#but i do not have the ability to be that kind of revolutionary

[alexplayssimsnstuff]

My Art History prof told me this piece isn't as bad as my brain told me it was when I made it so here's a teaser into something I've been brewing IG.

Credit:

Flowers: InspiredImages@pexels

Model: WellingtonKuna@pexels

[isekyaaa]

Another funny isekai idea is someone getting isekai’d but they have it set in their mind that they’re secretly a main character and they really do want to be, so they keep trying to do things to prove that they don’t have secret innate skills just in case the universe is just hiding the truth to them. Turns out they truly are ordinary in every single way, but in their desperate attempts to prove it, they become extraordinary.

[bimboficationblues]

so the thing about "read theory" as a mantra: in the social media sphere there is a consistent downplaying of what that kind of commitment actually entails, plus a consistent obfuscation of what exactly the commitment is necessary for.

let's say that you're interested in learning more about specifically "Marxist theory." This, I think, also raises a bunch of questions about what we mean by theory - works of political philosophy, texts on revolutionary and military strategy, political speeches, journalistic or sociological analysis, historiography - these varying things with very different discursive norms and standards of evidence or logic often get rolled into one singular object called "theory." but let's set that aside for now.

you want to learn this for maybe an assortment of reasons, here's a few (non-exhaustive) good ones:

Marxism has been a substantial historical force that has probably had a notable impact on the world around you in some way.

Learning about Marx/ism might offer some level of insight into your current social world that other things are unable to offer.

Many texts - Capital, The Wretched of the Earth, The Second Sex, The State and Revolution - are also world-historical forms of political literature, which is interesting.

Follow-up to 2 - maybe having some level of familiarity with these things will give you the ability to better articulate yourself and participate in social and political movements around you.

generally speaking the Social Media Marxist approach is to tell you to go read off a list of texts of whatever writers the author personally agrees with or whatever works she happens to have read. so you decide to start with the big guy Marx, who is at the top of the list. totally reasonable decision.

however, there are a few contextual questions that might reasonably come up when doing so.

first, it will be clear that Marx did not pop out of an intellectual vacuum; Lenin has a rather popular identification of the "three sources of Marxism" - post-Hegelian German philosophy, French socialism, and English political economy. from my perspective, these are more like three of his main objects of ire (and so in some sense are both influences and also breakages - but not strictly speaking a synthesis), but I digress. so, frequently, in order to grasp what Marx is talking about or responding to, you are going to need some level of familiarity with a lot of additional people: Smith, Ricardo, Malthus, Hegel, Bauer, Feuerbach, Hobbes, Spinoza, Rousseau, Mill, Sismondi. suddenly you are not just learning about the works of one guy, but his attitude towards all the people he relies on for support or aims his criticisms at. and each of those different intellectual relationships is going to be different. sometimes at different times!

second, and relatedly, Marx is not always the most charitable to the people he's criticizing, who were often rival socialists (so there were pretty notable political and personal stakes at work in proving them wrong or diminishing their influence over the movement). the introductory materials to the new translation of Capital also observe that Marx's approach to scholarship is, shall we say, haphazard; often he makes quotes or citations that are not actually representative of what he's citing. finally, many of the people he's criticizing have sort of been rendered obsolete historically *in no small part* due to the success of Marxism as a political orientation in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. so to determine whether Marx is being fair to the people he is basing his critique on, we will have to do some level of intellectual work to check. so now we're not just evaluating Marx's relationship to different thinkers but also the substantial content of each of those thinkers themselves.

third, Marx did not pop out of a social vacuum. all of these different writers didn't just crop up from nowhere but wrote within particular sociohistorical contexts, some of which were rather divorced from the European revolutionary wave, first worldwide financial crisis, and the shifting character of the United States in the wake of the Civil War and the formal abolition of slavery - some of the historical events that Marx was more explicitly engaging with. and the radical liberals, republicans, and socialists Marx criticized all also had their own intellectual and social histories. so now we're getting a little far afield from the initial notion, which was just to read some guy, and getting into the realm of social history, and trying to understand the relationship between world history and the ideas produced within it.

fourth, you are a subject in the world, which is to say YOU did not pop out of a social or intellectual vacuum. you likely bring predispositions, assumptions, biases, and cognitive distortions to what you read; we all do. working through those and trying to note where they're happening - where they might be fine and where they might be problematic - will require a certain willingness to reflect, to write, to take notes, to analyze and self-scrutinize, and to be critical of both yourself as a reader and of the text you are reading. (a nested problem is that we have a truly staggering amount of material from Marx and Engels, and you might have to make certain determinations as to which material is important or worthwhile or more useful, and identify the standards by which you think that - all of which requires a certain reflection on your status as a political thinker).

okay, so consider all that. we started with "I wanna read this one guy," we end with "to really grasp the work of this one guy it's also important to know both preceding and contemporaneous world history, his intellectual influences, and the gaps or silences or errors in his work.” now consider that, if you really want to be able to speak on them with some level of confidence and intellectual honesty, you have to apply approximately the same level of rigor to every other writer on the Social Media Marxist approved list - Lenin, Fanon, Che, Kollontai, Cabral, Mao, Luxemburg, whoever. not to mention their critics, both direct and indirect!

Marx developed his work through an incredibly sustained engagement with enormous volumes of different material; we have entire notebooks of him poring over Max Stirner, or Spinoza, or the political economists, or the empirical observations of English factory inspectors. I'm not saying that you have to do that, or even that one strictly *has* to go down any or all of the first three rabbitholes I identified. Marx was in the somewhat unique position of sustaining himself through the support of Engels and his journalistic work, as a product of being in perpetual exile. that's not the kind of position that most of us are typically in.

the point is not "commit yourself to being a perfect monastic scholar in order to reach perfect truth" - such a thing is probably a fantasy, even if we wish otherwise. the point is that if you think "theory" is worth taking seriously, well, you have to actually take it seriously. if you don’t think it has stakes or utility, that’s fine; different people find different things useful. I think “theory” is not a set of dead letters by canonical authors but produced through social life. but if “reading theory” is a way to clarify and assert yourself as a political subject and agent, to claim some intellectual autonomy and acquire some understanding that you can put into practice in your life, then that’s demanding. it’s not impossible, but it does take real effort and a commitment to study and a certain level of resistance to being dogmatic. otherwise you are just letting yourself be rhetorically persuaded by whatever is in front of you or whatever affirms your biases.

as Marx says in the preface to Capital, Volume I, "I am of course assuming that my readers will want to learn something new, and so are ready to think for themselves."

[gatheringbones]

[“Feeling empowered is a group effort, because in order to be able to assert yourself, you must feel safe enough to do so. A date once told me that when he teaches yoga, he declares that backbend rules are orgy rules: a maybe is a no. I like that because in both an orgy and yoga, you’re in a heightened and strange state. You’re already pushing past a lot of standards for what your body and consciousness can ordinarily do.

Yoga teaches you to be aware of and listen to subtle body messages. Pushing too hard can result in injury, which will limit you from sustainably being able to enjoy the activity long term. So if your body tells you, “I’m not sure how this backbend is feeling right now,” just don’t do the backbend. And if someone at the orgy says, “I’m not sure if I want to play with you right now,” move on with grace. There are so many other poses you can try.

Buffet was a queer play party I went to a couple of times in 2018 at a legendary Brooklyn performance art space known at different times as the Spectrum and then the Dreamhouse. Their rules were printed out and posted in the foyer where you waited in line before taking off your street clothes. They explained they had dungeon monitors (DMs) wearing pink glowing bracelets. DMs are present less as rule enforcers and more as community accountability figures. The hosts were clear about what kind of play was prohibited (race, scat, guns), the kind of play that required a DM’s permission so they could keep a close eye on psychological intensity and mess (blood, piss, food, CNC, self-suspension, gags).

Buffet had a great breakdown of what consent meant in their space: “Do not stalk, lurk, stare, follow, badger, pressure, or touch anyone without permission.” They also had a very specific anti-oppression stance: “If you perpetuate oppression based on gender identity or expression, race or ethnicity, ability, HIV or STI status, body type, sexual or BDSM orientation, religion or spiritual path, you’ll be thrown out without a refund. (However, if you come to us crying about reverse racism or misandry, we *will* laugh in your face.)”

I loved Buffet’s gender policy. Many women- and trans-focused play parties simply exclude cis men in the interest of creating a “safe space.” While a private party can have whatever policies they want, I personally think excluding one type of person is a mistake. You cannot have any clue how many abusers are around you, how many dysfunctional relationships, how many people being petty or shallow or anything you would disagree with or disapprove of. And when we exclude men from spaces where revolutionary communication is being practiced, they’re not learning how to do it right.

Buffet had an ingenious approach to this issue. Their policy was all-gender, but cis men had to pay $100 entry as opposed to much smaller fees paid by others, and were given a mandatory dress code of underwear, fetish gear, or femme drag. The hosts also provided the chance to be vetted on a “Good Judy list” to waive the $100 fee. The result was discouragement of interloping creeps while embracing the kinds of men who would contribute to the party’s unique atmosphere and people who appreciate having those men around either to play with or as friendly allies. Anyone prepared to go through these humbling paces is more likely to be the kind of guy the other attendees would be happy to have there.”]

tina horn, from why are people into that? a cultural investigation of kink, 2024

[yua0ra]

𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐲

WARNINGS: theatrelover!theo x cinemalover!fem!reader, sex, porn with plot, semi-public sex, p in v, raw, cursing, hot, fingering, NSFW, english is not my first language. not proofread | minors please dni. smut 🂡

SUMMARY: In the cool of the evening, when everything is getting kind of groovy, you call me up and ask me: would I like to go with you and see a movie? First I say "No, Ive got some plans for tonight." But then I stop and say "All right".

WC: 6.3K AN: HAHAHAH finally, after what it seemed like a fucking eternity, I bring you... Theodore SMUT. Everyone say thank you! JK, enjoy it, you whore. <3

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

Theodore Nott had an insufferable, borderline pretentious love for contemporary theatre. He would wax poetic about the brilliance of Jez Butterworth, the raw grit of Simon Stephens, and the immersive absurdity of Caryl Churchill. You, on the other hand, were a cinephile at heart—Tarantino’s razor-sharp dialogue, Scorsese’s masterful character studies, Nolan’s intricate narratives. You could analyze Pulp Fiction’s non-linear structure just as easily as you could tear apart The Wolf of Wall Street’s moral ambiguity.

Despite your differences, you both had an undeniable appreciation for storytelling—whether on stage or on screen. And naturally, that appreciation often turned into petty arguments.

"You can’t tell me The Ferryman isn’t one of the best pieces of theatre in the last decade," Theo scoffed one day, arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair.

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, please. Jez is just doing modern-day Greek tragedy with a sprinkle of Irish drama. It’s compelling, sure, but it’s not reinventing the wheel."

Theo narrowed his eyes. "And what, you think Tarantino’s constant foot fetish and non-linear storytelling is revolutionary?"

"At least Tarantino has mastered the art of tension," you shot back. "The Sicilian scene in True Romance? The diner scene in Reservoir Dogs? You don’t need an elaborate set change or monologues drenched in metaphor—you just need two people in a room and a damn good script."

"That’s rich coming from someone who praises Tennessee Williams and Arthur Miller—two of the most dialogue-heavy playwrights in existence."

Your friends groaned. They were used to this. You and Theo could argue for hours over narrative devices, symbolism, and whether theatre or cinema was the superior storytelling medium.

But one afternoon, during an extracurricular drama lesson, the argument escalated to a level that left everyone in the room speechless.

The class was discussing adaptations—how literature, theatre, and film intertwined.

Theo, ever the theatrical purist, argued, “Plays allow for the rawest human emotion. There are no camera tricks, no fancy editing—just an actor on stage, exposed. That’s why theatre will always have a deeper emotional impact than cinema.”

You weren’t about to let that slide. “That’s a wildly limited way of thinking. Film is just as much a visual art as it is a narrative one. Sure, theatre relies on the performer’s ability to hold an audience, but film can show a character’s internal struggle without a single word of dialogue. A glance, a shift in lighting—those subtle details can hit just as hard as a monologue.”

Theo tilted his head, amused. “Alright, then. A Streetcar Named Desire—would you rather see it on stage or in Elia Kazan’s adaptation?”

You smirked. “Kazan’s adaptation is brilliant, but you’re proving my point. The film version utilizes Marlon Brando’s raw, visceral performance while also using close-ups, sound design, and visual metaphors to enhance it. Theatre is powerful, but it’s limited by its medium. Film has more tools.”

The tension in the room thickened as you both volleyed back and forth—citing everything from Angels in America to Taxi Driver, from Arthur Miller’s The Crucible to Nolan’s Memento.

By the time you both stopped to take a breath, the rest of the class was staring at you like they had just witnessed an academic duel to the death.

Blaise, looking mildly concerned, muttered, “I think you two just argued in a language no one else speaks.” Pansy blinked and slowly nodded her head, “did you just name-drop fifteen different playwrights and directors in the span of five minutes?”

Draco, unimpressed, simply said, “I came here to watch people pretend to be trees, not to witness whatever that was.”

You and Theo exchanged a look. And, despite everything, a slow grin spread across both your faces. Because for all the arguing, all the differences, and all the passionate debates—you loved every second of it.

- ★、

The weekend had finally arrived, and with it, your much-anticipated cinema trip. It wasn’t every day you got to slip away from the castle, apparate to London, and immerse yourself in the warm glow of a dimly lit theatre, the smell of buttered popcorn thick in the air. Tonight’s screening? A Tarantino classic—Inglourious Basterds. You were practically buzzing with excitement as you stepped into the theatre, savoring the moment before the film began.

And then you saw him.

Theodore. Bloody. Nott.

Leaning against the concession stand, hands in his pockets, looking as if he belonged in some noir film with his perfectly tailored coat and unimpressed expression. His sharp gaze flicked over to you, a slow smirk tugging at his lips.

“Well, well,” he drawled, stepping closer. “Didn’t peg you for the type to sneak off to London alone for a late-night film screening. How rebellious.”

Your eyes narrowed. “And you didn’t strike me as the type to appreciate Tarantino. What are you doing here, Theo?”

He raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “What, am I not allowed to expand my horizons? Maybe I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Oh, please. You’ve spent weeks slandering film in favor of theatre, and now you suddenly show up to a Tarantino movie of all things?”

Theo hummed thoughtfully, stepping closer, so close that the scent of his cologne—expensive and frustratingly good—filled your senses. “Maybe,” he mused, “I just enjoy riling you up.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was betraying you with its traitorous thump against your ribs. “Right. So you apparated to London, found this exact cinema, and happened to pick the same showing as me? Coincidence?”

His smirk deepened. “Perhaps.”

Before you could interrogate him further, the theatre doors opened, and people started filing inside. You exhaled, shaking your head. “You know what? I don’t care why you’re here. Just—don’t ruin the film for me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmured, trailing after you.

You found your seat, sinking into the plush velvet, determined to ignore the fact that Theodore Nott had somehow ended up in the seat directly beside you. He stretched out, looking infuriatingly at ease, as if this hadn’t been some grand invasion of your sacred cinema time.

And then, as the lights dimmed and the first scene flickered onto the screen, Theo leaned in—just enough for his breath to ghost against your ear.

“If this film doesn’t impress me,” he whispered, “you owe me a ticket to the next play I pick.”

You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze, and smirked. “Fine. But when you inevitably love it, you’re admitting I was right.”

Theodore just chuckled, his fingers tapping idly against the armrest. “We’ll see.”

As the film unfolded on the screen, you found yourself hyperaware of Theodore’s presence beside you. It was ridiculous, really—how could one person occupy so much space without actually moving? 

His elbow rested dangerously close to yours on the armrest, his long legs stretched out in that careless way he always sat, as if the entire world was his to lounge in. 

You tried to focus on the movie, on the tense exchange between Landa and Perrier LaPadite, but Theo shifted slightly, his knee brushing against yours, and suddenly, every bit of dialogue seemed to drown beneath the sound of your own heartbeat.

You weren’t sure when it happened—when the push and pull of your debates, the sharp edge of your banter, had morphed into something more charged, something that left a static hum in the air between you. 

Maybe it had always been there, simmering beneath every eye roll, every challenge, every smirk that lasted a second too long. And now, sitting here in the dim glow of the theatre, with flickering light casting shadows across his annoyingly perfect features, it was impossible to ignore.

Halfway through the film, Theo leaned in again, his voice barely above a whisper. “Alright, I’ll admit it. The dialogue is brilliant.”

You smirked, keeping your eyes trained on the screen. “Told you.”

His fingers tapped idly against the armrest, a steady, maddening rhythm. “Still doesn’t mean it’s better than theatre.”

You turned your head slightly, lips curving in amusement. “Oh? And why’s that?”

Theo tilted his face toward you, his voice dropping lower, smoother. “Because film lets you hide. Close-ups, cuts, music—it manipulates how you feel. Theatre? It’s raw. No second takes. No distractions.” His eyes flickered over your face, lingering just a moment too long on your lips. “You can’t escape it.”

A shiver ran down your spine, though whether it was from his words or the way his voice curled around them, you weren’t entirely sure. You swallowed, forcing yourself to focus. “You call it hiding. I call it perspective. The camera lets you see things no audience member ever could—something intimate, something only you get to witness.”

Theo hummed, considering that. The tension between you had shifted into something heavier, something that pressed into the space between breaths. He was still close, close enough that you could catch the faintest scent of his cologne, the warmth radiating from where his arm rested near yours. It would be so easy to lean in just a little more, to close that final inch between you.

And then, just as you were about to force yourself to sit back, to pretend none of this was affecting you, he moved.

Slow, deliberate. His fingers brushed against the back of your hand, the touch featherlight, testing. Your breath hitched, your pulse hammering against your ribs, but you didn’t pull away. Theo, ever perceptive, took that as permission, his fingers shifting, tracing the delicate curve of your wrist.

“You’re… mad, Theo. You’re out of your mind,” you murmured, barely aware you had spoken the words aloud.

His lips quirked, but there was something darker in his gaze now, something that sent heat curling low in your stomach. “That’s right…,” he murmured, his fingers sliding between yours, “but you’re too, you haven’t moved.”

You knew you should say something—should tease him, should act unaffected—but all logic had abandoned you the moment his hand fully curled around yours. The room around you had disappeared, the film reduced to a distant hum in the background.

Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, Theo lifted your intertwined hands, brushing his lips against the inside of your wrist. It was barely a kiss—more of a ghost of one—but it sent a shiver straight down your spine, igniting something electric in your veins.

Your breath hitched. “Theo—”

“I know,” he murmured, voice impossibly low, as if he was reading every thought racing through your mind. His thumb traced slow, teasing circles over your palm, his lips still hovering dangerously close to your skin. “Tell me to stop.”

But you didn’t.

You exhaled shakily, tilting your head slightly toward him, meeting his gaze through the dim flicker of the screen. “What if I don’t want to?”

His smirk deepened, but there was something softer there, something almost unreadable. For a moment, he just looked at you, as if memorizing every detail, before he finally whispered, “Then we might have a problem.”

And the worst part?

You wanted to find out just how much of a problem it could be.

The world outside of your little bubble had disappeared completely—the film playing on the screen, the murmur of the other audience members, the distant rustling of popcorn bags—it all faded into nothing. All that remained was Theodore, his touch burning into your skin, the weight of his gaze heavy as it flickered down to your lips.

His hand tightened ever so slightly around yours, his thumb tracing the delicate skin of your wrist, and you swore you felt your heartbeat stutter. There was something unbearably patient about the way he was looking at you, like he was waiting—waiting for you to pull away, to scoff and shove him off, to turn this into just another one of your never-ending debates. But you didn’t move.

Instead, you found yourself leaning in, the warmth between you growing thick, heavy. Your noses brushed—barely, just a whisper of contact—but it sent something electric crackling through your veins.

Theo exhaled sharply, like he’d been holding his breath. His voice was nothing more than a murmur, just for you. “You’re really not stopping me.”

You smirked, fingers tightening slightly around his. “I thought you liked risks.”

His lips caught yours in the next breath, slow at first—just a soft, testing press, as if he wasn’t entirely sure this was real. But then you sighed against his mouth, tilting your head slightly, and finally leaned in.

Theo let go of whatever restraint he had left. His free hand came up to cradle your jaw, fingers pressing gently beneath your ear as he deepened the kiss, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to savor every second.

He tasted faintly of Italian summer and something richer, something entirely him. His touch was both careful and possessive, like he was memorizing the shape of you beneath his fingertips. You felt yourself melt into it, the heat between you intensifying, stealing the breath from your lungs.

You barely noticed the way his thumb brushed over your cheek, the way he tilted your chin just slightly to kiss you deeper. Everything about it was intoxicating—the way he moved, the way he swallowed the quiet little sigh that escaped you, the way his fingers flexed against your skin like he didn’t want to let go.

Somewhere in the background, the movie continued playing—gunfire, sharp dialogue, the rise of a dramatic score—but it all blurred into nothing. All you could focus on was Theo, on the way he was kissing you like he’d been waiting for this, like he wasn’t sure he’d get another chance.

When he finally, reluctantly, pulled away, his lips barely ghosting over yours, you were both breathless. His forehead rested against yours for a moment, his fingers still cupping your jaw, his thumb tracing absent patterns over your skin.

You opened your eyes slowly, meeting his gaze. His pupils were blown, his lips slightly parted, and for the first time, Theodore Nott looked entirely, devastatingly undone.

A slow, lazy smirk curled at the corner of his lips. “Well,” he murmured, voice slightly rough. “I suppose I owe Tarantino some credit after all.”

You let out a breathy laugh, rolling your eyes. “Unbelievable.”

He chuckled, fingers trailing down the side of your throat, as if he wasn’t quite ready to stop touching you yet. “Admit it,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “You liked that more than the film.”

You hummed, pretending to consider. “Jury’s still out.”

Theo smirked, his lips brushing yours again in a featherlight kiss, like a silent promise. “Then I guess I’ll just have to convince you.”

And as he pulls you back into another kiss, slow and deep and utterly devastating, you realise with absolute certainty—you were in trouble.

Theodore's hand tangles in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, his lips moving with an urgency that steals your breath. He pulls you closer, eliminating any remaining distance between your bodies, his heart hammering against his ribs. 

His other hand splays across your lower back, pressing you flush against him as the kiss grows more heated, more demanding. He nips at your lower lip, his tongue soothing the sting before delving back into your mouth, stroking along yours in a dance that leaves you breathless. The cinema, the other people, the movie - it all disappears. There is only the two of you, lost in the passion of this stolen moment. 

When Theodore finally breaks the kiss, you're both left panting, your chests heaving as you struggle to catch your breath. He rests his forehead against yours, his eyes fluttering open to gaze into yours with an intensity that makes your heart stutter. “Fuck..." he breathes, his voice ragged with desire.

And then, an act on impulse, a surge of primal instinct driving him. In one swift, fluid motion, he reaches under your thighs and lifts you effortlessly, settling you straddled on his lap. The sudden change in position startles you both, but the shock quickly melts into a shiver of pleasure as you feel the hard, muscular length of his thighs beneath you. 

The cinema has long since faded from your awareness; now there is only the two of you, the heat building between your bodies, the electricity crackling in the air. 

Theodore's hands grip your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh almost hard enough to bruise as he holds you in place. Your chest is pressed against his, and you can feel the pounding of his heart, the rapid rise and fall of his breathing. 

His eyes are dark, almost black in the dim light, blazing into yours with an intensity that makes your own pulse race. "Darling," he murmurs, his voice a low, husky rumble. His hands move again up your back, one tangling in your hair while the other cups the back of your neck, pulling you into a searing, desperate kiss. 

The kiss is a clash of lips and tongues, a dance of passion and pent-up longing. It's a kiss that speaks of a hunger, a need, a desperation that can no longer be contained. Theodore kisses you like a man starved, like he is trying to devour you, to consume you, to make you a part of him.

Red faced, messy hair, you look up at him. “Sh-shit Theo, we shouldn’t be doing this here.” You quietly giggled.

Theodore chuckles softly at your giggle, a sound that sends a shiver down your spine. He doesn't stop his ministrations, his hands still roaming your curves with a familiar confidence. 

But he does lean back slightly, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. 

"Shh, shh, bella, what's the matter? Don't tell me you're getting shy on me now..." he teases, his voice a low murmur meant only for your ears. 

"We're just two lovers, lost in the moment. Surely there's no harm in that?" His hand slides from your hip to your thigh, his fingers tracing maddeningly slow circles on your skin. Your breath hitches at the touch, a fresh wave of goosebumps erupting across your flesh.

Theodore's eyes darken with lust as he feels your hips squirming against him, your plush rear rubbing against his hardening cock through the fabric of his trousers. 

A low, guttural groan escapes his lips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs. His other hand slides up your side, his fingertips skimming the side of your breast, teasing you with the promise of his touch. 

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck, his breath hot and heavy against your flesh. "Gorgeous, you feel what you do to me, don't you?" he murmurs, his voice a low, husky growl. 

His words sent a shiver down your spine, heat pooling low in your stomach as your grip tightened on his coat. The way he spoke, all dark velvet and wicked amusement, made your head spin. You did feel it—the tension thrumming between you, the heat of his body pressed against yours, the way his fingers ghosted over your skin like he was memorizing the shape of you. And Merlin, it was driving you insane.

Your breath hitched as you shifted against him, creating more friction, desperate for anything to relieve the ache building inside you. His sharp inhale, the barely restrained groan against your throat, sent a rush of satisfaction through you.

"Fuck," Theo muttered, his lips grazing the delicate skin beneath your jaw. "You're dangerous."

A breathy laugh escaped you, but it was cut short as he tightened his grip on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. His nose skimmed along the column of your throat before he pressed an open-mouthed kiss there, slow and deliberate, as if savoring the way you trembled against him.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" he murmured, lips brushing against your pulse point. "Arguing with you, watching you get all worked up—Merlin—and now this?" His teeth grazed your skin, not quite biting, just enough to make your breath stutter. "Gorgeous, you have no idea how long I've wanted this."

His confession sent a fresh wave of heat through you, and you couldn't help the way your hips rolled against his, seeking more of the delicious friction he so easily provided. His hands gripped you tighter, his restraint fraying with each passing second.

Theo let out a strained chuckle, pulling back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and filled with something dangerous. "If you keep doing that, sweetheart," he murmured, voice thick with desire, "I'm going to forget we're in a bloody cinema."

The thought sent a thrill through you, but you knew he was right. The dim glow of the screen cast flickering shadows across his sharp features, but the reality of your surroundings was quickly slipping away, drowned out by the intoxicating heat between you.

You licked your lips, breathless. "Then maybe you should."

Theo stilled for a fraction of a second, his fingers flexing against your waist. And then—Merlin, then—his lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk.

"Brilliant idea, darling," he purred.

And before you could second-guess yourself, before the haze of lust could fade, Theo was back at it again, with more force and more desire.

Theodore's hand cups your breast fully now, his thumb and forefinger pinching and rolling your hardened nipple through the thin material of your shirt. His lips trail up your neck, pausing to nip and suck at your pulse point before moving to your ear. 

"I want to bend you over the back of this seat and fuck you until you scream, until the entire cinema knows who you belong to," he whispers, his voice rough with need. 

"I want to make you come on my cock again and again until you're begging me to stop, until you're completely and utterly satisfied..." His hand slides down your stomach, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your skirt, teasing the sensitive skin just above where you crave his touch most. 

Theodore's eyes blaze into yours, filled with a hunger and a desperation that makes your core clench with anticipation. "But I suppose I can be patient, for now," he murmurs, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. 

"After all, the anticipation, the build-up, the waiting... it's all part of the thrill, isn't it? Knowing that I could take you right here, right now, but choosing not to... for now." 

He pulls you into another searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, claiming you, consuming you, until you're left breathless and wanting. 

When he finally breaks the kiss, he rests his forehead against yours, a wicked glint in his eye. "Tell me," he murmurs, his voice a low, sinful purr. "What do you want, my clever little witch?”

“N-no, Theo.” You blush, feeling hot. “I’m too turned on, I’ll be quiet I promise.” 

Theodore's eyes flash with triumph and desire at your breathless, needy words. A smug, satisfied smirk spreads across his handsome face as he realizes the effect he's having on you. 

His hand slides further down, his fingers brushing against your clothed sex, feeling the damp heat radiating through the fabric. "Mmm, is that so, pretty?" he murmurs, his voice a low, husky purr. 

"You want me to fuck you, right here, right now, don't you? Want me to slip my hard, aching cock inside your tight, wet little cunt until you're screaming my name?" His fingers rub slow, teasing circles over your clothed clit, applying just enough pressure to make you squirm and whimper with need. 

Theodore leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, his voice dripping with sinful promise. "I promise, I'll make it worth it. I'll fuck you so hard and so good that you'll forget where we are, and every single time, that you watch this movie, you will only see me.” 

His other hand slides up your shirt, pushing the fabric out of the way to expose your heaving breasts. He cups the soft mounds, kneading and squeezing them, his thumbs and forefingers pinching and tugging at your hardened nipples. 

"You just need to be a good girl and stay quiet for me, understand? No matter how much you want to scream, no matter how much you want to cry out in ecstasy, you need to stay silent. Think you can do that, tesoro?" Theodore's eyes blaze into yours, filled with a hunger and a desperation that makes your core clench with anticipation. 

His hand slips beneath your skirt, his fingers brushing against your slick folds, feeling the evidence of your arousal. 

"Tell me, baby," he murmurs, his voice a low, commanding growl. "Are you ready for me to fuck you like you've never been fucked before, right here, right now, in front of all these unsuspecting people?”

Theodore takes your silent nod as the consent it is, his eyes darkening with a new wave of lust and desire. 

His hand slips further beneath your skirt, his fingers brushing against your slick, bare folds, feeling the evidence of your arousal coating his skin. With a low, guttural groan, he pushes two fingers deep inside you, his thumb rubbing tight circles over your clit. 

He pumps his fingers in and out of your tight heat, his palm pressing against your clit with each thrust, sending shockwaves of pleasure ricocheting through your body. Theodore leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a low, husky whisper. “Shit, you're so fucking wet. So ready for my cock, aren't you? I can feel your greedy little cunt sucking me in, begging to be filled..." 

His other hand still up your shirt, pushes the fabric of your bra out of the way completely. He leans down, taking the stiff peak into his mouth, suckling and nibbling until you're writhing against him, barely able to stay silent. 

Thank Merlin, you guys are in the last row, and the cinema’s loud speakers consume the room, the attention of the silent watchers move away from you both, the world narrowing down to the feeling of Theodore's hands on your body, his fingers pumping in and out of your dripping sex, his mouth on your breast. 

You can feel the hard, thick length of his cock pressing against your ass, the evidence of his own desperate arousal. Theodore's hand slides from your breast to grip the back of your neck, holding you in place as he grinds his hips against yours, the rough fabric of his trousers rubbing against your sensitive flesh. 

He captures your lips in a searing, desperate kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, claiming you, consuming you. 

"Mmh... please Teddy." You can't hold it in. It's been too long, he's teasing too much. "Hurry up so we can get the hell out."

Noticing your discomfort, and your inability to stay fucking quiet, Theodore’s eyes widen briefly at your plea, a wicked grin spreading across his face. He chuckles softly, a low, sinful sound that sends a shiver down your spine. 

His fingers continue their relentless assault on your dripping pussy, pumping in and out, curling against that sensitive spot deep inside you that makes your toes curl and your back arch. "Mmm, so eager, aren't you beautiful?" he murmurs, his voice a low, teasing purr. 

"So desperate for my cock, so hungry for me to fill you up, to make you mine..." 

He nips at your lower lip, his teeth tugging on the tender flesh, before soothing the sting with his tongue. His hand slides from your neck to your hip, gripping the curve possessively. "Very well, my love. I suppose we can finish the movie another time… too bad we couldn’t do it in here.” 

Theodore's voice is low and rough with desire as he slowly withdraws his fingers from your dripping sex. You whimper at the loss, your body aching to be filled, to be stretched and used. He stands abruptly, pulling you up with him. 

With deft, practiced movements, he straightens your skirt and shirt, making you presentable once more. Taking your hand in his, he leads you quickly and quietly out of the cinema, weaving through the darkened aisles until you reach the emergency exit at the back. 

Pushing open the door, Theodore pulls you into the cool night air, the stars twinkling above you in the inky black sky. He doesn't stop until he finds a secluded spot behind a tall hedgerow, hidden from view of the cinema and the buzzing streets of London. 

Turning to face you, Theodore pulls you flush against him, his hands gripping your hips with hands that you knew would leave a mark. 

He connects both your mouths, hurriedly, impatient to fuck you good.

He groans into your mouth, his tongue delving deep, stroking along yours, tasting you, consuming you. His hands slide down to cup your ass, squeezing the firm globes before lifting you up, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist.

 He carries you a few steps further, until your back is pressed against the rough bark of a sturdy brick wall. 

Breaking the kiss, Theodore leans back just enough to look into your eyes, his own blazing with a hunger and a desperation that makes your heart race. 

He reaches down with one hand, fumbling briefly with the fastenings of his trousers before freeing his aching cock. It springs forth, shiny and veiny and heavy, the swollen head already glistening with precum. 

He strokes himself once, twice, hissing at the sensation, before gripping your thigh and positioning himself at your entrance. "Tell me, beautiful," he murmurs, his voice a low, rough growl. "Tell me you want this. Tell me you need my cock inside you, filling you, claiming you, making you mine. Say it, cara mia..." He rubs the head of his cock teasingly against your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal. 

His other hand slides up your jaw, cupping your face, his thumb playing with your swollen pouty lips. His eyes bore into yours, filled with a desperate, aching need. The cool night air kisses your skin, but the heat building between your bodies is scorching, all consuming.

Theodore's chest heaves with each ragged breath, his heart pounding against his ribs. He's waiting for your consent, your permission, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. 

With a sudden, sharp thrust, he sheaths himself inside you, burying his thick, hard length deep into your tight, wet heat. He groans, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure that sends shockwaves through your body. 

He starts to move, his hips rolling against yours, his cock sliding in and out of your dripping sex with long, deep strokes. “Cazzo..." Theodore grits out, his voice strained with exertion and ecstasy. "You feel exquisite, like you were made just for me. So fucking tight, so fucking perfect..." He captures your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans and cries of pleasure. 

His hands grip your hips, pulling you down to meet his thrusts, the force of them making you shake against the hard wall.

Theodore groans at your sudden cry, the sound turning him on. He pistons his hips faster, driving into you with a newfound urgency, the force of his thrusts making the old oak tree shudder and sway around you. 

"That's it, bella," he pants, his voice a low, rough growl. "Let me hear you. I want to hear every little sound you make, every desperate plea falling from your pretty lips. Were not in there any more, don’t hold back princess…” 

One hand slides from your hip to your thigh, pushing your leg higher up his waist, opening you up to him, allowing him to delve even deeper into your tight, clenching heat. 

The other hand slides up your shirt, exposing once again your heaving breasts to the cool night air. Theodore leans down, taking one hardened nipple into his mouth, suckling and nibbling at the sensitive bud until you're writhing against him, your fingers tangling in his dark hair.

 He laves his tongue over the reddened flesh, soothing the sting of his bites before moving to its twin, giving it the same attention.

 All the while, he never stops his relentless assault on your pussy, his cock pounding into you with a force that steals your breath and makes stars explode behind your eyelids.

 You can feel the tension building low in your belly, the coil tightening with each thrust, each stroke, each press of his hips against yours. Theodore's hand slides between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles over the swollen nub. 

His touch is electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure ricocheting through your body, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "That's it, baby," he murmurs against your breast, his voice a low, sinful purr. 

"Come for me, my love. Come on my cock like the perfect little angel you are. I want to feel you…” 

Theodore feels your sex clamp down around his cock like a vice as your orgasm overtakes you. He groans, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure that echoes through the quiet night air, as your walls flutter and spasm around his throbbing length. 

He doesn't slow his thrusts, instead pounding into your quivering heat with a newfound fervor, prolonging your climax, drawing out your ecstasy. 

“Yes, yes, yes… just like that” he growls, his voice ragged and strained with his own impending release. "Fuck, you're squeezing me so tightly, like you never want to let me go. I can feel your greedy little cunt trying to swallow this big dick.” 

He captures your lips in a bruising kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure, his tongue delving deep to stroke along yours, to dance and twine with yours in a lewd, filthy imitation of the act taking place below. 

His hands grip your ass, squeezing the firm globes, pulling you harder against him, burying himself impossibly deeper inside you with each powerful thrust. Theo's fingers continue their relentless assault on your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles over the sensitive nub, pushing you through your climax and straight into another. 

Your body is trembling, shaking, the pleasure almost too intense to bear as he fucks you through the aftershocks, the waves of bliss crashing over you again and again. He can feel his own release building, the tension coiling at the base of his spine, his balls drawing up tight. 

With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside your still fluttering sex, his cock pulsing, throbbing, as he finds his own completion. 

"Fuck, pretty, fuck!" Theodore roars, his voice echoing through the night as he starts to come, his thick, hot seed spurting deep inside you, painting your walls white. 

His hips continue to roll, grinding against yours, drawing out his orgasm, filling you up just like he promised.

 He holds you close as the waves of pleasure slowly ebb, your combined releases trickling down your thighs, marking you, claiming you, making you his. 

Theodore's heart hammers against his chest as he tries to catch his breath, his forehead pressed against yours, his eyes locked with yours.

You felt colder now, the sharp night air finally biting at your flushed skin, but Theo barely let you move away from him. His arms were still wrapped around you, firm and possessive, as if he had no intention of letting you go just yet. And honestly? You weren’t about to complain.

Your breath came in slow, uneven pants as you tried to recover, your forehead still pressed against his. His lips curled into the ghost of a smirk, his usual arrogance softened by the post-bliss haze settling over both of you.

“Merlin,” Theo finally muttered, voice still thick and gravelly, “that was—” He exhaled, shaking his head like he couldn’t even find the words.

You let out a breathy, satisfied laugh, tilting your head to look at him. “Better than theatre?”

His lips twitched, eyes gleaming with mischief. “You’re really asking me that?”

You hummed, feigning nonchalance even as your body still buzzed from everything you’d just done. “Well, I mean, I know you think theatre is the peak of human artistic expression, but surely even you have to admit that was… cinematic.”

Theo let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Cinematic?”

You grinned, biting your lip. “Perfectly timed tension, intense buildup, and an unforgettable climax—I’d say we just gave Scorsese a run for his money.”

Theo groaned, tipping his head back, but you caught the way his lips twitched, like he was trying so hard not to smile. “You would turn this into a bloody film analysis.”

You shrugged, smug. “And you would turn it into a tragic, forbidden romance.”

“Obviously,” he shot back, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Star-crossed lovers, clashing ideals, unbearable tension—”

“—and a dramatic resolution that makes the audience swoon,” you added, nudging his ribs.

He chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled you in closer. “Fine, I’ll admit it. That was—” He lowered his voice, leaning in to whisper against your ear, “—Oscar-worthy.”

You let out an exaggerated gasp, pushing playfully at his chest. “You’re giving credit to film? You? Theodore Nott?”

He smirked, completely unbothered. “Even I have to admit, some performances just can’t be staged.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you finally let yourself melt into his arms, letting the cool London air wrap around you both. “Well, I suppose there’s only one thing left to do now.”

He raised a brow. “And that is?”

You looked up at him, feigning seriousness. “Debrief. Proper analysis, compare our perspectives—”

“Absolutely not,” Theo groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re insufferable.”

You grinned. “And yet, you’re still holding me.”

Theo sighed, shaking his head with an affectionate smirk. “Yeah, well… Guess I do have a weakness for a well-written story.”

His lips met yours again, soft and unhurried this time, and you couldn’t help but think—whether it was theatre or cinema, tragedy or romance—this? This was your favorite story yet.

[alexa-yukiyu]

Hear me out

Dragon!Child!reader is just casually flying along the seas visiting many islands and just vibing, Child got no concept of the government at ALL so whenever Reader wants to get some food she always remembers humans uses these gold coins and reader just coughs it out. BASICALLY UH Calm peaceful Dragon child flying and having fun while others are like

'IS THAT A FREAKIN DRAGON-'(⁠ʘ⁠ᗩ⁠ʘ⁠’⁠)

(okay I don't know where this is going now ಠ⁠∀⁠ಠ)

Wandering Dragon ( Whitebeard pirates x dragon!fem!child!reader x revolutionary army)

A/N: Here we go! I only did two crew’s, more like one and a half because I really wanted to give you guys something. I really love writing these hybrid!reader they are so fun.

Part 2 with The Whitebeard pirates

Dividers by @/saradika

“Where did she come from?” Dragon asks as he stares at the running child, her tail trailing behind her as she ran

“She flew into the ship a while ago, said she was exploring,” Ivankov answers as he watches the girl jump into Koala’s hands, laughing

“I’ve never seen something like her in all my years!” Koala grins at the child as she curls up on her shoulder

“Nor have I, I don’t ever remember seeing one of her kind in my life,” Sabo speaks up as he leans in closer to get a better look at the girl

She leans back from koala, wiggling out of her grasp and flapping her wings flying in front of Sabo

“Whoa there, aren’t you cute?” Sabo glances at the child with a slight smile on his face, reaching a hand out towards her

She furls up in a ball, beaming at his comment, still keeping herself up in the air, her cheeks tinted pink

“Thank you~.”

“You have scales on your cheeks… are you a dragon girl?” Sabo asks, still reaching his hand out carefully toward her

She unfurls herself, leaning into his touch and allowing him to feel the scales on her cheek

“Im Dragon Hybrid; I guess that makes me a dragon girl,” she says, thinking about it

“A dragon girl… that’s pretty incredible,” Sabo murmurs, smiling softly at the girl as he lightly runs a finger across her cheek

“Are you a Dragon Man? They called you Dragon. Are you a cool dragon? Can you breathe fire? Or are you a water dragon? Does your form like a serpent?” She rambles, flying in front of dragon excitedly

“She’s energetic,” Dragon says before sighing as he watches the child and rubbing his temples as he watches her buzz around

“I think she’s adorable,” Koala gushes with a grin on her face

“No. I am not a dragon; My name is Monkey D. Dragon.”

“Awe, no dragon? Nothing?”

“What do I look like a Dragon to you?” Dragon sighs, rubbing his hand down his face as he stares at her

“Hmmm,” she thinks as he circles him

“Yeah, kinda do.”

“Please tell me how I look like a dragon,” Dragon asks with a scoff in his tone

“You remind me of some of the grumpy dragons; they have that same scowl you have right now.”

“That is quite an interesting way to describe someone,” Dragon replies, shaking his head with a slight grin

“She is an interesting child, that’s for certain” Sabo speaks up, glancing at her curiously while she circles his captain

He grins as he calls her over

“Check this out,” he says, lighting his hand on fire

She awes at the sight

“Are you a dragon?”

“Just an ability granted to me by my devil fruit” He smiles, returning his hand to its original state

“The mera mera fruit! Somehow both me and my brother have it.” ” He continues, excited about demonstrating his abilities

She marbles at his numerous tricks and fire abilities that he keeps showing her

She frowns as nightfall falls; hours had gone quickly as she went from member to member with her usual antics

At one point even giving Ivancov a heart attack as they casually started coughing out golden coins when they had asked her how she bought food for herself.

“Is this not how you guys normally get these shiny things?” She had questioned, much to the shock and horror of some of the crewmates

“Aww, I have to get going now.”

“You’re going?” Koala looks at her disappointedly; she had enjoyed being around the child

“Mmhm, I have to keep going if I want to explore and meet more places and people. Im sure I‘ll see you again 'cause we're both moving around.”

“Well, I look forward to seeing you again then.”

“Goodbye, be careful on your travels, alright?” Sabo says with a soft smile before reaching out to gently ruffle her hair before she takes off

“And don’t get yourself into too much trouble!” Ivankov calls after the girl before turning to the others,

“Well, she was a pleasant surprise” he grins

“I didn’t expect a child to just wander into our ship,” Dragon chuckles while rubbing his head

Reader had now somehow found themselves aboard the Moby Dick, she was tired from her travels and needed to land, and the ship happened to be the closest.

She sneaked her way to the storage room so she could sleep the night away, and she did until she was interrupted when two of the ship's commanders descended into the storage room in search of more food to restock the kitchen. Ace accidentally knocks into one of the boxes, startling awake the dragon girl; he stares at her for a while as she stares back.

“Thatch, are you thinking what im thinking?”

“Yep, old pops is gonna throw a celebration when he hears we have got ourselves a kid on board.”

She stares at them for a second and smiles

Ace chuckles before leaning down in front of you.

"What's your name, kid?" he says, grinning.

“Im reader!” She replies, her wings flapping gently behind her

"Well, hey there, Reader. I'm Ace. And that's Thatch," he says, gesturing to the man standing next to him.

She grins and waves at them excitedly

Ace laughs and picks her up.

"What are you doing stowing away on our ship, anyway? It's not like you could even fit in these boxes. You know, most stowers usually just do it so that they can rob our ship. But the thing is, I don't see any weapons on you." Thatch comments, observing her

“Im not stowing away! Im exploring!” The pout,

“And I don’t need any weapons! I got these!” She says as she wacks her tail and wings and gently headbutts Ace with her horns

Ace laughs as she headbutts him.

"You're pretty feisty, huh? That's a good trait for a pirate. And you say you're not a stowaway or a robber, but you're definitely a bit of a troublemaker, aren't you?"

“Im not a Pirate either.”

Thatch chuckles, a bit confused.

"You're not a pirate? Well, what are you then? A marine? A merchant? Or even a traveler?" he asks.

“Umm, I ‘m Reader!”

"Well, okay then. And how old are you, Reader?" he asks.

“8!”

Ace laughs, looking at Thatch

"Eight? Now I really want to take her to Pops. Because I can already tell that he's gonna love you, kiddo." He says, glancing back at her

“Popsicle?”

They snicker

"Popsicle? No, no, no, no. Pops. Our captain. Whitebeard? He's probably gonna get a kick out of finding a stowaway as adorable as you." Thatch explains

“Not a stowaway!”

"Okay, okay, okay. Fine, fine. You're not a stowaway. You're just an adorable little kid who decided, at eight years old, to explore on her own. Not to mention, you just decided to explore the ship of the Whitebeard Pirates, of all places.”Ace says, fixing his previous statement for the small girl

She nods, pleased with his description

Sabo was so wholesome here 🥹, Also reader is a lowkey menace in this one lmao, let me know if I should continue this, add more to the whitebeard crew and/or add different crew’s as well.

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

[tinseltrinkets]

I don’t know why people think that in order to appreciate Viktor and Mel, both individually and in their relation to Jayce, one has to be discounted or dehumanized.

It does a disservice to all three characters, putting Mel and Viktor’s worth entirely on Jayce and turning Jayce into nothing more than a trophy of honor.

All three of them had, in different ways, beautiful relationships with each other.

Do I believe in JayVik endgame? Yeah.

But do I also think that Mel and Jayce had a beautiful connection, not just as romantic partners but as genuine friends, and that this doesn’t have to be ignored for Jayce and Viktor’s to be realized? Of course.

Fandom does thrive off discourse, but it also thrives on appreciation. We can advocate for the appreciation of one character without bringing down another.

A lot of those who discredit JayVik do so in the acknowledgment of the misogynoir towards Mel. This is definitely a factor, especially when she’s made out to be only an obstacle or experience for Jayce to realize Viktor is his soulmate.

But this doesn’t need to be accompanied with ableism towards Viktor and homophobia towards the ship itself.

Some people might ship JayVik because yaoi, but that doesn’t mean there’s no merit to it or that that’s everyone’s reason.

JayVik is not, by any means, forced.

Their motivations from the start to discover something revolutionary is from a displaced need for love and appreciation.

Jayce wants to feel worthy of appreciation and feel that he’s contributed something to the world. He explicitly states when talking about being unable to help Viktor that he hates to feel useless, and I don’t think that’s a disingenuous statement.

Viktor wants to feel that his appreciation is something that matters, that he matters and that by going above and beyond in contributing to society, he’s disproving all the misconceptions of his value that he’s internalized.

The reveal that Viktor was that mage that propelled this dream in both of them aligns both with the plotline and the themes. Two people realizing that their love (however you interpret it) for each other was the real dream, the memories of discovery being re-contextualized to emphasize the discovery of each other rather than of a scientific breakthrough, is truly remarkable.

Along with this, Mel and Jayce’s journey, especially pertaining to Mel’s character, showing that through seeing that the gifts she was taught to value for their ability to manipulate and attain power can be used to heal and connect with others and connect with herself past her expectations as Medarda and discover herself as a person who is warm, kind, and powerful in a way she couldn’t imagined without it accompanying violence, intimidation, and a complete lack of warmth or intimacy, is also remarkable.

While this is wonderful by itself, I’m glad that Mel is going to be the center of a new story, where she doesn’t just have to discover herself, but also hopefully connection with others. A lot of the time, the “strong black woman who doesn’t need anyone else” is sort of an excuse to not flesh out her relationship to other characters. People other than Jayce. Even Jayce and Viktor had other positive connections in their lives. So far we haven’t Mel truly be able to connect with anyone outside of Jayce, which thus far had made sense for her character as she had to keep a lot of her relationships pragmatic. But now she has the opportunity to be herself and use her gifts the way she wants to.

I think instead of hoping that her and Jayce’s relationship will be rejuvenated to fulfill this (because unfortunately, yes, he has been the only character she’s been able to connect with positively), we should be excited for the potential of her having her own story.

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

bra fitter from another world, PLEASE

Ok so I was playing an extremely trashy but surprisingly fun idle game called Isekai: Slow Life recently, and of course it's full of big titty anime cheesecake, which I was mostly really enjoying because who doesn't love cheesecake once in a while? But one of the sexy-girl characters who shows up is this fox babe who's trying very hard to be a ninja and just sucks so bad at it and her boobs are so big that I was genuinely kind of alarmed, especially since she's dressed in absolutely the most scantily of clothes. It was so jarring compared to the other, mostly much goofier and/or sexier cheesecake that I actually said, out loud, while alone in my office, "Baby girl, maybe you'd be a better ninja if you had some back support."

Thus: "bra fitter from another world." There isn't even any story in the file yet, just a few notes, but it's about a modern-day seamstress and clothing designer who gets hit by a truck and isekai'ed to a pseudo-Medieval-Europe fantasy world, where she's found unconscious in a field and nursed back to health by a woman who lives in the nearby village. This is all per stereotype, of course. Naturally she wants to do something to thank this woman, and after helping around the house for a few days it finally clicks for her that her host is constantly spilling out of the top of her dress and seems to have some for real back pain, and this is something that Our Hero knows how to fix. So she makes her host a sports bra.

This is, of course, a revolutionary concept to the people of this absurd fantasy world, who have, like, steampunk airships and elves and actual magic but have never heard of a support garment in their lives. Soon everyone with any kind of chest situation in the village, which is, like...most of them, wants one. And now that they're no longer constantly suffering from back pain and they can, you know, run places without hitting themselves the face, they're much more active in the community? They're thinking about their roles in society? In short, Our Hero has accidentally started a feminist revolution on the basis of supportive underwear.

The story even has a villain, which is to say a much more...let's say "traditional" isekai protag who's been living in this fantasy world for years now, has been suddenly deprived of the ability to see the nipples of any woman within his line of sight, and was just recently approached by one of his approximately fifty-seven wives with a comprehensive plan for a new locksmithing business that would have her out of the house a lot. Our Hero is fucking this up for him! How dare she!

I love this story concept, I should start, like. Actually writing it tomorrow.

[lxmelle]

Gojo was once described by Gege as a “man of resignation”.

It is a facet of enlightenment - in which the concept of “non-attachment” is a big part of (attachment is viewed as the root of suffering).

We can interpret “resignation” in so many ways, as it explains so much about his immense capacity for love / acceptance, but also his tendency to... simply resign himself to an outcome / fate I guess - a form of passivity that can be either considered positive or negative, perhaps depending on outcome.

Going with the flow, neither chasing nor halting anything in particular with his immense might and potential. He swayed things to gently influence an outcome. Followed a designated path trying to rebuild the sorcerer world through being a teacher... which he couldn’t fully commit too either, because he had a role as a special grade who had to keep working.

That’s not to say he didn’t achieve anything - because of course he did. But nothing revolutionary. He said so himself to Geto: he didn’t see a point in it. There were just some things he didn’t think would change - someone else would replace the higher-ups.

And thus. Despite his massive strength, he never did ever manage to go all out. Perhaps this is symbolic of an inherently gentle/accepting nature? But there was indeed a monster inside him too - the one that thrived on the thrill of killing and defeating. It was a beast he seldom let out. It was a beast with a thirst.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll paraphrase: like a sprinter limited to go at 8kmph, like a singer who is only allowed to whisper her song, a painter unable to use any paints for their desired masterpiece - how dreadfully, painfully unfulfilling.

So of course it was FUN to have this final brawl with Sukuna - to give it his very best, especially when he also didn’t feel lonely anymore with a bunch of monsters he can pass the gauntlet (his body and his will) onto in the worst case scenario.

But of course Gojo doesn’t have the ability to predict the future, so how can anyone expect that he make decisions and judgements perfectly or accurately? All he can do is consider based on his own judgement. Alone. As the only other person who help him plug those holes in his judgement, Geto, had left him.

It is up to interpretation whether Geto was left behind first, but this really isn’t a competition or about assigning blame… because where do we even start?

One cannot hold Gojo totally accountable for things that happen around him or how others interpret his actions. He was born different to everyone else. Probably treated as if he had this role to fill where people had an idea of what they wanted or needed him to be, but never gave much thought over what it would feel like for him.

Gojo, Shoko, and those left behind have had to suffer the same resignation. After all: What else are you supposed to do but resign yourself, in the face of a reality where even to things you don’t wish to happen, have to happen? All you can do is what you can... and if you can, you wield it with all your might.

Geto tried it to the best of his ability.

He wasn’t Gojo, who could do it if he wanted to.

Understanding that Gojo wasn’t, and accepting that he (Geto) shouldn’t change that about him (Gojo), as he was likely more suited to be at the school - essentially following nanami’s words and “leaving it to him” as Gojo was in his element / thrived on it, but Geto couldn’t be complicit in the system that would lead them to watch their own kind die one by one — Geto left to follow his ideals.

Gojo was referred to as the only one who can take that curse into his own hands. I used to see it as “the only one to kill Geto” after he failed and almost lost his humanity for the sake of power (killing Yuta would go against his principles) but now it also has a new meaning: the only one who can take charge and pursue the ideals to actually change the world.

The curse is the sh*t that is in the world of sorcery in jjk. Gojo seemed to (imho) now feel the need to catch up and hold the reins this time.

It is the end of Resignation Man Gojo Satoru. The emergence of The Monster Gojo Satoru (who Geto assisted in helping Gojo keep at bay through being the “model of humanity” that Gojo could follow) who was then fully ready to take the stand. Like Geto on that stage.

Bye higher ups.

Before, despite his immense strength, he didn’t force his way through. Perhaps this was the outcome of having been forced to be born and live with no choice but to be the six eyes + limitless. You do not actually have freedom.

Unless, you’re willing to become a pariah. To wield these cards that were dealt to you and completely become the extraordinary.

And now, Yuta embraces the same resigned acceptance of becoming a monster. After all... only a few will be able and willing to turn into a Monster.

Out of love. A Monstrous love indeed.

Geto had monstrous motherhood in him. I guess this extends to others now too. To cast away humanity because nobody else will. Nobody else can. So they have to wield it. Become it.

Yuta represents both the old and new world... in some way, he is like Gojo and Geto combined... power / strength + sincerity / kindness. Of course, like the yin and yang, each half has a bit of the other in it - so Gojo and Geto had a combination of power and compassion, but they symbolically represent each,

Arguably, had Geto someone else by his side, things may have been different.

All of this mess… ugh.

It didn’t have to come to this, right? Nor did it have to be the extermination of humans, but it could’ve been a collaboration of the special grades (Yuki, Gojo, Geto) all trying to solve the 3 different factors to the problem: humans as the origin of curses (research), the old-fashioned higher ups + clans, and the elimination of the curses. There may be others, but you get my gist.

But alas, this is the jjk world.

Just some thoughts, I’ll end it here before it’s more word vom.

[astrea16]

Piers and Pirates

So I've never watched One Piece before the live action, and I was curious about the anime but wasn’t sure I’d be into it so I started with Skypiea right away. The interesting thing I’ve noted about the structure of the story is that it reads a lot like a DnD campaign: one big journey divided into story arcs with their own atmospheres and challenges, and of course the iconic “you want to go now?” that turns into a ten-episode prep before the sky islands. I’ve briefly mentioned them before, but some of the encounters are so creative. I’m thinking for example of the Swamp Priest with the body control of a toddler who can’t cross his arms on his chest and forgets to say things out loud; or the old lady at sky customs who will let you pass because she can’t do anything to stop you but then sends an entire squadron after you. It’s a shame the anime is so poorly paced because the worldbuilding is genuinely phenomenal—but then again, it’s like watching a really long DnD campaign.

You can tell that Oda put a lot of research into his manga because every piece of information feels believable, whether it be Robin’s knowledge on ancient civilizations—the fact that Skypiea itself was inspired by the Mysterious Cities of Gold makes so much sense—or Nami’s navigation skills. It feels like you could sail in any direction and find an island with incredibly rich lore and characters. I’m just in awe of how unique each of them feels. Character creation is HARD, and yet no two are the same in Oda’s world. I could only achieve this level of depth with consistent roleplay, and he did it with all of his characters. They speak for decades of reading stories and consuming art blooming into one personal mindscape.

But the most remarkable one is Luffy. As opposed to the typical hero on a journey, Luffy doesn’t stand out because of a major personal growth or anything of the kind. toraheart put it perfectly in their analysis by calling him a catalyst: the story isn’t about Luffy, it’s about how he changes the world around him. How he inspires people to break free from their chains, how he stands for an ideology. More than an actor, Luffy is a symbol. And you can see that as clear as day in One Piece Fan Letter (2024) where he receives less than a minute of screen time, yet his presence resonates throughout the entire episode. The Marine who was inspired to save his brother in a moment of crisis, finding his strength in the boy whose own brother had died before his very eyes. The little girl looking up to Nami as a beacon of hope and rebellion, the same woman who found the courage to ask for help so that she could free herself from a decade of child exploitation at last. The teenager who works at the bookstore, listening to Brook’s music to get through her day. All of these were informed in some ways by the unstoppable force that is Monkey D. Luffy. He quite literally jumped out of a fire in that episode, and we know that epic imagery is one of the most evocative means of inspiration. If the boy wasn’t an anarchist, he’d be the face of revolutionary propaganda.

Speaking of anarchy, some people have called him a terrorist and I think I can stand with that. Luffy is kind, yes, but he is also selfish and stubborn. Despite his desire to help people achieve their dreams, he is entirely unconcerned with casualties when he’s fighting. He has only one goal in mind and will do anything to see it to the end. What compels me isn’t his beastly strength or his extraordinary abilities, it’s the fact that he wants everyone to do the same. To find their one piece, and to add it to the puzzle. It may not fit the first time around, but there will be people riding the same wave as you. And if someone stands in your way, well then screw that! Why do you think Luffy was so happy to have his face on a wanted poster? I’ll give you a hint, it’s not because it confirms his power. It’s because he knows that the world finally sees him. Luffy doesn’t really care about the treasure, he wants to become King of the Pirates so that he can have a place in a world that doesn’t want him.

To finish up on Fan Letter because it’s a masterpiece and I need everyone to acknowledge it, you really get this sense of carelessness from the Strawhats making their escape out of Sabaody. Yeah, everybody knows what they’re up to and they’re not exactly subtle about it (see: Luffy), but since when do they give a damn? The whole world is watching and they’re not even looking back, they’re just feeling the wind in their backs and staring straight ahead. Doesn’t that make you want to go on a grand adventure yourself?

By the way, if you liked the feel of the animation I highly recommend checking out the Gobelins channel on YouTube. It features several shorts by aspiring filmmakers in art school and they’re all a freaking delight to watch.

[my-deer-friend]

There's a common headcanon for the Hamilton-Laurens relationship that Hamilton is the big, loud talker and Laurens is stoic and quiet.

Counterpoint – Laurens is a gentleman: eloquent, charming, well-educated and raised in polite society, where the art of conversation is highly prized. While Hamilton has some of these traits, he's less refined, and he's the stronger writer between them. Laurens is the one who goes to Congress to champion his projects in person; Hamilton is the scribe who challenges and defeats with his pen. Laurens is taken seriously as a speaker because of his background and family connections; Hamilton is taken seriously when he is writing under a pseudonym.

Some supporting evidence off the top of my head:

I have collected some hints for an answer [to Charles Lee]; but I do not think, either that I can rely upon my own knowledge of facts and style to answer him fully, or that it would be prudent to undertake it without counsel. An affair of this kind ought to be passed over in total silence, or answered in a masterly manner. [...] The pen of Junius is in your hand; and I think you will, without difficulty, expose [...] such a tissue of falsehood and inconsistency, as will satisfy the world, and put him for ever to silence.

John Laurens to Alexander Hamilton, 5 December 1778

[Laurens'] polite and easy behaviour, insured distinction in every polished society.

Garden, A. (with The Library of Congress). (1822). Anecdotes of the revolutionary war in America: With sketches of character of persons the most distinguished, in the Southern states, for civil and military services. Charleston [S.C.], Printed for the author, by A. E. Miller. http://archive.org/details/anecdotesofrevol00gar

[Laurens'] insinuating address won the hearts of all his acquaintances; his sincerity and virtue secured their lasting esteem. Acting from the most honorable principles – uniting the bravery and other talents of a great officer with the knowledge of a complete scholar, and the engaging manners of a well bred gentleman, he was the idol of his country, the glory of the army, and an ornament of human nature. His abilities shone in the legislature and in the cabinet as well as in the field, and were equal to the highest stations.

Ramsay, D. (with Cornell University Library). (1858). Ramsay’s History of South Carolina, from its first settlement in 1670 to the year 1808. Newberry, S.C. : W.J. Duffie. http://archive.org/details/cu31924028789737

[mercutio-the-velaryon]

Mel having the hilt of a sword above her head like the sword of damocles not only indicates the treacherous nature of the power she's inherited from her mother from assuming the position of THE Medarda and the wolf but the fact that the sword disappears behind her as if its piercing her shows that shes already suffered the consequences of having this power (losing her family, losing her home in Piltover).

Not to mention the way both she and the room are clad in red, silver, and black, Ambessa's colour scheme. I think this indicates that although she's become what she's supposedly always wanted (a daughter her mother could be proud, a ruler) the smallness of her in this shot illustrates how overwhelmed she is (maybe emotionally but also quite tangibly by her responsibilities increasing tenfold) by the presence of her mother's legacy.

Mel demonstrates that she is an adept councillor in Piltover. The position suits her social abilities well enough to easily sway other members of the council. However, the system of power in Piltover does not allow for substantial revolutionary change for example Jayce despite government backing is unable to fully realise his dream of his research being utilised for the sake of everyone's health and safety instead it is bastardised and its original purpose is diluted made into gimmick. The extent of the progress 'the man of progress' is able to make is diminished to hexgates (transport) and other flashy but meaningless tools that simply exist so that the upper echelon can marvel at them.

I do think Mel believes Jayce would have been able to use both his and her position on the council to make positive social change, I also think she maintains a very liberal belief that a long stretch of time is required to make those advancements (she's wrong btw) but she is, like everyone else in this show, a product of their circumstances and her and every other character (mainly the piltover citizens) is burdened by their perceptions of how change can be achieved. It's also important to note that her and Jayce as privileged Piltovans can easily decentre the socially equalising potential hextech had because they weren't the people hextech could have helped as opposed to Viktor who was constantly at odds with oppressive system that disabled him and gave him a terminal illness.

I think this has changed now, with her kidnapping, her confrontation with Jayce (which I found kind of lacklustre, I think that conversation, although necessary just didn't address the right things and also felt like a one-sided lashing on a character who just endured psychological torture, was very narratively odd) and tag team showdown with her mother and the Black Rose, she's been pushed past the point of no return. She cannot be the politican carefully hand selecting gifts for another politicians birthday so they feel a sense of loyalty to her, she cannot do behind the scenes work anymore.

I have very little to work with because we don't really know what state Noxus will be in when Mel arrives but I do wonderhow this Mel who has shedded her previous political passiveness will function in a position that puts her in the front, her as a symbol of power and the head of her house.

I think Mel is a character bound for errors and mistakes but who is fundamentally gold at heart and that literally manifests in her design, the embellishments on her skin and the colour of power, also the way she coated that painting in gold in season one show that she will always end up being true herself though she may wield as is her nature as conduit other peoples powers and bare their responsibilities she won't be changed she will make change, good change.

[esquilone]

What I would say/i guess about women who are attracted to Dutch Van der Linde and Sean MacGuire:

RDR2 and You

❤︎ Based on that request! ❤︎

❤︎ Note: the images aren't mine, they're from Pinterest, I just edited them and changed details and made a cover for this post! :p

Right... I don't think Dutch and Sean are characters I'm going to be able to give a good assessment of, so much so that my focus is more on Micah and Javier, but I've done some research with some things I already knew, I've just added them with others and put together some unfinished texts, okay? I hope they match up a bit with reality and what I believe would make a woman like men who look the same as them.

𝓓𝓾𝓽𝓬𝓱 𝓥𝓪𝓷 𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓛𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓮 -

Why do some women like Dutch van der Linde?

Dutch has an absurd magnetism. He is a charismatic leader, always with a speech ready and the ability to make anyone believe in him. This can be attractive because he has that energy of a “great man, a man who knows how to solve everything.”someone who seems to know exactly what he is doing (even when, in reality, he is just improvising so he doesn’t appear to be falling apart).

Psychologically, he represents that figure of the “revolutionary dreamer,” someone who challenges the system and promises a better future. Many people are drawn to this kind of idealism, even when it turns dangerous. He also has a way of seducing without needing to be direct, simply through the power of words and presence. Want proof? Many incredibly intelligent members (Arthur included) followed Dutch and Hosea blindly. However, I strongly believe that Dutch always had a slightly psychotic tendency. I firmly think he struggled against his own selfishness and greed because Hosea was there to put him in his place. He probably revealed this side of himself during the Blackwater massacre and robbery, but the ones who witnessed it are already dead, so no one could say anything without proof. Hosea often showed both excitement and disagreement toward Dutch’s plans, and I believe it was because he had already seen that darker side of him.

As the game progresses, he reveals this dark side more and more—he becomes paranoid and manipulative, his biggest red flag. However, this doesn’t stop some women from being attracted to complicated men, thinking they can “save” them or bring back their good side. (I mentioned this in my analysis of Micah.)

I believe Dutch truly loved once, and that was Annabelle, who was murdered by Colm O’Driscoll. He becomes violent and loses patience when talking to Colm about her, not because Colm apologized, but because he showed complete disdain for what happened. I think this event pushed Dutch further toward becoming cold and violent out of pure selfishness. So yes, if Dutch loved a woman enough, he could sacrifice anything for revenge in her name. He mentions more than twice how much he despises Colm for killing her, and Arthur even tells him something like, “You should let go of revenge, you killed his brother first once.” But Dutch refuses to let it go.

Dutch's old love: Annabel

Anabelle is one of the greatest mysteries of Dutch’s past, something he never truly got over. She is almost like a ghost in his story—someone who represents a time when he was still a different man, perhaps more noble, less corrupted by his own pride. We already know she was murdered by Colm O’Driscoll—I’ve mentioned this before—the impact of her death is one of the reasons why he never truly committed to anyone again. He may have romanticized Anabelle in his mind, turning her into a perfect and unattainable figure. This might explain why he never treated Molly the same way.

And what about Molly O’Shea?

To me, Molly is a perfect example of someone who fell in love with the idea of Dutch rather than the real man he was. In fact, I believe he presented himself as the perfect, caring man to her—maybe because, in some way, she reminded him of Anabelle. Molly got involved with this strong and charismatic leader. She is described as a woman of “high class and society,” so we see that she left some things behind—perhaps for Dutch? I’m not 100% sure, because Molly is a proud woman, someone who wants to be seen and considered the best. She wanted to be the woman by his side, but Dutch never gave her the attention she craved. He was more focused on the gang and his own delusions of grandeur.

So as time passed, she realized that he was not really available for her, not giving her attention that she had always received, without time for her. This led her to a cycle of frustration and resentment, until, in a moment of anger, she made the mistake of saying that she betrayed him (when in fact, she didn't) she just wanted him to look at her again like the first time, you see that she drank, probably because she lacked the courage to say everything she wanted.

Molly was nothing more than a shadow of what Dutch wanted—a woman who loved him desperately but could never reach his heart. She spent her time trying to be seen by him, wanting the love he had already given to someone else, and she was consumed by it. Molly's tragedy is that she was just one more in the long list of people who believed too much in Dutch and ended up destroyed by it.

Attraction to Men Like Dutch – The Fascination with Power, Dangerous Charisma, and Protection:

Women who are typically attracted to men like Dutch are often influenced by deeper psychological factors, which can range from unconscious patterns to past experiences. His manipulative charisma triggers something called the halo effect, where his intelligence and eloquence make him seem more trustworthy and desirable than he actually is, creating the illusion that there is no need to worry because he appears to predict and plan everything before it happens. Additionally, there is the visionary leader archetype, someone who seems to understand the world better than others, a man who promises a grand future—something extremely attractive to those seeking emotional security or meaning in life.

(Most people who seek emotional and physical security are women, which is why it is not uncommon for younger women to choose older men, as in some cases they resemble the protective presence of a maternal figure, but in a romantic sense.)

Another explanation may also lie in what is called attraction to the charismatic narcissist. Men like Dutch are magnetic because they project absolute confidence and power, qualities that can activate primitive instincts of survival and protection. Some women also feel that they could be the “exception” for him, the only one capable of conquering his true love and being the constant companion by his side, which reinforces and fits into the savior fantasy, where they believe they can bring out the good side of a troubled man. But in the end, this usually leads to frustration and pain because the truth is, Dutch belongs to no one but himself—and perhaps his first true love. If you happened to be the kind of woman he truly desires, he might surrender that pride for love, but you would have to be the most unforgettable. He is the type of man who is nearly impossible to have kneeling at your feet.

What would it be like to be in a relationship with him?

If Dutch were truly in love, the relationship would be intense and psychological. He thrives on control and admiration, so he’d naturally take on a protective, almost mentor-like role with a younger woman. He’d enjoy being the one who teaches, impresses, and leads. In the beginning, he’d be incredibly charming—seductive, confident, making her feel like the most important person in the world. But Dutch also has a narcissistic side. He craves absolute loyalty and validation, and if he ever felt like he was losing control or giving in too much, he could emotionally distance himself. If she became an obstacle to his ambitions, he would likely grow cold, prioritizing his dreams over her. Dutch always seeks something greater, something that fuels his ego, and if he ever felt trapped, he wouldn’t hesitate to walk away.

However, if she wasn’t an obstacle—if she admired him, supported his vision, and fueled his sense of power—then he could be deeply devoted in his own way. He would spoil her with attention, make her feel special, and keep her close as his most trusted confidante. As long as she reinforced his greatness and never made him feel small, she could be the one person he’d truly hold onto.

What would it be like if it was the opposite of an obstacle, but rather his pure Love for her?

If Dutch truly loved this woman and saw her as his ally, he would be intense and protective. His affection would come through striking gestures—firm embraces, deep kisses, holding her waist or face while speaking in an intimate and captivating tone. He would love to see her admiration and make sure she knew how special she was.

He would show his affection through small luxuries—a ring, a necklace, or something symbolic; he is a man of refined tastes. If she strengthened his pride, he would protect her above all else. In his most vulnerable moments, he might lower his guard only for her, lying beside her at night, sharing his dreams and fears—things he would never admit to anyone else.

( - ❤︎ - )

𝓢𝓮𝓪𝓷 𝓜𝓪𝓬𝓖𝓾𝓲𝓻𝓮 -

Sean???? Oh my, he's the complete opposite of Dutch, I know a few things about him that I believe define him as the man he is; boy, Sean seems to be younger, not as young as Lenny or Tilly, but young, Arthur calls him a "kid" sometimes. He's that outgoing guy, who makes fun of everything and never takes himself seriously. He has a chaotic and youthful energy, a free spirit that likes a good fight and a good drink. Many women are attracted to this type of personality because he is the opposite of monotony. It brings fun, and a little irresponsibility. Psychologically, he can represent that guy who makes you forget the problems, who requires nothing but to live in the moment. In addition, he has an Irish accent that can be very charming for some people, and his self-confidence (even exaggerated) gives a certain charm. I've talked to some people in English and I don't understand the accent because everything seems the same to me, but the redneck accent of the United States I can feel when they speak, so the Irish would be a faster accent and with some elongated words when pronounced. He is bold, playful, often drunk—a man who takes pleasure in teasing and being teased. He makes people laugh when they don’t want to, and even when the entire gang is sighing in frustration, they know he’s an enjoyable presence. He pulls you into situations you never imagined yourself in, and suddenly, you realize you’re enjoying it. There’s something pure about the way he throws himself into life���fearless, without overthinking the future. He may not be the most reliable, he may be reckless and quite irresponsible, but there’s something charming about that—because with him, life is never dull.

Sean MacGuire’s Possible Red Flags:

Sean has always had a chaotic energy—in a fun way—but he can also be frustrating. He’s not the kind of man you can trust with your life—let alone your heart. He’s the guy who disappears for days and returns as if nothing happened, probably laughing with a wild story to tell. He also has an inflated ego, always believing he’s the center of attention, which can be annoying if someone tries to have a serious conversation with him.

And… what about Karen? Well, they had a fling during Sean’s welcome-back party at camp, but it was never serious. Sean never seemed like the type to commit—he lives in the moment and doesn’t get attached. That carefree attitude can be thrilling for someone looking for excitement, but frustrating for someone wanting something deeper. He makes you feel special in the moment, but the next day, he might be making another woman laugh just the same. However, he didn’t really flirt with other women at camp, at least not openly. There’s even a scene where Karen almost slaps him, possibly days after their fling, and later she cries, saying he only cares about her when he’s drunk. Sean asks why she’s upset, and she just says everything is fine and tells him to keep doing whatever he was doing. After his death in Rhodes, Karen starts drinking heavily, which might say more about how much she actually cared.

What Attracts Women to Sean?

If Dutch is a dangerous addiction, Sean is pure mischief. What makes him attractive is that he has no filter—he says what he thinks, and what he thinks is usually funny. Physically, he has a rougher charm. He’s not the best-looking guy in camp (at least not in my opinion!), but he has that mischievous smile, that glint in his eye that makes it seem like he has a secret only you can uncover. He’s not a typical heartthrob, but his energy is irresistible. Many women end up with men who make them laugh, caring less about looks when the personality is that magnetic. His carefree and spontaneous nature is also a big part of his appeal. He’s not always trying to impress—he simply is that way. That makes interactions with him feel genuine, even if he’s not the most reliable man around. For those who love a free spirit, someone who lives without fear or restraint, Sean is hard to ignore.

His playful and teasing nature creates a quick sense of intimacy, like he’s someone you can truly be yourself around—laugh until your stomach hurts and forget about your worries. He provokes and challenges, but never in a threatening way, which can be exciting. And his slightly childish pride can even be charming, making it feel like he’s always trying to impress, even if he won’t admit it.

Attraction to Men Like Sean – The Charm of the Teaser and the Free Spirit

Men like Sean represent a different kind of psychological fascination. They are teasers, playful, and INSISTENT, which triggers a phenomenon called the chase effect—the idea that the more someone provokes and challenges you, the more engaging they become. Their bold and daring nature creates tension, a push-and-pull dynamic that can be exciting for many women.

Additionally, Sean fits the archetype of the man who pursues, which can activate something known as validation through desire—when someone feels more attractive and valued because they are being intensely desired. He has no fear of showing interest, and that can be irresistible, especially in contrast to men who are more closed off or indifferent. He’s not a bad choice. c:

How could Sean be if he was really attracted in the romantic sense, by a woman?

If Sean truly liked a woman, he would show affection in a spontaneous and playful way. He’s not the type for grand romantic declarations, but he’d express his feelings through teasing, cheeky nicknames, and casual touches—throwing his arm around her shoulders or messing up her hair just to hear her complain. He would probably try to impress her by telling exaggerated (or completely made-up) stories about his adventures, just to make her laugh. In more sincere moments, he might lower his guard and be surprisingly sweet—holding her hand when no one was looking or pulling her into a dance for no reason, just because. And despite his reckless nature, if he truly cared, he would try to protect her in his own way, even if it meant getting into trouble to defend her.

At his core, Sean’s affection would come from his loyalty and the way he’d make sure to always be around, making life lighter and more fun.

Conclusion:

Dutch Van der Linde and Sean are the complete opposite of each other, each reflecting a different type of masculine figure for different women, or perhaps there are high and low levels! It all depends on the person.

I hope you liked it, goodbye! ❤︎

[chaispicelatte]

Fairy Tale Allusions in Yugioh 5Ds

So I was rewatching 5Ds and Akiza's duel against the knight dude got me thinking about the fairy tale allusions in her design and arc, and thinking about it more got me to realize that 5Ds actually has a lot of loose fairy tale allusions throughout it. So here are just a couple of the ones I noticed:

Akiza in general: Akiza's first duel of the series was already really heavy with the knight vs. witch symbolism. It also got me thinking about the "Princess, Witch, and Prince" theme from Revolutionary Girl Utena. A very basic rundown of what Utena says on it is that people will try to sort women into a box of good (Princess) or bad (Witch) based on how much they conform to the concept of what a girl should be like, a good Princess has to trade independence for protection from a Prince, any girl that doesn’t agree is a Witch. Problem is that no woman is ever just one of those things at a time, and Akiza definitely isn't. She is at first feared for her power, labelled the evil Black Rose Witch, and attempts to find comfort and safety in her "Prince" (Sayer). Only when she meets Yusei and the gang and finds acceptance from them and her parents do we see that she's actually a very kind girl. And even then, she doesn't go trading one Prince for another, she's never as reliant on Yusei as she was with Sayer and maintains her independence. Also just her deck in general carries the theme with fairy tale-like imagery (roses, knights, witches, fairies, and a dragon).

Akiza + Yusei: These two are basically Beauty and the Beast. I am a major faithshipping fan, but even if you take out the romantic aspects, it still fits. Yusei being Beauty and Akiza being the Beast for obvious reasons. The scene with Yusei waking Akiza in the hospital also gives major Sleeping Beauty vibes as well (this scene also owns my soul).

The rose imagery also still fits with both of them.

Yusei: He's Cinderella: he's a poor boy, goes to a ball that he wasn't supposed to go to (Neo Domino), has to leave at midnight (gets arrested), but leaves behind a "glass slipper" (the mark of the Crimson Dragon) that makes it so that the prince (Godwin) can track him down and give him another shot at freedom (not for altruistic purposes of course, but it still fits).

Jack and Carly: Scoopshipping are The Little Mermaid. The mermaid (Carly) falls in love with the prince (Jack), but for certain reasons, they cannot be together. Said mermaid makes a deal, by trading her soul, she gains legs (Dark Signer abilities + duel runner) which allows her a second chance to go after the prince. But the prince rejects her proposal (because she's undead and evil now), and the mermaid concedes. But being unable to hold up her end of the deal, she turns into sea foam and dies (turns into dust and dies).

Leo and Luna: Luna's deck already has a loose fairy forest type theme (and in the manga, has a Fairy Tale archetype). I want to say they're Hansel and Gretel. Has the same beats of two siblings getting lost in the woods (Luna with her spirit world adventure, Leo dueling Devack with "Closed Forest" up). But most of it comes from their duel with Devack, in which Hansel (Leo) stalls the witch (Devack) for as long as possible until Gretel (Luna) can kill the witch by pushing him into the oven (win the duel). You could also say that Luna's arc of freeing Ancient Fairy Dragon has elements of Rapunzel (saving the princess from the witch that locked her up).

Those are at least the ones I noticed. I doubt all of them were intentional but it's interesting when you make the connections. Let me know if there's any I missed because I'm not done with my rewatch yet and don't have anything for Crow. Feel like Team Satisfaction and Neo Domino City have Wizard of Oz parallels, but haven't got enough info to say how yet.

[tomtefairytaleblog]

Diamonds, Toads, and Dark Magical Girls

According to Bill Ellis in "The Fairy-Telling Craft of Princess Tutu: Meta-Commentary and the Folkloresque," the fairy tale of Cinderella can be seen as one of the earliest examples of the transformation sequences/henshin seen in magical girl anime, particularly in how the title character is given items that help her achieve a goal, usually given to her by a magical being (her mother's spirit in a tree, a fairy godmother, etc.).

Thinking again about the connection between magical girls and fairy tales--even if they aren't as meta as Tutu, many magical girls do use imagery and ideas from European fairy tales (Sailor Moon alone has references to Hans Christian Andersen and Charles Perrault)--I wondered what other character types from the genre may have some precedent in fairy tales. Then I started thinking about the Dark Magical Girl character.

Not every magical girl story has a Dark Magical Girl, but they do crop up in a lot of works. To name a few, there's Fate Testarossa from Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha, Homura Akemi from Puella Magi Madoka Magica, Rue/Kraehe from Princess Tutu, and countless others that would be too numerous to name. In general they tend to be more cynical, darker counterparts to the main protagonists, who tend to come from relatively more stable environments. Whatever magic they possess also may be more sinister, at least initially.

Tying in somewhat to the story of Cinderella is the Aarne-Thompson-Uther Index fairy tale type "The Kind and Unkind Girls" (ATU 480). Many of the stories of this type involve a rivalry between two stepsisters, one being favored by the stepmother due to being the latter's biological daughter. The general idea in most versions of the tale is that both girls encounter a magical being at separate points in time. The kind girl helps the magical being in some way, at which point the magical being gives her a magical ability or magical presents. Meanwhile, the unkind girl refuses to help the magical being and is cursed in some fashion, or, worse, killed. The kind girl meanwhile usually ends up marrying a prince, or a similar character. One of the more popular versions of this story, "Diamonds and Toads," has the kind girl gain the ability to have a jewel or flower fall from her mouth when she speaks, while the unkind girl is cursed to have toads and snakes fall from hers. And while the kind girl does marry a prince, the unkind one is kicked out of her house and dies alone in the woods. (Insert something about Revolutionary Girl Utena's comment about how a girl who cannot become a princess is doomed to be a witch.)

Typically in these fairy tales, the unkind girl is never shown to be a real threat to the kind one; the ultimate threat is the stepmother, who uses her daughter as a means to an end. In contrast, Dark Magical Girls tend to have, well, magic that helps them attack the magical girl protagonist. In this regard, they're the Heavy in the plot, while the witch/mother-like figure/real enemy waits in the background (as is the case in a lot of magical girl shows--the Raven and Rue, Precia and Fate, Fine and Chris in Symphogear etc.). Sometimes the Dark Magical Girl will be a major threat, though--like the Princess of Disaster in Pretear (who is loosely-inspired by the Evil Queen in Snow White).

In The Uses of Enchantment: The Meaning and Importance of Fairy Tales (1976), Bruno Bettelheim argues that the stepmother as a character is a way for children to process the negative traits of their own mothers, while still idealizing the good qualities of them. With that in mind, the unkind sister and the Dark Magical Girl can be viewed as a way of processing/externalizing the negative traits that a girl can have, being cruel, rebellious, and uncaring. They also embody their fears, too--the fear of being alone, rejected, and doomed to fail.

Of course, nowadays, Dark Magical Girls have a tendency to be redeemed and reconcile with/befriend the main magical girl, something the kind and unkind girls never seem to do in the fairy tales. Maybe it's just emblematic of society deciding that killing a girl off for being a little rude is a bit unfair. She's just a kid trying to find her place in the world, too, after all.

[moongothic]

You know I was wondering if Crocodile ever did have any kind of involvement with the Revolutionary Army in secret (lest the Government finds out and revokes his Shichibukai status), what kind of involvement would that even have been

And now, with both the Vegapunk/Ohara flashback and Kuma's flashback, it's being made very clear to us that the Revolutionary Army was broke as hell 22 years ago. Like the fact that this has been brought up twice now in a relatively short span of time is interesting to me, that's usually a sign it's not an unimportant plotpoint

But you know who would have had money to help fund the Army

A funny little warlord who would eventually go and build a fucking casino to run for funsies. A warlord who had to give the Government some of his Pirating Income to keep his warlord-status

Like Crocodile hated the Government anyways so why not help fund the Revolutionary Army in secret, out of spite if for no other reason

Vaguely related, but I keep on remembering this scene (post-Enies Lobby), which at first glance just seems like a basic Lore Dump

But then there's the

"Yet..."

(Or "however", she says "no ni" in Japanese and you could translate that in many ways, I would probably have gone with "however" but that wouldn't have fit into the speechbubble)

Mind you, the conversation just kind of ends there, next we see Garp realize he probably shouldn't have mentioned Dragon infront of such a massive audience, so wherever that "yet" was going to lead to we will never find out, because Oda conveniently changed the subject before we got to it

And you know. Like yes, Robin could be just expressing her shock over finding out that the leader of the Revolutionary Army had a child with someone

But also, Robin was a part of an organization that was trying to overthrow one of the founding countries of the World Government in an explicit attempt to go against said Government (compared to like, Blackbeard, who currently wants to make Fullalead into a "pirate country" that's a part OF the World Government)

Like you don't have to be a genius to look at Crocodile's ultimate goals and compare that to what Dragon is doing and find a few similarities here and there maybe

(Also like, Crocodile's equivalent in Romancing SaGa 2 is meant to be Wagnas, the queer-coded leader of the Seven Heroes (whom the OG Shichibukai are based on) who "hoped to help the world". You know, an interesting detail and all.)

Not to mention, during the time Robin spent with Baroque Works, if Crocodile was ever in contact with the Revolutionary Army at all, considdering she has the ability to easily spy on people and that she didn't trust Crocodile one bit, it wouldn't be unsurprising if she ever spied on Crocodile and/or just overheard a phone call or knew about Crocodile having secret spending habits or something

(Mind you, I'm not saying "she knew" Crocodile was involved with the Revolutionaries, more that she might've been Suspecting Things, that "yet" being about her connecting the dots while unsure if her conclusion was right or not)

Of course Crocodile's plans can't have been Dragon Approved by any means, especially considdering the Army had been looking for Robin for over 10 years (pre-timeskip)

Four years of which were with Crocodile. Like if he was FULLY allied with the Army and KNEW they were looking for Robin, surely he would've called Dragon and been like "hey I found the kid from Ohara, wanna come hang out" or something. But no, he had bigger plans and kept Robin a secret from the Revolutionaries and the Government alike

Also like, I have seen people question why the Revolutionaries weren't involved with Alabasta's rebellion at all, and "Oda hadn't come up with the Revolutionaries yet at the time of writing" (/"OP was meant to end at Alabasta at one point so there would've been no reason to introduce the subplot at that point") aside Between Baroque Works being a secret organization working undercover (thus the Army might not have been aware of the civil war being manufactured), the framing of the King making him look bad and very much the type of monarch that deserved to be overthrown in the Army's eyes, and Crocodile maybe lying through his teeth about what was happening in the country... Yeah, the Army's lack of involvement with Alabasta suddenly makes sense

EDIT Minor addition: Just realized that because Crocodile was technically working for the Government, if the Revs ever did send forces to participate in Alabasta's civil army and taking down the throne, the Government could've easily ordered Crocodile to step in to stop the rebellion and take down the Revolutionaries, right? Because he was supposed to be on the Government's side, right? And surely the Army wouldn't have wanted to fight against Crocodile if they were secretly allied (Croc's secret betrayal aside), and if Crocodile refused to fight the Revs the Government could've seen that as a reason to revoke his Shichibukai rights (which wouldn't be great if they wanted to keep Crocodile in a position where he could fund the Army?). So it could've also been a case of it being for the best for everyone's sake to let this one play out "naturally"

But my point is

I'm just deeply intriqued by these little details and wonder if I'm Actually Masterfully Connecting The Dots Like a True Genius or just seeing a pattern where there's none. Like this is far from confirming the theory, I'm just saying, the pieces do kinda fit together do they not