Peter stands there, a look of determination in his eyes and again he speaks "Let me help you then, my aunt, she can help with the gash on your chin, and it's cold, i promise i won't tell the avengers." I look peter in the eyes, looking for any dishonesty but i find none and i nod slowly "Just to clean my wound nothing more." i tell him firmly. Peter smiles and picks up the cat and leads the way out of the alley and together you and Peter walk down the streets of new york toward his aunt's apartment as he rants to you about Star Wars.

This one is a bit short but, there will be more, i'm gonna have you the reader, befriend peter first before anyone.

@weirdperson-1 here's part two, sorry for the delay

[lucabyte]

A belief in Nominative Determinsim

[shitpostingfromthebarricade]

Jean Valjean @ himself

Victor Hugo is trying really hard to make me feel bad for Jean Valjean after he stole from Gervais, but he failed. I'll hold this grudge against Valjean forever.

[secondbeatsongs]

as a bi person, the bisexual flag brings me infinite joy and always puts a smile on my face, however as a person who has a Passion for Graphic Design, that undersaturated shade of purple infuriates me when it's used digitally

like, on an actual flag - which was its original purpose - it looks great!

those look fine! lovely, even! with the semi-transparent fabric, the way it catches the sunlight, it looks beautiful!

but now look at how it looks digitally

the pink and blue are so vibrant compared to the sad, lonely lavender!

and let's look at this statement from Michael Page, the creator of the bi flag:

(sidenote: he created this flag in 1998, so if his takes on bisexuality is different from yours, it's okay to notice that! a lot has changed since the 90s when it comes to lived experiences and the way we describe them. but, it's also important to respect his thoughts about this and the way he presented them, even if today, we'd probably not say that bi people "blend unnoticeably into both the gay/lesbian and straight communities.")

so in pantone colors, the pink is 226 C, the blue is 286 C, and the purple of the flag is 258 C.

but...here's the deal

Michael talks here about how the key to understanding the symbolism is to know that the purple blends into both the pink and blue. and on a physical flag, I think you can see that!

but digitally, it absolutely does not blend. it clashes badly, and looks oddly separate from the other two colors.

which got me wondering...what purple do you get if you actually blend 226 C and 286 C?

oh! oh, my god.

look at that! look at how nicely it fits between those colors!

look at it next to the original color scheme! look at how much more vibrant the purple is!

and friends. this is just blending through rgb! you get even more purple variations when you use other color spaces!

let's compare all of them:

(top: original, lab. middle: lrgb, lch. bottom: rgb, hsl)

look at all of the different purple options you can get just by combining these two colors!

if you want almost too-vibrant saturation, you can go hsl, if you want something more relaxed that's closer to the original, you can go lab or lrgb. and if you want to split the difference, lch is bright and violet, while rgb is there with its saturated but darker purple.

anyway, I guess I don't really have a point here? this isn't so much an informational post as it is Me Getting Weird About Colors, but I think it is a useful lesson about how colors look very different on screens compared to how they look on objects in real life.

and sometimes, I think it's okay to compensate for that.

out of all of these, this is my favorite bi flag:

it's the one where the colors were blended in lab color space. for me, the lighter, softer purple is close enough to the original bi flag purple, while also feeling like a smoother blend of the blue and pink

but that's just me! and it might not even look the same to you, since every screen is different, because technology is a nightmare!

anyway, thank you for coming with me on this colorful journey! I will now retreat back to inkscape and make pained sounds about inkstitch gradients until something tangible pulls me back into reality

[farfromstrange]

“What if the way you hold me is actually what’s holy?” | Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Warnings: SMUT! (18+), shower setting, oral f!receiving, masturbation, fantasizing, beard appreciation (kink?), dirty talk, mentioned unprotected p in v, slight Dom!Matt, DDBA!Matt, improper thoughts about a certain crucifix necklace, (kind of) religious symbolism, mentions of choking, praise kink, pet names, “good girl”, not perfectly edited (shocker)

Summary: Fantasies about your late-working boyfriend take over your much needed self-care shower—until he’s suddenly (and unexpectedly) right in front of you when you are about to take care of the problem yourself.

A/n: So, the Born Again trailer brought me back from the dead and made me so fucking needy for this man. I thought this would be the best opportunity to rewatch Daredevil and practice writing Matt again because I’ve been a bit out of practice lately. Let’s just say the experiment was successful, but I definitely owe it to my hormone levels. The gif below inspired this fic (as it probably has done to many writers in the fandom these past two days). Anyway. If you want to listen to the song I was listening to while writing, it’s “Guilty As Sin?” By Taylor Swift, hence the title. Other than they, enjoy, and feedback is always appreciated!

Read Me On AO3!

The warm water from the shower head above runs down your clammy skin, seeping into your pores and aching muscles. You have been dreaming about this ever since you got home from work. 

The apartment is quiet, save for the little noise you make in the bathroom. Matt called you earlier, telling you he would be late and that you shouldn’t wait up for him; you expected as much after he and Foggy caught a high-profile case a couple of weeks ago. 

When he isn’t busy at work, he tries to fulfill his duty to protect the city. You’re not mad; you knew what you were signing up for when you fell in love with him, but that doesn’t change the fact that you miss him sometimes. Or rather, all the time. It doesn’t matter if he’s at work or wandering around in red leather, searching for a fight—you always miss him. 

There’s not a day that goes by that you’re not worried he might not come back to you. You can only hold on to the thought of him coming home in the middle of the night, crawling into bed beside you because he’s too tired to shower, wrapping his arms around you as though you are the only thing anchoring him to reality. It makes you appreciate what you have in him. 

The thing about Matt is that he feels he has to do penance for every little thing he has ever done, whether his actions hurt people or not; he loathes himself for who he is, which is absurd to you but to him, it makes sense. Perhaps it’s the catholic in him, or all those years of losing soulmates, or maybe it’s both.

His shampoo smells faintly of sandalwood and the rainforest, but only if you focus closely. You like that it makes your skin soft, and when you wrap yourself in his silk sheets at night, it’s almost like he’s all over you before he physically can be. 

You close your eyes and you focus on the feel of him, imagining your hands are his. You imagine his calloused fingers trailing over your heated skin, exploring every dip and every curve, even though he already knows the wonderland of your body inside and out. His lips on yours, traveling down your neck to your shoulder to your chest… a shiver runs down your spine, pooling in your core. You’re on fire, and he isn’t even with you. 

He’s at the office, sleeves probably rolled up, the first two buttons of his dress shirt undone, loosening his tie with that strained look he gets when he’s stressed. Or maybe he’s on his way to Fogwell’s Gym so he won’t disturb you before he puts the suit on, fists raining down on a sandbag as sweat drips down his body, and he grunts whenever he lands a hit. 

You were just trying to have a nice shower, but Matt always manages to invade your every thought like a burglar on a mission. 

It’s just not fair how he always looks so sinful when he’s at his wit’s end. Oh, you love that look he gets when he’s feral. And you suddenly remember how long it has been since you got to touch each other. Since he let the devil out on you. Since he came home in the middle of the night and fucked you into the mattress because he was still so full of adrenaline. 

It has been so long since you two got to have a nice dinner together and you last rode him on his leather couch until you were both sticking to it, not even thinking about stopping; since he devoured you for hours and hours and hours until you were almost severely dehydrated and overstimulated from the orgasms he tore from you. 

You bite your lip so you won’t moan into the void of the bathroom. If you touch yourself now, he will know when he comes home. For a moment, you consider it. You slide your hand from your chest down your stomach. The water is slowly starting to grow cold. You just need to take the edge off.  Lower, lower, and lower, and—

“Don’t,” Matt’s voice reverberates in your ear. His hand slides over yours, calloused fingers on the back of your hand. 

The veil of fantasy burns to the ground. Your heart stops, then picks up the pace at a million miles an hour. In an instant, you turn around to face him, a gasp dying on your lips.

He’s right there, clothes discarded on the floor before the shower, no doubt. The golden crucifix around his neck offers a sinful contrast to his milky skin. You have always wondered if he was made out of marble rather than skin and bone. How can one person be this beautiful—this close to perfection and still be human? 

Matt is close enough for you to feel his heartbeat against your own. His hands slide to your forearms to make sure you don’t slip. You can see your wrecked reflection in his hazel irises. 

His unfocused gaze is right on you, boring through your skull into your soul. Only he can read you like an open book, listen to your body, and know exactly what you want, what you crave. He thinks of himself as the devil, but all you see is an angel. He’s the sun. To you, at least, he’s everything. The moon, the sun, the stars, and the entire fucking universe.

He caught you when you were about to touch yourself, and he’s naked. Really fucking naked. This is not how you imagined tonight to go. 

His chest heaves with a deep inhale of your scent, forehead coming to rest against yours. 

“You’re home,” you whisper. 

His lips curl into a smile—not a smirk but a genuine smile. “Yeah.”

“But you said you guys had that case, and then you were gonna go out…”

Matt cuts you off, “I missed you,” he says. “Couldn’t go out without seeing you.”

He chose you over the city. You never doubted Daredevil meant more to him than you, but hearing it out loud almost brings tears to your eyes.

“I missed you too,” you answer. So much. Days, weeks, seconds, all the fucking time. 

He’s so smug about it, too, when he tells you, “I know.”

The water keeps falling around you, drowning out the noise of the city and pearling off his necklace. He should have taken it off. If he wanted to shower with you, he should have taken it off because the need for him that makes your cunt pulse in desperation feeds off of the mere thought of taking the cold metal into your mouth while he pounds into you like a madman. 

He doesn’t look agitated, not at all, but there is a dark shadow falling over Matt’s bearded face. It’s a calculated shadow rooted in a need for control, and who are you to deny him the only thing he can control?  

“Hey,” he grabs your chin, “Tell me. What were you doing in there, hm?” 

You bite your lip. “Just… showering.”

“Just showering?” He brushes his nose against yours. “You know I can hear your heartbeat…”

You nod. Your lips brush, but he doesn’t kiss you. Not yet. You can taste the remnants of his last coffee, the familiar warmth of his mouth on yours, but he refuses to give you the satisfaction. You crave him so much that fireworks have started erupting on your skin wherever his fingers dare to travel; it isn’t fair. He isn’t fair. 

Matt studied the science of driving you crazy, and now you are bordering on the edge of madness. Alone. 

“Mhm. So, I know you’re lying…” He moves to your cheek, his breath hot when he speaks, “And I know when you’re touching yourself. ‘Cause I can smell how fucking wet you are, sweetheart.” 

There he is. The relentless, feral animal you fantasized about before. The man driven by primal need and the sheer power of his senses rather than rational thought, and yet he knows exactly what he is doing. He’s a musician playing you like a delicate violin, pushing her to the breaking point but never fully destroying.

“Like I said,” you breathe, “I missed you.”

He presses his lips to your cheek, almost like a reward. “I know,” he says. “Probably been thinking about me, too, with your hand on your pussy…” 

You swallow a needy moan that would have been too embarrassing. It’s been a long few weeks. Neither of you will be able to resist for long, you know that, so you decide you have to be bold tonight. “And what’re you gonna do about it?” you ask.

Though stunned for a moment, the smirk on Matt’s face isn’t far out of reach. “That’s my girl.”

Your back hits the now warm tiles of the shower wall before you can string together another remark, and then, finally—fucking finally—his lips are on yours. Kissing you. Devouring you. Breathing air into your aching lungs. He tastes like paradise, the Garden of Eden, and the six circles of hell all at once. It’s all the same to you, anyway. 

As long as you’re with him, you don’t care where you end up. No amount of torture could take away the love you feel for him, and you know that with Matt, even weathering the stormy seas of hell would be worthwhile. It’s sick and twisted how far you would go for this man, but you can’t find a single bone in your body that cares.  

His tongue forces its way into your mouth, tasting you, and inhaling you like his sole source of life support. You don’t bother fighting for dominance; you’re all his. Your body is telling him to command you. Your mind is screaming for him to touch you in any way he pleases, so help him God, and the chain around his neck keeps sinfully dangling against his toned chest. You want to bite it. You’re going to bite it. But not yet. 

When it is time for you to swim to the surface for air, he pulls away. His lips move from yours to the corner of your mouth. He kisses there, taking his time to explore what he has explored many times before. But Matt Murdock is an addict, and you are his drug of choice, so why would he ever stop? 

He kisses your cheek, your eyes, and the bridge of your nose. That’s how he sees you. Either with his fingers or his mouth or both. Touching you. Listening to you. He wants to see you in his own way. In a way that is far more intimate than you admiring his objective beauty could ever be.

“So beautiful,” he whispers between kisses. When he says it, you know it has to be true, even when you don’t see yourself in the same light as him.

His beard is rough where he kisses you. He has grown it out quite a bit, not having the time to bother shaving. The specks of gray that have started appearing as he got older should be illegal, you think, staring at him through hazy eyes. It should be illegal to look this good.

You caress his face, palm covering the entirety of his cheek. So beautiful, you want to say, but you don’t have the words.

The confession of love tumbles against your skin, softly, breathlessly, and he dips his head into the crook of your neck. He seeks your pulse point to press his lips against the beat of your heart. Your head falls back against the tiles. He’s a fucking menace, but he’s gentle about it. So, so gentle.

The hands-on your hips pull you closer, as close as you can get. Your nipples brush his chest, and you can feel him growing hard against you. He’s hot, red, and flushed, and with his lips against your neck, sucking and biting and licking some more, the shower water isn’t the only thing running down your thighs. You’ve been wet just thinking about him; Matt is here now, and he has no intention of stopping until you’re screaming his name.

Your skin is raw from the way he’s moving his face against you, suctioning his lips right where he can feel your pulse reaching for him. Reacting to him.

“Matthew,” you moan, breathless. “Please.” 

He hums, fingers digging into your flesh to keep his composure. The sound of his name from your lips in such ecstasy makes his cock swell to the point all he wants is to sink into you and fuck you against the wet shower wall until you can’t walk anymore. He wants to wrap his hand around your throat, just holding you there as you take it like the good girl you are. God, he wants to do so many things to you. 

He wants to push all of your buttons and reward you for it. He wants to feel your nails running down his back until he’s bleeding. He wants to eat your pussy until you forget your name, and when he’s done with that, he wants to do even more because that is the kind of animal you turn him into. That is what you do to him. You consume him with your mere existence and your love you keep pouring into him like a glass about to overflow, a glass so full yet so fucking empty at the same time, and he has been neglecting you for far too long to hold back now—yes, the water bill be damned!

“I love it when you beg,” he growls, feeling his voice vibrate through your skin. Like he’s in your veins.

You whimper. Oh, that sound. That sweet, sweet sound. It seems to do him in. Matt sinks to his knees like he would in front of God in church—like Mary knelt in front of Jesus after he got crucified. But there are no stained windows, no crosses, and no confessional booth in sight; you’re his place of worship, and your body is the altar. You are the only constant in his world on fire. You always want him to set you on fire, too. 

Once on his knees in front of you, his cock straining high and mighty against his stomach, he grabs your thigh and places it over his shoulder. No rush. You can barely catch your breath. 

Burning along the inside of your thigh, Matt kisses his way toward where you need him most. Your core yearns for him. Your hand slips from his face, searching the tiles behind you for something to hold onto. 

He’s quick to bring your hands back to his hair. “Don’t let go,” he says. 

It’s almost embarrassing that the only sound you can make is a grunt, and when your brain finally catches up, it’s too late. He’s impatient. Desperate. And he places his lips in a gentle kiss against your clit. The sudden contact makes you jolt, but that is not nearly all of it. 

He tests the waters. Once, twice, even a third time, gently kissing along your slick folds. You instinctively tug at his hair, but that doesn’t deter him. Matt inhales your scent, tasting your essence on his tongue; he would bathe in it if he could. 

You cry out when he dives in. He parts your folds with his tongue, sucking and licking until his face is covered. The obscene noise of lips smacking against wet skin goes straight to your head. He can hear the wetness gushing out of you, every twitch of your muscles and hitch of your breath, and he sucks a little harder on your sensitive clit. You’re scared you might fall. 

“Fuck!” Your moans are as obscene as the sound of him eating you out. You grind against him, at first involuntarily, but then he moans against you, and you can’t help it; the vibrations he sends through you continue to pool in your cunt, tightening the coil that is waiting to snap. 

Matt prods your entrance with his tongue, the tip of his nose digging just right into that sensitive bundle of nerves he lost when your hips first jerked. He’s completely out of it, hooded eyes rolled back into his skull while you are almost splitting yours open on the dark tiles. The cross necklace is sticky with his saliva as he drinks from you like you are the spring fueling his ocean. He’s thrusting into his hand, pre-cum leaking from his cock, but his mouth never wavers. He has a job to do. 

Your walls clench around what little of his tongue is inside of you. There is nothing more arousing than the sight of him touching himself because the taste of you is bringing him to the brink of an inevitable orgasm. Because he wants to come with you. Because he’s desperate and he can only imagine being inside of you as he licks away at you. It’s a kind of dedication that makes you feral. No one has ever loved you quite like he has, and no one will ever eat your pussy as only he can. 

“Matt,” you choke out. “Fuck, I’m gonna—’m gonna come. Don’t stop. Don’t…”

As if he could. He flicks his tongue from left to right, painting shapes you have never felt before over every last of your nerve endings. You’re quivering. You’re shaking. You are turning the bathroom into a concert hall for the symphony of your pleasure. 

He doesn’t stop to tell you to come, that would be futile. You couldn’t possibly stop the wave headed for your shore. You can’t warn him. You can’t do anything other than let it happen. The coil snaps and your orgasm crashes into you at full force, shattering you into a million pieces. You grind against him until you’re sure he is branded into your skin forever. 

Matt holds you through it, working his tongue against you to prolong the electricity running through your veins. He gets lost in the echo of his name, stroking his cock harder and faster, and within seconds of you, he’s coming, too. He spurts into his hand and on your thigh, moaning deliciously into your pussy. For a moment, he’s stiff, though as you are starting to come back to him, he’s starting to come back to you. 

The aftermath of your orgasm is quiet. His lips slip from your swollen folds eventually, and he pulls away to rest his cheek against your inner thigh, the one resting over his shoulder. He’s still catching his breath, cock softening in his hands, but when you look down at him, he’s a wreck. For you. 

Slowly, he rises back to his feet. You look at him, unsteady now on both of your feet. He wraps his arms around you. “You okay?” he asks softly. 

You lean into his hand when he places it on your cheek. “Yeah,” you nod. “I’m…perfect.”

“You were so good for me. So good.” 

The distance between you dissipates, foreheads falling together in absolute exhaustion. He smells and tastes of you. You kiss him softer than you ever have. “I love you,” you whisper, and he smiles because he knows.

You don’t count the minutes you stay like that, kissing. It might have been an hour, not nearly enough. Matt reaches for the water when it starts getting cold, and he lifts you to wrap your legs around his waist. 

You frown. “Aren’t you going out tonight?” 

He shakes his head. “No, sweetheart,” he says, “I’m not done with you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Gotta make sure you know how much I missed you.”

The giddy smile on your face when you kiss him again is involuntary, but not unnecessary. He giggles, too, before you finally shut him up.

Hell’s Kitchen can live without him for one night, that much is for sure. And when he finally thrusts into you and you bite down on the golden metal of that godforsaken crucifix to stifle your scream as he fucks you to hell and back in a way that is gentle yet possessive, you know this is the only place Matt needs to be tonight—for both of you.

[punkshort]

to have and to hold

A The Way We Were/Look What We've Become one-shot

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader (established relationship)

Summary: You and Joel enjoy a quiet morning together the day after your wedding.

Warnings: language, fluff, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, brief mention of oral (m!receiving), an absurd amount of happiness and love.

WC: 2.2K

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Was it what you always envisioned for your wedding day?

Certainly not.

No, you definitely didn't imagine finding the love of your life, who also happened to be your extremely intimidating boss, right before the apocalypse. You didn't think you would spend a year traveling across the country together, fighting for your lives and keeping one another safe while doing your best to deny your feelings for him, and he for you.

Yet somehow, it all worked out. After enduring unspeakable things in that year, you found sanctuary in Jackson, Wyoming, with Joel's brother. Tommy had a very different experience in that first year. He managed to find Maria, his wife, and create a beautiful community. The walls around the town were still being constructed when they found you both on the side of the road, on your way to Yellowstone to settle down together someplace safe. They took you in and you acclimated nicely, although it took a long time for you both to feel safe, to let go of that nagging feeling in the back of your head that said stay alert, keep one eye open, stay awake. But you did, and you each finally found peace.

Sure, it wasn't all easy. Old fears cropped back up when Joel mentioned starting a family and getting married. You said all the wrong things, anxiety driving you instead of your heart and it nearly destroyed you both. But with time, you managed to work through your fears and you came out on the other end stronger than ever.

And now you were married. Devoted to one another forever, said the words with tears in your eyes and smiles on your faces in front of your friends and family. Ellie never called you mom and dad, but you took on the roles for her, anyway. You fed her, taught her, kept her safe, kept her secret. She was just as much family as Tommy and Maria, who also stood by your sides as you exchanged vows.

As silly as it was, Joel still insisted on keeping the hair tie you had given him that night wrapped tightly around his wrist. It was a makeshift ring, a symbol more than anything of your love and devotion to him, and even though you had since found a thin gold band for him to wear one day not too far outside the walls under Tommy's guard, Joel still never took off that hair tie.

It was the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes the day after your wedding. Your cheek was pressed against his bare chest, his right arm wrapped possessively around your middle and his left hand resting on his stomach. The way the sun beamed in through your bedroom curtains made the gold band around his finger practically sparkle, or maybe you were just imagining it. Either way, it made you smile and nuzzle into his warmth even more, inhaling his natural, comforting scent.

He took a deep breath, his chest rising underneath your cheek, then you heard him grunt softly before his fingers twitched then left his stomach in favor of scratching his beard.

"'S'late," he yawned, voice thick and gravelly. The way it sent a wave of arousal through you, you would have thought he said the most filthy, depraved thing known to man.

"We were up late," you reminded him, biting your lip when you saw the slow smile spread across his face.

"Oh, I remember," he teased before his hands found your hips and shifted you so you were lying on top of him. You pressed a slow, lazy kiss against the center of his chest and you could feel his heart fluttering under your lips.

"What do you want to do today?" you asked him sleepily.

He hummed and you got your answer before he even had a chance to respond when you felt a familiar twitch against your leg.

"I planned on stayin' in bed with my wife all damn day," he said, making you giggle.

"I like the sound of that."

With Ellie at a sleepover, which was at her own insistence to give you some space on your wedding night, a gesture both thoughtful and embarrassing in nature, you knew you had at least a few more hours to yourselves.

"C'mere," he murmured, his chest rumbling underneath you. With a grin, you propped yourself on your elbows so you could reach his mouth. Pressing your lips together gently, you each sighed, feeling yourself relax even more in his arms.

His tongue swiped along your bottom lip and you dropped your jaw, allowing your tongues to lazily reunite. One of his hands delicately traced your spine while the other cupped your cheek, cradling it like you were made of glass. You leaned your face into the palm of his hand, letting him hold you close. It felt like he had you completely surrounded, like your body was just melting right into his, and you couldn't be any happier.

Well, that wasn't exactly true. Turned out, you could be a little happier. That became rather clear when your kisses grew heated, your hands began to roam and your hips started to shift. You didn't even bother to ask, you just pushed yourself up so your legs were straddling him on either side and reached between both your bodies, angling his cock so it lined up with your opening and slowly, oh so slowly, you sunk down. You watched through heavy lidded eyes as his face went slack and his brow furrowed, taking great pride in the way you made this broad, strong, beast of a man all pliant and soft underneath you. How you and you alone with one touch or look could stop him dead in his tracks.

"Yeah, sweetheart, that's it," he growled when you started to move. He pressed his head back into his pillow and groaned, watching as the evidence of your arousal smeared between you both with each rock of your hips. His hands gripped your waist, one set of fingertips brushing up against the shiny, but faded, scars on your ribs. His eyes focused on them for a moment, allowing his ego to inflate just a bit when he recalled what you would be willing to do for him. It was the same he would be willing to do, and have done, for you: kill anyone who dared try to do you harm.

His hands drifted over your stomach, rough palms gliding over smooth skin, until he reached your breasts. He squeezed one, then the other, then drew small circles over your nipples, flicking his nail against the hardening bud and making you whine.

It didn't take much convincing. Just one hand pressing lightly on your back made you fall forward, planting a hand on either side of his head so he could take your nipple into his mouth while you continued to ride him at a pace you seemed to enjoy best.

"Feel so good," you practically slurred, your mind growing numb as your pleasure built. He released your breast with a smack to his lips and pushed you back so you were upright once again. His eyes looked black when he met your gaze and he clenched his jaw before he muttered lowly, "fuckin' take it. C'mon, lemme see you work for it."

You took a deep breath and stabilized your palms against his chest before tilting your hips up and dropping them down quickly, over and over in a steady, fast rhythm that had your skin slapping together obscenely in the otherwise quiet house.

"Yeah, that's it. Fuck, what a good girl," he murmured. You could see the shift in his face now and it fucking thrilled you. Gone were the sweet, loving looks and chaste, gentle kisses. Now that his own pleasure was mounting low in his stomach, his cock throbbing and begging for release deep within you, he was growing impatient. He bared his teeth while you kept up your fast, tight pace, eyes flashing up at you hungrily, heat flushing his chest and neck and you briefly thought he looked not unlike an animal, the thought only spurring you on more.

"Keep fuckin' yourself on my cock, sweetheart," he gritted out. "Look so pretty like this, all stuffed full of me. My beautiful wife," he added, his voice dropping to an adoring whisper with his last words. It had you tipping you head with a deep moan, your gaze locking onto the ceiling while you continued to ride him as best you could with trembling legs.

And he could feel it. He could feel your legs shake, he could hear your breath stutter and he knew you were growing weak but fuck if you didn't try to push through it just to please him. The mere thought practically short circuited his brain, his senses dulling at the idea of someone as perfect as you wanting to do what he asked. But he knew you were tired and sore from the previous night. He hardly let you rest once you finally tore away from the festivities to be alone for the first time as husband and wife, but you both knew the desire was double sided. You couldn't keep your hands off him, either. After all, it was you who dropped to your knees in your beautiful fucking dress right on the other side of your front door, barely making it inside, to take his cock down your throat.

So he decided to help. His hands found their place on your hips, thumbs pressing into the crease of your thighs, and he bucked up into you, each movement paired with a deep grunt that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your fingernails digging into his chest.

When your body shuddered and your jaw hung open, a sharp gasp the only sound to leave your lips, he smirked because he knew what would happen next. Your perfect fucking pussy clenched around him so deliciously, squeezing and relaxing over and over again while each wave of your orgasm ripped through you. The sight and feel was unlike anything else, the experience simply incomparable.

He lifted you off him quickly, making you yelp in surprise, and rolled you over so you were on your back. He knelt between your legs and furiously tugged at his cock, his eyes fixated on your spent cunt. He groaned loudly and fell forward onto one hand as he came, painting your stomach with his release, and you watched in a daze as you continued to catch your breath.

"Christ," he gasped when he was finally finished, then collapsed next to you with a tired groan. "Gonna kill me one day."

You giggled and tossed your forearm across your eyes, and he grinned before reaching toward the ground for something to clean you up.

"Why don't I make you breakfast?" he offered softly as he wiped the rag over your belly. You hummed and dropped your arm to your side with a smile.

"I think Julia baked us muffins as a wedding present. The basket should be downstairs somewhere."

He was surprised his stomach didn't growl on command.

"You stay here, I'll be right back," he said before kissing the tip of your nose and lifting himself up with a grunt. He slid on his boxers, not fully convinced that Ellie wouldn't come bounding through the front door unannounced, before heading down the steps. While the coffee brewed, he rubbed his lower back with a wince. The last twelve hours wore him out, but he wouldn't ever let you see it. But by the time he got back upstairs with a tray full of muffins, coffee and apples, he could tell you were just as exhausted as him. You had hardly moved from the spot where he left you, but he couldn't deny you looked completely relaxed.

You ate in a comfortable silence, picking at baked goods and feeding each other pieces of apple until you were full. Afterwards, you took his left hand in both of yours and admired the way it now looked adorned with a gold band, marking him as yours forever.

"Looks good on you," you murmured. He smiled and cupped your jaw with his other hand, kissing your lips so tenderly it took your breath away.

"What do we do now?" he asked, nuzzling the side of your face.

"What we promised we would do," you said with a sigh. You leaned into him, head coming to rest on his shoulder while his arms circled your waist, holding you as close as he could.

It took him a moment, but he understood what you meant.

I promise to love and cherish you. To remain faithful, to protect you, to laugh and cry with you. To grow together and lean on one another. Until my very last breath, this I swear.

His chest swelled at the memory and he felt so happy in that moment, he thought he could float away.

He took a deep breath and kissed the top of your head before replying.

"Okay."

[sol91]

Lena

"Lena Luthor?"

A man stood before Lena. He was in his 50s, balding, and wore a pair of thick spectacles. He was staring down at a clipboard.

"Here we go— Lena Luthor, born October 24, 1994," He said.

Lena looked around. She was standing in a featureless white void, nothing in sight except herself and the man in front of her.

"Where am I?"

"Where—" The man looked up at Lena. "Have I not given you the— hold on". He flipped a few pages on his clipboard and began reading in a dull monotone. "Welcome to the afterlife. Yes, you are dead. No, this is not heaven. No, this is not hell. I am a higher dimensional being here to help place you into an appropriate afterlife experience. No, I am not an angel. No, I am not a demon. Please hold all questions until the end." He flipped back to his previous clipboard page.

"If you're a higher dimensional being, why do you have a British accent?" Lena asked.

"Oh, we find this process goes faster if we present as someone you find slightly irritating." He said, "Fewer questions this way."

"Why does it matter how long it takes? Is time even real here?"

The man looked up from his clipboard in irritation.

"Okay fine, sorry. Continue"

"Thank you. Alright, let's see what you got up to." The man began mumbling off events in Lena's life one after another. "Moved to National City… saved the world from your mother… very good, very good… helped save the world that time as well… black Kryptonite, hmm…"

Lena stared incredulously at the being who would decide her fate.

"…then you trapped your soulmate in some sort of castle on the south pole…"

"Hold on, who says she's my soulmate?"

"…even though she was just trying to help you…"

"Do soulmates even exist?"

"Yes, they do." The man said factually, looking up. "Says she's your soulmate right here" He turned his clipboard around to face Lena. The page he had been reading from was completely unintelligible to human eyes, a mass of incomprehensible symbols and characters that swirled and shifted across its surface. The man turned the clipboard back around, apparently satisfied he had proven his point, and returned to mumbling his way through Lena's accomplishments.

"…attempted to reprogram the consciousness of everyone on earth… well, everyone needs a hobby I suppose but that wasn't very…"

"I was trying to help." Lena protested "Trying to fix humanity."

"That was your first mistake." The man said without looking up. "And then you were killed by a…" The man flipped to the next page. "Space laser. In a secret mountain hideout. Well, might as well go out with a bang."

"Is my life just a joke to you?" Lena was starting to raise her voice. "Who are you to judge me anyway?"

"It's my job." He said, still not looking up. He seemed completely unfazed by this outburst.

"It's easy for you, you don't know what it's like down there." Lena was yelling now. "I had nobody. My whole life, I was alone. The only person who ever stood up for me, ever believed in me at all was Kara, and I—"

Lena paused as her anger melted and settled into a pit in her stomach.

"—and I hurt her. The only person who was there for me."

She turned away from the man and stared off into the void.

"My soulmate."

Lena collapsed into a sitting position.

"Kara."

Noticing that Lena had finished talking, the man began to explain something about evaluation criteria. Lena had stopped listening. She considered taking off into the void, looking for some way back, some way to fix things. But she knew it was futile. She was dead. She was—

Lena's train of thought was cut off by the sound of a phone ringing. Lena looked up. An early 20th century wall telephone had materialized in midair next to the spectacled man. He didn't seem particularly surprised, but stopped talking and picked up the earpiece.

"Hello?" He said, still sounding bored. "Yes, she's here."

Lena stared up from what was either the floor or the ground, depending on if boundless voids counted as outside.

"What?" Now he was surprised. Irritated, even. "The Lazarus Pit? I thought we agreed to stop giving them ways to do this."

Lena tried not to enjoy his frustration.

"What do you mean grandfathered in?"

He sighed in exasperation at whatever his colleague was saying on the other end.

"Fine. But you're doing all the paperwork for this." He said finally, hanging up the earpiece with slightly more force than necessary.

"Alright." He said, looking back at Lena, "Some soulmate you've got there."

"What?"

"Off you go." Said the man, and clapped once. Everything went dark.

Lena opened her eyes. She was floating in cool water, staring up at iridescent blue light dancing across a dark cave ceiling. A pair of strong arms supported her floating body, holding her head out of the water.

"Lena?" Kara's concerned voice echoed around the cave.

"Kara." Lena tried to straighten up but found herself sitting in Kara's arms, looking up at her soulmate.

"Lena, are you okay?" Kara met Lena's gaze "I thought I lost you. I'm sorry—"

"No, I'm sorry." Said Lena, cutting Kara off. "For everything. Can we start over?"

"Of course we can." Kara said softly. "Just stay with me."

Lena rested her head against Kara's shoulder and breathed deeply. "Always." Lena promised.

[meanbossart]

I realize this is a weirdly specific question, but what was DU Drow’s experience like first waking up on the Nautiloid/on the beach?

Like, was he wearing Bhaalist stuff when he woke up then? If he was, did he ditch it right away or did he just leave it on until he found gear in better shape or maybe just didn’t want to associate with that symbolism/organization anymore? Like what was the thought process for him there, assuming that were the case??? If he was wearing something else, what might it have been?

I ask because I finally started my first Dark Urge playthrough yesterday (YIPPEE) and am plagued with thoughts about my guy, wondering if maybe he had some Bhaalist gear on when he first fell out of the Nautiloid that slowly was switched out for other things as the story progressed. Then I was like “oh hey what about Drow??? What was going through his head when he woke up that morning on the beach??????” Especially bc I can’t imagine he had much time to look at what he was wearing on the Nautiloid while it was still flying around.

ANYWAYS. Apologies for the ramble, my brain is plagued with thoughts now that I’m finally doing a Durge run so I might come at you with more random ass questions in the future >:)))

First of all AYYYY have fun with your first durge run!!! I'm always open to more questions if they happen to pop up throughout the experience.

Now to your question: An Interesting one! Though my answer might be disappointing LOL

In my personal lore, DU drow woke up from the tank with nothing but some scrappy underwear on - hell, It would probably make more sense if he was fully nude, even, but that would make many of the companion introductions a little too awkward - so, tattered underwear it is.

Considering what Kressa had been doing to him, I imagine that she would have either removed or destroyed his clothes at some point during the experimentation. DU drow was stuck with her for at least a few weeks - so, even if she didn't promptly undress him, his outfit would have been far too slashed, cut, and caked with old blood to keep, and likely torn off so it would stop getting in the way.

Her husband (I think he's the one who ships you away, if memory serves me right) would have had little reason to send him off with dignity - BUT perhaps he slipped some briefs back onto the drow's body because he felt ashamed of the implications of his wife keeping a battered, nude man around.

So, DU drow slides out of his pod, caked with old blood with only some ill-fitting linens covering his groin. He picks up whatever sharp object he finds lying around for self defense and proceeds through the ship, barefoot, hair matted, having no idea who he is, what he looks like, or how he got here. He's completely overtaken by his self-preservation instincts and being confused is second to getting out of his situation alive. He goes along with Lae'zel because she seems to have at least some idea of what's going on, and he frees Shadowheart from her pod because she seems more trustworthy than Lae'zel.

He probably stripped the trousers off of one of the corpses lying around the beach after the actual crash (they would have been a little tight, but it's better than nothing) and god-willing was able to snatch some fresher underwear at the grove or something. The only indicatives he had of a past life were his scars, and I guess his unusual features. The thing is - whenever he first caught sight of his reflection, he very much liked what he saw looking back. Someone else might have been shocked by their appearance, but what DU drow felt would have been more akin to a kind of relief - I'm strong. I'm big. I'm intimidating. Good. As it should be.

And well... There's not much reason to give it thought past that. His looks feel right, he thinks he looks attractive, even his scars are somewhat comforting. Tadpole and odd company aside, it actually feels nice to be himself right now, so why ruin it with questions and concerns.

[marimbles]

happy holidays @0ellestrid0! I was your secret santa for @mlsecretsanta 💜

I don’t know much about solarpunk but I was intrigued by the concept and wanted to give it a shot! hopefully this is ok. random silly solarpunk AU ideas under the cut hehe

since solarpunk is about solar power and green/eco-friendly societal structure, I figured plants would be central to an ML solarpunk AU. it’s cool to imagine a version of Paris with lots of green areas and clever, space-saving, clean-energy solutions. I like the idea of the dupain-chengs having their own greenhouse where they grow ingredients for use in the bakery. And I wanted marinette to have her own greenhouse too where she grows plants that she uses as fibers and dyes for making clothes! So that’s what I drew here. Chat Noir likes to help marinette in her garden and he nerds out about the plants which she thinks is very cute:)

The plant in the middle is associated with ladybug and chat noir. I love sun/moon symbolism and that seemed to fit a solarpunk AU really well so I ran with it haha. in this AU I thought tikki could be a spotted sun beetle and plagg could be a black moon cat (or panther?). sun beetles would be associated with the sundrop plant (first image), and moon cats would be associated with moonflowers (second image). chat noir’s tattoo is a moonflower and in my mind ladybug would have a matching one that’s a sundrop.

The moonflower is inspired by the actual plant of the same name, which blooms only at night, except I wanted to also make it bioluminescent bc that’s cool lol. (I’ve been playing lots of tears of the kingdom and I always love the blue nightshades and silent princesses that glow blue in the dark!) irl moonflowers are actually a type of morning glory, which typically bloom in the morning in full sunlight and then close up at night. so in this AU the sundrop is the corresponding plant (since “sunflower” is already taken, haha) and it would also glow, but only during the day when it’s blooming.

I thought maybe sundrops and moonflowers could have magical effects and marinette is experimenting to discover them. maybe there’s stuff about them in the grimoire and she’s trying to unlock special powers for her and chat noir. maybe those effects and the symbolism of the plants could help her understand more about her and chat’s roles and abilities and potential and even help her discover the key to defeating hawkmoth…hmm… (I really haven’t thought too deeply about it lol I just like glowing plants)

As for their outfits…I was just trying to make them look sort of “punk”-y 😂 I feel like in all the punk AUs like steampunk, cyberpunk, etc, people are always wearing goggles and boots and aprons and vests and stuff with pockets and zippers and arm braces. So. I made a vague attempt fjdkkd

anyway thanks for humoring me with my rambling lol I hope you enjoy and that you had a good holiday!

[intynidad]

Would you mind writing about a yandere emperor who falls in love with a royal mage/sage who works for the empire?

I really enjoyed working on this request! I think it was a little longer than i was planning but i would love to continue exploring a more fantazy style world for my characters!!

Anyway here is what you asked!!

Yandere emperor x mage/sage reader

As you trailed behind your master, the esteemed sage of the kingdom, you couldn't help but feel dwarfed by the towering walls of the palace. Each step you took seemed small in comparison to the grandeur that surrounded you.

Your master had been summoned to attend a crucial meeting with the young emperor, who had recently ascended to the throne after the tragic loss of their mother, the late empress. The country was gripped by the ravages of a merciless plague, and the weight of responsibility rested heavily on the shoulders of the young ruler.

With each passing moment, the air seemed to grow heavier, carrying the weight of grief and uncertainty that plagued the nation. The palace, once a symbol of opulence and power, now held an air of somberness as it grappled with the aftermath of loss.

As you quickened your steps to keep up with your master's hurried pace, you couldn't help but wonder what role you would play in this meeting.

Your steps came to a halt as you stood before a towering door, its majestic presence adorned with glistening jewels and shimmering gold. The heavy doors slowly swung open, revealing a grand chamber bathed in soft light. As you stepped inside, your eyes fell upon a young man seated upon the magnificent throne, his regal demeanor exuding a mix of authority and youthfulness.

Your master, radiating confidence and wisdom, advanced with a steady stride towards the young emperor. Their years of knowledge and experience seemed to lend an air of respectability to the room, commanding attention and reverence. You, on the other hand, found yourself waddling nervously behind, feeling small and insignificant in the presence of such power.

The young emperor's gaze shifted from your master to you, curiosity flickering in his eyes. A momentary silence hung in the air, as if the weight of the world rested upon this encounter.

One thing you appreciated was the rule that the sages were the only people that didn't have to kneel when meeting a ruler, because you were sure that you would trip with your own feet if you tried to.

"Your majesty," your master began, their voice filled with a gentle yet commanding tone. "We have come in response to your personal summons, fully aware of the significance behind this audience."

The young emperor nodded solemnly, acknowledging the unspoken understanding between you all. The weight of the plague that ravaged the kingdom hung heavy in the air, an unspoken truth that reverberated within the depths of your being. Your mind brimmed with questions, thoughts swirling like a tempest, but caution held your tongue.

In that moment, as your master conversed with the emperor, your gaze met his fiery ruby eyes. It felt as if time stood still. The intensity in his gaze hinted at hidden depths, a soul burdened by the weight of responsibility and loss. There was something captivating about the way he held himself, an aura of strength and vulnerability intermingled.

“You may be wondering why i asked both of you to come here” the emperor said

“Me and my royal alchemist been working on an elixir to eliminate the plague once and for all, but we both lack the magic you sages poses to actually start producing it” the emperor looked at you “it should all work on theory, but without magic to start the process we are hand tied”

The emperor slowly started to descend the stairs, their eyes lock on you

“I know that i'm asking for a lot but please i implore that your apprentice stays in my kingdom as my royal mage and help me save my people”

Before you could speak your master put a hand on your back

“My apprentice will do their best”

With that your fate was seal, it was an honor to be able to work as a royal mage but being the royal mage of THE emperor was another level

Well this would be interesting…

————

Your magical abilities were no joke, the young emperor was more than impressed and with a few magic tricks and the alchemist abilities the plague was no longer around

But as the plague started to disappear something new was blossoming in the kingdom

The seed of love and the seeds of obsession…

The emperor started to notice small things about you, the way you said the magic word or how cute your focused face was when you studied your ancient book.

The emperor was walking towards your chambers with a fragrant rose in hand, his feelings were too much to bear and he needed to confess.

“Now that the plague is gone, what do you plan to do?” The emperor heard a voice coming from your chambers

“I don’t know…probably get back at my studies in the sage tower or something like that” the heart of the emperor sunk in realization.now that the plague was gone you had no other reason to stay in his kingdom.

“Maybe we could go together?, i mean only if you want too”

his despair quickly turned to anger as he recognized the voice of his alchemist responding in a flirtatious manner. The audacity of his own trusted alchemist making advances on you ignited a seething rage within the emperor. How dare they cross that line and attempt to pursue you?

He will not stand for it.

Quickly he went back to his own workshop, and there it was sitting on a small box…a virus

He never intendente to create it, it was an accident when he had tried to find a cure. Now it served a new propuse.

——

The relentless return of the plague had consumed your every waking moment, leaving you exhausted and desperate for a breakthrough.

A knock on your door shattered the silence, momentarily diverting your attention. Wearily, you called out, granting permission for the visitor to enter. The door creaked open, revealing a figure standing in the doorway.the emperor

“How are you doing my dear mage?”

“As good as one can do with this predicament your majesty”even though you two had grown close you still wouldn’t call him by his name

“I see” he looked at you with heart eyes, even though you looked exhausted “i brought you a cup of tea, i thought you needed a little rest”

“Thanks your majesty, but i shall not rest, not when the people of your kingdom are suffering”

Oh you will be an amazing ruler, so preoccupied for your future subjects. He can’t wait for when he finally has you.

“Since you send your royal alchemist away its been more difficult to advance”

A-yes that, to the rest of the kingdom the alchemist was send away to investigate new cures but he knew the true, he send them a way to keep them away from you

“Don’t worry my dear,as long as we had each other we will be okay”

How he wishes that you would look at him the same way he looked at you, but he needed to be cautious of his actions, after all he was powerless against you if you ever decided to reveal yourself against him. But it was okay, when he managed to have you whining under him he will be sure that you wouldn’t think about that kind of things

[paruparuparuparu]

UNHOLY ALLIANCE SPOILERS (again, I can’t stop yapping about this update):

Either I’m the slowest person alive, or I just think too much (though it’s fun to do so). BASICALLY I was just playing my game and thought over the Bishop’s final quest until I realized all of their dialogue had a connection to their injuries. I’ll start from the most obvious to the more vague.

First up- Leshy

In this dialogue, he makes the connection to his blindness and his ignorance, being so out of touch with reality that he didn’t know the extent of what he was getting himself into.

Narinder’s plans were not at all a bother to him, having his own cult to run and experiment with. He relished in the devotion his chaotic ways had to offer, and because of his foolishness, he lost his sight; hence see no evil.

Now for the genocide. Once again, he explains he didn’t know the full extent of what he was getting himself into, more focused on what had happened rather than what will happen. Therefore he thoughtlessly agreed, seeing how his siblings were compliant to Shamura’s orders.

He never saw the evil in the actions of his peers until it was too late, his eyes acting as both a symbol and punishment for his ignorance to all around him.

Next- Kallamar

This can be easily skipped if you didn’t pay attention to the dialogue, but he explains that all of which he has heard he wishes to unhear.

I already explained this in my other post, but he knew of Narinder’s plans, and instead of speaking out, he cowers and wishes he never knew of it in the first place. Unlike Leshy, who remained ignorant on the matter, Kallamar knew too much.

For the genocide (Which might explain the Mystic Sellers description of Kallamar), he hesitates when he hears of Shamura’s orders to kill all Lambs. A part of him knows that what they’re doing is wrong, but rather than listening to his sense of justice, he complies. An action in which he regrets.

He hears too often, and wishes to not hear. He listens, and yet doesn’t listen to himself. His ears act as a symbol and punishment for his cowardice and lack of self.

Now- Heket

This one is a little less obvious than the previous ones, but only a small part admits it. Heket shows her love for her siblings quite often despite being the cruelest of them. So imagine her despair once everything fell out of order.

For Narinder’s plans, she was most likely unaware of them before it was too late. And once everything started falling out of order, she was demanding for everything to go back to normal, urging her siblings for all that has gone wrong to right itself, and finally in her most vulnerable state, begged for the family she once knew to come back together, knowing that it never would.

After being left vulnerable, her despair turned into rage targeted at Narinder. She was determined to protect her remaining siblings, and in turn, immediately agreed upon hearing Shamura’s orders to carry out the slaughter of all Lambs. She heard the lambs scream and beg with their lungs, cry for lost loved ones, and demand justice for those who have been wronged. Though, she showed no remorse; for she knew there was none.

She screamed and begged for her family, and in turn heard others scream for their own. Her throat symbolizes and acts as punishment for the injustice she faced herself, and for the injustice she caused others.

Finally- Shamura

Shamura’s dialogue is the longest of the Bishops, as well as the most confusing for me to pick apart.

Shamura knew of Narinder’s plans, and yet decided to tell nobody. They knew of the risks of supporting such practices, yet went along with it anyways until the consequences were apparent. Then and there, they decided to put a stop to it all, banishing Narinder to his own realm.

This part would just be a guess in order to connect the dots, but I have a feeling that Shamura and Clauneck conversed one day. On that day, the cards were drawn, telling of a lamb that would slay all the Bishop and set the Chained One free. Shamura didn’t accept this, and politely dismissed themselves, almost immediately thinking on how to avoid such a fate.

One day after resting for years, they come up with a solution- that solution is of course, to destroy all lambs. They order their remaining siblings to hunt them down, spreading propaganda, putting bounty’s on their heads, and spreading plauge and famine across the lands.

They feed their siblings lies about the prophecy, twisting and molding their fate to bring a sense of hope to their siblings. Eventually, they start believing their own lie, convincing themselves that blood must be spilled in order to preserve the Old Faith.

They spin and mold the web to their liking, though eventually it will all come apart, and all that they’re left with is guilt. Their skull symbolizes the strings they pulled. The lies they fed. The guilt of knowing. The guilt of deceiving. All of it. For it is the way they will be punished.

All of these are basically my take on the whole thing, and are not confirmed besides the dialogue. I just enjoy piecing everything together because this game is just so amazing!! Also if you made it to here, thank you for reading all of that, and if you have any thoughts or corrections, feel free to comment and or repost!!

[pinksmonkey]

Posting my Ultimate Byler Evidence/Analysis List here directly because it probably makes it more convenient and I should have done this a while ago. XD

There is so much proof for Byler being endgame in S5 of Stranger Things. They are so cute together, and so much in the show has been building up to their relationship. I just wanted to share some of my favourite Byler analyses, because they are so cool, detailed, and in-depth. I love reading about all the hints, symbolism, and subtext for Byler, it's amazing how much thought must have been put into all these things. Why go through all the effort of adding these details if they aren't actually going anywhere with them? Mike is so queercoded, and they are truly in love with each other.

🫥 Just gonna leave some good Byler analyses here 🤐

Most of the links go to written Tumblr posts, and a couple of them are Reddit posts. So it's a lot of reading. If you prefer watching videos over reading, I highlighted my Byler YouTube playlist in green so it's easy to find.

And apologies for any of the links that aren't working, I know some of the posts have been deleted now sadly, but there's no way I'm re-numbering all these so I'm just leaving them in. My fellow Bylers, please stop deleting your amazing posts. ;-;

So anyway, here is the list of some of my favourite Byler evidence/analyses of all time (not in any particular order):

1. Mike's Season 4 Monologue To El

2. Camera Roll Byler Proof Part 3

3. Mike's Monologue and Milkvan

4. Mostly Byler Post Index

5. Dawson's Creek Parallel

6. "My Experience With Stranger Things"

7. What Ollie Learned From Film School

8. Byler Music Analysis

9. Why Don't The Duffers Discuss This?

10. ST Theories Masterpost

11. If Byler Isn't Endgame Then Someone Screwed Up

12. Byler Crumbs From The Cast and Crew

13. Favourite Combination of Endgame Byler Proof

14. I Doubt Byler Then I Remember This

15. The Fact That We Have This Interview

16. You Know Your Ship is Endgame When

17. Mostly Byler Post Index 2

18. Losing Hope Of Byler Endgame?

19. Why I Think Byler is Endgame

20. So Many Thoughts on This

21. Mike's Wall Art

22. Painting Miscommunication Leading to Mike's Monologue Coded

23. Yes, That Scene Did Foreshadow Mike's Monologue as Disingenuous

24. Mike's Monologue Didn't Sit Right With Me

25. Blue And Yellow Pen

26. That Tweet Is So Sweet

27. Heart Eyes, Literally

28. "My Process of Realizing Byler is Real"

29. Looking at Will, Not El

30. High School Musical Parallel

31. Said It Before and I'll Say It Again

32. Delusional Milkdud?

33. ST Writers Twitter Analysis 1

34. ST Writers Twitter Analysis 2

35. For When You Are Doubting Byler

36. Is Mike Bi or Gay?

37. Fully Convinced

38. The Ultimate Byler Playlist (my Byler YouTube playlist)

39. 100% Confident

40. Mike in S4 and S2

41. Mike Is Angry With Himself

42. It's Been A Year, Mike

43. Rink-O-Mania Remodel

44. The Development Of Will And Mike's Relationship

45. Mike's Lies

46. El Was Holding So Much In

47. Flickergate + Lettergate

48. Did Mike Ever Like El Romantically?

49. Mike Is Stupid

50. Byler Won't Write Itself

51. What's The Alternative Explanation?

52. Comparing Mileven and Byler

53. It Was Always About Them

54. Mike Is Not Ok

55. He Has A Love Interest

56. Will's Happy Ending

57. Trying To Be Normal

58. It's Not That Milevens Are Homophobic

59. Byler Is Reality

60. A Proper Look At El's Shrine To Mike

61. Mileven Through The Seasons

62. Suspicious

63. I Can't Doubt Byler

64. D&D Soulmates

65. Let's Talk Phones

66. Not Delusional

67. What Do They Want?

68. The Main Character

69. Mike's Mental Health

70. So Close

71. This Look Confirms Byler Isn't One Sided

72. Mileven Is Bones

73. They Don't Care About Mileven?

74. The Airport Hug Will Always Be Famous

75. The Monologue Mystery, Why Did They Lose?

76. The Cabin Scene

77. Why Couldn't Mike Say It For 2 Seasons?

78. He Was Trying To Find Will

79. Mike The Surfer Boy

80. Mike Definitely Shows Attraction To Girls

81. The Cast Knows

82. Mileven Loses On All Fronts

83. The Bouquet

84. 53 Minutes And 5 Seconds

85. Pink Panther

86. El And Choice

87. Will's Spotify Playlist

88. He'll Come Crawling Back To You, Begging For Forgiveness

89. Mike's Character Arc Prediction

90. It's The Same Look

91. Will's Truly Happy Ending

92. That's The Same Look, Right?

93. You're The Heart

94. Mike And El's Relationship In S4 Was Really Weird

95. Fireworks Parallel

96. Mileven Has Been Built Up For 4 Seasons

97. Not Stupid: The Fate of Mileven and Byler

98. This Suddenly Makes So Much Sense

99. Metaphors In Filmmaking

And unfortunately Tumblr will only let me add 100 links per post, so when I've posted part 2 of this list, I'll link it here: Part 2

[lazycats-stuff]

My latest obsession > motorcycles ,i know so many people call them death machines but i can't help but get heart eyes when i look at them, anyways i wanted to know how would the batfam react to the youngest family member batbro reader being like that? I'm especially curious about Bruce, will he buy a whole garage for his kid? Or try to steer his interest somewhere else? Also i think Jason will try to be reader's riding buddy <3

Fun fact, my mom also calls them death machines, but I find them cool. Although I would never get on one. I'm kind of scared of riding on one.

Summary: (Y/N) loved motorcycles. Bruce tried to be supportive.

Warnings: (Y/N) loves motorcycles, Jason is the biggest supporter, Bruce is trying to make his son happy.

There is a lot to say about motorcycles. A lot of people thought that they were death machines and extremely dangerous. While that much was somewhat true, it all matters that you are a responsible driver. And that you have a license of course.

And then there were people who absolutely adored and loved motorcycles. (Y/N) was one of those people and Tim has once compared (Y/N) to a golden retriever seeing his owner after 15 minutes for his love about motorcycles.

Now, Bruce couldn't really buy him motorcycles now. (Y/N) is minor and Bruce wouldn't be an irresponsible parent. And more so, he tried to shift his interests when he was younger. Bruce made (Y/N) try every type of sport there is to try. Nothing.

Then Bruce tried to arts. Drawing, painting, photographing, dancing... Anything that Bruce could think of, he did. But (Y/N) never wavered and he has never backed down from his interest in motorcycles.

Bruce now had no other choice but to support his son. He wouldn't buy him a garage full of motorcycles yet, but he would when he is older and when he has a license for driving it. Until then, there shall be no motorcycles in his garage.

Of course, the only person who had motorcycles was Jason. Jason absolutely made sure that (Y/N) rode with him. Of course with a helmet, because Bruce would have his head if he didn't make sure that (Y/N) is safe. Jason would also show (Y/N) how to take care of the motorcycle.

Dick always goes by the theory you need to be a good driver, aware of your surroundings and always careful. He agreed with Bruce about (Y/N) being too young for owning his own motorcycles, but has no issues with him driving when he gets his license, but Jason would have to mentor him first.

Damian just didn't know what to think. He wasn't always a fan, but if you need to go through a shit ton of traffic, you can. They have less space and you can put a lot of them in an average garage. He thought that (Y/N) was too young to even consider owning a motorcycle. Maybe it was just him being over protective, but he didn't like the idea of (Y/N) being hurt.

Damian is most definitely going to threaten Jason to make sure that his brother is safe. Also, (Y/N) can't drive a motorcycle until he is 21 years old at least.

In Damian's mind, that was the perfect age to start because the brain is fully developed then.

Tim just wanted his brother to be happy, even if that meant him having a garage full of bikes. But he will not drive a single one of them until he gets his drivers license and until he is an adult. Nothing before he is an adult.

Alfred thought they were cool, but he is too old to drive one. He knew that (Y/N) loved motorcycles more than anything, but he wanted him to be an adult to drive and to look into more interests rather than just focus on them. Of course, (Y/N) should be happy, but he should be safe too. Alfred would give him lectures about being safe.

Alfred was definitely going to give him a leather jacket, maybe with a bat symbol on the back.

And Jason? As mentioned before, he would fully support (Y/N) in his interest. He would be very honest about his experiences with motorcycles and how dangerous they could be. He would allow (Y/N) to tag with him on the motorcycle, but with a helmet and Jason would most definitely to a motorcycle showcases.

It was amazing how (Y/N) turned into a puppy when looking at them. Jason would just hang in the back as (Y/N) would ask questions excitedly. Jason looked into buying a motorcycle for (Y/N), but he knew that Bruce and the others would have his head for it.

So just waiting for the driver license and adulthood.

" (Y/N) can you come with me? " Bruce asked, Jason standing next to him. (Y/N) glanced up from his book, brow raised. " Did I do something? " (Y/N) asked quickly.

" No, you didn't now come on. " Bruce said and Jason walked over picking him up to put him over his shoulder.

" What the hell?! " (Y/N) screamed in shock and Jason just chuckled.

" Please, we know you don't want to walk. " Jason said, walking down. (Y/N) tried to pinpoint where he was going. Kitchen? Living room? He was shocked when they went outside.

" Jay, I don't have my shoes on! " (Y/N) whined, trying to squirm out of his grip.

" Listen, just relax. " Jason said, switching him up to hold him as a bride. (Y/N) looked around, frowning at the sun. He looked around before his eyes landed on a Harley motorcycle.

" Whose motorcycle is this one? " (Y/N) asked, completely confused, but none the less, he turned into a puppy, with his imaginary tail wagging like insane.

" Yours. " Bruce stated and (Y/N) got a whiplash from the way he turned his head.

" WHAT?! " (Y/N) screamed out, launching himself from Jason arms before running towards it, stopping to examine it. He didn't dare to touch it just yet, still worried that this was a dream.

" It this a dream? Or joke? If it is a joke, so help me God, I will kill you both. " (Y/N) threatened to the two and Bruce laughed.

" It's not a joke, I'm not that cruel. It's yours, but you can only drive here. And I have paid for you to start learning. " Bruce said and (Y/N) turned his head to fast that he must get whiplash. He ran at Bruce before jumping into his arms.

He wrapped himself onto Bruce like a koala and Bruce had to adjust his grip to not drop his son.

" How did you change your mind? " (Y/N) asked, smiling so widely that his cheeks started hurting.

" I see how you love them and I have more than enough resources to buy them for you. But you are not leaving the manor driving one until you get your license. " Bruce said sternly and (Y/N) nodded eagerly.

" I'm serious. " Bruce added and (Y/N) nodded again, still smiling widely. " Now, helmet is in the garage if you want to give it a little ride, but not out of the property lines. Don't forget shoes too. " Bruce said and let (Y/N) down.

(Y/N) hugged Jason tightly, before running towards the bike once more.

" Good idea B. " Jason said, watching as (Y/N) examined every inch of the bike. He was in his own world, ignoring everyone.

" I know. He really showed that it's not just a phase. " Bruce said, snapping a few pictures on his phone.

" Oh, we will be ride or die motorcyclists B. And I will teach him everything I know. " Jason promised to Bruce, who still didn't take his eyes off of his younger son.

" I know you will. "

[chaos-and-sparkles]

In Which I Ramble About Pavitr's Character Design and the Indian Cultural Stuff Related to It

DISCLAIMER: I'm an Indian, and these are all my thoughts and analyses, but I'm also just one person and by no means am I speaking for everyone. I am not all knowing, and I am not immune to being wrong sometimes. These points are all my own thoughts and stuff that I know through my lived cultural experiences and some history and book knowledge, but I've not particularly researched any of these. I'm just out here giving my take from what I know. This is mostly just going to be me rambling, okay? Okay. Let's go!

Anyway okay so I just wanna go from the top down:

No. 1:

First of all his hair

His fucking hair

This is one aspect that i k n o w I'm overthinking and probably wasn't as significantly thought out in the design but it just Spoke to me and by all accounts I'm not the only one

But I'm so glad we have him with his thick gorgeous fricking hair, especially them being like curly/wavy and slightly long instead of straight and cropped or whatever

Like. Indians usually have very thick and luscious hair, not everyone ofc but generally it's a thing, and it's considered a point of pride to have long dark thick hair.

And the thing is for the longest time the beauty standard in India was to have very straight and shiny hair, all the actresses and heroes were doing it, even though that's literally not the realistic case for a lot lot LOT of Indians. There's a pretty big variety of hair texture in India; some of it is regionally concentrated too, eg. in South India you get a lot of frizzy, tightly coiled hair that's rough textured, whereas curly hair is usually silkier and looser curled as you go Northwards,, Bengalis tend to have very wavy thick hair,, etc. By no means a rule or anything, it's just a thing that there's a lot of curl variety and a lot of it was for the longest time considered ugly and unkempt (there are some classist/regionalist elements to this stereotype also unsurprisingly) still is by some people,,, bc the standard was Shiny Straight Hair. It's a standard that's slowly shifting. It's currently leaning more on the wavy and voluminous side. But it's def a thing still.

All that to say, it makes me so so happy to see Pav with his curly-ish lush hair that he wears with such pride and style,, that are a symbol of his own pride and self care too!!!

Also the line about "coconut oil, prayers and good genetics" - I LOVE THAT REFERENCE AHAHABSSK, using coconut oil for the hair is a very common thing here, it's so so good for the hair and the scalp alike and it's relaxing to massage it in too.

I've seen people try to write Pavitr in fics as "quickly brushing some coconut oil through his hair" as part of his morning routine and. Um. That's not how it's done askaskjas, I don't mean to be rude to the writers at all, everyone does the best with what they know and no one knows everything, but also practically speaking that would be greasy and awful.

There are multiple ways to apply coconut oil, ofc. Coconut oil is often massaged into the scalp and rubbed into the hair like an hour before washing, sometimes with lemon juice mixed in, and then washed off when bathing. Some people, especially those with drier and finer hair, apply it as a regular after-hair-wash thing, too, but even so it needs to be rubbed in.

A really beloved thing we have is coconut oil champis, too! This is basically when you sit down cross legged in front of youe mother/grandmother, and she massages the coconut oil into your scalp and hair in a way that literally cures all tension and headaches and leaves your head reeling and is so so good for hair and stress and everything. It's a family bonding thing more than just a hair routine. It's not always done by the mom/grandmother ofc, it's just how most of us first experience it, and they have a technique that none of us can ever quite replicate to the same effect later. As we grow up, we often do it for ourselves and for others. It's a weekly or monthly or even just occasional thing depending on who you ask. But yeah that reference was great I love it dearly!

Also about the hair length

So in the current modern "civilized" standard (Indian schools and society in general tend to do a lot of shit trying to assimilate us into western culture and stamp out our own,, for example all my life I've been in schools where speaking Hindi and Telugu and stuff in class or in the hallways was Wrong and Forbidden and We Must Speak Only In English Bc We Are Educated And Cultured. This is so fucking hypocritical bc they would also have Hindi and Telugu classes and then criticize us for not getting it right or whatever), boys are meant to have short hair. Teachers literally single boys out in class for leaving their hair longer, not the exact length they set as the limit. This was my entire school experience; thankfully it doesn't seem to be the case in college, but that may just be bc I'm in an artsy college. In the workplace it's less stringent but it's still a thing.

HOWEVER, historically and culturally, long hair was considered good and even Important for both men and women. There's huge regional variations in this ofc; Maratha peshwas and higher classes and stuff for example wore a "pilaka" (idk what else it's called), which is the head shaven clean except a tuft in the middle that's sometimes braided. Brahmins still do it too.

But my point being, long hair was considered good for the most part, at most it would be worn in a bun for fighting and working,,, braids are a pretty big deal too. Having to cut your hair short=a symbol of dishonour and/or exile, or reserved for menial workers and so called "low classes".

(This is not stuff you even get explicitly told btw. This is stuff I've mostly inferred and studied from history and mythology and stuff , so there's no guarantee I'm 100% right)

Also, in Sikkhism (I'm not Sikh myself so correct me if I'm wrong, this is just what I know) having long hair is super fucking important for men. The hair is wrapped up in the turban, and the turban is a symbol of honour and pride and literally considered life. The long hair is considered sacred.

Removing the turban is basically a symbol of literally losing your honour pride and sense of self,, not just in Sikkhism, just generally at this point. Cutting your hair? Insult on injury.

Pavitr doesn't have particularly long hair ofc

But having grown up with such rigidly enforced things abt boys having very short cropped hair, it makes me so happy to see an Indian character who defies that.

Also!! Quick tangent about braids and their significance,, they're considered very beautiful and another symbol of pride, intricate buns and what not too! Just wanna drop this to give you an idea of what i mean:

In the Hindu myth of the Mahabharata, Draupadi, the wife of the Pandavas (she's a very interesting and important and beloved character, regionally also considered a goddess, she was a princess born of fire married to five princes and the vengeance for her honour literally fuelled the war for righteousness etc etc) vows never to braid her hair again until she has washed it in the blood of Dushasana, a man who forcefully tried to disrobe her in court (it's a whole myth of its own). At the apex of the war, Bheem, her husband, brings her his blood. She washes her hair in it and then for the first time in thirteen years, she braids it.

Braids are not as significant now but it was basically a Pretty Big Deal and I just wanted to talk abt it.

In Hinduism too the gods are portrayed with long hair, it's a Thing.

No. 2:

Okay so moving more downwards,, I have a bunch of Thoughts abt Pavs mask design!

Okay so obv we have the spiderweb-pattern that's a given.

But. The interesting parts are these:

The bindi-like design on his forehead.

Bc my point is

Sure that looks like a bindi. And that's beautiful in itself but I HAVE ANOTHER TAKE

Bindis are traditionally worn by women as a symbol of beauty, prosperity, and again, pride. But while nice, that's not quite a symbolism that fits imo

You know what else is ver similar where my mind immediately goes? A tilak.

The shape is kind of off for a tilak actually, a tilak is more of a U or a V with a dot or a flame-like stroke in the middle. So in that case it looks more like a bindi

But i really like thinking that it's inspired by a tilak too, bc

While a bindi is a decorative mark stuck or painted on a woman's forehead as a symbol of beauty and prosperity

A tilak is basically a mark that's finger-painted on the forehead of , usually a man but there's a softer smaller version for women too and ofc there are women warriors who got tilaks, for auspicious and blessing reasons. So in a Puja or ceremony, a tilak is put as a blessing and an auspicious thing, also meant to impart strength. The head of the household usually gets the most striking or biggest one.

Pandits usually wear tilaks for blessing purposes too, although their design is different and more elaborate than the ones given to others

Gods and goddesses had their own tilaks, some of them very distinctive like Shiva's

The part that applies to Pav is the warrior tilak

Basically before a king or warrior went to battle, it was customary to do a small sending off ritual and for the wife or mother to put the tilak for them and say "Vijay bhava" (may you be victorious)

It's still done for big undertakings and challenges like exams and new jobs and stuff.

It's basically for strength, bravery and victory

The main difference in a bindi and tilak is the intent:

Bindi is for beauty

Tilak is for valour

Which. For a HERO. Just. Chef's kiss.

2. the markings around his eyes!!

I'm sure this has been said before, but it's very very reminiscent of kathakali makeup.

Regionally there's a lot of eye makeup stuff also btw. There are some absolutely beautiful tribal designs and regional designs with a lot of colours but I cant remember specifics rn

Also!! The very distinctive black lines around Pav's eyes?? I love them sm bc they feel so so based in kohl and kajal. Another huge beauty and often pride related thing.

There's even a whole thing where a mother or older sister will often rub a bit of her kohl off on her fingertip and press it behind their loved one's ear so that "buri nazar na lage" (no one's bad gaze catches you). It's called a kaala teeka

The idea being that you're so beautiful and/or cute and bright and lovable and nothing should jinx that and nothing bad should happen to you. It's very rare now and I've never experienced it myself but it's so so precious <33

3. the white markings on his cheeks!

I've seen that explanation of how it's reminiscent of Ganesha, the elephant headed god who is kind of a symbol of new beginnings, intelligence, prosperity, and a ton of stuff I don't even know how to explain honestly, but he's very cool and beloved and has a lot of Good Vibes™ and i love him basically.

I personally am reminded more of kathakali makeup again!! But that explanation is very cool too and i like it!! I don't know if I agree bc i think it m i g h t be a blasphemy to have that imagery on your face, afaik no one here does it for any reasons and we have literal festivals and pujas dedicated to Ganesha

But then again I am a human with limited knowledge and i don't know everything

I personally think the tusk like designs are very cool. However, I also think it would be a bit of a No No for religious reasons. I also think it reminds me more of classical dance face makeup and stuff.

I also think if they meant to make it a Ganesha reference, then he should only have a tusk on one side, bc there's a huge deal about Ganesha being "ekdanta" (transl: one toothed) bc he has a well known myth of breaking off one of his tusks to write a mythologically and culturally significant epic.

There are also a lot of actual cultural face painting things in India that are way cooler than the Ganesha thing in my opinion. So while that theory is cool, I don't personally agree with it. I could be wrong, again, idk what the design intent was exactly.

No. 3:

Next thing: this is a very very small thing and i only have a sentence on it, but i really appreciate Pav's neckline in his suit.

The neckline here? That's the kind of cut that's most typical of kurtas. Especially more ceremonial, kingly, wedding sherwani, or generally festive attire; a regular kurti might have a v-neck or something, but this curved collar? Very Indian and classy in a way I can't fully explain.

No. 4:

This next thing I'm going to go completely ballistic about, everyone hold on to your seats!!!

THE FUCKING MOTIF ON HIS UPPER ARMS. IT'S EVEN ON THE MEHENDI-ISH PATTERN ON HIS WRISTS AND HANDS. THE SPIDER SHAPE TOO. I AM NOT NORMAL OKAY

LISTEN.

LISTEN TO ME

TBIS IS CONFIRMATION THAT KRISHNA PAVITR IS CANON

HE IS SO SO KRISHNA CODED

Idc if I'm delusional, i DARE you to look at that blue design and tell me it doesn't look like a peacock feather

THE SHAPE OF HIS FUCKING SPIDER IS OH SO SUBTLY CURVED TO BE PEACOCK FEATHER SHAPED TOO

There is no human way for me to be normal about this i need a minute

Okay for context:

Krishna is a very important and beloved god in Hinduism. I cannot overstate the love I have for him, even being mostly non religious myself.

There is SO MUCH about him he is such a big deal and thanks to him being made a character in popular Indian cartoons and so many animated and live action movies being made about him, he is literally woven in the fabric of our collective consciousness and love for our culture

He's a mischevious and fun and chaotic and lowkey antiestablishment kid deity. He contains the literal universe. He has a deep abiding love for his people and his family and loved ones and the world he serves. He is a dancer, flute player, sweetheart, lover of life. He has a thousand wives, yet one Radha who he never married but is his literal immortalized soulmate. He guides heroes to duty. He is full of wisdom but also silly hijinks. He is so so beloved.

The peacock feather is his symbol! You could see the peacock feather anywhere and it's immediately OH KRISHNA! He wears a peacock feather, famously. In all his iterations, from childhood to adulthood. Peacock feather is his emblem.

Krishna is depicted through the peacock feather. It's become a very common motif in arts like mehendi and various textile arts to have peacock feather and peacock patterns; I'm sure that existed before Krishna too in several cultural circles but he is definitely a huge part of it since. There is a chikankari motif that is very recognisable that's reminiscent of peacock feather but I'm mostly unsourced on that, going off my own interpretation

But there's a definite link between peacock feather=Krishna=inextricable part of culture and art.

At least in North India. He's less of a big deal the further south you go. Still very widespread and overall loved tho.

So anyway seeing that peacock feather type motif on Pav?? Mixed with his Spiderman identity??? Is so amazing to me.

Krishna coded Pavitr real ✨

(Also yeah people have already pointed out that Pav's hand designs are based on mehendi so I don't need to go into that askjasjkas)

No. 5:

Also. Huge fan of his arm cuffs. It's just another Indian warrior thing; often in ye olde times and in mythology, the cuff would be a lot simpler, often just a thread with an amulet to grant you protection. But it steadily became fancier, and now it can be decorative or a valour thing or both

Very often just decorative now actually. Often seen in weddings and ceremonies too

No. 6:

Okay about his bangles now:

I absolutely LOVE THEM I love them so much I am so obsessed with them actually!!

So. First of all

I remember there being a confusion in like earlier fics especially on whether they were bracelets or damrus or bangles or what

And i have Thoughts

So first of all

They are not damrus/damarus.

Damarus are a musical instrument made of wood and with two beaded ropes to beat on the small drum-like ends. They're also symbols of lord Shiva who uses a damaru.

They are very different from what Pav wears and i remember my fucking whiplash when earlier fics called his bangles damarus. I think i choked on my maggi.

I don't mean to be rude to the writers ofc, they were doing the best with what they knew. But it's just very jarring to me to hear that

I think an explanation I heard was that Pav's web shooter design was inspired by damarus? Which yeah I get that and I actually wanna talk about it bc I very much see it. But they are very much NOT damarus themselves

So

First of all i personally have never seen nor heard of the kind of bangles Pav wears which appear to have a strip of cloth in the middle? While being gold cuffs on both ends? Which is new and interesting actually and opens up aspects abt his character that i find really interesting

Bc first of all: that implies he made them himself from stuff he already had inspired by things he saw. It seems, at least to me, like he used bangles/kadas he had to make the shooters he uses, which are designed the way they are for easier slinging and his cool tricks with them which would be harder if they were solid gold, and also the shape when he does the cool yoyo-y trick and hits The Spot with it and everything is very damaru shape. Which is also pretty cool if it's meant as a reference to Shiva and his damaru (he's a very fierce god with the damaru) or a reference to the street performers who use it nowadays.

Either way - and also additionally the fact that PAV LITERALLY DOUBLED HIS BANGLES AS WEB SHOOTERS WHICH IS SO CREATIVE AND SMART - and developed his own whole signature skillset with it?? And made his own bangle/shooters as I said before????

My boy is PEAK jugaadu

He is the embodiment of jugaad

Never has anything been so true to the Indian spirit than jugaad

Okay so for context, the jugaad that I keep talking about:

It basically means makeshifting and/or inventing stuff you need from the limited stuff you have. That's a very simple way of explaining it. Just imagine that, but up the silliness level x100.

For example, a guy jugaaded a showerhead by poking holes in a sprite bottle and putting a hose in it and routing it to the tap.

Jugaad can be both very smart, and very funny and silly

And it usually involves combining useless stuff/trash/just stuff you had lying around to make smth that you didn't wanna waste money buying, and often ends up having more functions than the stuff it was meant to replace. This but it's also very crackheaded. Like idk how to explain. It's basically makeshifting, but it's just developed into such an Indian Spirit Thing™ that we have a word for it

So i love that Pavitr's bangles do all of that. He is a true Indian boy to his core!

No. 7:

Okay I have thoughts on his dhoti too!

So.

Blue.

I know why they used blue for his dhoti, what with the spiderman colours, the need to complement his bright red with smth softer, and everything. I get it and i love it so so much. What I'm about to say next is not a complaint against this at all, it's very good design imo

But.

Everytime I look at him in his fucking blue dhoti

I just remember all the times my grandmother has apprehended me and made me go and change for trying to wear blue or black at a Puja

Bc they're apparently unholy colours ;_;

Basically yellow, saffron, red are the appropriate holy colours. Now that i think about it, I've never seen a god or mythological king depicted in a blue dhoti or generally blue clothing either - farthest they go from the three i described is pink or green

I never really thought about it until my Nani pointed it out. I'm still not sure if anyone except her even knew or cared about it.

But that is the memory that bonks me on the head every time i Perceive the blue dhoti

Bro upgraded from funeral colour (white, which is his dhoti in the comics and absolutely infuriates me on a visceral level) to unholy colour askaskjjska it's so funny to me

Purple was still a luxurious colour, but generally warmer and/or lighter colours are The Done Thing. It's an old notion and the cultural connotations are now very diluted by Western influence and also none of us Caring about a lot of it anymore (not necessarily a good or bad thing particularly)

Indigo also has. Loaded connotations.

Because Britain did a Colonialism and a lot of Indians suffered for it. It's a whole history lesson.

I would rather not get into the whole details but basically Indigo (the plant from which the dye was made) was a valuable commodity and Britishers essentially forced farmers to grow only that, ignoring their need to grow food or sustenance or care for the land in general, especially in the Bihar-UP regions. There were eventually a lot of revolts where many people, esp farmers, died.

Basically a double whammy of starvation and death as a direct result of colonialism. It was a major part, historically, that sparked rage for the freedom movement

If you wanna learn more abt it you can search up Champaran farmer revolts!

Also about the drape of Pav's dhoti:

I've seen a couple of memes and reels abt how Pav, in an emergency, suiting up for Spiderman duty, would be taking an hour to drape the dhoti and stuff

And those are hilarious and i love them

But also

That's literally not even a proper dhoti -

So the thing pav wears is basically more of dhoti-pants with a cummerbund.

So okay I need to explain this better hold on

A dhoti is basically a sheet of fabric that is draped around the waist and down. The elaborateness of the cloth can vary vastly from intricately patterned silk and brocade, to plain white cotton with a thin gold border optional

The drape of the dhoti varies even more depending on region, occasion, occupation, and status. You can have everything from the casual simple towel like drape and tuck that some men wear to relax on a daily basis, to an intricate thing with many folds and pleats and tucks and the middle part that hangs (I forget the name for that) that would actually legitimately take hours and is often adorned with jewellery . To a thing that's flexible to move in and also looks very pretty and is genderneutral some dance forms call for.

Basically. The drape varies vastly. And it's all one cloth, maybe a second one for a separate cummerbund sometimes, I'm not that well versed abt dhotis tbh.

But the thing Pav wears?? It doesn't seem to me to be folded the way I've ever seen any dhoti

The way it's folded and shaped is not how those style of dhotis work. There would be a lot more pleats and folds, for one. But it's not shaped the way to match the less-folded dhotis either.

Now, I'm no dhoti expert, but that leads me to believe that's not a full on dhoti. What it's more likely to be is dhoti-pants

Dhoti pants are this fusion thing. It's in the name. I haven't seen it much but I know/think/am pretty sure its a thing, bc most Indian guys now don't know how to drape a dhoti either and it's a good solution. Worn like a pant, looks like a dhoti. Simple. A cummerbund for the middle drape, and you're set!

Also side note: the fold with the distinct two legs and the middle drape that Pav has? Is the most commonly depicted warrior and king drape,, at least in North and Middle India, I'm not as well versed about the South but I think it's the case there too. The gods are depicted in that drape too

I have fewer comments on his leg design, I like that it's reminiscent of mehendi even on his feet bc yeah that's also done on the feet, although rarer now and also a bridal thing

No. 7:

He has gold cuffs on his ankles that I really like!

Okay so here's the interesting thing:

I could be wrong, but

But that kind of thick ankle cuff is not actually an Indian thing?? At least not in the warrior hero context that a lot of his design seems based on. At least not of that shape and width.

What we do have though are very simple metal ankle cuffs put on (I think) one ankle of young kids for protection,, again a tradition I'm not very familiar with, it's more localised

The other thing we have that's more interesting tho:

We have payals and ghungroos!!! Which opens up so many exciting prospects to me because those are both dancer things

Like. The payals are ornamental. They are beauty things as well. All women would wear them, their elaborateness and style depending on status, money, and region ofc

They double as dance and performance things too ofc

But ghungroos are specifically dance things

Very very sacred and honoured to the dancers, too. Quite personal

(These are all little bells on the ghungroos btw!! Hundreds of them. They ring out when the dancers dance)

This is what Pav's ankle cuffs most remind me of. It's not the same thing ofc, and idk if the designers were even thinking of this.

But it would be really cool if he was inspired by ghungroos to have cuffs of similar thickness and placement on his legs. Perhaps even familiar to him hmmm?

This is me theorizing HARD to support my headcanon, but combined with Pav's classical dance-n-martial-arts-y moves, i present to you: Pav learning classical dance when he was younger (a thing that a lot of Indian kids do and only a few seriously continue for their lives) is real.

I rest my case

Like yeah it's known at this point that Pav's moves are based a lot off the martial art of kalaripayattu. Which is SO AMAZING AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH!!! But I also think this would be a cool influence alongside that, bc it really feels visible too.

No. 8:

The fact that Pavitr is barefoot is so so important and dear to me!!!

In Indian culture, you're supposed to take your shoes off as a mark of respect, before entering the ranabhoomi (literal transl: battleground, but not in an actual war with swords and shit ofc)

Being barefoot for pujas and in temples and on sacred ground in general is very important

As is being barefoot when you're walking onto a kabaddi or wrestling ground,, basically any fight that's supposed to be important and/or with honour. It's a respect thing for the opponent and for the earth you fight on.

There are a lot of contexts where being barefoot is important or a given

There's the prayer ground bc it's sacred and holy and you can't be dragging your dirty ass shoes there it's super disrespectful. You gotta enter with clean feet specifically, dirty feet are considered disrespectful too. that's also why there wil often be feet washing areas outside of temples here

Then there's the ranabhoomi that I just said, which is more of respect for your opponent and the earth. Respect to the earth especially is very important in the combat forms and sports I know of at least

Then there's the basic respect and tbh the hygiene thing too, of always taking off your footwear before entering another persons house. That one is more flexible, sometimes you can take it off inside, but the done thing is to take them off outside generally. Especially if you're a guest who's not particularly close. You'd be considered really rude if you didn't take them off at all. But again that still varies by person,, the older generations are way stricter abt it

Then the bride thing,,, it's actually a whole small ritual. The bride and groom will enter the groom's house for the first time,, which is considered the bride's new home bc misogynistic tradition so yeah. But basically it's supposed to be an auspicious beginning to a new home and life. (Btw being barefoot during the wedding ceremony is also generally required)

Usually, at least in North Indian tradition, a small vessel of rice is kept at the threshold that the bride must tip over with her foot when entering. It's for prosperity. Then she steps directly into a plate of a red liquid I forget the word for, but it's basically a sindoor paste type of thing. Her first steps into the house must be taken leaving those red footprints behind. That's for auspicious beginning

So Pavitr being barefoot is so so cool from a cultural and a character building standpoint

He takes his job seriously, he does it with respect and honour!!! He seems so chill and happy go lucky, but he's deliberate and respectful abt it!! And he's super connected to his culture too, bc you could just Not and no one would care, but it's so important that he does!!

So yeah!

That has been my full ramble askjasjkas. If you made it this far, have a cookie! Thank you and I hope this was interesting <33

[blitzbuckzowild]

On Stolitz, Kink and Power Dynamics, and Role Reversal - Stolas Centric

So, I have been thinking a lot about the kink dynamics between Stolas and Blitzø, especially how they are portrayed in the show vs. what is popular (or more popular than you’d think) among fan works. A lot of this has probably been said, but I am unsure what has and has not, and I have only recently begun to interact with the community.

For some background, I have about 10 years of experience within the kink/BDSM lifestyle including several long-term dynamics as both Dom and sub, attendance to events, extensive engagement in online forums, etc. I’ve been in many types of dynamics and have a good understanding of the culture.

We have very little knowledge on the intricacies of the dynamic between Stolas and Blitzø but from what I can gather its a pretty standard one without very much structure. This makes sense seeing as before recent canon events, their scenes are primarily limited to once a month. There is no evidence of switching that I can find in the show, most likely they stay firm in their roles of Blitzø as Dom and Stolas as sub. There is the comment during the Loo Loo Land episode, where Blitzø say “wait till her dad tries diddling your holes”, but the keyword being “tries.” Now obviously he could be receiving penetration, but I find it hard to believe that there is any actual control given to Stolas.

This structure obviously allows for some entertaining role reversal, and (on the surface level at least) mitigates some of the issues with the power at the same time. I find myself often wondering how people would regard the dynamic between them if Blitzø was portrayed as the sub. It obviously doesn’t really fit his character as he is now, but it is a thought.

Anyway, the point is actually to explore the idea of a role reversal between the two and what this can represent. Obviously, a lot of this has been touched on in fan-works, and probably other posts, but primarily in the framework of Blitzø’s experience subbing. I think that is well-established that a lot of the draw for Blitzø to submit is the idea of him being vulnerable and letting go of control. There are many works that focus on this.

But what about Stolas? That’s something I haven’t seen a lot of.

Stolas is passive. Even if he snarks back at Blitzø and does set some boundaries a bit at the beginning of Apology Tour, and he does tease and push, it’s really not substantial. Even with Full Moon, even with the crystal, he is still so submissive to everything that happens around him. He makes his grand gesture and throws the ball in Blitzø’s court until he can’t handle what that looks like. He let’s things just happen to him for the most part. So a lot of his character growth in the show focuses on him gaining confidence and taking initiative.

Even in Apology Tour, at the Blitzø Hate party, he makes it clear where he stands on what he wants his role in a relationship to be. He wants to be pursued, like a woman in a rom-com who stereotypically and historically takes a passive role to whatever confident or goofy hunk wants her. Sure, she wants him (usually), but typically she is not doing the pursuing. Instead she rolls her eyes and things happen to her.

Stolas taking on a dominant role, taking control, even in the context of kink, can be symbolic for him learning ambition and initiative. Everything has been decided for him and he’s letting Blitzø’s actions and responses make the decision for him. Even with Octavia, he acts as if he is collateral to her behavior and emotions. It’s fair for him to want Blitzø pursue him and to take accountability. However, at some point he needs to pursue as well. You could say that the crystal was an instance in which he did? But was it really when at the first sign of resistance from Blitzø, he folds and pull back.

All this to say, there can be some really great story telling using their BDSM dynamics. I don’t really expect the show to address this, because I think there are some intricacies here that can only be appreciated by those really involved in the BDSM lifestyle, and honestly I am not sure how knowledgeable the writers are about it outside of the mainstream knowledge (Well mainstream compared to someone like me.)

With the deal ended, and the power dynamics somewhat balancing out, the door is really opened for this type of thing. There isn’t as much baggage in Blitzø being portrayed in a sub role. The class divide is still there, but Stolas no longer holds all of the cards

There is waaaay more I can say on this in regard to the roles of sub and Dom and how they relate to Stolas and Blitzø but this is already so long. Some things to consider would be the the actual emotional needs that are filled by each role, the ways relationships in dynamics develop, different BDSM subcultures and theories on the nature of their dynamic, and more of my thoughts on how their current dynamic with Stolas subbing and Blitzø Domming impacting perceptions of their previous arrangement by viewers, how Blitzø is already submissive to Stolas in ways, the general emotional state of people when engaging in kink, etc. I could also provide my own thoughts on Blitzø subbing but I feel it’s already well addressed in the fandom.

Maybe I’ll do a part 2 if it’s wanted or I get the will. I would love to engage in any discussion (agreeing or otherwise) on this, I probably missed some things, or interpreted stuff differently than others.

And here is a Poll to wrap this up

[karasbroken]

This tiny moment is one that I completely misinterpreted for the first decade or more and I still don't know exactly what I think but I'm going to ramble anyway. I played with filters to make the tie more obvious, because for the longest time, I thought Moya John threw scissors and Talyn John threw rock.

And that makes sense, right? They had two different experiences while they were parted for several months, and that made them into two different people. He talks later to Aeryn about not being the same person, and that her feelings, "you're just like him, you are him" are wrong. So I never questioned when my dark DVDs and fuzzy TV made it look like they tied.

But then I saw the 4k versions, and I was watching on a good screen and I could slow it down and pause and replay, and nope! They are both clearly throwing scissors. And the whole beautiful symbolism falls apart. Why did they tie? Does that actually mean they are the same person? Why doesn't John or Aeryn truly seem to believe that?

Everyone will have their own opinions, but how I think about it now is that this was a promise from Talyn John to Moya John. Yes, they had different experiences. Yes, that means they diverged. Yes, being with Aeryn changed Talyn John in ways Moya John couldn't (yet) understand. Talyn John feels older, calmer, more settled and mature in a rather dramatic way to me. But the tie is a reassurance that they are still both John. That they can be made whole. That the core of who he is, the man that loves Aeryn and controls wormholes is still capable of being loved by Aeryn (and learning to control wormholes). It will just take time.

We aren't wholly our memories and experiences. Which is reassuring to me, as a person who struggles with long-term memory formation.

John was twinned. "Equal and original." They are both him. They were always both him, even if he doesn't remember what the other twin experienced (yet). Moya John and Aeryn both struggle to believe this, though, for similar but related reasons.

Aeryn can't believe that he is actually John because she is terrified of loving him. She isn't mentally strong enough (yet) to survive his loss again and she knows that John is about to throw them all into terrible danger. She tries to convince herself that he's just a copy because she has to for her own sanity (but ultimately, eventually, she gives in. He is John, she does love him, and she can't won't stop herself from wanting to be with him).

Moya John can't accept that he is the same as Talyn John because it's just too psychologically weird. He was in two bodies having two different lives, and the whole time he knew, he deeply knew that the other guy was with Aeryn. Because he would have upended the universe to make it happen with her, so of course he did. A lot of Moya John's irresponsible and annoying behavior can be explained by the constant maddening awareness that his life was in the middle of being stolen by himself. For his sanity he has to create some sort of mental accommodation to survive being twinned, and turning the other guy into The Other is how he manages it. And then the Other is gone and now he's on this long journey to recombine his two selves.

I think the tie is a promise that they haven't diverged too far. That they're still both him. John doesn't realize it yet, but he is already starting to reintegrate his two selves. We will see him eventually, slowly, recover all the memories and knowledge that Talyn John possessed, he will even join together with him physically (it's not a coincidence that he injured his head in the same place, leaving the same scar, when Einstein unlocks the wormhole knowledge). Only when his integration is complete can he fully move on, marry Aeryn, have their child, and move forward to the next stage of their singular destiny.

That unification is something John can't even imagine in this moment. But the tie, that's hope.