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azsazz · 4 months ago

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Over Ice

Hockey!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: I think we could really have fun with the different courts and Illyrian values on a thematic basis but ALSO if the reader is in something very artsy and hasn’t really been into sports and then she’s walking around Campus and BOOM right smack dab into Broody McBrooder!! She THEN finds out he’s the tutor for one of her hardest courses (personally Psych would be a good one) and they become super duper close with him and the team!!! She decides to wear Cass’ jersey to make him mad and when he finally gets a hold of her after the game: *cue innocent shrug* he asked me to!

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 3032

Notes: While I work on a plot for an azzy hockey x figure skater au, please enjoy a rhys hockey au 🤪

This was originally an Az idea but I thought it fit better for Rhys bby so here we are. I feel like I've forgotten how to write and this is shit (dont judge me im going thru smthin rn)

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A giant FU stares up at you.

Well, actually, it’s only an F, but it may as well be the former with the way it’s circled in thick, red ink.

Three. Fucking. Times.

Tears sting the back of your eyes but you refuse to let them fall. It never feels good, failing, and even if you’d gotten a C+ like you hoped, you would’ve still beaten yourself up over the grade because plain and simple: that’s who you are.

Two months ago, at the beginning of the semester, psychology had seemed like a breeze. The lectures were easy to listen to and intriguing, and you had no trouble following along with the professors’ slideshows as you took detailed notes of everything on the screen. Your assigned readings were completed in a similar state, though they weren’t graded but included important information you’d find on the tests.

Somewhere along the line, your grade slipped, and you don’t remember if it had been between studying for Biology or reveling in your newfound freedom away from your parents, partying and enjoying a true college experience with your roommates.

Whatever happened, the repercussions are hitting you right in the face, the taunting letter you have never seen before on any of your assignments throughout all your years of learning.

If your parents saw this, they would bring the entire house down with their scolding.

It’s not like you didn’t try. You studied, even if the word is a loose term for what material you used. Things started piling up this month, with it being a new semester and all. You didn’t schedule out the time to focus on psychology when the classes you were really interested in—Introduction to Nutrition and Kinesiology—took first and second place for your attention. Plus, with the number of social events your best friends—who are also conveniently your roommates—invited you too, it was almost impossible to say no. Friends are a vital part of the college experience and you were in desperate need of some fun after having spent the summer lounging at home with your parents.

You found a psych support group that met at the library once a week to study together. It wasn’t anything like you thought it would be, a bunch of clueless students with grades similar to yours. All they seemed to want to do with your precious time was bitch and moan about the professor instead of actually trying to conquer the areas of study for the upcoming test.

And now the consequences of your actions have made themselves known.

Grumbling, you shove the test into your binder before shutting it with a snap that does nothing to ease your frustration. A few students still trail from the room, though most bolted right after being released. Some linger at the bottom of the lecture hall where the professor sits, answering their questions.

You have about a million-and-one of your own but you’re too worked up about your grade to go down there and hash it out with Mr. Hybern. His peppery colored hair is perfectly coiffed on this terrible day, his beard trimmed close to his jowls. His gleaming, golden skin makes you think that maybe he’d spent his weekend grading tests out in the sun, and you have half a mind to stomp your way down the stairs and demand a second review of your test.

It wouldn’t solve your irritation, and it would certainly be embarrassing if in fact your F is correct.

Placing your binder, notebook, and pens back into your bag, you zip it, sling it over your shoulder, and make your way to the exit, holding your chin high because if there’s one thing you’re not going to do, is cry over your terrible, awful grade in public.

The waterworks will just have to wait until you’re locked in your private bedroom in your shared dorm.

There is good news. It’s Friday, which means you can snag the pint of your favorite ice cream that your roommates won’t dare touch because ‘no ice cream that’s worth it should have fruit in it, that’s like asking for a steak on your spaghetti.’ You have no idea what Mor—one of your roommates—was on about when she brought up the awful comparison, and in reply all you’d done is scooped out a chunk of cherries embedded into the creamy, pink goodness and stuffed it into your mouth.

With it being the weekend, you can also wallow well into the night without having to worry about hiding your puffy eyes in the morning. You’ll have all day tomorrow to figure out a plan of action, once you allow yourself the time to properly grieve and process…and maybe have a drink or two.

You shoulder through the heavy lecture hall door with your head down, hiding the red stain to your cheeks. So, maybe you’re not going to hold you head high as you trail back to your dorm, but you will not cry.

The door swings open and you barely catch the noise of surprise before you’re barreling into something that’s akin to a brick wall. Your breath leaves your body in a whoosh and your balance slips out from under you, arms flailing as you fall.

You squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for impact, but it never comes.

Slowly, mortified because you know exactly what’s cushioned your fall, you peek your eyes open, carefully meeting a sapphire gaze that surely would take your breath away should you have any left.

This close, you can see the perfection of his angular features: a long, straight nose, high cheekbones under the dusting of pink that caresses his own face. His lashes are dark as charcoal, the same color of his hair that looks as soft as silk.

Whatever it is that has you entranced by his beauty, the sentiment seems to be mutual. Those bright eyes trace across your features, carefully drinking you in. You don’t know if you’re thankful that your face is already as red as the marker on your test or if you want him to see the way your cheeks go molten.

There’s a warmth against your hips that you don’t notice until he speaks, his hands that have a solid grip around you, keeping you steady to his chest. His whispered breath brushes across your lips. “By all means,” he teases softly, “Take your time.”

“Oh, my Gods, I am so sorry,” you squeak, rolling off his chest. You can hear his chuckling as you scramble to climb to your feet, but your knees are so weak at the sight—and touch—of the most handsome man you’ve ever seen lifting gracefully to his feet, holding a hand down to help you up.

You try not to notice just how big his hand is in yours, and for the second time today, you fail.

“Don’t worry about it, darling,” he says, displaying an easy grin that makes your heart stutter in your chest. The door opens with a loud click and the both of you startle. His hand comes down warmly on your spine, ushering you out of the way of the student that’s beaming grin falters into apology at the idea of almost running you down, already on the phone with someone and gushing over their test result.

It’s hard to reign in your glare.

The student’s conversation seems to jolt the man out of his stupor. He blinks, shaking his head as if to rid him of a spell you might have cast on him, or maybe he’s testing to see if he has a concussion from the fall.

When he returns his attention to you, it takes everything in your power not to melt into a puddle beneath that gaze.

“Is Mr. H still passing out tests?” he asks, and you swallow the sourness that accompanies the name of your professor. You and he are not on good terms right now, not that this boy knows that.

“Yeah,” you answer, remembering you saw him sitting on his throne (desk chair) with his loyal citizens (students) kissing his feet (talking through their tests). “I think so.” Then, because you’re pretty sure you would remember a face like his if he were in your lecture, you ask, “Are you in this class?”

“No,” he answers with a scoff that tells you he breezed by this class. “I took Psych 101 freshman year, but I have Professor Hybern again for Cognitive Psychology and I need to turn in my paper early.”

Turning in a paper early? What is he, some kind of genius?

“Oh,” you answer lamely, “Cool.”

His answering grin cracks open the casing of the butterflies you didn’t know were living in your stomach, taking off in a flurry of emotion.

He shrugs like he couldn’t really care less about any of it, but to you, the fact that he’s managed to pass Psych 101 at all is an impressive feat, though you don’t know why he’d sign up for even more torture. “Sure. Look, I’ve got to run, but are you sure you’re okay?”

It’s nice of him to ask if you’re okay when he’s the one who had his back painted to the floor only moments ago. “Yeah, I’m fine, but I should be the one asking you that. Are you okay?”

His laughter is rich and warm, and you want to melt into it. Before you have the chance to make even more a fool of yourself in front of this handsome stranger, he answers. “I’ve been checked harder, darling. You have a nice day now.”

“Thanks, you too,” your words trail off as he catches the door on its next outswing, ducking inside without waiting for your response.

Jeeze, he must really be in a rush, then.

It’s when you exit the doors to the psychology building that you curse yourself. You should’ve gotten his number, his name at least. You could’ve invited him over for something more distracting and yummier than the ice cream you’d planned on demolishing.

At least you have something better to think about tonight than your test.

With a heavy sigh, you allow your backpack to fall off your shoulder. Now that you’ve arrived back to your dorm, you’re suddenly feeling more exhausted than ever.

The walk home from class had been nice, your time spent thinking about the boy you’d run into. The broadness of his shoulders you didn’t seem to notice until he turned away, stretching wide beneath his tight t-shirt. The bulge of his biceps beneath said t-shirt, flexing as he pulled the door open for himself. The shape of his ass in those snug jeans.

The sight of that is what had your eyes nearly popping from your head. What’s he doing that gives him such a bubblicious ass? Squats? Lunges? You can do those. You choose not to, but if there’s a guarantee that you’d have an ass like that, you’d start right this second.

Tucking your lip into your mouth in concentration, you plant your hands on your hips, making your way to the refrigerator that your ice cream is housed in, lunging your way there.

It’s not that far, the communal space in your shared dorm is small, but your heartrate is elevated by the time you’re two lunges away from your prize: your ice cream.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Mother!” You shout as the voice of your roommate breaks your concentration. Your knees wobble and your thighs shake, unable to hold you up from the burst of exertion you used. You clearly need to get into the gym more, another thing to add to your already busy schedule. “You scared me!”

Mor rolls her chocolate-brown eyes, sliding into one of the stools at your counter. It’s not built for it, the laminate countertop doesn’t hang over the island far enough for your legs to fit, but you and your roommates thought they were cute, nonetheless. You can suffer having to hunch over your knees to reach your cereal bowls in the mornings in favor of having more space for company to sit.

When you haul yourself off the ground, you take in your roommate. She’s wearing some kind of jersey, one you’ve never even seen in her wardrobe before, and you probably spend more time in there than her because she has every item of clothing you could ever imagine. The top she’s wearing now totally clashes with everything that screams Mor: silk scarves, tight bodice tops, leather pants, and what she has on now isn’t even red, a color that’s a staple in her closet.

“Well, if you were paying attention,” she scolds playfully, flipping open the compact in her hand, checking her makeup in the tiny mirror. She makes a few faces that would make you chuckle if you didn’t notice how she looks like she’s ready to go out, and that means she’s going to try to drag you with. “You would’ve heard me walk into the room. I am wearing heels, you know.”

Of course you know. Mor doesn’t do sneakers, only when it’s five in the morning and the sun is still sleeping, the perfect time for working out where nobody will catch her. Maybe I should join her, you think, mind wandering back to that boy’s butt.

“Why are your cheeks all red?” She asks, planting her palms on the counter and leaning towards you, eyes narrowed in inquisition.

“Nothing,” you wave her off, reaching for the door to the freezer. It’s the last thing between you and the cherry chunk ice cream calling your name.

Before you can open it more than an inch, it slams closed, Mor’s sharp, bright red fingernails splayed out to stop you.

Damnit, how does she move so silently?

“What do you think you’re doing?” You question each other at the same time, biting back your smiles at the mistake.

She answers first. “Why do you look like you’re about to get the ice cream, put your pajamas on, and wallow in bed all night?”

“Because that’s exactly what I’m going to do,” you cross your arms over your chest defiantly. “So, if you’ll excuse me…” You trail off, hoping she’ll step away and leave you to your peace.

She doesn’t. That’s not Mor.

“I had a rough day!”

“You say that every day,” she whines, stomping her heel-clad foot. “Don’t you even want to know what I’m inviting you to tonight?”

“From the look of your clothes, no, I don’t want to know what you’re doing tonight, Mor, and no, I don’t want to join you, either.”

Your roommate scrunches her nose, tipping it towards the ceiling. “I’ll have you know that this outfit is cute.”

“Yeah, if the definition of cute changed to ‘not pleasing or appealing to look at.’”

“You take that back,” Mor shouts, full naming you.

As your lips part in apology, because that was rude of you, your other roommate pads out of her room. Her reading glasses are perched up on her nose, blue eyes round and wide, and it always looks like she’s looking around the room in wonder. She has a blanket thrown over her shoulders and looks every bit of cozy you wish you were.

“Gwyn,” you sigh in relief at the sight of her. “Please, help.”

“I already said no,” she offers you a sympathetic wince. “I don’t think there’s any getting you out of the hockey game, sorry babe.”

Now it’s your jaw that falls to the floor. No, it falls through the floor and about five more floors down, hitting the lobby with a crack that echoes through the building.

You whirl on Mor. “Hockey game? Since when have you been interested in hockey?”

“Since my cousin got named team captain this year,” she says smugly, and you don’t know why she’s acting vain, it just means that he’s captain of the douchebags now, even you know that. Mor turns, showing off the back of her jersey. The number one stands out like a beacon, and you brush her blonde hair over her shoulder to read the smaller patches spelling out what is in fact, her family name.

Cunningham.

“Think of all the parties we’ll get into,” she says over her shoulder, and she does have a point there. The athletes at your college are a group of students that you don’t ever interact with, nor do you care. Mor is all about connections though, and if she wants to go to the hockey game, then it looks like you’re going with her.

You wonder what excuse Gwyn used to get out of it. She looks mighty comfy right now, slinking over the plop down on the couch and turn on a movie.

“Why do we have to go to the game? Can’t we just go to the parties?” You ask, grasping for anything to get out of this. You don’t want to go sit in the cold arena and watch a bunch of guys wearing full-body padding slide up and down the ice. Why couldn’t her cousin have been on the baseball team? They have nice, tight uniforms.

“Because,” Mor emphasizes with a glare, spinning to face you once more to give you the full effect of her irritation. “I’m a good cousin, and if we don’t attend the games, we’re going to be blacklisted from the parties,” she grumbles, the fight leaving her a little bit. “I’ve already argued about it with Rhys, I don’t want to have to argue with you too.”

It’s with your sigh that Mor brightens. “Fine. I’ll come with you, but I’m not going to be happy about it. And don’t expect me to cheer.”

Her squeal pierces the sound barrier. What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

Mor grabs your hand, dragging you towards the empty single room that’s left in your dorm. She uses it as an extension of her closet until someone else gets placed with you. So far, you’ve been lucky, living here since freshman year, just the three of you. “Great! I got you a shirt!”

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Over Ice Taglist:

#rhys x reader #rhysand/reader #rhysand x reader #rhysand #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #acotar au #rhysand hockey au #over ice

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jibunbosh · 7 months ago

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Mesmerizer is a satire of TikTok, YouTube Shorts, and the rest of the modern short-form vertical video format

A brief thematic analysis.

I'm sure there are countless people already interpreting the imagery and details in this wonderful song & MV, like here and here, so I won't spend too much time retreading that ground. Miku and Teto are dancing. Miku gets hypnotized. Teto signals for help, but gets hypnotized at the end as well.

That part is obvious enough, but that's still pretty surface-level. What is this seemingly hyperspatial horror scenario supposed to mean to us?

While checking to see if anyone before me's already come to the same conclusions as I did and if I should bother not writing this text post at all (lol), I came across udin's great analysis video. She comes to the conclusion that the song tackles themes of disillusionment with reality and the ways we indulge in escapism to relieve ourselves of the pains of the world.

I agree with that reading! From practically the very beginning, we have Miku call to us - the viewer - to push away our true feelings. Teto comes in to peddle a solution, inviting us to surrender and empty our minds - in her words, "pretending to know nothing."

You, the viewer, are a critical character in this masquerade. For nearly the entire video, Miku and Teto's eyes are unfailingly trained on you. Or, well... perhaps they can't actually see you, but they can see a camera, or whatever other aperture the point of view is supposed to be from. And they know they're being watched. (Who else would Teto be sending distress signals to?)

Let's put a pin on that for later.

udin notes very early on that Miku and Teto are, conspicuously, kept in vertical frames - very similar to the video formats of TikTok (and Instagram Reels, and YouTube Shorts, and whatever other clones of the format exist.) You know, just like the animator Caststation's Rabbit Hole fan MV that went viral some months ago.

Hey wouldn't it be crazy if the song's producer, 32ki, released Mesmerizer shorts too haha. Wouldn't that be crazy.

Wow, wild.

These short-term vertical videos are captivating & alluring. If you're reading this, it's more likely than not that you've also found yourself caught up in them at least once, scrolling through the infinite algorithmic slurry and forgetting about the real-life issues you have at hand. Would you say, then, that you felt hypnotized? Mesmerized, even?

And so these two invite us to join their world and focus on the... uh... rectangle.

Their dances are repetitive, following the same loop. Their outfits are distinct, but their choreography isn't. They're copying the same formula, repeating it ad nauseam to the best of their ability.

They're doing a fucking TikTok dance.

Back to the pin I told you about earlier, with Miku and Teto looking at a camera.

Miku sways with the camera, eyes looking directly at it like a swinging pocket watch. She's been looking at it the entire time, after all. We've been seeing her via our screen this entire time, but, again, she doesn't necessarily see us. She's beholden to the camera, which she dances for day after day, caught up in its spell. She's hypnotized by it. Eventually, she breaks.

Teto, on the other hand, resists. For a while, anyway.

Despite her being the one jumping to us with the "solution" at the beginning of the MV, there's very quickly good reason to question how much agency she has in this. She dances for the camera as well, but she doesn't want to. She's signalling for help. She wants out.

Many content creators (as much as I personally loathe the non-specificity and soullessness of the term) have struggled with the adaptation to the short-form video format, and the preference the algorithm has had for these captivating, bite-sized videos. They're catchy, and easily drive up metrics. Practically anyone who's publishing their work via video format online needs to learn to adapt or fall behind, even if that means whittling their content down to fit the frame, the time, and people's shortening attention spans. Sometimes, that means compromising on specificity and completeness... or, in other words, the true representation of a full work.

The song's writer, 32ki, has been releasing songs on YouTube for several years. Their first YouTube Short, however, was posted only a year ago: a short, whittled-down segment of their previous song, CIRCUS PANIC!!!, hoping for it to win the ProsekaNEXT song contest. It was their first song to achieve widespread popularity and hit a million views.

The shorts, however, aren't the "true" versions of the song. The full song just won't fit.

We're being mesmerized as consumers of this endless stream of content, rather than appreciators of music and art. However, that relationship isn't completely symmetrical across the plane that is the 4th wall. Miku and Teto are trapped not by their attention spans, but by a compulsion to project their "truthful acting" and peddle that window into a colorful, problem-free world.

We, as the collective audience, need not dwell on any one thing for too long - we need only swipe, and move on to the next video. However, Miku and Teto are trapped behind the screen for eternity, day after day.

They're the only characters we get to see, of course. There's no evil 3rd voice synth character that's plotting to keep them trapped in there. We can't put a face to whatever force is hypnotizing them and trapping them behind the screen. It's faceless - like the inscrutable algorithms of YouTube recommendations or the TikTok For You page, or the impersonal corporations that develop & maintain those aforementioned apps. Miku and Teto's likenesses, on the other hand, are being exploited and extracted from for their entertainment value, being strung along by that metaphorical hypnotizing force like puppets on a string.

Many people, represented by Miku, enjoy their success on such platforms. It's freeing and liberating to throw oneself wholeheartedly into such an endeavor, of course! Others, represented by Teto, harbor their doubts of the emotional veracity of such a medium, but know they have little choice lest they face destruction... perhaps not literally as a person, but as an idea.

Wouldn't it be easier just to let oneself be swept away by it and give in?

#mesmerizer #analysis #kasane teto #hatsune miku #vocaloid #rambles #text poast

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blueskittlesart · 2 years ago

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yknow what actually i am going to add onto this because the more i think about it the more these two games are perfectly illustrative of the ways in which tp failed as a game. alttp came out 7 years before oot and therefore was not an intentional sequel to oot, and this is EXACTLY WHY it succeeds where tp fails. i've said this before: tp as a game cannot stand on its own. it is the only non-sequel game in the franchise that REQUIRES the player to know the story of an entirely different game to make its story understandable. if you don't know the plot of oot, tp goes from difficult to understand to completely incomprehensible because so much of its storytelling relies on plot points and lore established in oot that IS NOT EXPLAINED OR EXPANDED UPON IN TP. the game just EXPECTS you to know these things. it's not a standalone game at all, it's an oot sequel. and THAT'S why its plot falls so flat. it seems as though the developers wanted a new title in name alone, and so they wrote an oot sequel and then completely divorced it thematically from oot. what we're left with is a disjointed mess. alttp did not have this problem because it wasn't TRYING to follow up oot. it had nothing to follow up. when it released it HAD to stand alone, because the game that would become the lore-basis for its place in the timeline DID NOT EXIST YET. if tp had just. been allowed to stand alone. if it didn't rely so much on oot. maybe it could have been really good. ughhhhhhhhhhh

I just started a play through of Twilight Princess and you’re so right about Midna. My least favorite type of characters are ones who try to annoy your character/player on purpose. Like at least Tatl had a reason to be mad at/insult Link, she blamed him for being separated from Tael. But Midna is so smug and annoying for who knows what reason. (Also her imp design makes me so uncomfortable T_T)

But also I completely agree about the Twilight Realm. I feel like I’m just playing Kingdom hearts when I see the Twilight enemies. This game would’ve been so much more interesting if they tried to expand more on the Dark World/Lorule. It’s a little jarring trying to figure out what the Twilight is and constantly being reminded that it isn’t the Dark World. It just feels like it tried to take the concept of the Dark world and make it edgier and branding it as something completely new.

But there’s def things I like about the game too and I’ve seen pretty interesting lore theories from this game. But this game feels like it was trying to cater towards Hot Topic by being outwardly edgy rather than using darker tones and themes in storytelling like in Majora’s or even ALTTP.

the comparison between the dark world and the twilight realm makes me crazy. because alttp came out TWENTY YEARS before twilight princess, and yet it manages to do basically everything twilight princess tried to do, but better and without fucking up the overarching lore. The timeline in which alttp takes place is the timeline where the hero of time falls in battle to ganondorf during oot. the dark world that appears in the game is NOT a brand-new, previously unheard-of dimension a la twilight realm. it is explicitly the sacred realm (established in oot) corrupted by the influence of ganon, who was sealed in there by the seven sages as a last resort after the hero of time fell. already we have a world-switching mechanic which serves narrative purpose without fucking over the integrity of the overarching worldbuilding, unlike twilight princess. aside from that, the dark world ALSO includes a form-switch that link can't control, just like wolf form tp!! the difference is that the bunny form he takes in alttp has 1. narrative significance beyond looking cool and 2. IS EXPLAINED BEYOND WEIRD VAGUE HAND-WAVING. truly the thing that pisses me off the most about tp is that they make such a big deal about the wolf gimmick and then never once think to actually write it into the game. like, it's a thing he can do. why? what does this super obviously significant form-switch mean irt link's character? idk man it looks cool dont think about it. if you ask midna she'll yell at you. And like on a certain level i understand that alttp and tp arent quite comparable since alttp actually came out 7 years BEFORE oot and therefore wasn't REALLY an intentional sequel to it but DESPITE THAT it still manages to be a better sequel than tp. ugh

#to clarify btw when i talk about the plot of tp being bad i can recognize that it had its moments.#people like to bring up plot points that DO fit together irt my tp criticism and i dont deny that there are parts of the story that are #strong and which have the potential to be worked into a cohesive game. the issue here is the BIG PICTURE #the way that those isolated points were not followed through on in the story at large. the way the game feels patched together #with no regard for thematic coherency. the way. as i mentioned. it relies SO HEAVILY on oot for context to keep the story understandable #i think the best thing the tp manga did for the story was to basically remove the hero of time from the picture and allow MIDNA to be the #vehicle of explanation about ganondorf. because in the context of THIS STORY and not oot SHE is the one who has been affected the most by #ganondorf. SHE is the reason link and zelda are INVOLVED with this ganondorf at all. tp makes you feel like ganondorf isn't YOUR villain.#zant is your villain. ganondorf is oot's villain who shows up at the end for no reason. but ganondorf is MIDNA'S villain and if the game #would just take some time to ESTABLISH THAT--anyways. i dont need to do this again actually i can just say its bad and move on #tp critical

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sanguine-prince · 8 months ago

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i’m sure i’m not the first to say something like this, but let me tell you about my poc-passing-as-white jay gatsby headcanon!!

for some background, in the 1920s there was an interesting shift regarding (white) skin tones. previously, tans were viewed as a sign that a person worked out in the fields, and therefore a trademark of the lower class. however, slowly after the industrial revolution, it increasingly became a representation of luxury, since the rich upper class would have the time to lounge about and sunbathe at their leisure.

i say all this to show that a poc gatsby would have the ostensible class and wealth for a tan, which would ‘excuse’ a slightly browner skin tone in the public eye.

(the 20s was also the setting of passing by nella larsen, so that’s neat.)

in my vision, he’s biracial (maybe his mother was black & his father was a german immigrant) with skin light enough to pass for white.

the fact that nick states that gatsby keeps his hair neatly groomed and cut might be to prevent it from curling up.

additionally, i think it could contrast tom’s white supremacy & his fear of poc social progress.

it would also create a deeper divide between gatsby and daisy, and once again the contrast between him and tom. in my mind, daisy wouldn’t know about it until the point where tom reveals everything about gatsby’s bootlegging etc. with jay revealing it to her in the car ride back (oops then she hits myrtle).

then, when she chooses tom and the life of comfort, wealth, status, etc that their marriage offers, she also rejects not only gatsby’s new money but also his race.

it’s a lot more thematically significant for the american dream as well—it’s still unattainable and essentially tainted by capitalism, and it also emphasizes that it’s restricted to the white upper class. social mobility only becomes available to gatsby when he disguises his racial identity.

similarly, it fits with gatsby’s identity reconstruction—the quintessential american is white, rich, and educated.

daisy and tom have that ticket into society because they have that inherent thing that he will never have—pedigree, in both class and race. that’s something that even nick has.

(in my mind, he tells nick all about it the night before he dies & nick understands as best he can and doesn’t think less of him, because it further highlights the differences between his & gatsby’s relationship v. gatsby’s relationship with daisy; namely, the transparency -> acceptance give-and-take that he and daisy never had. because of having to hide himself from daisy in order to maintain her affection, he builds an expectation that he must be someone that he is not as well as developing a transactional definition of love (he gives, and people love him as long as he can continue to give) in order to be loved. therefore, nick’s immediate curiosity and fascination with who he truly is is foreign to him. not to get too into their dynamic lmao i just think it’s really interesting.)

finally, the very last part where nick is sitting and looking at the bay and thinking about the first immigrants and their dreams and how gatsby embodied the purity and naivety of those dreams is further exemplified by his racial ‘otherness.’

and there’s,,, technically nothing in the book to explicitly refute this from what i remember!

(n.b.: it has been a hot second since i’ve read tgg, so lmk if i’ve got anything wrong!)

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cenvast · 3 months ago

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Laios, Monsters, & Toshiro: On Racialized Desire and Identification with the Other

Arguably, the most significant part of Laios' character is the societal ostracization he faces because of his non-normative interests and behavior. For the majority of his life, Laios struggles socially, and other humans mistreat him. When he rescues Marcille from the Nightmares, his nightmare dredges up his inability to fit into school and the army. During his early dungeoneering days, he's lied to and exploited by his fellow party members.

One of his earliest and most formative negative experiences with people is his village's abuse of Falin as a magic user. He shares that after the villagers discovered that she can use magic, "adults who were just kind yesterday, all began to bully [her]." Instead of protecting Falin, his parent tell her to leave the village. The prejudice Falin faces and his parents' response to it upsets Laios to the point that he leaves home.

While Laios cares about his friends, the Demon points out that Laios understandably does not care for people in general. Laios doesn't disagree with the Demon's assessment and suspects that the Demon "can sense all [his] thoughts." The Demon goes on to say that Laios actually "despise[s] all humans." Laios denies this assessment, but given the Demon's uncanny ability to sniff out people's desires and Laios' ashamed expression, at least part of Laios likely agrees with the Demon. It's not a stretch to assume that he's held onto some hurt and resentment towards humans due to their mistreatment of him and Falin in their youth.

In response to how human society has othered him, Laios distances himself from humans and invests his time and energy into monsters and demi-humans instead. In the DunMeshi world, monsters and demi-humans are the ultimate societal Other. People fear them, exploit them, and even hunt and kill them. As someone who's similarly been mistreated by human society, Laios resonates deeply with monsters.

His desire to become a monster and/or beastman reflects his desire to reclaim agency over how society has ostracized him. If he chooses to become a monster, he gets to place value on what society has deemed despicable. He gets to choose why society hates him and be different on his own terms.

Both textually and thematically, Laios' identification with the Other bleeds into the erotic. More blatantly, he says that he'd have sex with orc women, and his succubus is a monstrous version of Marcille.

The entire story is also steeped in the theme of consumption as carnality. Laios and his party spend the entire manga eating monsters — a taboo physical act which they reap pleasure from; the underlying eroticism isn't difficult to see.

The story also presents consumption as a form of extreme identification. Eating a monster makes the monster part of you through digestion. The line between consuming the monster and becoming the monster — between erotic desire for the monster, demonstrated by eating their flesh, and identifying with the monster — is very blurred. Note that digesting a monster is an act of absorption; it destroys the original creature. Senshi states that consuming a monster erases "its individual identity," and major manga spoilers, but Laios defeats and pacifies the Demon by consuming its desire to eat. We'll come back to this concept later.

As previously mentioned, Laios is disinterested in most humans. The notable exception to this rule is Toshiro and by extension, the Eastern Archipelago. Laios doesn't seem to know much about the Archipelago before speaking to Toshiro, so he isn't drawn to Toshiro because he's an Easterner. Instead, he's drawn to his "odd appearance."

Just like Laios views monsters and demi-humans as a visible Other, Laios views Toshiro as another visible Other. On the Island, Toshiro stands out as a foreigner at first glance. While Laios as a white tallman doesn't appear visibly strange to other people, he's drawn again and again to people and creatures who are immediately visibly "odd." He sees them as understanding what it's like to be different and be mistreated for it, and since he relates to that experience, he wants to learn about them and be closer to them.

Essentially, Laios behaves towards Toshiro and his culture the same way he behaves towards monsters; he wants to know everything about Toshiro's foreign culture — the thing which makes him different. Unintentionally, Laios unintentionally reduces Toshiro to being Japanese; if he wasn't Japanese, Laios would never have approached him.

While Laios doesn't have bad intentions, as Toshiro himself acknowledges during their fight, his behavior towards Toshiro still has negative consequences. Laios' harmless interest in monsters translates to fetishization in the context of Japanese culture. He enacts multiple microaggressions against Toshiro and crossing his boundaries.

Laios goes beyond merely learning about Japanese culture. He takes parts of it for himself when he names his sword a Japanese name. Akin to his consumption of monsters, Laios attempts to participate in Toshiro's culture while failing to respect Toshiro himself. Just as eating monsters destroys them, Laios consuming Toshiro's culture while enacting racism against him causes real harm.

Many people have already written about Laios' microaggressions towards Toshiro, but a couple include Laios telling Toshiro that he looks "odd" and asking where he's from, mispronouncing his name as "Shuro," and assuming his favorite food is rice. Laios' treatment and fetishization of Toshiro is racist and harmful. However, I'd like to dive beyond the surface of Laios' micro-aggressive remarks and examine how his obsession with Toshiro becomes a racialized mode of desire, paralleling real world phenomena.

Though no concrete canonical evidence of Laios' feelings towards Toshiro being romantic and/or sexual exists, his interactions with Toshiro have erotic undertones. Their fight dialogue, in particular, revolves around eating, an act the story consistently shows as carnal. During this fight, Laios places his thumb in Toshiro's mouth and asks him, "What's the point of even having a mouth?" Laios' penetration of Toshiro's body via his mouth and his question's potential as an innuendo lend themselves to an erotic reading of the scene's more obvious conflict. Considering the overlap between consumption and carnality throughout the story, it's not a large jump to read eroticism into Laios demanding Toshiro meet his body's physical needs.

Furthermore, Laios is more enthusiastic about Toshiro than any other human in the series. While he cares deeply about his sister and his friends, Laios repeatedly expresses how much he admires Toshiro. He retains and brings up things like Toshiro's (perceived) favorite food. He wants to go to the East in Falin's place after she rejects Toshiro's marriage proposal, and in the "What-If" extra material, he's adamant about setting up a scenario where Toshiro travels with him through the Dungeon.

Undoubtedly, Laios is drawn to Toshiro. Since he sees non-white-ness and monstrosity as equivalent markers of societal othering, Toshiro's identity as a foreigner is what cultivates and maintains Laios' interest in him. Even if Laios learns to care for Toshiro as a person, his desire for Toshiro, platonically or otherwise, is still filtered heavily through race within the narrative.

Laios' relationship with his masculinity is also fraught. He broke off his engagement with a girl from his village and doesn't express normative interest in female tallmen. Seeing how the nightmare versions of his parents ask him when he's going to give them grandchildren, Laios experiences societal pressure to conform to a normative performance of masculinity through being attracted to and marrying a tallman woman and creating a family with her.

Laios frequently talks about how cool and admirable Toshiro is when he performs masculinity through combat, etc. He might find Toshiro's Asian masculinity more appealing and more accessible to him than the masculinity that's been forced onto him, precisely because Toshiro's Asian masculinity appears non-normative in a Western lens. But co-opting the masculinities of men of color as a white man would only further feed into the white consumption of cultures of color.

Overall, Laios' entitlement to and consumption of Toshiro's culture mirrors the real-life way white people co-opt and fetishize non-white cultures. Laios' fetishistic treatment of Japanese culture, because of his attraction (platonic or otherwise) to Toshiro, parallels white people's treatment of Asian people in the Western diaspora. I can only speak on the Asian American experience, but Laios immediately being drawn to Toshiro's "odd appearance," obsessing over his culture, and primarily treating Toshiro as a conduit for his said culture feels eerily close to how some white anime and/or K-pop fans act towards Japanese and Korean people.

Similarly to Laios, real queer, neurodivergent, and/or otherwise non-normative white people are marginalized by white Western society. They relate to how society others non-white cultures and/or people of color and latch onto them. While forming human connections based on curiosity and shared experiences is wonderful, white people are often unaware of the racial dynamics at play when they engage with non-white cultures and people of color and unintentionally, end up consuming and fetishizing non-white cultures in detrimental ways.

None of this negates the reality that Laios and Toshiro canonically care for each other. For instance, Toshiro's willingness to hug Laios reveals his genuine familiarity with and affection for him. The racial dynamics of their friendship complicate their relationship in fascinating ways and open up a potential path for Laios' growth. With time and effort, Laios could absolutely unlearn his racism and become a much better friend to Toshiro.

In conclusion, Laios' behavior towards Toshiro is a study in a marginalized white person's identification with and racialized desire for a non-white Other and how even a well-intentioned attempt at connection can replicate harmful racist dynamics. Toshiro's experience with Laios closely parallels real Asian people's struggles with racism and fetishization in our world today.

#laios touden #toshiro nakamoto #shuro #dungeon meshi #dunmeshi meta #dunmeshi analysis #i didn't want this to be superrr long but laios' treatment of the orcs is similar to his treatment of toshiro #he takes their cultural practices out of context and appropriates them (i.e. him wearing spoils of war when he declares himself king)#frankly him wanting to be an orc/wanting to sleep w orc women/appropriating their culture #and blurring the lines between identification/desire/consumption is even more clear than w toshiro #ryoko kui has a lot of interesting racial commentary in her work #but also she kinda flops on her depictions of black and brown ppl #anyw all very interesting to examine #i love u themes of consumption and desire and identity and borderline cannibalism #dunmeshi #delicious in dungeon #*mine #*meta

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physics-of-one-piece · 3 months ago

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The One Piece World Timezones [Fixed]

Okay, so I did a big WHOOPS. I thought the Grand Line is the equator. Someone in the notes pointed out that no, the Grand Line is not the equator and honestly, yeah, my fault for not going a bit deeper into my research.

Here is how the globe is and how the Grand Line goes. The blue thingy is I suspect the actual equator.

The reasons I thought the Grand Line is on the equator is:

1) weather

2) natural occurences

3) map on the One Piece Wiki

Crazy shit happens in the equator in our world.

Here is how the Grand Line is positioned as told by Law.

(source)

Now, let's fix the mistake. (Sighs)

And... ROTATE THE MAP.

Here it is. I sighed many sighs while rotating this and maybe I cried a bit at getting everything 3 hours wrong and then cried some more that Dressrosa & Hawaii aren't in the same timezone bcs goddamn it, that fit, as did Mariejois.

But FINE. I'm doing this for all the Doffy x Reader writers, all the One Piece x Reader writers, all the One Piece fanfic writers, full stop. I REFUSE TO ALLOW MY MISTAKE TO BE A CURSE. I'll also edit the OG post and put this pic there so both posts have the correct one.

Okay, one more time, 100% correct this time:

Paradise:

Reverse Mountain [UTC -1]

Cape Valley [UTC 0]

Cactus Island [UTC 0]

Little Garden [UTC +1]

Drum Island [UTC +2]

Alabasta [UTC +3]

Island where Luffy Kicked Bellamy's Ass Vol 1 Jaya [UTC+4]

Skypiea [UTC +4]

The Arc I Skipped After Seeing It Became Filler Ring Long Island [UTC +5]

Water 7 [UTC +5]

I'm so sorry, Snail 😭

Ennies Lobby [UTC +6]

Florian Triangle [UTC +6]

Sabaody Archipelago [UTC +7]

Amazon Lily [UTC +7]

Impel Down [UTC +8]

Marineford [UTC +8]

Holy Land of Mariejois [UTC+8]

All the thematic representation of it being UTC +12, splash into the water 😭😭😭

Fishman Island [UTC +9]

New World:

New Marineford [UTC -8]

Punk Hazard [UTC -8]

Dressrosa [UTC -7]

Totto Land [UTC -5]

Wano [UTC -4]

Law vs Blackbeard Island [UTC -3]

Elbaf [UTC -3]

Weird that it's Elbaf that's Northeast, since shouldn't Law have gone there as his route? Maybe Kid lied and went there still after Law said Northeast is the quickest path, while Law took a detour onto Winner Island to fight Blackbeard.

Hachinosu (Pirate Island, Blackbeard's HQ) [UTC -3]

Egghead [UTC -3]

Even though Egghead's not shown on the map, Luffy went directly south from Wano, and by the line, the Sunny would have entered the UTC -3 zone.

Lodestar Island [UTC -2]

Calculating Guide:

From East to West

- if it's 17:00 (5 pm) in Marineford (UTC +8) and you want to know what time it is in Dressrosa, this is what you do:

1) (Current time in Marineford) - (UTC time number of Marineford) which is

17 (5pm) - 8 = 9 am (UTC 0)

2) now that you have UTC 0, you put another minus, this one from Dressrosa's UTC, which is UTC -7, so it goes

9 am - 7 = 2 am

So it's 2 am in Dressrosa, while it's 5 pm in Marineford!

From West to East

Say it's 22:00 (10 pm) on Saturday in Dressrosa, what time is it in Holy Land? Here are the steps.

1) (Dressrosa current time) + (Dressrosa's Timezone Number) = time at UTC 0

So that's:

10 pm + 7 = 5 am Sunday (UTC 0)

2) UTC 0 time + Holy Land Time Number

So: 5 am + 8 = 13:00 (1 pm) Sunday

So while it's 10 pm Saturday in Dressrosa and Doflamingo is conducting business with the Paradise part of the Grand Line, in the Holy Land, the ugly Celestials are eating lunch on Sunday or napping bcs they are freeloading cu- (censored) unlike Doflamingo who's actually working!

(looks at the maps of my previous timezone post) Okay. It's fine. I only missed Dressrosa by 3 hours. IT'S FINE.

(it's not fine, I'm crying, it's not FINE, my favourite island and I couldn't even get it right the first time, if Doffy turns me into a toy I deserve it)

I'll go climb the Red Line and jump off it. This is the greatest shame as a scientist. Wrong numbers.

A/N: Of course, if what the pic above said is true, it might as well could be that the original tinezone map I made is semi- correct and the entire territory up until Wano has a timezone from UTC -12 to UTC -9 if it's only the first third of the New World, as those are the "thirds" of the west timezones. I don't read the manga, but I'm caught up with the anime and if the manga does reveal a map, actual map like that curved one in the picture with Law or Oda finally makes one, I give the manga readers full permission to send it to me in an ask and I will update the posts again. For now, this is the most "official" map we have, and the most recent one. Also, the Grand Line being in the shape of a rollercoaster is fitting, haha.

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @moonbaby26

#one piece #one piece fandom #one piece meta #physics of one piece

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diredeliverance · 8 months ago

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Tags

#I think kasander has a way of managing the urge that's very high risk high reward compared to how asperia does it. #asperia feeds it very frequently at some low level (better not to think about that relationship with animals) #and by always leaning in and going with the flow they're not getting swept away. there's some direction to it and less total loss of control #it helps that asperia (like most of the others) has very little empathy. kas couldn't do that. #kasander is much better at blocking it out completely for periods but has absolutely no control over it as a result #it's not really possible to block it out forever though. it's a lot more sustainable to let asperia take charge of it sometimes but kasander is stubborn even when they're getting along.

🌺 Ok one for the new kid! Kasander likes animals but keeps their distance from them, on account of not trusting the Urges

6/10 on average, I think, spiking to a 10 depending on recency of the last Incident. Kasander really loves animals and is someone who talks to them a lot, and they struggle to balance that with the precautions that would keep other creatures safe. In the end it's the same way with their companions- they could easily hurt or kill one of them by mistake, but they still travel with others. They're learning themself better all the time, and they hope that will help them have a better sense of when it's about to take them and they need to get away. They withdraw much more completely when something has gone wrong recently though. It's hard to maintain that optimism when the strategy has just failed.

[headcanon prompt]

#I think a lot about the urge and how it works. I'd like to make a post about that at some point now that I have this space #emi writes #kasander #asperia #asperia (system)#expand on later #the urge #I think the most important thing is just that the urge is Not a part of the system #although as someone with bpd the urge in the game is really special to me as like. a mental illness thing.#genuinely one of the things I'm most sad about is that durge storyline sees it just cured #like it's a fitting end and normally I'd be happy about it thematically #but I got so lost in the mental illness sauce that I was sad to see it just. magically disappeared forever.#in my heart that doesn't quite happen

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saurongorthaur9 · 3 months ago

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As we get closer to the end of S2, I'm going more insane over who the surprise kiss is going to involve and whether they are going to go You Know Where. I keep playing the process of elimination game with any character who might share a scene with Galadriel at this point, and I just can't conceive who it could possibly be other than Sauron.

Elrond? It would come out of nowhere, they've said in interviews that Galadriel and Elrond's relationship is platonic, and there'd be the weird "kissing my future MIL" aspect of it.

Celebrimbor? Again, it would come out of nowhere, and Charles Edwards said in an interview that they aren't going with the "Celebrimbor had an unrequited crush on Galadriel" direction.

Gil-galad? Once again, out of nowhere, and it would just be weird and uncomfortable?

Arondir (since we know he shows up for the Battle of Eregion)? Unless Galadriel is his rebound for losing Bronwyn, it would make no sense and they've barely interacted in the series.

A minor elf character (Camnir, Mirdania, etc)? Again, it would come totally out of nowhere, and if it's significant enough for Morfydd to mention it, I really think it'll be with a main character. Plus, where would they go with that, since we know she eventually ends up with Celeborn one way or another?

Speaking of which...Celeborn? Still not 100% convinced that he might not make a very surprise appearance, but it just doesn't seem to fit with the "shocking" description nor the fact that some reviewers who have seen it threw an absolute fit over it apparently.

Adar? This is the one contender that I could see making *some* sense (not as much as Sauron though). There's definitely chemistry there, if not of any romantic sort (as of now), and we know they're going to have some big scenes together in the upcoming episodes. It would fall into the "shocking" category for sure, and I could see lorebro reviewers losing it over it for the same reasons as they would over Sauron. However, right now, I don't see it fitting into the story anywhere, plot-wise or thematically. But right now, it would make more sense than any of the prior possibilities.

Am I crazy that this just leaves Sauron? The character who they have spent two seasons establishing a connection with her and emphasizing that they are still very hung up over each other? The character who, whether you ship them or not, she has the deepest and best chemistry with? The character with whom a kiss would fit thematically (touch the darkness, etc)? Plus, I can think of multiple likely scenarios that it could occur during (a vision, as part of a Galadriel corruption arc if they go there, etc). And it would definitely be shocking and send lorebros into absolute conniption fits.

Like, I know I'm biased because I want it to be them, but truly is there anyone else it would make any sort of sense with? Tell me I'm not crazy (or tell me I am and explain what you're guessing/seeing that I'm not)?

#rop #rings of power #rop season 2 #rop s2 #rop spoilers #rings of power spoilers #rop speculation #rings of power speculation #the surprise kiss #galadriel #sauron #haladriel #saurondriel #sauron x galadriel #elrond #celebrimbor #gil-galad #celeborn #adar

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eveningepiphany · 11 months ago

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something about the legs | h.s oneshot

summary: something about your best friends legs really does it for you, especially in skinny jeans…

warnings: besties with unexpected and very impulsive benefits, oral sex (mrec), lots and lots of talk about those mfing legs and thighs, dirty talk, h not expecting you to be like that until you are.

a/n: so it’s been a hot minute… hi again🤪 but something rlly just sent me spiralling with this pic of h’s fucking legs. look at them. anyways, enjoy me being a slut and channeling it into some fine literature, enjoy xoxo

———

Ovulation week is a curse. An absolute, utter curse.

Between the multitude of random fluctuating symptoms and skyrocketing hormones, you feel dreaded enough as it is. But the worst part, is every fucking month you become absolutely manic with need.

Some are increasingly better or worse than others, but this month is something off the charts.

There is no warrant for you to be this fucking horny at 9:32pm on a Thursday night. Yet here you are, squirming because you’re around someone that already riles you up enough as it is.

Harry is your best friend. Has been for years. Since the awkward starting phases of middle school. All braces paired with horrendous fashion choices. And into the ages of highschool throughout all the drama and predictable thematics. Into the present, where life throws you curveballs as you enter the world as young adults, and now that he’s in one direction. You can’t imagine going through all that with anyone else.

Actually, maybe it’s fit to mention you’re almost certain that this man never went through an awkward phase… despite the fact possibly everyone else on the planet did. Harry did not.

He was cute from the day he was born, it’s evident in the pictures, up until he hit puberty, then he became some ungodly mix of both cute and ridiculously hot.

It’s disgusting that someone can do both things at the same time. And also revolting that they can have no idea at all.

But tonight, he is all hot. Between the way he’s dressed, the way he’s walking, and the way he’s talking. It’s close to killing you where you’re sat.

Thighs clenched together like there’s a thousand dollar check between them, you sit on a outdoor couch at your family’s holiday house.

It’s just the two of you outside on the large decked patio. It’s a huge house by the lake that your parents and grandparents own, so you invited Harry to come stay for the week. Your family were thrilled you invited him, but have already turned in for an early night. Since they planned to be out on the lake for a day of water activities almost before the damn sun was even fully up.

Harry has a glass of alcohol in his hands— one that is completely dwarfed in his hold. It’s condensation forming small droplets over the ridges of his fingers.

He hasn’t realised the staring you’ve been doing, as he paces the deck talking about something to do with a recent song he’s been writing.

You’re sliding in small hums of agreement at the appropriate times without even hearing what he’s saying. Only the pleasing lilt in his voice that tickles your ears as it enters them.

He’s got those black skinny jeans on, the pair that cling to his hips for dear life. And not only are they fit to his hips, but they hug every single curve on his legs. The thick of his thighs all the way down to the muscle of his calf.

And if anything was the killer for you tonight, it was those.

You’re surprised you’re not drooling on yourself. Which is fucking disgusting, but fact. As there is an over-production of saliva in your mouth right now just looking at his legs.

He is so muscly there. The presumed strength of his thighs makes you actually pant, and you never thought legs did it for you like this. But my god right now, they certainly are.

“But I jus’ dunno Y/N,” he turns to you, causing you to snap your gaze from the curve of his ass which you were shamelessly just staring at, back to his face.

It doesn’t get better for you anywhere you look. The man was built and sculpted by a god. Every feature was painstaking to look at, and not be able to touch.

“What d’ya reckon would sound better?” He asks, nonchalantly, unaware you were just eyeing him up.

You feel some shame now, as you scramble to find an answer for the question you don’t even know the context for.

“Well, i think whatever you feel flows better. Yknow?” You swallow, praying to god it’s diluted enough of an answer that he’ll just take it without question.

He nods, and relief floods through you, “i s’pose you’re right.”

However that relief hardly lasts long, because he’s not as clueless as you’d presumed, “You’re pretty good at giving advice even when you’re only half listening.”

He saunters over from the span of deck he’d been pacing the last 10 minutes, sitting down next to you with a smug look on his face. You feel the cushions dip with his body weight, and you’re so delusioned that even a part of you twinges with desire at the understanding of his weight. The idea of him pressing it down on top of you during—

“What’s on ya mind, love, why are you s’faraway lookin’?” He asks, sipping at his drink with a quirk of his dark eyebrows.

“I—“ Christ. He’s manspreading a bit right now… thighs pushed apart, “I’m just tired. Been a big few days.”

His curly, and boyishly-messy hair is cascading over his forehead and casting a shadow of his green gaze, the same one that’s nailing you where you’re sat right now.

He doesn’t look very convinced. And he’s watching your eyes flicker around, looking guilty of a lie, presumably the words that just came from your mouth.

“You don’t have t’lie, dove.” He laughs, a soft songbird-like chuckle that somewhat eases your tenseness.

You feel so dirty for thinking about him like this. When he can’t tell you it’s okay to be imagining absolutely sinful things you’d do… or let be done when it comes to him. However, you are so hormonal right now, that you don’t have it in yourself to stop.

He was just simply the wrong person, in the wrong place, at coincidentally the right time in your hormonal cycle.

And you feel even worse because there’s years of history behind the two of you. And friends are not meant to think of each other like this, it makes things quickly complicated. And this is not a hallmark film.

“I know.” You sigh out, “it’s not you, H. I’m just… hormonal.”

His first thought was that you were on your period, a look of tender concern flitting across his face.

“Oh, is your period making you feel sick?”

You could laugh at the irony. You are infact neither of the things he thinks. Not bleeding, and not ill.

He has looked after you before when you’ve been in the trenches with your period. He is always so willing to get you anything when you’re not feeling well.

And you can tell by the look on his pretty face he’s about to ask you he can get you anything to help— pain relief, water, snacks or simply a hug.

A gentleman, as always.

But if he asks you if you need anything, you only have one answer and that’s him. You need him, and not in a platonic way. So you interject before he can ask,

“No, quiet the opposite.” You shake your head, pursing your lips.

“But it’s fine,” you amend curtly, “just girl stuff.”

The two of you get consumed by a momentary silence, he was waiting for more information, which you simply were not giving. After a few seconds, he sputters out a sudden laugh.

“You can tell me, if you want, idiot.” He laughs, nudging you with his knee. His very attractive leg being left pressed into yours. “Gross details and personal stuff never usually stop us.”

Your whole body is burning up, overwhelmed. He is so fucking hot, and caring. You want him filling up your goddamn throat.

“No, trust me. This is all left best untold and ignored. I can’t help it, so we’re just ignoring it.” Your tone is certain, and to this he nods. Able to tell that’s as much of an answer he’d be getting for now, so he begrudgingly accepts it.

“Fine, fine, you’re just so stiff. Need t’relax.” He slides his free hand behind your back to pull him into his side.

Tugging you the small distance between you two, your head comes naturally to rest in the crook of his neck. Nose inhaling the woodsy scent of his cologne, smelling like the refreshingly cool breeze on a muggy summer night.

His thumb strokes a delicate back and forth rhythm on the bare skin it’s found between the waistband of your jeans and the hem of your fitted top.

It’s killing you, because he’s so gentle with you. Such a sweetheart really, but you’re breaking out a sweat at the feeling of his fingertips against your skin. You need a cold shower.

You try not to let your eyes wander down to the legs in those fucking jeans.

“S’long as ya alright,” he murmurs into your hair, “is there anything you need from me? ‘Cause if I can do anything for ya, yknow I would.”

Your stomach drops, how are you even supposed to answer that. Your face heats with even more guilt.

Your internal voice drops in her two cents on the question— your cock, she confidently stated. That was what she wanted.

“No, nothing you can do that’s reasonable, H.” You say, too dangerously close to him dragging the truth out of your needy mouth for your liking.

He tilts his head down to look at the profile of your face, curiously prodding further, “How unreasonable are we talking?”

“Ridiculously and foolishly unreasonable.”

“Why?”

“Sh. Don’t make me tell you, because I don’t want to.” You state defiantly, rolling away from his hold, since now you’re talking about it— although vaguely— it’s just making it worse.

Focusing on it is making the need more intense, your eyes feasting unintentionally on his muscled body relaxing on the couch.

He’s got this smirk on his lips. One you want to kiss off.

“You’re blushing, is it that bad?”

You scoff, “Yes, that bad.”

“Okay… so, it’s not your period, and it’s technically fixable— since you just said it’s unreasonable for me to do it… not impossible.” he’s wondering out loud, watching your every move.

Which now you’ve stood up and started pacing, trying to distract yourself from the pulsing between your legs and the begging voice in your head that wants to touch him so badly.

“Stop being nosey! God!” You frustratedly whine out, and he laughs at your sudden anger at not only him, but at seemingly just being a woman.

“Just trying to help, baby, don’t get mad.” He teases, and between his suddenly mocking mouth, your resolve snaps like a fickle twig.

“Fuck, I’m horny. Harry!” You groan out, covering your eyes over with the palms of your hands so you don’t have to see his likely disgusted face at your confession.

But now that you’ve started you can’t stop, “You just… your fucking legs and thighs are just… I don’t know! I’m ovulating and you’re just really sexy, it’s frustrating and I really want to die right now, H.”

In reality, his brows had just shot up with surprise, lips parting in shock. He could not believe you just admitted that.

He glanced down to his legs. He’s just in jeans, it wasn’t like he felt as though they were anything to write home about.

It shocked him that you even… well obviously the two of you are best friends. But it was rare that topics of sex came up, so all the sudden the conversation being about that and also about you is making his head spin.

Yet something comes over him, he doesn’t think as he speaks his next words, “Tha’s not as unreasonable as you made it out to be.”

You snap your hands down from your face, eyes locking onto his— he doesn’t look repulsed or uncomfortable as you had originally expected. He looks inexplicably open to the topic.

“I’ve got somethin’ you need, somethin’ that can fix it, love.” He states, shrugging his shoulders, his voice going almost sultry, “An’ yknow what I said, hm?”

At your silence— because you’re too stunned to even speak— he finishes the sentence for you, “Said I’d do anything for ya.”

Oh, is this quickly snowballing.

“Harry!” You shake your head, it feeling so wrong to be talking about this with him.

He abandons his drink on the small side table beside the couch, standing up and breaching the distance between you.

“Jus’ say the words, and then im yours.” He lowly whispers, and this is about to make you pass out. You’re clenching around nothing in your underwear, and the proposition is so tempting.

“We shouldn’t though. It’s not your responsibility to… satiate me.” You gulp out, nervous, yet body flaming with heat.

“Y/N, best friends help each other out… tha’s all it has to be, jus’ me making y’feel better.” he says, hand coming to run down your upper arm. And the second you started talking about this, his cock has been twitching where it’s confined his jeans.

“You can make all the decisions, all the calls, m’kay?” The statement was reassuring.

You lean into his touch, caving without anymore of a fight, “Okay… alright. Just… tell me if you change your mind. Please?”

His lips curl into a satisfied smile, feeling his hand get taken by yours. It’s much to risky to be fucking around with your best friend on the families patio, so you lead him down the steps into the dark, open backyard.

They have a pier, that’s lit with small solar lights, and that’s the first place you can that is reasonable enough to go. You tug him along the wooden decking it has, feet drumming against it.

Against a tree was too dark, and you at least want to see his cock if you’re getting the opportunity to touch it.

“On the pier, hey? That desperate.” He teases, and you push him with your free hand into one of its big wooden pillars.

“I want your cock down my throat, how’s that for desperate?” You scoff, pulling a laugh of pure shock from his own lips.

“I’m serious, H.” You look at him, stone cold expression. You are so riled up and ready to touch him that you need immediate confirmation this is something he wants.

“Go on, said you wanted it.”

Before you sink down onto your knees, you question him further, “you want this, though?”

A smile spreads over his mouth, “baby, you’re gonna be able to feel just how much i want this when you get down there. I was bricked the second you said you were horny.”

That was all you needed, dropping to the ground on your knees— now with his consent, your filter completely disappeared.

“Fuck me, Harry. I don’t think you understand how sexy you are.” Hands immediately coming up to squeeze the muscle of his thighs.

He hums a noise as he looks down at you on your knees, “Never thought legs would do it for you, but here we are.”

“Only thing i could think about is digging my nails into your thighs…”

You drag your hands back up to where the buckle of his belt laid, grabbing at it and undoing it. Slipping it out of the loops in his pants in a swift movement.

Leaning forward, you lift the hem of his black shirt, pressing your mouth against his happy trail.

You’re a slut for that little teasing patch of hair that dips below his low jeans. It causes you to whine out, a wordless sound of appreciation as you peck kisses over it.

The button and zipper quickly got undone by your nimble hands, and you finally brush over the prominent bulge that’s perked up in his boxers.

A realisation that you’re about to see your best friends dick for the first time kind of hits you, causing you to roll your lips between your teeth.

His suddenly strained voice comes from above you, “fuck, Y/N, don’t get shy with me. Y’can take me out.”

He’s almost ready to beg, even though this is all technically for you. But he didn’t anticipate how sensitive he would be when it’s a special girls hands running over his bulge.

However that’s exactly how it is, he’s already biting his lip as you cup him through his briefs, head tilted backwards with a sudden shared need.

You draw his jeans further down, “patience, im just enjoying you, pretty boy.”

The doting nickname earns a small groan from his lips, paired with the fact you’re now mouthing at his inner thighs. They’re warm and firm, dusted with dark hairs. You suck the most inner and upper part of his thigh into your mouth, causing him to grunt out.

You busy yourself with that particular part of his skin for a moment, rubbing the backs of your hands around the flesh of his ass. Still unfortunately covered by his briefs.

“So fuckin’ good to me, H.” You muttered into his soft skin, dragging your nose over to kiss the fabric covering his hard cock.

It makes him twitch, “letting me do this… and touch you where I want.”

You sound so out of it, replacing your mouth with your hand momentarily so you can go back to kissing his thighs, teeth impulsively barring over them. He shudders at the sensation.

After a bit more teasing, you finally start to pull the waistband of his black calvins down.

When his cock is fully out, you moan. You straight out moan at the sight of it. It’s glistening tip is a flushed red, beading out a sliver of precum for you, and it was safe to say he’s well equipped.

The two of you curse in sync as you hold him in your hand, feeling the weight as you stroke gently.

“Christ, tha’s good.” He curses out, hips stuttering forward slightly. You take a moment to look up at his face.

His cheeks have gone a slight red, and his lips are shiny from his teeth and tongue constantly running over them. Not to mention the way his lidded eyes are gazing down at you.

You hold eye contact as you lean in to lick over his tip in one solid stroke, watching his face twist in pleasure.

It makes your core drip. Seeing his cock, tasting it, watching him react to your touch. It fuels you to take his tip into your mouth, giving a gentle suck.

Your fingers take refugee digging into his thighs, and you are already loosing you mind with him between your lips. Somehow, you’re almost convinced you could come just from sucking on his dick.

Your self control is completely shattered now, you draw back and spit over his length, listening to him groan out as he watches the action.

“Drool on me, darling.” He says, the gentle demand makes you eager to impress him. You liked the idea of him telling you what to do… maybe even forcing you.

Fuck, you are sick and twisted, you scoffed internally at your self. Yet proceeding to gather your saliva and let it dribble down onto him.

“Thank you, thank you…” you murmur against him, and he twitches at your still airy voice. He would kill to know just how wet you were between your legs.

It was such a sight for you though, seeing him start to get slicked up with your own spit. Your mouth reconnected with him, sliding further down, hand coming up to massage his balls.

You’re whining around him now, starting to move in a sort of rhythm over his cock. You can’t help it, you were becoming frantic at him filling your throat.

The vibration of your mouth sends his hand flying into your hair, drawing a cuss from his lips, “fuck, Y/N…”

You get his cock as far as you can into your mouth without gagging— you’ll leave that for a little later— stroking the remainder. There’s something about the way he takes up the space between your lips, the feeling of his thick cock atop your tongue.

You glance up at him, fingertips teasing the inner parts of his thigh. Just as you look up, you give a harsh suck, hollowing out your mouth and lathing your tongue on the underside of him. Feeling the vein that runs along him.

His head almost bangs back against the wooden beam he’s leaning on, you feel the slight stutter of his hips.

A moan reverberated around you, filling your ears pleasingly. You draw back for a breathe, “you taste so good.”

His hand curls in your hair, panting out, “You’re such a needy girl…”

“Like that?” He asks at the whimper that come from you, “like being told that I see how desperate y’becoming?”

You nod immediately, “please…”

At your way of asking for more dirty talk he smiles, “becoming my little slut? Warming my cock with your mouth just because you’re so horny for it.”

When you don’t reply with words, and only a senseless moan, he taps your mouth with his fingers gently.

“Show me, baby.”

You part your lips almost instantly at his command, jutting your wet tongue out, ready to take him back into your mouth.

He guides his cock back between your lips, and that’s about as far as he gets before you have to take over from him again. All he can register is how hot and warm you’re mouth is as it wraps around him again.

You start to bob your head, taking him all the way down your throat with a slight gag. You’re whining without warrant now, all over his spit slicked cock.

It’s paired with his own moans of pleasure and words of praise as you suddenly draw back, flicking over his wet tip with your tongue, teasing it and making him grunt.

Your soul existence quickly slips to being just about his cock and hearing his noises. Being able to look up at him and see the sweat beginning to sheen over his forehead, and the mess of his soft hair.

His eyes are squeezed shut, and he has to forcibly open them every so often to see you. A reality check for himself that down on her knees, is his best friend. Drooling all over his prick with a insatiable need.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” He states as you take him all the way down your throat again.

“Taking me like the slut y’are. Might ‘ave to fuck you like one later, how’s that sound?” His mouth has gone loose now, brain muddled with only thoughts of you in it.

You suck and nod over him, brain rioting with a yes at his question.

“Probably so wet, so warm.” He mutters in half thought, and the idea of him even thinking of you like that makes you clench multiple times in your panties.

You roll you hips against nothing which he is grateful he caught with his half lidded eyes. The look of sheer desperation that crossed your face.

Moving faster, you starting taking his cock at a pace that immediately made his hand coil tighter in your hair.

“Fuck… im gon’ come faster than I’d like if y’keep— shit— doing that.” He moans, and you draw back quickly.

“Need to taste it… please, Harry.” You beg, forcing your throat back down around him once you’d got a breathe.

You gagged around him in full this time, earning his hips bucking against you.

Strings of dirty talk and cusses were flying out of his mouth, like a litany being repeated over and over. He kept praising you.

“That warm mouth…fuck… fucking me so good baby. Want to keep y’down there for hours, like m’personal little cockslut.”

Your nails dug into the backs of his meaty thighs, making you moan around him. Spit was covering your chin as you moved hastily over his hard prick.

“Like that idea?” He asked gruffly, “making you drool all over me like this until I’m empty, an’ y’ve come in y’panties to the point you’re dripping.”

You feverishly bob your head, sucking hard against him. If his bucking hips and loose mouth are any indicator, he’s getting close.

A few more minutes of your mouth, and he’s swearing, “im gonna come, dove— fuck— where do y’want it?”

Trying not to stop to long, looking up at his flushed face and blown out eyes, you lowly plead, “on my tongue, please…”

“Good slut, good fucking girl!” He slurs out.

You draw back to his tip, eager to taste him properly. You spit messily over his pulsing red head, kitten licking over it while your hand fucks the rest of his length at a fast pace.

It has him a wreck, and before he know it, he’s moaning out so loud he’s almost scared he woke someone in the house up.

“Fuck! I’m going to come, baby, im gonna come!”

You watch in completely infatuation as his eyes screw shut and his mouth drops into a gasp for air. You feel his hips stutter, and his cock pulse and twitch as it releases onto your awaiting tongue.

He tastes so good. You feel ashamed for even liking it that much, but as it spurts out his tip and drips onto your lower lip, your insane over it.

You rub it in with his tip, coating it over your tongue, and he pants as he opens his eyes to watch you.

It’s a sight etched into his mind forevermore. The fact his come is painted all over your tongue right now.

“Swallow it, pretty girl, let me watch.” He exhaustedly instructs you, voice raspy and deep in his post orgasm haze.

You do as told, and realising some has spilt even onto the corner of his thigh now that you’ve let him go.

Not letting it go to waste, you clean it off with a lick of your still eager mouth. Gently kissing over the spot as well.

“Taste so good, H.” You whisper against him, moving over to kiss his tip a final time.

“Thank you, again. For letting me do that…” You almost feel more satisfied than you would have if you had gotten to come as well.

“Made me feel amazing, baby.”

Or so you thought, because once he raised the point again… “If you want, since I can only imagine how desperate your little cunt is, I can return the favour somehow?”

And it was impossible to say no when he looked like that, boxers still half down his beautiful legs and face flushed that sexy shade of red.

You were in for a night, that was for sure. So much for an early morning.

———

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #he’s so #fuck me I need him so bad #anyways #hope you enjoyed #ily #last oneshot of 2023

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