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[soscerrajeria1]

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[tbeceramicmugs]

[wissymgonewild]

i'm not going to be worried until they start writing episodes where she takes photos of him sleeping XD

I don't know if you saw that part of the leaks too but the snort that escaped me when Marinette cried "What if Adrien LIED to me??" (About talking to Sublime) was unholy lol

It takes GUTS to have a protagonist be this bold of a self centred hypocrite. Like, if Marinette were a real person I would assume she's hard core projecting out of guilt, but this is Miraculous. Marinette for real thinks this would be the much worse lie because this is about HER not feeling comfortable in her one sided emotional support relationship

---

I didn't see that part. Yeah, little miss gaslighter has no place whining about Adrien possibly lying to her. Even if he was, I’d side with Adrien because what other choice does he have with a girlfriend this insecure about him daring to have friends while she gets to have an entire fanclub and surround herself with people who are in love with her? Marinette is obsessed with even the made up notion that Adrien isn't honest with her about his every stray thought and action. Marinette would be reading Adrien's thoughts to make sure he's where he's supposed to be in his every waking moment if she could get the ability.

[taemcains]

eroticism, sensuality & how cain embodies it

i've always called cain erotic but since the kiss has taken over every last braincell of mine, i've been wondering what exactly makes him so. from the moment i read i want to do with you what isn't customary to say out loud, the with immediately struck me. not do to you but with. which could either mean what he wants them to experience together, as equals, or having her helpless and at his mercy, or both.

the verbal aspect of sex is what almost everyone gets wrong in media, especially when it comes to men. dirty talk is cheap, vulgar, and disgusting but why does cain do it so well? because he reveals just enough to leave you wondering, grasping desperately at your own imagination. i should've been crucified long ago for my thoughts about you. so what are you thinking? sublimating admitting to animal basal impulses, considered dirty and impure with so much grace and sensuality. saving all his confessions for such a significant moment, as they always step around each other and walk in circles, never saying anything outright so when he does it's shocking, outrageously hot.

and the inch he does give is painted vividly. where the blood boils and languid sighs fill the air.

he doesn't impose himself onto her, doesn't overpower her, make her smaller. it's more of an enveloping, surrounding, surrendering. he hardly touched her in the church, but his words and presence eclipsed the outside world, making sin religious.

while he is more, or even completely, dominant in their relationship, his dominance isn't to assert his desire onto her, but to allow the revealing of hers. he doesn't push her around, doesn't order her but carefully spins a web around her, trapping her senses, trapping her in a web of her own desires, disregarding her inhibitions. everything about him is subtle and slow and seductive, and every final decision has rested on her shoulders. in the church, he has his fingers over her stomach, he looks up, he waits. in the bathroom, he has her trapped between his body and the cross, he says his piece, he waits. only when she touches him back does he kiss her.

the power gap between them, purely antagonistic of the usual immortal/mortal ship, is blurred and coexisting. cain was the one laying out his cards, his barest desires and wants but it was lane who felt caught between his jaws, like this was her surrender. he was pulling the strings even as he was being vulnerable.

over all this, intimacy and understanding is the most erotic thing of all, and it was captured beautifully in the kiss scene. cain knew what i liked because we were so similar. cain being able to read all her nonverbal cues, to know which is permission. cain laying on her lap, talking about acceptance and understanding and eternity.

it's so rare to see a male character who is actually erotic, not vulgar and as a 'bring back real sensuality in media' girl i'm fucking up this buffet. i can't wait to see how this evolves in his later scenes and thank you taemin for birthing him.

[thebroccolination]

THE SUBLIMELY MARVELOUS WRITING IN THAMEPO

I just watched episode twelve and maaaaan, this series is playing its writing game on a completely separate plane, holy shit.

MAKING ME CRY OVER MICK?

All those little flashbacks to when he was helping them??? IN EPISODE TWELVE?

THIS SERIES IS SO WELL-WRITTEN IT MAKES MY CELLS EXPLODE.

The technique this series has repeatedly used where it shows you a scene and then later cuts back to the same scene through someone else’s perspective is always so fucking brilliantly executed. It never feels like a cheap trick or cheating because the show uses its framing so well you really are just seeing everything through one perspective until the show allows you to see more through another person’s eyes. I have such a writer crush on this series.

I couldn’t watch live yesterday because of work and I wanted to give it the mental space it deserves so I got up early before work and watched it with breakfast and a kitty on my lap and now I’m on the train to work and I’m just blown away.

GMMTV mainly makes half-baked, quickly slapped-together fluff without a clear vision in order to promote actors who then promote things to get money from fans (and every bland, calculating interview I see with Tha just reinforces that impression), so when we get heartfelt series like Be My Favorite or ThamePo where it’s so clear that the writing was a priority and time was devoted to making the script as good as it could be? That the creators didn’t care how long it took to make these series as long as they felt they were following through with a creative vision that felt true and honest and passionate to them—that’s special.

From the very first episode, the script of ThamePo has been as close to perfect as it could be. And from the preview for the finale next week, I think they’ll stick the landing in a way so emotionally satisfying, it’ll cement ThamePo as the best-written series GMMTV has made yet.

[lilac-5ky]

always darkest before the dawn (Satoru x Fem!Reader)

plot: your boyfriend finds you waiting on his porch after a mission you warned him against going.

tags: hurt/comfort with a silly ending cause I'm silly for this man.

wc: 2.4k

“Baby? What are you still doing up?”

The sound of his voice gets amplified with every step he takes toward the dim-lit engawa, a pleasant break from the incessant chirping of the cicadas slowly being traded for that of the first morning sparrows—midnight sky melting into the lightest shades of blue. Stars are sprinkled over the velvet canopy like powder sugar, a subtle bronze haze dividing the horizon from the heavens above, and you almost thank them for sending their most exalted angel your way.

He comes alive again—wings heavy from the blood that soaks them, its source hardly human.

The knitted blanket slides off your shoulders as you turn around to face Satoru, his otherwise sublime features wearier and more haggard than you remember seeing them this morning by your pillow. He carries a bag in each hand, his apology wrapped in layers upon layers of aluminum foil. You wonder what it tastes like. Last time was gyoza, and the time before that drunken noodles—always accompanied by some sort of dessert from some faraway corner of the map, which he (typically) promises to revisit with you.

“Welcome home.” You sigh, mustering a smile to distract him from the dried-up tears that stain the apples of your cheeks.

It was a long night, and his absence stretched it to eternity. You realized after he left for his mission that forever is a long time to be spent alone, especially when the last words you said to him echo harder than the cumbersome footsteps of his departure, scaring you into thinking that was the last you heard of each other.

No one ever told you that being with the strongest meant becoming stronger yourself.

It’s not fair.

He doesn’t miss the opportunity to call you weak, making a habit of teasing you when your puny arms fail to carry his excessive haul of grocery bags or when you can’t open a mere jar of jam without him loosening the cap beforehand. He doesn’t admit you are stronger than him, despite you being the one to carry his burden and your worries, the two brewing into a sickly cocktail of premonition you can barely stomach—one that initiated today’s fallout.

You feel wronged. Your roles were reversed against your will; the comfort of being the weak one viciously yanked from your grasp, feet forcefully put into a pair of shoes you were never meant to wear. You should be weak. He should be strong. You should be crying, and he should be comforting. You should be able to tell him, don’t go, and he should be able to stay.

But you didn’t. And he did not.

Unaffected by the war of contradictory motions in your head, Satoru plops down beside you, large palms emptying of the cheap plastic handles to fill up with you. The thrill of the fight still hasn’t worn out, muscles taut from the action, and eyes bright under their concealment. He feels warm, warmer than the blanket that’s now receded to your thighs, though not warm enough to appease the cold in your heart, goosebumps prickling your skin from the inside out like your body is trying to escape itself.

A lump forms in your throat from where his lips touch your neck, briefly and fleetingly, before they are replaced with the familiar fluff of hair. It’s ironic how he tries to fit in you. There isn’t a part of you that hasn’t been touched by him in one way or another, and if you could pull out your own guts to make more space for him, then you would. You’d let him consume you whole if that meant never spending a second without him.

You wonder if that’s how love is supposed to be. You aren’t sure. You don’t know if you’re just another person who foolishly let themselves worship Gojo Satoru—if, in your effort to get to know the real him, you became his biggest fan.

“You are abnormally quiet.” You point out, instantly hating how ragged your voice sounds. The only dissonance in the picturesque garden of his estate.

Satoru shifts in his position, heavy jaw rubbing sweetly against your bare shoulder, hot breath fanning your neck. “I’m just mimicking you.”

“Mimicking me?” A bit better this time.

“Mhm.”

You glance at him, following the curve of his nose down to the dip of his cupid’s bow, both highlighted under the waning moonlight. Even when the stars are slowly drained and those flattering shadows dispelled, his beauty remains a certain constant. He is so beautiful that your heart aches, a longing sigh caught at the far back of your palate, his soft smile begging for its release.

He won’t hear you say it. Not tonight.

You test out the waters with a teasing poke of your tongue. He does the same, mouths almost touching with how closely he leans forward. Then a pout. A scrunch of the nose. An unserious wiggle of his eyebrows that mirrors your own—an image far more perfect than the one you’re used to seeing in the mirror.

“Would you jump down a cliff if I did?” You taunt.

“Absolutely!” He breaks the loop, answering in less than a heartbeat. “You know I would. The world would be a horrible place without my sugarplum.”

“You know, you could save us both if you wanted.” You say with a level voice.

“The greatest love stories are sealed by tragedy.” Satoru argues back. “Romeo and Juliette. Jack and Rose. Orihime and Hikoboshi. Takeru and Hikari.”

You are quick to spot the odd one out. “First of all, stop sneaking in Digimon references thinking I won’t notice, and second of all, Takeru and Hikari didn’t die.”

“No, but they never got together.” He frowns.

You roll your eyes. “You are unbelievable.”

“And you’re soooo pretty. Did you do something to your face? Your dark circles look extra dark tonight.” Satoru tries to catch your cheek in his palm, fine sand slipping through his fingers as you pull away.

“Shut up!” Your mixed chuckles course through your body, reigning over the tremors that previously had you shriveling into a ball of tightly packed limps. Staying mad at him is impossible when he’s actually there; all mood for poignancy gone in an instant.

“You never answered my question.” A featherlight hum brushes against the shell of your ear, the pout easy on his tone. “What are you still doing up?”

With a knowing smile, you peer at the sky, feeling the press of his cheek on yours as he follows the movement of your eyes. “Whenever I miss you, the only thing that calms me is looking at the sky.”

“You know I’m not dead, right?”

“Say one more stupid thing, and that will change!” You warn with your pointer up. He kisses it. God.

You tap your finger against his forehead, urging some distance be put between the two of you. “Whenever I look at the sky,” you start again, “I see you.”

Breaking from his embrace, you shape two circles with your thumbs and forefingers, narrowing their size until they turn into a pair of minuscule goggles you lower over to where his eyes supposedly lie behind the blindfold. “See? Just like your eyes.”

“Oh, I’m not too sure about that.” Satoru gazes at the sky through your fingers, eventually tipping in your direction. He smirks, “I mean, the eyes of the Gojo Satoru are kinda hard to beat. See?”

Peeling the blindfold off, he lets your palms spread over his cheeks, azure eyes losing their vibrancy as your dainty fingers frame them better than any pair of sunglasses in his collection. He’s right. The original cannot compare. It’s not Satoru’s eyes that resemble the sky. It’s the sky that resembles his eyes, for in his 28 years, he’s managed to make something as ancient as time itself seem like a cheap rip-off.

“But I am flattered.” Warm palms cushion yours as he brings them to his mouth. You don’t realize how frigid they are until he starts blowing the cold away, smiling against them. “Means I’m always on your mind with how often your head’s in the clouds.”

“Can’t go one minute without bringing me down, huh?” Your voice frail once more.

“I can. But where’s the fun in that?”

You pull each other into a gentle kiss, Satoru’s arms snaking around your waist while your fingers cup his cheeks with urgency, fearing that by the time your eyes blink open, he’ll already have faded into stardust. He doesn’t share your concern, soft pecks interrupted by muffled chuckles, the taste on his lips giving you an idea of what he brought home with him.

“Pancakes?” Your tongue drags against his bottom lip. Foreheads pressed against one another.

“Mhm. Figured you’d be hungry for breakfast at this ungodly hour.” Satoru pecks your lips again and again, making it impossible to think straight, let alone answer, given how often your mouths are smashed together.

“How did you know I’d be up?” You breathe out.

“Hmm, a premonition?” He grins, playing with fire with how he mocks your previous words of concern. “My six eyes—”

“Do your six eyes tell you that you’ll be smacked in three, two, one!”

Limitless activates before your forehead can ram into his skull, the number of times you bob your head futile.

“One of these days, my anger will outdo your technique.” You promise.

“Can’t wait for that!” Satoru beams earnestly. “Maybe then I can teach you about domains too. Make my baby into the best—well, second-best sorcerer.”

Truly impossible.

The world quiets down as the final veil of the night is lifted from the sky and dawn begins its dance, everything it touches slowly coming into life. Light seeps between the yellowing grass blades, illuminating the morning dew that rests upon them. Water sparkles as it pours from the bamboo fountain, the constant thump setting the tempo for the birds’ song. Fragrance is drawn out of the towering pine trees, grounding the elegance of the showy blue hydrangeas. No room for despair in this imagery of hope, complete with Satoru’s presence, white lashes fluttering shut as he stretches like a cat in the sun.

You love him.

You know you do. You mean it every morning and every night when he makes you say it in between chuckles, slender fingers tickling the admission out of your ribs. You mean it when he moves heaven and earth to fulfill a stupid promise you made at 4 AM when you were drunk out of your mind and he tucked you into the comfort of your shared bed—somehow less sober without a drop of alcohol in his system.

You mean it when there’s sand in his eyes, when his breath doesn’t smell as peachy as one would expect of someone as ridiculously perfect as him, when his voice cracks during a sing-along. You mean it when his tongue licks the luscious coffee cream from your lips and when it greedily laps between the puffy lips down under.

There is so much you love about him that you’d run out of synonyms for words before you could jot them all down in a way that’s not dull to read, and still, you’d lose out on describing how exactly he makes you feel.

Because Satoru isn’t a person, so much as he is art. Sometimes he is just splash of colors across a canvas without the masterful strokes needed to hone him into a finished product. Other times, he is just the notes composing the wonderful lilt of his voice, too audacious to be deemed a symphony. He can be poetry too, spilling out of the ordinary 17-syllable arrangement of a haiku. But most of all, he is raw energy, an untamed torrent ripping through mountains and a whirlwind sweeping everything in its path.

It’s hard not to romanticize him in moments like this. They don’t come too often.

“You know, you don’t need tragedy to write a good love story.” Your tendency to break the silence festers into a bad habit. “We might be doomed by the narrative, but we are here to live. I’d rather live with you than die with you, or live a life without you.” You whisper, voice getting caught in your throat.

Sincerity always scared you, but if there’s one thing more regrettable than words you’ve said, then that’d be words that were never told.

Your focus shifts to your dangling feet, grass grazing your toes at the completion of each nervous sway. You are no longer touching. Not purposely at least, contact reduced to the slight nudge of your shoulders as Satoru leans against his to smile.

“Gotcha.” He says, not quite pressuring you to face him just yet. “It was easy-peasy, by the way. Yuji and Nobara did most of the work, while Megumi—he fell inside a curse’s stomach. It was hilarious! You should visit them soon; see how my kids have grown.”

Your lips pucker their way around your mouth, tongue poking at your cheek from the inside—prelude to a slow nod. Too uncertain to be directed at him. You regret bringing this up. You should’ve let yourself bask in his affections when they didn’t require a verbal answer.

“You worry too much.” Your uneasiness prompts Satoru to crane his neck and lay a tender kiss on the crown of your head. His voice serious when he says, “I won’t die.”

“That’s what everyone says right before they die.”

“But I’m not everyone. I’m Gojo Satoru, and I won’t die.”

You gulp, then huff a forced chuckle. “H-hey, that’s a pretty good catchphrase. You should use it in your fights when you’re about to deal the killing blow.”

“I have a better one. I’m Gojo Satoru, and I love youuuu~” He sings, seconds before his lips attack your neck, deft fingers mercilessly tickling your sides against the hard wood.

“God! You are so corny!” You blurt in between giggles.

“You love it!” He protests, a wild glint to his eyes. “C’mon, don’t be shy. Say it.”

“N-no way!”

“No?” The sadist stops his torture, finding new ways to torment you as he slyly moves toward the forgotten takeout. “Guess I’ll be enjoying these myself then. Thank me for the food!”

“Hey, Satoru! Wait!” You concede.

Maybe it’s fine to let him stand on the podium alone this once.

a/n: my mood is all over the place nowadays, suffering writer's block, wrote this as a self-indulgent 5 AM craze, help satoru brainrot too strong

[invisible-pink-toast]

i never liked soulmates. i think it feels cheap, to some degree, if there is someone or something out there that picked you out and declared, “this is the one. there is only Them.” - i don’t want to love if it’s pre- determined or foretold or in any way guaranteed. i want a mystery. i want to be able to hope. i want to look at you and say, “i am choosing this on my own. i am the one who decides to love on purpose, and nobody told me to love you, and nobody taught me how, and that is the sublimity of it: i love you because we are not destined. i love the choice of you.”

no hate to canonically soulmate couples, some of my favourite fictional couples are, but honestly i love the idea that you find someone and care about them and decide to love them and make it work much more romantic then being 'destined' to be with 'the one'

also i wrote this poem down years ago and i cannot find it anywhere online if anyone knows the author please tell me!

[kabr0ztrousers]

discovered you on the elite dangerous tag and read thru some of ur stuff! it was great!

have you written abt more brainwashing/hypnosis centered stuff with aliens + masc reader? maybe with a hivemind if thats doable? submission and surrender of the mind is very exciting to me, thanks if u get to this!

Kabr0z Writes episode 90: Assimilation

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: alien life; evil fungus; zombies; noncon; identity sublimation; firearm usage;

A/N: Another one finished super late at night and posted in the morning. One of these days, I swear...

I'm interested in seeing how well this one does, I haven't written much dronification before

##########################################

Dropping out of supercruise, transitioning to suborbital flight. The ship juddered under you, inertial dampers working to negate the colossal transfer of kinetic energy. The planet below was green. That alone would make you rich, finding a green planet with an oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere would run you hundreds of millions of credits in finders fees. Landing though, going down and doing the geology, collecting atmospheric and water samples, gathering plant specimens. That's where the real money is. The more data you get, the bigger your payday. A little more tedious than hunting bounties across the spacelanes, but a lot less likely to end with you reduced to a soup-like homogenate and spread across several cubic kilometres of space.

The landing was easy. Modern ships can stay hanging in midair for days at a time, held aloft on reaction thrusters burning stardust. Fuel is plentiful, cheap, and highly efficient. More than enough to get you to a gentle hover before landing, touching down on an outcrop and stepping out in an exposure suit. Atmosphere 18% oxygen, 80% nitrogen, a smidge of CO2, and about half a percent ammonia. An entire planet that stinks of cat piss. Marvellous.

You picked an igneous feature and got to mapping. A cross-cutting magmatic intrusion, visible through the strata and leading into a cave. You followed it, taking magnetic deflection readings to track any polar wandering or magnetosphere fluctuations. You didn't notice as the ferns and lichens gave way around you, phosphorescent fungi taking their place. You also didn't notice as figures moved around you, inaudible over the whirring of your breathing rig.

By the time you saw the first one, they were around you. Tall humanoid figures, overgrown with the luminescent fungus, a layer of glowing growth overtaking them. You turned to run, pulling your sidearm from its holster. You took a shot. It hit one of the figures. A patch of fungus seared away. Your blood ran cold. You could see a flight suit underneath. An older model, but you'd recognise the Pilot Federation crest anywhere, emblazoned as it was on every piece of hardware you owned.

Shooting wildly now. Hitting figures left and right. Every shot that connected burned away more fungus. None of them slowed down.

One grabbed your helmet. Inhumanly strong hands wrenched at it. More hands grabbed at the reinforced mylar of the suit. You couldn't move. You gagged. The smell of piss flooded your pure nitrox suit atmosphere. One had tore through. The suit material is designed to resist splitting, but a quirk of the design is that once a tear starts it's easy to pull apart. Theoretically it makes testing a suit faster. Right now it means your protection is rapidly being stripped away.

Every pull drew that split up further. Every jostle flooded your suit with more ammonia-laden air. You pulled your arm around, letting off one last shot into the face of the zombie in front of you. Its head popped like a mouldy balloon. You realised your mistake.

The wound bloomed with spores. Some burned up in the heat from the particle beam. Most hung in the air. The air in your suit turned musty. You choked on the spores as your filtration system clogged with them. A zombie pulled your helmet away from you, tearing it free from the last rags of your EVA gear. You held your breath. It didn't help.

The spores settled on your skin. Inside your nose. In the corners of your eyes. Your lungs burned. You tried to pull away from the zombies, leaving them with handfuls of torn suit as you moved. One caught your ankle, and you fell. You hit the ground hard, knocking the breath from you.

Your head spun as you gasped for breath. Animal instincts aiding the spores as they sought to take root in you. Every breath spread a warmth through you. Fear gave way to a calmness. Then a heat. Your whole body felt hot. Your hand wandered, drifting to the bulge growing in the front of your flight suit.

You fumbled with the closure of the suit. Every movement got you harder. Every breath making you leak a little more. You were getting close while barely touching yourself, half an inch of compression suit between your shaking hands and your aching cock. The zipper pulled. You dug yourself out. Gloved hands grasped and pawed at yourself. One hand juggling your balls while the other desperately jerked your leaking cock.

Your orgasm hit you like a train. Groaning and gasping you spurted your seed. Your hands didn't slow as the narcotic spores invaded your mind.

You could hear it. A thousand other voices in your mind. Each of them calling your name, drawing you in. All of them promising such release, such joy, if you'd only submit. Give yourself to them. Breathe deep. Cum for them.

You did. Over and over you came. Until the fluid stopped and all that came out of you were moans and grunts. Until the pain would've stopped you, if you could feel it. Until your abused prostate almost pulsed itself inside out and your twitching legs couldn't hold your weight any more.

You didn't care. You'd joined the chorus. You watched as the drone with your old face pulled another orgasm out of its bruised cock. As it fell face-first into the cave floor, still tugging at itself as a thin layer of mould spread over its skin.

The chorus was music. It was freedom. It was truth and joy and love and everything you ever wanted.

And now it had a ship.

#######################################

Thanks for coming to this geology lesson followed by a quick horror-porn scene.

I do very much hope you enjoyed it

[thetriforcetriohouse]

Link, Zelda, and Ganondorf all live in a house together.

Link:

The only one in the house with an actual job.

What is that job? Well...

He Works. He leaves the house, and then comes back hours later with money.

To be clear, there's nothing illegal going on! If you follow him, you're going to see him pulling weeds, busking, and other various sidequesty activities.

Trades cooking duty with Ganondorf. Link's cooking is delicious, if somewhat unconventional. He will eat anything--this man has eaten rocks before, and he'll do it again.

Horse Girl. Keeps Epona in a nice stable on the property. Rides her regularly around the neighborhood and at the Equestrian Center nearby.

ADHD. Autism. But we all knew that.

Smokes weed sometimes. Buys from Ravio. Doesn't buy from Tingle anymore.

Link is part of a massive polycule that he himself is not aware of, but all the girls in it have a groupchat.

Buys his clothes in bulk at Walmart.

Is the one who actually owns the house.

Zelda:

Does the taxes, keeps track of the finances...she likes to do Books.

She is just living her life.

Loves engineering and computer programming. Her father disapproves, which almost never bothers her.

Can't eat spice to save her soul. Ganondorf's cooking obliterates her every time, and he laughs.

Is not part of the Link polycule, but keeps everything scheduled. Polycule secretary.

Dating Yona.

Gets distracted from work because she looked outside and saw a cool frog or bug and had to go look. She and Link frequently text eachother in the Trio groupchat whenever they find something cool, so the other one can come running and Ganondorf can go "why though?"

Does the grocery shopping. Link used to, but isn't allowed anymore because he always buys protein and nothing else.

Overachiever. Wants to get a good grade at living life, which is normal to want and possible to achieve.

Does her own laundry after Ganondorf side-eyed her about her cheap underwear.

Anxiety disorder. It's fiiiiiiiiine.

Ganondorf:

Does the household chores. Is frequently exasperated by the state the other two leave the place in.

His cooking is sublime but incredibly spicy. Makes the best Gerudo food around for miles.

Road rage. Don't put this man behind a wheel.

Has broken soooooo many console controllers and at least one TV.

He keeps the house looking nice so his moms (Koume and Kotake) can visit whenever they want.

Incredibly competitive, especially with Link.

Planted Deku Babas near the sidewalk to eat the children walking by because they're obnoxious. He still thinks that's funny.

Has two sugar babies that don't know about eachother. Also has a cute girlfriend named Lyric living across the street.

All of his items are incredibly luxurious and high-quality. His clothes, his weapons, his everything. He deserves the best!

Has a rigorous gym routine. Every time he walks in, people stare. He knows this. Gets into frequent flex-offs with Groose while he's at the gym.

Respectful to women. Duh.

Surprisingly reasonable. Most of the time.

Designated straightman, but is not a Straight Man.

Has a little crusty white purse dog named Annalise. That thing eats better than almost everybody else.

Also has a big black horse stabled in a NICER stable than Epona's. It was important to him. The horse's name is Demise.

[booksrbetterthanpeople]

You know rose and sublime could bond over having marinette breathing over their shoulders to prove and being overbearing to them, that she ends up making them uncomfortable without even realizing it, even if it was obvious.

Rose/Sublime: *Eating lunch in silence*

Sublime: … Is she still there?

Rose: *Slowly looks out of her peripheral vision and sees Marinette sitting a few tables away staring at them* Yep.

Sublime: What are we gonna do? If we leave, she’ll follow us, and if we stay, she might make up some excuse to sit with us.

Rose: I can call one of my dads. They can drive us around the block several times so we lose her.

Sublime: Okay, then we get on a bus, head to a store to buy some cheap wigs and go from there.

[sgiandubh]

So in other words, you agree, Sam and Cait are not very good actors as exemplified by the scene being them and not Beauchamp and Fraser. On that, agreed. She might be a C actor, he's definitely a D

Dear Beauchamp and Fraser Anon,

I suspect you might be a returning one, by the way, hoping to catch me unprepared with a very cheap sophism. Check this concept on Wikipedia if you wish, but I will give you my definition: manipulated or derailed logic, i.e. formally sustainable, but in reality just a fallacy; or, if you prefer, a bunch of crap, just for the sake of it. Also, it would be wise not to try these cheap tricks on someone trained to work with words and doing so every single day: you might find no satisfaction, ultimately.

Fun fact: I don't agree with any single word you just wrote. Sam and Cait are very good and gifted actors. Both of them. They did wonders with a very inconsistent script and under barbaric public pressure. What dragged you in here, Anon? Mrs. Gabaldon's florid, even luxuriant prose? What kept you in here, Anon? Blood and sperm and rape galore? I should wish you were honest, at least for once in your life, and let your answer be 'not really'.

What I meant by that phrase was something very simple: the actors' life experience deeply informing and sublimating their performance. If you think real and creative lives are strictly separate affairs in any intellectual endeavor, then you are probably completely unfamiliar with anything remotely related to writing, singing, playing (an instrument), acting, composing or painting. All these are akin to magic and all of the above are a summoning of sorts: ask any 'content creator', you will probably get a very similar answer. In Cait and Sam's case, their real life story nurtures and elevates their acting, despite people like you.

I am not an actor myself, but a long time ago it was acting that liberated me and taught me to not be afraid of anything. I did not make a living out of it, but I will always have the tools making me able to access that very special energy, any time I should need it. So, I can only offer you an educated opinion of These Two:

C is a very, very good actress. She is classy, sophisticated and knows instinctively how to occupy a stage or a set. She worked and progressed a LOT since Season 1, when it took me a good while to warm up to her. Add to this what I think is arresting beauty. Not really a C-level, in my book.

S is a wonderfully gifted actor who, unlike C, does not have any idea of this potential and, to be honest, gives the impression to even not care about it. He singlehandedly dominated some of the most difficult moments of the series (that unwatchable Wentworth episode comes to mind). His mastery of the Stanislavski and Lecoq methods and techniques is excellent. He is likeable, personable and has an innate emotional intelligence, helping him navigate and compensate the weaknesses of (yes, I insist!) an often insufficient script. I have already written about it, with arguments, when I found some very interesting parallels between The Fiery Cross episode and Laurence Olivier's performance in Shakespeare's Henry V. I will say it again: this guy has been grossly miscast, spare for JAMMF.

Perhaps you are unfamiliar with the whole preparation and rehearsal process when producing a movie or a series or a theatre show. These people don't just learn their lines by heart and turn up for readings and rehearsals. They also read and watch a lot of things that could help them build better, more credible characters. But what makes the sometimes very subtle difference between a decent performance and a stellar one is the amount of themselves they allow inside their acting. And in this respect, I think Sam and Cait have been very lucky, in what is a very clear case of Art (instinctively) imitating Life.

I doubt this answered your question and to be honest, I don't care.

[tbeceramicmugs]

Cheap white sample ceramic sublimation mug

[maxdibert]

i respect your take on snape, although he’s still not really a character i love, but i feel like a huge difference between snape and regulus/james/etc. for people who write fan fics or create stuff for the mauraderers fandom in general is the fact that people have the liberty to create their futures (since they all died very young, regulus is essentially entirely a fanon character, as is pandora, and many others), while with snape like canonically we know how he turns out, how he has mistreated children as a teacher, etc., and that’s just not something everyone can forgive, and yes there are intersectional factors in his upbringing that influence his actions but his actions are still his own, and at that point in the books he is a literal adult with like a lot of power, being a teacher, integral to dumbledor, and important to the DEs, his cruelty just seems quite unnecessary and i don’t think it’s wrong for it to not be everyone’s cup of tea. also to say the whole fandom is classist is honestly a reach, remus, lily, mary, etc. are also not rich pure bloods and they are generally beloved characters.

i get the premise of the point that it would be hypocritical to dislike snape and love characters like regulus, remus, james, etc, but again one of the main draws to these characters is the fact that there is like so little to work with from cannon, but each character has enough about them in cannon to create really interesting character dynamics (and there are just so many characters to work with, like pandora, mary, lily, etc. and the gen x characters are from like three families essentially, there’s just less to work with). with these baseline characteristics and early tragic deaths it’s easy to grasp onto these characters, and write stories where their futures could be better, and they could change for the better while with snape that story is entirely written and his actions just don’t appeal to everyone. snapes arc is quite fleshed out by jkr, in a way the majority of the characters in the mauraderers fandom isn’t, which is also why people might prefer other characters and still not like snape

That would make sense if one of the fan favorites weren’t Barty Crouch Jr, whose future we all know, and it’s much worse than Severus’s. It would also make sense if the only Slytherin they fangirl over were Regulus, but there’s also Evan Rosier, who was one of Voldemort’s biggest supporters. They even let Peter slide on many things, even though he was the main traitor of the Potters and a lifelong bootlicker of Voldemort. Honestly, the issue with Severus doesn’t seem to have anything to do with how he ends up as an adult. I think that’s just a cheap excuse people use to justify their classism and beauty privilege and also to avoid confronting the reality that what bothers them most about Severus as a character is that, indeed, he’s the marginalized victim who doesn’t fit in economically, socially, or physically, who gets mocked for not conforming to beauty standards and for having a non-hegemonic appearance. And that’s literally what those same haters try to impose in their distorted, wannabe version of the Marauders. But Severus doesn’t work for them as a projection because he’s not the cool, popular guy, and they need to project themselves onto characters who were cool and popular to sublimate their unresolved fantasies of school popularity.

[captain-palestine]

HER FUCKING LEGS EXPLODED

Is that normal??? Or did Sublime's parents just cheap out on her prosthetics?

Did Marinette commit a hate crime???

[osakanone]

I've been getting into gunpla and i'd like a rec since you know mecha. Are there any gunpla you recommend? I'd appreciate one that doesn't look like a dude as much as possible.

The closest i've gotten to that idea so far is a guarda/rever nova build from the 30 minute missions line because of the two scorpian arms.

May I suggest the Wodom Pod?

Its fairly simple to build, very cheap and readily available.

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If you want to straddle the "a guy thing" in your mentality and challenge it a little, also good is the Aegis specifically its transformation mode as its primary mode (like all humanoid MS) is intended for generalized combat and front-line logistical work (hence the hands).

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If not, Hildolfr is a fun one. He bridges the space between early mobilesuits in minovsky signals displacement warfare and was used by a starship cannon pilot, requiring a lot of manual skill to aim well!

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The Xamel is also really good though only provided you've got skills to bring the best out of the kit with scribing and painting. He's a heavy launch platform hovercraft designed for opening vollies with a high powered mortar grenade system via coordinates coming from other units, with legs designed for hit and run skirmishes so he can make his get-away after providing the opening strikes and fire-support during the mop-up phase of an attack.

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Not gunpla, and a bit more advanced is Variable Infinity's Armored Core Aaliyah. You're probably gonna need some glue for this as smaller parts fall off. Its extremely detailed, and very "not a guy" despite being humanoid.

It uses a spherical particle field of highly radioactive and toxicparticles to protect and cool itself, and is capable of absurd mobility.

Quite a pain in the ass to work with, the design itself is utterly sublime and a spectacle to look at and I fell in love with it circa 2007 with Armored Core 4. Sadly, it isn't anywhere near as posable as most Gunpla due to how "un-guy-like" its body design is. These are the concessions we make cool appearances like this.

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A substantially easier build (and much closer to Gunpla) is bandai's 30 minute mission 30MM Armored CORE Ⅵ Fires of Rubicon - BALAM Industries BD-011 MELANDER Liger Tail

I'm a huge sucker for 4-legged mecha since they're about as far from "an guy" as you can get. They're also super affordable right now if you can find a stockist who isn't a scalper.

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Also while not Gunpla, if you have advanced skills, Gunhed is also very good though it requires a lot of extra work since the plastic provided with this kit is more of a raw material you need to do work to, to achieve the look and hide the seams akin to more traditional model kits. Gunhed's role is to invade gigantic sprawling synthetic superstructures and wipe out unmanned weapons.

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Though likely not to your tastes, my own personal favourite of the year has actually been the Lfrith Ur. I don't usually go for chunkier designs but it has that delightful "chubby girl in a swimsuit" energy despite being a very intense and scary weapon that scratches some strange itch in my brain that I find deeply pleasing.

It is likewise, also very cheap -- and if you get two of them, its very easy to mod them together into a single 4-legged machine with double loadout (very cool, and probably bringing it more in like with your preference -- I wish I still had photos: I'm currently out of the country and my "big database of cool research files" is at home and wouldn't search well from two continents away)

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Also Zowort heavy from the same line if you do the same quad-leg/tetrapod adaption looks amazing. I have a huge soft-spot for unusual legs, if its not clear.

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I hope this provides some food for thought. If you have a clearer idea of the kind of kit you want, or what your needs are, let me know and I can provide more suggestions if you'd like.

Happy modelling!!

[drdemonprince]

reluctantly went to see babygirl cause the person i'm crushing on wanted to go and i ended up loving it. the audience was super reactive which added to the experience and made it more interesting. don't want to spoil anything but really interested in your opinion once you do see it.

im so fucking sad that the cheap, chatty theater The New 400 isn't open anymore because seeing this film with a bunch of loud gays and townies would be sublime