#could the film have existed without their romance? sure

[outalongtheedges]

I just wanna say one thing, cause I’ve been seeing it on TikTok a whole lot, I WILL NOT STAND FOR CHARLIE HATE

I’m sorry but it feels misogynistic whenever I read stuff like this:

Actually I will not apologise.

Stop hating on my girly for whatever reason you chose for yourself to make sense.

And so do I

Masterlist

[yua0ra]

𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐲

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

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

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

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- ★、

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

And then you saw him.

Theodore. Bloody. Nott.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His smirk deepened. “Perhaps.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath hitched. “Theo—”

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

But you didn’t.

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

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

And the worst part?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Brilliant idea, darling," he purred.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He raised a brow. “And that is?”

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

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

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

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

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

[starkenobi]

Menace | Tony Stark x reader

masterlist — warnings: mcu; +18 romance; explicit sexual content; flirting; tension; explicit language.

Summary: Tony and Y/N can't hide their attraction and the effect they have on each other. And what should have been a simple photoshoot's interview ends up becoming the trigger for an important step in their relationship. [same universe of dracarys! and draw me like one of your french girls]

Tony felt ridiculous. It was as if he had forgotten everything about what it was like to live in the spotlight, as if he suddenly didn't feel bored to the others who lived in the spotlight either. It was as if he had gone back to his teenage years, freaking out over a really gorgeous celebrity and getting a terrible erection without even realizing it. However, Tony felt a little less stupid when he saw the rest of the people in the set suffering from the same effect that it was to be in Y/N's presence. And, well, in his presence too, he couldn't forget that he was considered one of the Avengers' sexual symbols.

“Is this all because of me?”

Y/N's melodious voice sounded too close, her lips brushing Tony's ear at the same time that one of her hands slid down Tony's thigh until she held his erection. Tony tensed, his worried eyes searching around the studio to see if anyone was paying attention to them. Without any shame, Y/N squeezed her hand and giggled innocently.

Tony pushed her hand away, while wrapping his arm around Y/N's waist. With a smirk on his lips, he pressed their bodies together and muttered a warning. "No messing around in public, sweetheart."

Letting out a sigh, she leaned to kiss Tony's jaw. “Tell that to the monster in your pants, I just came to say hello. You weren't in bed when I woke up.”

But before he could retort, their manager yelled for the security. The spell was broken. They were filmed and exposed on the internet by some intern.

The photoshoot was rescheduled, and Tony felt anxious to see Y/N, the two hadn't spoken since the confusion. She was sent to a mission soon after being exposed as the new it couple, and he had to deal with some Stark Industries shit. So, Tony was also afraid that Y/N'd act differently, and change her mind about wanting something serious with him after the fiasco. But, well, his fears and concerns were proven wrong the exact moment Y/N entered the studio next to the new photographer.

She had a determined sensual aura around her, which seemed to intensify when her eyes landed on Tony. Licking her lips, Y/N smiled mischievously as she slowly admired him head to toe.

Unlike the first set, this time the photoshoot only had five people authorized to stay in the room. Namely Tony and her, the photographer, the stylist and their manager. It wasn't that difficult to make this decision, since the risk of more leaking didn't exist only because of electronic devices.

As a precaution, they decided to do solo shoots first, a few clicks to highlight the clothes they were wearing - and the lack thereof - as well as show a different side to the public. Tight leather pants, transparent blouses, skirts with fishnet stockings, button-down shirts with colorful prints, high heels and lots of makeup.

The theme was a mix of fun and sensuality, although they were about to burst into flames due to the palpable sexual tension when it was time for the photos together. Both the stylist and the photographer chose not to comment on Y/N's swollen lips or Tony's messy hair, the makeup and hairdo were touched up in silence and the photoshoot resumed.

Tony held his breath, trying to keep a serious expression as he stared at the camera, uselessly pretending that the hand sliding down his thigh to his groin didn't affect him. But Y/N seemed determined to get a reaction, sitting on the leg she was previously leaning on, making sure to face Tony.

“Great initiative, Y/N!” the photographer exclaimed in the background, but to Tony it seemed like just white noise, making the mistake of focusing on Y/N. “Use your right hand to hold Tony's hair, see if you can rest your left hand on his knee... That's it! Now look here!”

Giving in to the teasing, Tony rested one hand on Y/N's thigh and the other on her back, a mischievous smile when he realized he had caught her by surprise. When he felt the tug on his hair, Tony squeezed her thigh with some force and pulled Y/N to sit on his thigh. Then he leaned towards her neck, placing a few kisses until he reached her jaw, nibbling lightly, making Y/N gasp.

“Amazing! Y/N holds his neck. Tony, slowly try to lie down on the couch.” the photographer ordered amid the camera flashes. Their breaths gradually became labored as the desire intensified. “Excellent, now reverse positions! But there in the area of ​​the giant pillow, Tony starts kneeling on the floor between Y/N's legs, alright?”

Before Y/N could do anything, Tony slid his hands down to her ass, holding her firmly before getting up from where they were and going to the indicated area. Y/N wrapped her arms around Tony's shoulders, letting out a soft "fuck" in a mixture of lust and surprise.

After practically throwing Y/N onto the huge pillow, Tony crouched down without breaking eye contact, resting his hands on her thighs and sliding his palms down slowly. Tony only looked away when he had to obey the photographer’s instructions, trying to maintain a casual pose while facing the camera.

The photographer's voice led them both into a state of hypnosis, or maybe it was just the desire they felt speaking louder. But when they realized, Tony was lying on the huge pillow, one of his legs folded on top while the other remained on the floor. And Y/N had one resting between Tony's legs, the rest of her body lying on the pillow as well. She had one hand on Tony's chest, while Tony held her neck, slowly bringing her for a kiss.

“Wonderful! Perfect!” Clapping his hands, the photographer seemed to be controlling himself not to laugh when he saw the confused expressions on Tony and Y/N’s faces. “The shoot is over. Congratulations, by the way.”

Without waiting for an answer, the photographer quickly left. Tony ended up laughing in disbelief, throwing his head back in an attempt to dispel the slight embarrassment he felt for losing himself in Y/N once again. However, his laugh turned into a moan when Y/N rested both her hands on his chest before grinding down her hips.

Leaning in until their lips were close, Y/N gasped, “Don’t lose focus now, baby.”

“Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart.” Tony retorted, his hands going to her ass and squeezing it tightly, helping her move for a moment before standing up without warning, taking Y/N with him. “But if I'm going to fuck you, it's going to be in our bed.”

Trying to pretend that the strength display and possessiveness didn't affect her, Y/N lightly tugged Tony's hair in retaliation, grumbling, "I didn't say anything about fucking, Stark."

Tony just smirked, placing a kiss on her neck as a promise. “Alright, just some heavy petting, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, maybe fuck me in the car?” Y/N whispered in his ear, hand still on his hair.

“Don't tempt me, woman.” Tony groaned, putting her down when they entered the elevator. “You're supposed to be the responsible one, not me.”

Y/N snorted. “Just decided to keep you on your toes this month, I guess?”

“That's it. You're grounded. No heavy petting for you.” Tony declared, a bit exasperated, but couldn't hide the smile on his lips for so long.

“Oh, but we're fucking in the car?” Y/N insisted as the elevator’s door opened.

“A menace. You're a complete menace!” He declared.

Y/N's laugh echoed through the garage. Tony guided her to the car with a hand on her back and a silly smile on his face.

comments, likes, and reblogs are welcome and appreciated! thank you for reading and supporting my writing 💜

note: english isn’t my first language, and i don't mind if you call me inbox or dm to point out errors or typos. but please be kind!

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Fully prepared for this to be a minority position but I am deeply emotionally invested in Paul and Chani not getting back together in Dune Messiah. Not just because I love angst and tragedy (I do) but because I don't think there's a way to do it without undermining the narrative and character arcs that Dune Part Two executed so well.

Paul and Chani's relationship in the Villeneuve films exists on a totally different foundation from what's in the books. It's a political love story and you simply cannot separate out the politics from the romance. Their connection starts with the politics and the love is built on top of that.

It's not just that they happen to fall in love while fighting together in an anti-colonial guerrilla war; that is why she falls in love with him. Because he is willing to take the same risks as her in fighting for her people's liberation. Not by trying to impose himself as a leader (at first) but side by side with her as comrades and equals. Let me fight beside you. That's all I'm asking. He is quite literally willing to put his body on the line for a struggle that's been with her all her life, that she cannot escape, but that he could walk away from if he chose. And in fact he proves himself to be an asset and not a liability in this struggle and they start winning. And yeah that shit's romantic as fuck!! Kudos to whoever on the writing team was like actually direct action solidarity is sexy af because they were right and they should say it! There clearly is some attraction or at least interest in Paul on Chani's part from fairly early on, but it's only after he's proven his political worth, in battle, that she allows herself to trust him on a personal level enough to begin a romantic relationship with him. (And it's only after Paul takes off the Atreides ring, the symbol of the fact that he came there to rule over her, that the narrative permits him to advance to this point.) They could have been comrades but not lovers, but never the other way around, because there's no other version of Paul that this Chani would have fallen in love with.

It's important that they meet in circumstances where Paul has no structural power over her. Chani never would have trusted the Paul who stood in the colonial palace and pledged to "honor" Stilgar by offering him hospitality on his own fucking planet. Because she would have known, just as Stilgar did, that such an offer of fellowship, no matter how genuine and well-intentioned, is not made on equal terms. It's only once Paul has been forcibly separated from his colonial privilege that they have even a chance to approach each other as human beings. (And, in a sort of dark irony, that violence becomes a bridge that connects them. That Paul is driven not by abstract power games among the Great Houses but by real grief and anger over the violent death of people he loves at the hands of the Harkonnens must surely be something Chani understands. And it builds a level of trust and empathy between them, that she doesn't have to explain the stakes of what they're fighting for. He knows it in his bones.)

It's not a coincidence that all their explicitly romantic moments are shot through with politics. Their first kiss is wrapped up in a conversation about what it means to be Fremen and I would very much like to be equal to you. (Yes, he's flirting his ass off with that line, but I do think he is sincere.) Their single post-coital scene has I'm no messiah, I'm a fedaykin of Sietch Tabr--not just a commitment to her people and her home but to her specific form of political struggle in which he is joining her. Throughout their whole relationship, the personal and the political are so interwoven as to be indistinguishable from one another.

This kind of commingling of emotional commitment to a person with political commitment to a culture/people/cause could have very easily slid into something tokenizing or fetishistic, but the writing manages to avoid that by sticking very strongly to a couple of guardrails. One, Chani is not some passive prize to be won, but an active agent of her own liberation, whether Paul is in the picture or not. She is the Fremen liberation struggle within the political allegory of the film; she is its voice and embodiment from the moment we meet her. On a character level, she is doing her thing and it's up to Paul to either follow or get out of the way. Even though we know he is afraid of her dying, he never once suggests she leave the front lines of armed struggle (can you imagine?) because that struggle is such a fundamental part of who she is and what he loves about her.

Two--and this one is important for what comes next--the narrative never trivializes the political side of their relationship in favor of the romantic. The second Paul reaches for any kind of power over the Fremen, over Chani, the trust between them is broken and the romance cannot continue. She might still love him as a person--you don't just turn that off--but she cannot be in love with him as the Lisan al-Gaib, fulfillment of a false prophecy she hates; as the Duke of Arrakis, her colonial overlord; or as the Emperor of the Known Universe, overlord of her overlord. As soon as he pulls that shit he is just another colonizer and she's done with him.

And like, kudos to the narrative for being absolutely uncompromising on that point! That's what makes both the political allegory and the personal tragedy hit so hard! Paul, bro, you fucked that one up good and now you are Experiencing a Consequence! I LOVE that in the end, love isn't enough. All the love in the world isn't enough to keep Chani from walking out at the end of the film, because the foundation that love is built on is broken and cannot be repaired.

(I do believe that by the time he is declaring himself Emperor, Paul thinks he has no choice, that this is the only way to save the people he loves from any number of worse fates. But that, too, is a betrayal, of a kind I don't think Paul fully understands. Because either you think the Fremen are capable of governing their own planet or you don't. Deciding unilaterally that having a "friendly" imperialist in power is the best you can hope for is a profound denial of the agency of the people Paul claims to be doing this in the name of. It's either paternalism or despair, and neither are acceptable modes of thinking for a serious revolutionary. Chani would tell you as much.)

The thing with making a bold writing choice like that is that...you cannot then walk it back in the next film with Chani choosing to forgive Paul or coming around to seeing the world his way and understanding that yes it's politically unsavory and he's manipulating the people he said he was in solidarity with but this was the only way! If you do that then the whole framework of what the first two films are trying to say about power and imperialism and resistance and solidarity collapses into incoherence. On a thematic level Dune Messiah is all about the consequences of Paul taking power the way he did and these are the consequences.

And on a character level...I just don't see any way to come back from such a deep betrayal. Even if some part of Chani still loves him. Even if she's pregnant with his child(ren). (We have like, zero information about how movie Chani feels about family and pregnancy and childrearing that would indicate that she would care one bit about her children's biological father being involved in their lives when he is otherwise busy being a space dictator.)

There are several categories of scenarios I can think of to get Paul and Chani interacting again (she goes back to him as a spy/assassin; she's brought back to the palace under some sort of duress, "for her safety" or even as a political prisoner) but none of them involve them being genuinely together as a couple. I could also see them not interacting at all for most of Dune Messiah. What I cannot see is any scenario in which she genuinely forgives him or ever fucking trusts him again. That shit is over and there's no getting it back.

[chlmtsdoll]

i need some dad art moments from u !!! 🩷

Yes yes yes. I don’t want kids so writing out the fantasies in my fics helps the girl instincts pass iykyk. 😉

Fluff | Dilf Art | he’s a soft parenting kinda guy so here <3

It had been past your girls bed time when you were found snug, on the couch as you sat cuddled up with Art in front of the tv. The two of you were getting ready just in time to start your movie night after setting your eight and two year old daughters tucked away for the night. So as they were sound asleep, you and your husband could finally get some time to wind down together. Just you and your Art.

“So, what’s on the menu tonight, sweets ?” Art questioned you with a fond smile as he relaxed against the pillows by your side, a blanket and remote in hand with him.

“Hmm, I feel like a drama tonight, I dunno- or.. romance?” you slowly began to grin as you always wanted to get Art to feel the feels with you when it was your turn to pick the movie. Which led him to playfully groaning as he shook his head. Every week it was the same pick with you.

“Baby..” your husband chuckled as he pulled your legs across his lap. “You always wanna watch a drama- - I’m not sure if I’m up for tears tonight.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly as Art furrowed his brow in nervousness that you’d put on something that would have him reaching for the tissues for two hours.

“But crying during movies is fun!”

“Sure it is, but, there’s tons of other kinds of movies- - it is October now. What about something spooky?” The man did his best to convince you of watching anything other than another sappy film and you sighed as you sat in thought of his suggestion of scaring you into being paranoid all night.

“I suppose… but nothing too much. I wanna sleep tonight.” You titter and Art smirked.

“You’re fine. And if you do get scared, that’ll give me an excuse to hold you all night without you complaining that I’m suffocating you.” Art pulled you into his chest smoothly and you let out giggles as he wrapped both his broad arms around your body covered in your soft colored pajama set and comfy slippers.

Art was leaving kisses on your face before you heard the sound of tiny feet hitting the floor boards from the hallway. Approaching the living room, you and Art both looked down the way in which you heard the noise, sitting up when your two year old came running to the both of you.

“Daddy!” She yelled as she climbed the couch and collapsed straight in Arts embrace without any notion to you in your husbands grasp.

“Hey ! Hey.. angel, what’s wrong ? Did Lily wake you?”

Your daughter shook her head, and you leaned up as the tired child mumbled a bunch of unknown phrases with the occasional “daddy” in between being all the two of you could understand. You’d still been working on her vocabulary at the time being. So far, all she really knew was to ask for food, daddy, mommy (although she hardly used it because she always just wanted Art) and well.. Art.

He was her whole world these days. Most of the time ignoring you whenever her dad had been their to play and let her do parkour off of him. They were conjoined at the hip and it did give you more time to rest when Art had been home to be with the girls when you’d been the one with them most of the time while he was at tennis. It was like the moment he walked through the door they hadn’t even known of your existence anymore. Art would make jokes about being their favorite, but deep down he knew to remind the girls to love and appreciate their mama as well.

You smiled fondly as you reached to stroke your daughters hair, she laid her head on Arts chest like she’d been ready to go to bed. Wrapping her little arms around her dads torso as best as the sleepy girl could, like he was a pillow made just for her. It made your heart swell.

“I guess she couldn’t sleep again.”

“Yeah.. couldn’t sleep, my love?” Art coo’d as he glanced down at the baby, holding you and her as well as he could in his lap. He’d gotten better at it when it was a necessity to make himself shareable for all three of his girls. Most of his time at home with you all had been filled with each of you wanting him more than anything really, so luckily there was more than enough love to go around even for the busy man.

You leaned in and kissed the girls head softly before standing up.

“Well baby, it’s way past your bedtime. You gotta sleep so let’s get you up to your room-” as you reached to lift her from Arts hold, it was immediate whines and cries that come from the two year old.

“No!” She huffed and her pout was clear as she clung to Art away from your hands. Your shoulders dip in defeat as you sighed and looked up at your husband who already had an all knowing look on his expression of how this always went.

She had been like this gradually the last couple of weeks. She wouldn’t go down in her own bed or anywhere else unless Art held her to sleep. She wanted him every second of the day when it was time for her naps or just in general. Which hurt your heart at times when he’d be off at work because the little one would cry ferociously for her dad even with you. And as precious as you thought it was when they were together — her curled up in his arms, sought sound asleep with her cute cupids bows to her lip slightly agape against him, and eventually he would fall asleep with her as well. You wanted to be cuddled by your husband to sleep some nights too.

“C’mon baby, you gotta go to sleep. Daddy and I will stay with you, okay?..” you tried to take her hand, get her to want to sleep in her own bed with her own stuffed animals and right across from her big sister. But her stubbornness didn’t budge. She just fought off your hands and held on to Art as best as she could, tucking her face away in his shirt as you speak with soft whines.

“Princess, mommy wants you to sleep in your bed tonight. We gotta listen to her wishes…” Art tried to help with his soft but taunting tone. And your little one only pouted more, she turned away from you and hugged Art as the waterworks started. Your husband sighed and glanced back up at you.

“Just.. for tonight, why don’t we let her stay with us, babe?”

Art’s gentle nature matched his voice as he cradled his daughter closer in his embrace, leaving less space for you.

“But what about movie night..” you could of pouted too if you hadn’t remembered you’d been the one co in charge here, but Art only gave you a reassuring smile as he held the back of your head and brought you in for a sweet kiss.

“We can still have a movie. We’ll just have to keep quiet till she’s asleep than I’ll bring her back up. How does that sound, sweetness ?” Your husband handled it all so well, even better than you at moments you had to admit. Though you knew by the time your daughter had fallen asleep and your movie was over, you’d definitely be too beat for there to be any time to allude to anything else you and your husband could of spent doing. But you had to accept that. And even with your hand softly easing up on your little girl, you could only let it slip away with a soft breath before kissing goodbye your night alone with your husband.

“Fine, I guess it’ll be alright for tonight.” You spoke softly before looking down at your little one and rubbing her back tenderly.

Art couldn’t say he didn’t hope that he could’ve gotten just one night in between your daughters tough bedtime streak to enjoy you, especially since he just got a break from work. But as much as it would have been hard to say no to you, it was even harder for him to disregard his baby girl asking for him to bed. He just couldn’t resist. And to you it was never easy either — with the way she pleaded to be coddled. She had her daddy’s eyes, blue orbs with just a swirl of brown hinted in there looking up at you with pre-readied tears. His features standing out in her was always your weakest point especially when Art had looked right back at you to ask of her to stay. The night would come when you’d just have to send her back to bed. But that wasn’t gonna be tonight.

As the evening went on, you and Art did finish your movie and the man made sure to keep both of his girls supported comfortably by his side, you palmed the side of your daughters cheek as well as Arts and looked up to watched as his tired eyes stayed on the screen ahead of you three.

“How are we supposed to make more babies if we can’t even get one out of the way?” You whispered with an endearing smile as you traced the light patch of subtle on his face and Art couldn’t help but chuckle softly before leaning in to kiss your temple.

“The right time will come, my love.”

[aquasarsstuff]

Your Choice, Dating sim au

Heartslabyul Route:

Summary: Awakening in a dating simulation, you find yourself immersed in a realm of whimsical fantasy, a stark contrast to the modern world you’re accustomed to. In this alternate universe where you’ve landed, will you navigate towards your fairytale ending or become ensnared in a complex web of deception? The outcome depends on your choice.

A month has passed since you've been whisk away from your home, yet you could still never get accustomed to this new world you were place on. Despite this world matching the sets of historical films and fiction you've read, it has far more advanced technology than your world's pinkie toe, due to the existence of magic. As such a heavy burden was place on your shoulders as one of the children of aristocracy: pretending to have magic. From the hush whispers sent to you by your parents, it was without a doubt that you don't possess magic. Even so, your weekdays are always used to learn more about magic and whatnot to be able to blend with fellow mage.

The setting and the plot of your life screams of familiarity inside your head. It took a few days before it finally click. You were inside one of the dating sim you've played before. There were four main leads or was it the only routes you've only got to finish? You're not sure, but you had all the information you have to survive from your bad ending. You were neither a protagonist nor an antagonist, not even a side character! Just an unseen character use as a bridge to bring romance between the protagonist and love interest in one of the routes.

You brought down the book to your table. Its pages were at least two inch thick, and its width stretches from your wrist to your elbow. You've been staring hollowly at far distance for a few minutes that you didn't notice the discomfort it brings on your skin for putting all of the weight of the book on your lap. You pressed flatly and straighten your outfit. It would not be nice to be seen unkept if there were guest to arrive, invited or not.

What will you do?

Option 1: Get out of the room

Option 2: Escape through the window

Option 3: Stay in the room (Keep reading)

You opted to get a snack, but if one of the servants caught you leaving the room, they might report it to your father, and the last thing you want these days is to get scolded for slacking off. You leaned your back closer to the couch. Its plump cushion being pressed down your weight. The number of materials on the table that is in dire need to be read, rest peacefully. Most of it were still left untouched by you. You did try to read it, for heaven's sake, but its meaning on every page was ancient to you, and it's not because you have a bad reading comprehension. It's due to the fact that you are no magic user. The books were enchanted, but you can't even feel a tinge of its presence under your fingertips, hence you can't make a connection to understand the contents. You can only sigh in frustration and scream internally, otherwise the other people living in the house might think you're getting kidnapped or something.

A boisterous laugh echoed the hall. Finally, the hours of torture will come to an end. You picked the book you were holding earlier and opened it to where you last left it off to create an illusion that you were reading as per orders. The doors to your study room opened in a flash, loud sounds of footsteps hitting the marble floor followed. A man with an orange hair, that reminds you of a carrot you had for breakfast this morning, peek inside the room. A smile as bright as his hair decorated his lips. It was Cater, your personal butler since childhood is what they said, yet you can't find any reason to believe any of those perfect grin. He did get you in trouble for several occasions.

You grip the hard covers of the book firmly in your hand, your nails digging on the thick leather. Something in your mind told you to raise this book to your face, and you did. A click was heard, before he finally stepped out of the doors, a weird gadget in his hand, presumably a camera of some sorts. You gently close the book down, and let it seat on your lap. A particularly large sigh escaped his lips, showing his absolute discontentment.

"What a shame, that shot was so perfect if it only captured your face." He took a glance at the gadget he has, probably looking again at the said photo.

What will you do?

Option 1: Say nothing

Option 2: Be condescending

Option 3: Ask his intentions (Keep reading)

"What are you doing here? Is it the time for dinner?" You still asked him, even though you knew what his arrival meant. What you don't know is why did his obsession for taking pictures was suddenly directed on to you. Nevertheless, this only strengthen your distrust for him. It's probably because of those pictures that he was able to snitch you on to your father. What was his intention? Is it fear? Loyalty? Or something else?

Entering Cater's route: (To be continued)

---------

More options will come out later. Please tell me if you wish me to continue this au. Writing Cater was honestly just fuels my writer block ahahhaha

[furiroad]

Furiosa spoilers under the cut 🚗

It's actually staggering how much that movie did not need to exist. Gonna bullet point some thoughts

My sarcastic lol @ the lightning fast sisters cameo at the end where they're all played by completely different people. the quick flash of Cheedo's eyes bc they managed to get Courtney Eaton back for three seconds didn't appease me

I guess it technically passes the bechdel test bc right at the start Furiosa says "be still" to Valkyrie but iirc that's the only pass moment. I know not passing the bechdel test doesn't mean the movie is automatically bad I just think it's interesting considering it's following Fury Road

"she talks to her mother" I don't think they ever said her mum's name out loud

You know how mad max fury road could have a silent version w no dialogue + isolated soundtrack and it worked because you could tell what's going on anyway? This movie has the opposite problem. Way too much talking. They over-explain everything

The best bit was the prolonged torture scene at the end where Hemsworth explains Furiosa's entire character arc and the message of the movie out loud to her and also us

Even his teddy had an arm missing, replaced with a barbie arm. Thanks. We get it

Her arm made robot noises

Actually threw MY arms up in disgust when she went back for that boy she supposedly had a romance with despite the film never bothering to actually show/explain that. I'm calling it a romance because the actors did. I guess it was supposed to be a Capable/Nux parallel but it didn't work for me and not just because I'm a dyke and a hater OK, if you're gonna do a ROMANCE, DO A ROMANCE. don't leave me sitting there wondering why Furiosa is risking it all for some guy she's had ONE conversation with, especially after he offers to get her away from the Citadel and back to where she came from, WHICH IS HER ENTIRE MOTIVE EVER SINCE SHE WAS TAKEN

I DON'T GET IT

Them trying to emulate Max and Furiosa's instinctive, perfect we have to trust each other moment by having Jack and Furiosa... look at each other Meaningfully fifty times while they were supposed to be driving cars? Don't make me laugh! You will never be them!!

Max being there for a second wasn't cute! I rolled my eyes

Same at "remember me?" MAKE UP YOUR OWN STUFF

So many things happened because they needed to happen (plot demanded it) and didn't make any sense in context. My favourite was when Furiosa rode her motorcycle up a dune to get away after cutting off her arm and the biker gang couldn't follow her up there for some reason

So much Christian imagery... threw me off tbh

Considering it's Furiosa's movie it sure isn't about her + she doesn't speak at all for almost the first half

This movie was way too long

I called it about the peach seed

I called it that she cut her own arm off

George Miller read some of my blog but not all of it

You know how The People Eater rubbed his nipple that one time and it was delightfully weird and gross and got a good reaction? Well in this movie he's constantly rubbing it, the whole time. Really lessens the impact of the nipple rub

As you can see this movie has made me insane

Like this is not really about the nipple rub but do you get what I'm saying here

Furiosa spends most of the movie hiding her hair (because as we all know, having long hair immediately identifies you as a woman) and then when her head covering gets knocked off and her hair is revealed (omg she's a girl) she leaves it like that and becomes an Imperator. On what planet

The history man frames the entire movie for some reason. Do they show Miss Giddy? Take a wild guess

One of the coolest parts of fury road was that a gang of bikers ended up being hardcore wasteland grannies w guns and loose morals in response to people fucking around for far too long without finding out. Did this movie have anything like that for me? Take a wild guess for a second time

The car fight scenes weren't even that great. Couldn't remember hearing any good music under them (brother in arms truly lightning in a bottle) and they went on for too long which feels wild to say about suped up car battles in the australian wasteland: 2 but oh well. This is how I feel. Fury Road was so good at carefully measuring out high octane action and then downtime and careful, quiet character introspection and this movie had no idea what it was doing either way

Honestly I don't hate it but I feel like it was a waste of time and it doesn't need to exist at all. A real nothing experience. Am I going to see this movie ten times in cinemas? No I am not even going to see it twice in cinemas

I don't know what I was expecting.

oh my god also they played clips of Fury Road over the credits as if to say "remember how fucking good this is in comparison to the dumb shit you just watched"

[hello-nichya-here]

Some Peter Pan 2003 edits, enjoy.

(Nichya, do you agree with me by thinking this movie is the few examples of a live action Disney remake being as good if not better than the original?)

I agree and there's a very good reason why that is the case: it wasn't made by Disney, but by Universal, who wanted to be more loyal to the original story - and like Jason Isaac's himself said, that was the thing that made this movie so different from most adaptations of it.

I'm gonna be real, I used to hate basically every version of Peter Pan, mainly because of the Disney cartoon being my introduction to the story. I just never understood why Wendy liked him, or why he liked her, or how Neverland was in anyway special/different from any generic "Magic place", or why I should care if any of these characters leave it behind or stay. And keep in mind, this was coming from a child that was all about the Disney formulas. Peter Pan, as a concept, just REALLY felt hollow to little me.

... And then I watched this movie.

Let me tell you, 6-year-old Nichya was OBSESSED with this movie (and with Jason Isaac as Hook). 24-year-old Nichya too, even more so actually, because EVERYTHING ABOUT IT is perfect - including the thing that aged "poorly", aka the special effects.

Neverland doesn't really look real and that's good. The dated effects, the epic music and the very colorful lighting make it look like a place that could only exist in dreams, so when Wendy and her brothers are in awe of it, I totally get it. Today's tendency of films in which every scene look super dark and/dull makes me appreciate it even more.

The lighting also does wonders for the storytelling, showing Peter's magical connection with Neverland as it changes based on his emotional state, or in moments like Wendy seeing Hook for the first time, with the extra focus on his eyes - you can practically hear the book quote of Wendy being fascinated instead of frightened.

Speaking of the book, the fact that this adaptation had the guts to go with THE thing that could end making it far too corny and silly, aka the "kiss" Wendy has on her lips and that shows she's starting to grow up and become interested in romance is SUCH an important plot-point and key aspect of her character arc, and is delightful to see an adaptation that goes "We already have a magical land, fairies, mermaids, and a boy that stays a kid forever. How is the 'kiss' going to make it less realistic? It's fantasy already!"

And I love, love, love how they make sure we know who Wendy is outside of romance (a storyteller that wants adventure, a child that is both really mature and responsible, but also activelly trying to escape that role, someone who is very motherly but has a ton of anxiety about the prospect of eventually being the adult in charge) - but without ever downplaying how much her romance with Peter means to her.

He was the boy that was giving her everything she was looking for at the moment: friendship, adventure, excitement, and, more importantly, a way to escape any responsibility she didn't want - forever. He really is the hero she had been waiting for, and that, as a consequence, makes her realize that growing up and eventually having a family is not that scary after all, as long as she finds the right person, someone who understands her and that she trusts.

Obviously, she doesn't want to get married and have a ton of kids NOW, but she wants the promise that this will happen - when they're ready for it, when they're older. But Peter Pan is no ordinary boy. It's not just that he's too immature to fully embrace his feelings for Wendy right now, and could truly allow himself to love her later. He is NEVER going to reach that point, he's far too afraid to allow himself the chance to even try. And that breaks Wendy's heart.

And it breaks Peter's heart too, because he WANTS to be loved, and he already cares for Wendy in a way he never cared about anyone else. But because of who he is, she, and everyone else, will inevitably leave him. Because ALL children grow up. He is the only one who was blessed, and cursed, to be the exception.

He'll never be a husband and father. He will never be someone's child or sibling. He's the true lost boy, out of reach forever. He is truly free from everything and everyone, but the price is the knowledge that, sooner or later, he will find himself completely alone time and time again. And Wendy, the girl he loves, will one day either forget him or grow old and die - after having lived a full life with someone else, because Peter couldn't, and wouldn't, grow old with her.

He's doomed to be lonely forever... just like Hook. But unlike Hook, when he is immature and selfish (like when he closes the window at Wendy's house in the hopes that she'll believe her parents stopped waiting for her and her siblings), he does it out of pure desperation, because he's a child that genuinely doesn't know any better.

Hook however, is coming from a place of malice. When he "pursues" Wendy, he does out of jealousy that Peter managed to find true love, while he will never have that. He does it to steal that from him, to hurt him, to make him endure the pain of knowing that, of all people that could have replaced him in Wendy's heart, he was the one who did it.

And, of course, while he never really does anything to Wendy, the constant implication that, at any second, he might, looms large. Their dynamic is inherently predatory, with Hook exploiting the fact that Wendy is mature enough to want a romantic connection, but is still too naive to understand all the implications behind it, and, more importantly, that no adult that wants to be with her like that could possibly be someone she's safe with it.

He is an intriguing, tragic figure like Peter and thus can "seduce" her rather easily too (the fact that Jason Isaacs is really fucking hot doesn't hurt either), but he is doing it through constant manipulation, reminding her that she can never have the boy she actually wants and exploiting her childish need to have some form of petty revenge against him for it, by "befriending" the person he hates the most in the whole world.

But there's another thing that brings her closer to Hook: the fact that, despite being the complete opposite of her father, he still LOOKS like him, is the real adult authority figure around, and he is offering her advice and comfort when she experiences her first heartbreak. He represents both her adolescent impulse to rebel, to proove she's grown already, and her childlike instinct to just run to the arms of her parent and let him call the shots because she's afraid of making mistakes and wants someone who can tell her what to do, how she's supposed to act.

There is a recurring theme through the movie of Wendy's mostly innocent fantasies being read through an adult lenses (see the teacher's concern and offense at the drawing of Peter above her in bed - because he's FLYING, not touching her in anyway). Much like when she was the "mother" of the Lost Boys, when she is by Hook's side, Wendy is a child playing pretend. But the threat Hook poses is very real and his intentions are downright evil. Because Wendy ran away from the flawed, but well-meaning adults she could trust, she walked right into the trap of a very dangerous man that is taking advantage of her need for a protector, a mentor.

And that's why the kiss scene is the perfect climax for the movie, as it concludes three character arcs at once. It shows us Wendy choosing true love, however fleeting, instead of Hook's lies, and indulging in one last childhood fantasy before growing up. It gives Peter the only form of closure he could ever have, knowing that even if he can't be with Wendy, he will always be "the one" for her and won't ever be forgotten, just like he won't ever forget her, because they mean too much to each other. And Hook is forced to accept that, because he can't connect with anyone without manipulation, which could never last, his life truly is void in a way even Peter's never would be.

So yeah, it's a great movie with serious guts, and everyone else can just quit trying to make a new adaptation, reboot, sequel, prequel or whatever because they're never getting anywhere near this level of quality.

[cosmiccrushes]

Mints & Movie Stars

Sanji X OC || 2.9k words

Summary: Movie star Vinsmoke Sanji and his personal assistant, Peridot "Peri" Winters, head out to a known pirate island to film his next big movie. Will Sanji be able to keep his feelings for Peri hidden? Just how many mints can one man ask for before it gets suspicious?

notes: I am very much thinking about all my favorite kdrama tropes and business romances while writing this. Just light, angsty fun :)

Also on AO3!

CH 1

Peri stares across the table at the woman interviewing her boss, her blood roaring in her ears. Sure that, this time, she'd misheard this same asinine question she's been hounded by ever since she took this job position.

Who would've known that being the personal assistant to one Vinsmoke Sanji, movie star, would immediately relegate her to an existence where questions like “Tell me Sanji, has your new assistant made any romantic gestures towards you?” and “Sanji, have you been able to set boundaries with your new assistant?” were the only acknowledgement she warranted. And the questions weren't even directed at her! She'd be hovering right there in the background, standing just behind Sanji as he faced down a line of reporters. And no one had asked her once if she was busy swooning over Vinsmoke Sanji instead of doing her job, it was just assumed she was. Peri wouldn’t even be within eyesight of reporters if she had any say over how she did her work. But Sanji insisted upon her constant presence wherever he went. Gods forbid she not be nearby to address his every request. So, the reporters spotted her and directed their salacious questions to Sanji, looking for juicy gossip that didn’t exist. 

Because she was not, by the way, swooning over him. As far as she was concerned, Vinsmoke Sanji could keep his dashing good looks and debonair charm all to himself. It was enough that her job meant she had to deal with his persnicketiness, his constant demands on her time, his chaotic schedule. She had no room to add a crush on him to her already extensive list of responsibilities. 

Peri never even would've taken this job- despite the fact she was a damn good personal assistant- if her last job hadn't imploded and if her friend, Tak, hadn't gotten her the referral. 

***

“Come on, it's perfect!” Tak pleads with her. “You'll move up the career ladder from pigheaded, rude as hell businessman to movie star.” Tak fans her hands through the air theatrically as she says this. “And we'll get to work together all the time! Perfect!”

“I don't know, Tak,” Peri groans, face shoved into a pillow on her bed. “There's no way I'm getting a reference from that bastard. How am I gonna get past a background check to work for a celebrity?” Peri groaned into her pillow again, for emphasis. 

“Don't worry about that, Peri. I'm the only one Sanji will let touch his hair and Rachel loves me. I'll talk to her about your situation- generally, no details, so stop glaring at me- she'll give you a chance, I promise.” 

Peri held onto her glare for a few seconds longer, before dropping her head back to the pillow, smushing her cheek against the plush material. She knew Tak was right and she needed to capitalize on the immense benefits of having a best friend who was the sole hair stylist for the premier celebrity of the East Blue. Peri had even met Sanji's agent, Rachel a handful of times through Tak towing her along to posh social gatherings. Though she hadn’t done more than see Sanji from afar across a crowded room of VIPs. 

“What would I do without you, Tak?” 

Her best friend shivers, wiggling her shoulders and holding her palm up. “Please, Peridot, don't make me think about it. Your life without me is too bleak to contemplate.” Tak winks at her and Peri laughs. 

Maybe things would be okay.

***

Wrong. Things were not okay. Those were the catalyst (catastrophic?) events that led her to sitting across from an eager-eyed reporter, staring at Sanji hungrily as she asked, “Sanji, the readers are dying to know. Your assistant is always close at hand these days-” a suggestive eyebrow raise, “Is she a fan of yours?” 

Peri is sitting right here. At the same table! Because she's an outstanding professional, she resists rolling her eyes (and throwing her coffee at the woman, though her fingers twitch against the mug menacingly).     

Sanji smiles good-naturedly at the reporter. “Ah my assistant is with me today because-” Peri tenses as Sanji drapes his arm around the back of her chair though he doesn't touch her, leaning in towards the reporter as he takes on a conspiratorial tone. “We're waiting for some important news today. I didn't want Peri too far away when it came.” 

This piques the reporter's interest. “Oh? This wouldn't have anything to do with rumors about a new Smith Stiegal film in the works, now would it?” Peri didn't miss the way the reporter eyed Sanji's hand lolling near her shoulder. Her eyes hawkish, like she didn’t want to miss a suggestive brush of Sanji’s fingers against Peri’s shoulder. There wouldn’t be one. 

“Now Miss Asher, I couldn't possibly say could I, darling?” Sanji smiles smoothly at the reporter, withdrawing his arm and any acknowledgement that Peri is at this table drops away. 

Miss Asher attempts to get Sanji to dish out a few morsels regarding the rumored newest action adventure film in the works from renowned director Smith Stiegal (which Sanji obviously cannot confirm or deny). All the hard work she put in to make these interviews even happen, brushed off and replaced with greedy hopes that some lucky reporter would catch her blushing at the movie star. Peri stews, recounting the earlier conversation that landed her at this table- being treated as if she's a fan waiting for her turn to take a picture with Sanji instead of the person responsible for him even being at this interview. 

***

“My darling periwinkle,” (not her name) “I need you at that table with me today! Please, love, understand! The call about the role could come from Rachel at any moment. I want to be right there when you get it.” Sanji's pleading smile was irritatingly puppy-dog-like (and very annoying, not at all adorable). 

“Sanji,” she said, shaking her head. “I don't know. This interview is with East Q magazine. They're a big deal. I'm not sure it's appropriate for your assistant to be at the table. I'll be nearby. You'll be the first person to know if Rachel calls.” 

Sanji pouts. “Come on, Pear-” (also not her name, but Sanji had taken to calling her that and occasionally producing an actual pear to gift her with, which she braced for now and, oh wait-) Sanji produces a single pear-green rose from behind his back. “Please stay with me? This is a big moment for me, Pear. I need-” He broke off abruptly, looking down at the rose extended in his hand, then back up into her eyes. “I need my assistant at my side. I'm afraid I can't budge on this, Peri.” (that was her name, and an indicator that Sanji has slipped into serious, boss mode). 

Peri sighs, taking the proffered rose out of Sanji's hand and lifting it to her nose, letting the delicate floral scent soothe her. “Okay, Sanji. I'll be there.”

Sanji's answering smile is gorgeous, just like everything else about him. A large part of her hated letting Sanji get his way, which was rather bothersome when her entire job mostly centered around making sure things went exactly Sanji's way. 

***

Sanji's previous assistant- an older gentleman named Harold- had decided to take an early retirement. Or, had he been forced into it rather than suffer through one more pandering socialite conversation, Peri thought darkly as the interviewer continued to lavish praise on Sanji. Peri mostly tuned them out. They’d talk about her like she wasn’t there anyway, she might as well pretend not to be. 

A half hour after the interview with East Q wrapped, the call from Rachel finally came. Sanji and Peri were still seated in the private room at the cafe where Miss Asher conducted her interview, the remnants of lunch spread on the table before them. 

At the first ring of Peri’s phone, Sanji drops his fork, bouncing out of his seat. “Bloody hell, Pear. What if they didn't pick me for the role!? What if this is the beginning of the end of my entire career!?” He runs both hands through his hair, mussing it to match his distress. 

“Sanji, calm down, you're going to get the role,” Peri says, rising from her seat as she presses accept on the call. She was very confident she was right. Everyone wanted a piece of Sanji right now. She had to admit (begrudgingly) that he was an excellent actor. Electric on screen. Smith Stiegal would be wild not to capitalize on Sanji's talent and popularity. 

“Rachel, hi!”

“Peri, is Sanji with you? Are you alone?” 

Peri resists another eye roll. Of course Sanji is with her- Sanji's always with her these days. “Yes, Rachel, I'll put you on speaker. We’re alone.” 

“Great! Sanji?”

Sanji rakes an anxious hand through his hair again. “Rachel, yes, what did they say?” 

“You've got the part, Sanji!” 

Sanji blew out a relieved breath and even Peri couldn't help the grin that broke across her face. Sanji stares at the phone in Peri's hand held between them, speechless as Rachel gushes about how excited they are to work with Sanji. Then, before Peri can compute what's happening, Sanji's arms are around her, gripping her waist tight, lifting her off her feet as he spins them in a circle. 

“We did it, Peri!”

A laugh sneaks out of her before she can stop it. But Sanji's joy is infectious and soon she’s giggling.  

“A Smith Stiegal movie, Pear! I can't believe it! This is huge!” He finally stops spinning them, setting her down on wobbly feet. His arms loose around her waist, her arms (phone still in hand) dangling around his shoulders. 

She feels a little breathless as she says, “I told you that you'd get the part. Congratulations, Sanji.” 

Sanji coughs, taking a step back, his arms falling away from her. “Thank you, Peri.” His smile is sheepish. 

“Hello? Hello? Peri? Sanji? Are you listening to me? What’s going on?” 

Peri remembers the phone clutched in her hand. “Rachel! So sorry, what was that?” 

“I need you and Sanji down at the office asap. The lawyers are on the way to review the contract and the schedule for shooting.” 

“Of course. We'll be there right away.” Peri ends the call, looking up to a smiling Sanji, his cheeks tinged with pink. 

***

Peri is left to her own devices (literally as she types away, responding to scheduling requests for interviews, photoshoots, etc. for Sanji) while the contract negotiations take place. Her mind wanders back to Sanji's surprise hug. 

As aggravated as Peri gets with Sanji's demands on her time and requests for particulars, he's never inappropriate with her. Or, rather, not inappropriate in a way that made her want to break his nose and shatter her employability in the entirety of the East Blue. Sanji was charming, he was flirty. She was used to this. He generally directed it towards her at a lower wattage than he dialed it up for his fans and professional contacts. Sinfully suave and wickedly beautiful- that's just the way Sanji came.

But during her stint as his assistant, he had always been respectful of her. Sure, there were the nicknames and the occasional gifted fruit (and that single rose today), but Sanji never made her feel uncomfortable or worried for her safety with him. And the nicknames just felt so…Sanji. Integral to who he was. He’d slipped into using them with her slowly and so naturally that she’s actually not sure how long it took her to notice it. It’s hypocritical, she knows, to not be offended by it because it’s Sanji. When she would be offended if it were someone else. She’s decided not to investigate this too deep though- it just doesn’t fit in her packed calendar. -=a3NB           A

He had never hugged her before. His anxiety and relief today had been so genuine, so human. And of course, Peri knew he was a person too. Albeit an obscenely famous person, but still, human, like her. It was just that, today, it almost felt like they were friends. If hadn't felt like her boss crossing an inappropriate physical boundary with her. It felt like a friend receiving life changing news and celebrating that with her. Peri didn't know what to do with that bizarre realization. 

“Peri, we need you in here!” Rachel pokes her head out of her office, waving Peri inside as the team of lawyers file out. 

“What's up?” Peri asks, settling into the chair beside Sanji.

“Pear, love, do you have any of those mints I like?” 

Peri rummages around in her tote bag for the mints in question (the only brand, Sanji insists, whose minty flavor isn't disgustingly artificial). She drops one into his open palm, her attention on Rachel.

“So here's the deal, Peri darling, the schedule for the movie is full steam ahead. They want to begin table reads on location in two weeks. So-” 

Peri interrupts, picking up on a couple keywords. “On location? They want us where in two weeks, exactly?” Narrowing her eyes at Rachel’s clearly placating tone. 

“Well, you see darling, Stiegal wants a very authentic feel for the movie, so it's not going to be filmed here in Vennport. Stiegal’s crew is already all set up on Crow Island, so you'll just need to get Sanji’s affairs in order and head on over.” 

This was theoretically fine. Movies filmed at a location outside of Vennport is common enough, though Peri hadn't yet traveled outside of the city with Sanji for any filming. What really made her aware that Rachel was asking for something challenging was the way she clacked away on her keyboard and took on an air of nonchalance as she delivered this information. Rachel was not nonchalant. She was direct, sharp, no nonsense but in a decidedly theatrical way. 

“Is this fourteen business days Rachel or…?” 

Rachel huffs. “Next Friday. They need Sanji there by next Friday.” 

“Okay, that's ten literal days from now.” 

“Yes, dear. So you'd better get to planning, chop chop.” 

“Rachel. That's like a five day trip at sea to get to Crow Island! Also, isn't that a known pirate port?”

“The movie is about pirates, Peri. Hence the authenticity.” 

Peri was authentically losing her faith in Smith Stiegal's organization and planning skills. Seems like they could’ve given Sanji and the agency a bit more time to prepare for a trip. But this was the industry, demands moved fast and she was expected to keep up. 

“So, to summarize, I need to plan and prepare for a months long trip that we need to leave for in five days?” 

“I knew you'd understand, you're a peach.” 

“Pear,” Sanji muttered. At first she thought he was requesting her attention, but when he didn't look at her or go on, she realized he was simply correcting Rachel's fruit name of choice. Peri shakes her head, bemused. 

There was really nothing for it. Peri would start with plans immediately. She was already running through her mental rolodex of travel companies the agency worked with. 

“Oh and Peri, don't worry about the security detail. The production company has a whole team over there and the agency will of course send a few personal bodyguards along to look after Sanji. Just connect with Sal and he'll make sure you're set.” Rachel waved her hand in a dismissal. 

Peri hadn't been worried about security. Everywhere Sanji went, agency-provided security guards came along. It was protocol. Necessary for Sanji's safety. Peri wasn't afraid of pirates- at least not in theory. But the way Rachel casually mentioned the production company's security detail made her wonder if she ought to be. Crow Island was well known in this part of the East Blue for it's breathtaking vistas (not that Peri had ever been) and it's rowdy pub scene (rumored to service many a pirate partaking in leisure activities). Honestly, most of the stories about Crow Island she'd heard involved debauchery, not dodgy pirates. Then again, maybe Rachel was just worried about Sanji getting into a different kind of scandal. The press will certainly look for anything to sensationalize (for example, a P.A. doing her job). 

She turns to Sanji. “Can you get home on your own today? I'll call the car for you. But I need to speak with Sal and start booking accommodations.”

Sanji stood to follow her. “It's okay, Pear, I'll wait for you.”

High seas forbid, Sanji find himself without her and in need of a mint. Leading the way out of Rachel's office, Peri allowed herself an eye roll Sanji couldn't see. Once the door closed behind them, Peri turned. 

“Sanji, honestly, it's going to be hours. I've got so much to get done and you've got the rest of your afternoon free, for once. Go enjoy it! Rest.” Peri claps her hands together. “Oh! Pack! That would be helpful. You can get started on the basics.” 

“When are you going to pack?” Sanji asks. Peri shrugs dismissively, already moving down the hall to find Sal.

Sanji jogs to catch up, surprising her for the second time that day with a hand at her elbow, stopping her. 

“I'll go home.” Sanji pauses. Long, slim fingers still wrapped around her arm. “Ask Sal to send Elle and Robbie with us. They're both excellent at their job.” With that, Sanji releases her arm. “See you tomorrow, Peri.” And walks away, leaving Peri's skin tingling where his hand had been.

[merp-blerp]

I know I'll sound kooky for saying this, but I suspect that Barbie & the Diamond Castle was queer-coded on purpose. I mean this so seriously. There were probably hundreds of people working on this movie. You're telling me none of them were queer? So many queer people have worked for Mattel. Maybe a person (or people) working on this film wanted to make a queer Barbie movie as a form of self-expression or what have you, but couldn't explicitly do so because it was 2008 and that would've been seen as inappropriate for a family film (still could be seen that way 🙄). So they got as close as they could with Diamond Castle.

Just the essence of this film is so sapphic. Alexa and Liana live alone together, away from whatever town might be nearby. They see nothing more important than their relationship with one another and Liana says that Alexa "knows me better than anyone else in the entire universe" (it's almost like no one else in this medieval world could know Liana that well, maybe because she's gay and the only person who could safely know that is Alexa) and "I feel like a part of me is gone" after they fight and she believes their relationship might be over.

They get what looks like male "love interests" on the surface, but they don't actually behave like couples. The girls butt-heads with them a lot as if it'll be an enemies-to-lovers type of romance like Annika and Aidan from Barbie and the Magic of Pegasus, but it never really becomes romantic. They don't even imply a happily ever after with the twins (whatever their names were, no one cares), they go back home together without them in their lives, at least not majorly. I think the fact that they don't have male love interests is the crux of this whole theory. The boys' existence is enough for kids and even adults watching to believe there's a straight romance in this film, especially if you've seen other Barbie films and know the formula, but there isn't. The movie just has male characters who take interest in the girls in a completely one-sided infatuation, heteronormativity does the rest when it comes to the audience thinking there's a romance with the boys.

Alexa and Liana's relationship is the most important aspect of the movie; the entire story is about their relationship, not their relationship with the boys at all, which separates Barbie & the Diamond Castle from other Barbie movies from this time, which all had hetero-romances in one way or another. This is probably why so many sapphic kids who grew up with it, like myself, loved it so much.

All these factors together just make me wonder if the queerness was intentional on someone's part.

Even if you bypass the queer interpretation, it's really refreshing to have a story that's about female friendship and that's it. No forced or unforced romance, just a story about girls and their friendship(s). There's no issue with romance, but also there's no issue with a lack of romance as well. That kind of message is hard to come by, even in more "adult" media.

(As a bit of a sidebar, the only queer aspect to this film that is surely coincidental to me is Alexa and Liana's dresses looking like the lesbian and bi pride flags. Liana's dresses do share a color scheme with the Emily Gwen lesbian flag, but that particular lesbian flag wasn't in existence till 2018, ten years after this movie was released. By association, I assume Alexa's dresses having the colors of the bi flag is also a coincidence, even though that flag was created in 1998 before this film. It is very cute how that turned out, though.)

[weerd1]

Yet another tale of how much I owe Star Trek

So this is something I haven’t talked about in years, but I was feeling nostalgic today and wanted to capture something. I wanted to write down how Star Trek got me through adolescence. 

Now, I’d already begun decoding Trek and it was already untying the knots my conservative upbringing was instilling from a young age. I can talk about “Let That Be Your Last Battlefield” being so on the nose, but 11 year old me NEEDING to see that message about skin color so badly. However, this is not about Trek making me a better person (which it did); this is about Trek helping me learn how to BE a person.  Much more after the jump...

When I was in sixth grade, in about 1984 (I’m 50 now for reference) I got a copy of the old FASA Star Trek role-playing game. Please keep in mind that at this point, there is TOS, TAS, three movies, the novels, and a few comics, but that’s about it. I was consuming and reconsuming them voraciously when I got this game. As a small-for-his-age, nerdy, poor kid living in a trailer, the idea that I could roll a few dice and…BE in Star Trek was a potent elixir. 

Other people around me were growing up. Toys cast aside, actually interacting with other people in nascent romances; I was rushing home to watch GI Joe and Transformers after school. I was playing with Star Wars figures. I was now going through Starfleet Academy, and all it took was a pencil and 2D10. (Sidenote- the FASA RPG system remains one of my favorite RPGs second only to Fantasy Flight Games’ Star Wars system.) It was a way of adding the unknown to fanfiction I was already writing through  my MEGO Trek figures. 

I created a character, a descendant of my own (the biggest fantasy at that time being that I would ever find someone with whom I could start a line of descendants), promoted them to Captain and looking in the “Federation Ship Recognition Manual,” picked out a starship: the NCC-1754 USS Kitty Hawk.

My adventures had begun. Borrowing PLENTY from my heroes, my character was half-Vulcan, and 100% self-insert. To me, this was the POINT of an RPG. It was me, but the version of me I wished I could be. 

As the year went by, I picked up MORE novels and managed to find more TOS episodes (mostly on videodisc at a local place called “Movies to Go”). My sixth grade teacher, Mr. Toresdahl, was a Trekkie and would spend time he probably should have spent convincing me to do homework talking trivia. I would pick up the supplemental bits of the RPG: The Star Trek III Starship Combat Game, the miniatures, modules, reference books.

Probably the most important was when I got “The Romulans” which were certainly my favorite Trek villain.  This was helped along in NO small part by Diane Duane and her novels starting with “My Enemy, My Ally,” and later “The Romulan Way.” Without a whole lot coming out of Paramount for Star Trek at the time, there was a lot of borrowing between the existing media.

The RPG borrowed from the novels. The DC Comics series which started after the film “The Wrath of Khan” borrowed from the RPG.*

There was a congruence of some sort forming, and being as into the RPG as I was, it made me pretty well versed in all the lore. I started finding (and eventually writing for) fanzines at that point. I scoured “Starlog” magazine for Trek news and opinion. I was dead set that I would not rest until I knew all there was to know about Star Trek. 

When I started 7th Grade, there was a shift in the world around me.  Junior High meant multiple classes and even “electives.” Again, the whole physical specter of preteen sexuality was unfolding (and the examples around a young boy in the mid-eighties were seldom the healthiest). It was like I’d landed suddenly after the summer on a whole new planet, and I wasn’t sure how to cope with it all. 

But luckily, I had access to a version of me for whom landing on strange, new worlds was old hat. 

And so, I began what I can only now call LARPing life. I decided I WAS Captain Daomer. I invented an intricate “campaign” for myself, where 23rd Century Romulans (thanks again, Ms. Duane) had come back to Earth’s past to change our history, prevent the Federation from forming.** Just luckily, the Kitty Hawk was monitoring tachyon emissions in a singularity adjacent to the Sol system, and picked up the coming changes to the causality chain. At the last minute a hasty slingshot maneuver around the black hole had taken me and my crew to the time and place of the primary Romulan incursion: Southern Arizona in 1985. Of course.

Now, was this just a protective shell inside my head where I would pretend to be Captain Daomer pretending to be Daniel dealing with the intricacies of social interaction in the 7th grade?  Of COURSE not. I told anyone who would listen the whole story.

For about the next six years. 

I was in a small enough town that my school, Palominas Elementary, was a K-8.  I’d been with the same folks and staff more or less my entire school career. So, when I had to take a bus 30 minutes away to the nearest town to begin attending High School, did I change the story? Did I keep it to myself?  Oh no; if anything I became MORE flamboyant about it. Still a skinny nerd, I wasn’t picked on. Why? Because that kid’s the “Spock Guy,” and why would anyone mess with that Spock Guy?

Something important DID change between my Freshman and Sophomore year though. Star Trek: The Next Generation debuted. So, I had to update my story a bit.  My half-Vulcan character had returned to the 23rd century, continued his career, and in the 24th century, after being promoted to Commodore and as a fleet commander claiming the new Galaxy-Class USS Kitty Hawk as my flagship, had discovered post-Tomed Romulans were up to their old tricks.  That allowed me a real coup at one point, as I had caught through some fan publication early wind of Denise Crosby leaving the show, and “accidentally” dropped my knowledge that Lt. Tasha Yar was going to die before it happened on the TV. Proof of future knowledge! 

My Junior year, I was approached by a fellow student who was writing for the school paper and wanted to interview me.  We spent a couple of class periods talking about my “backstory” and I realized this person knew at least as much—if not more—about Trek than I did. The school paper never did run the interview, but some 35 years later that kid, Will Schwartz (yes, THE Schwartz) remains my best friend. 

I had already started to slow the story down a bit the summer before my Senior year, but also that summer, well, I met a girl. We were hitting it off. But when she mentioned going out with me, the school grapevine was quick to ask, “Are you dating that Spock Guy?” 

And she didn’t run away. Indeed, when she’d once demonstrated she knew all the lyrics to Neil Young’s “After The Gold Rush,” I figured she was a girl I should talk into marrying me. When she accepted I was that Spock guy, because after all, her Dad was a Trekkie and had an AMAZING collection of science fiction paperbacks, well that clinched it for me. Today, Jennifer and I are celebrating our 33rd wedding anniversary. 

So, as I went out into the world after high school, did I never call on Commodore Daomer again?  I can’t say never. Sometimes in a military career when facing danger, or briefing an officer with stars on their shoulders, a mask of stoic Vulcan control would come out of that box in the attic of my brain and get me through. But more directly, Star Trek, and my immersion thereof got me through 7th to 12th grade and gave me a broader world view, a friend for decades, and helped me identify the love of my life.  

Thank you Star Trek for all of that. Thank you creators for the assist. Thank you fellow fans for helping it be such a rich world, and thank you Commodore Daomer for your 24th Century wisdom.

One little coda.  I still watch a lot of Star Trek. Old, new…I don’t like everything that comes out, but I love it all, and that’s something I think some fans struggle with. However, there was a lovely new starship introduced not long ago, and I had to immediately find a fan produced model and make some custom changes.

The Kitty Hawk-A goes boldly... Second star to the right, and straight on 'til morning.

*The DC series had some wonderful early issues ALSO written by Diane Duane! Who can forget the Ajir and the Grond? Or McCoy accessing Spock’s katra still lurking within? Wonderful. The fact I’m mutuals here on Tumblr with someone who was such an influence to young me is probably the thing about my life now the kid in the trailer would be most skeptical of. 

**Thanks to Strange New Worlds for canonizing this, by the way. 

[ash-imagines]

Alright, it only took me a decade, but I finally watched It Follows. Spoilers and whatnot.

So, the obvious conclusion is that It is an STD or something, but that feels too easy. It might be sexually transmitted in a sense and very detrimental to the health of those who catch It, but I feel like It is something a little less obvious. I think It is the embodiment of the bizarre mentality that society has about sex in the United States. The biggest reason that I see in favor of this conclusion is the "do you feel any different" moment towards the end.

Sex is seen as a very big deal in the states, and it's unavoidable. Advertising uses it because sex sells, people talk about it like it's life-changing and the best thing you'll ever experience, but there's also a stigma around it. You aren't supposed to discuss it in polite company or enjoy it in unconventional ways, lest you be seen as a pervert or a freak. Sexual education in this country is notorious for being beyond awful, trying to scare children into never wanting sex rather than actually educating them about the subject.

I don't have the post right now, but I was definitely thinking about the "Americans don't go to bathhouses with naked grandmas and therefore have a warped perception about what the average person's body looks like" post. Because that's very true. Nudity of any kind is viewed as inherently sexual here. People still frequently lose their temper over the "indecency" of a parent chestfeeding their child in public.

And, I don't know if this was an intentional decision or just a coincidence, but one of the first places that I saw people just casually existing without clothes on was in the changing room of a public pool. Pools are pretty important to this film, as you may know.

So, that's the kind of environment that our main cast has grown up in. They seem like young adults, none of them with a ton of sexual experiences under their belts, and this weird attitude around sex is something they're finally old enough to confront head-on. They're still somewhat in the awkward teen stage of sex and romance, young enough that their first crushes, first kisses, and first beers are still pretty fresh in their minds. But they aren't kids anymore, either. They have the freedom now to have sex if they want. It's not forbidden to them anymore. That doesn't mean the cultural perception of sex that they've grown up with and continue to live in doesn't still get to them, though.

Lots of people feel guilty about having sex or masturbating, even though it's perfectly natural. The puritanical attitude surrounding sex is something that runs incredibly deep and takes a long time to unlearn, and it's actively worsening because of the growing censorship of the internet to appease advertisers (but that's a discussion for another day). I think the It in It Follows is the physical manifestation of this cultural puritanism. It can look like anybody because anybody could perpetuate It, whether or not they mean to. It follows and is such a hassle to get rid of because It's baked into the foundation of our country. And, perhaps, It can't go into the pool because that's someplace where being unclothed with others isn't seen as sexual, therefore It doesn't have any power in the water.

As for the "do you feel any different" moment, I think this is something lots of people feel after having sex, especially for the first time. All our lives, sex is built up as being a monumental occasion, the biggest deal ever. But when you actually experience it, isn't it kind of underwhelming? Like, sure, it's nice, but it's definitely not everything it's hyped up to be. But, even after finding out that sex isn't the height of human existence, cultural perception of it doesn't change. Only your own perception changes, and It continues to follow, though maybe now It follows at a distance.

That's really just the way I interpret the movie, though. I'd be interested in hearing some other perspectives on the film. One of the things I saw brought up in discussions about this film is that the focus is entirely on heterosexual relationships, and people wondered whether the curse can only be transmitted through heterosexual sex. There's apparently a sequel in the works, and I'm wondering if that's something they might address.

[hollowwhisperings]

Justice For Celebrian!

Celebrian is a Character of Absence in Tolkien's Legendarium: we never truly meet her and yet her absence lingers throughout the text, affecting most every major actor of the Third Age (the eldar most of all).

How-so it this? Through this: the devastating grief, unspoken yet doubtless, of those who knew & loved her.

For Celebrian was this: to Celeborn & Galadriel, their daughter and only child; to Elrond, the Great Love of his life; to Elladan & Elrohir, a mother whom they failed to quickly rescue; to Arwen Undomiel, the mother whom she was never to meet again for choosing the Path of Man.

Celebrian was the Lady of Imladris, the princess in all but name to Lothlorien. She was kin to two Ringbearers and yet neither Ring could save her. We know only that she was gentle and beloved, by some of the most crucial players in the events of the Second & Third Ages of Middle-Earth.

Why Celebrian is Absent

Celebrian's status as one "beloved" by the eldar creates a formidable motive in their hatred of The Shadow. For the means by which Celebrian was "absented" from Middle-Earth was entirely of Its Reckoning: in the 2509th Year of the Third Age, Celebrian was "waylaid by orcs". She was "captured and tormented" until she was, at last, found and rescued by her twin sons.

This Fate is one of Horrific Implication, one that Tolkien's Appendix B avoids elaborating upon (beyond her "receiving a poisoned wound").

Fans have Imagination Enough to consider what Hurts could be beyond even Lord Elrond's means to Heal, beyond any of Galadriel's many powers, beyond the careful comforts found in Imladris & Lothlorien. Whatever befell Celebrian by the creations of Sauron, it left her so wounded that Sailing West (& thus Away from most everyone she had ever known) was her only Hope for recovery.

"Justice" within the Legendarium

The Fate of Celebrian was yet one blow more in a long list of Personal Grievances borne by her Kin against Sauron. The vigilance and ample assistance of Celebrian's Kin during the War of The Ring was undoubtedly inspired, in no small part by her Fate & subsequent Departure.

While Elrond & Galadriel would doubtlessly have aided The Fellowship without this most recent grievance to drive them, the otherwise reclusive eldar of Imladris & Lothlorien would certainly have found Celebrian's Fate "inspiring" enough to take arms once more, "postponing" (or hastening) their Leave of Middle-Earth to seek Justice for their Lost Lady.

"Injustices" in Adapted Works

The Injustices that adapted Tolkien works have done unto Celebrian are many: they have erased her very existence (TROP); they have denied her her Epic & Untold Love Story with her Husband (TROP, again); they have Lessened the person she chose to love by making him a Minor Antagonist (both of PJ's film trilogies); they have stolen the kinship between other characters that they share for her existence (PJ's trilogies imply her existence but fail to utilize its possibilities, many of them comical: Elrond is Galadriel's Son-in-Law; Gimli's Championship of "Grandma Galadriel"; Arwen's Looks being inherited not from Celebrian but from Elrond; etc).

The effects the Live-Action Adaptions have had on the Modern Tolkien Fandom are also Significant: Hugo Weaving's portrayal of Elrond is the most commonly known, despite its OOC-ness; the relationships between Celebrian's Family are unrealised or dismissed; the "Last Homely House", a title probably earned by Elrond & Celebrian both, is considered falsely named; the Many Incentives for Galadriel to Hate Sauron & to have ALWAYS Hated Sauron are... forgotten to enable a "will-they won't-they" romance(???).

To erase Celebrian is to remove from the Second Age one of its silliest love stories: she & Elrond were silently pining for each other for almost 2000 years! This surely amused her mother, who had become afflicted with Sea-Longing some few years prior, & caused Conflict at the Court of King Gil-Galad (for, by wedding Celebrian, Elrond's Claims for High Kingship of the Eldar would become even stronger). The politics are, perhaps, the primary purpose of the would-be couple's long silence: audiences do not know as the potential of their love story has had little attention dedicated to it.

Injustice to Celebrian exists also in the mischaracterization of Elrond: what impression must an audience have, afterall, of the one to love & be beloved by someone so antagonistic to those most in need of "The Last Homely House"? The hostility, the begrudging "hospitality" exhibited by the Elrond of PJ's film trilogies tarnishes not only Elrond but the Legacy of Celebrian as that House's Lost Lady.

(It also creates some varyingly minor/major Plot Holes, such as Elrond's ability to host a Council of the "Free Peoples" in the first place. If his hospitality is so poorly to non-elves, why on Arda would he so frequently be sought for counsel? Furthermore, the Elrond of the Third Age has made himself a Healer: how many elves of this Age would ever need his skill?)

More, varyingly serious charges of "injustice" to Celebrian are sure to follow: my discontent began in the rendering of her husband into a petty antagonist; it has been reignited upon my learning of Amazon's choices in its adapting of the Second Age. Mostly, however, my rallying cry is made in jest: "failures" of adaptions to make Elrond sufficiently pretty for his wife; the lack of "Celebrian/Elrond" content in tumblr feeds; melodrama over how many elven names start with "Celeb".

[cto10121]

Twilight Clown Takes—Part 6

In which Instagram vies with YouTube on which platform has the most clownery. Featuring even more Bella hate dumb, the ~~~Mormon influences in Twilight, and a lot of hate for Jacob/Renesmee, including a fundamental misunderstanding of imprinting. We feast tonight, on nom nom

Bella Hate Dumb

Tell me you don’t know Twilight is a romance without telling me you don’t know Twilight is a romance.

Of course Bella’s life is going to revolve around her romance with Edward because Twilight is a romance! Her ambitions (which aren’t really many—just the vaguest idea of being a teacher or a librarian) aren’t important—hell, you could say the same thing about Edward! His entire existence constantly revolves around Bella and he constantly ditches his own family for her—even going off to commit suicide because of her.

And yet Edward, for all of his many whinging antis, is never accused of being a weak character. Creep or abusive, yes, but not weak. Wonder why? (The answer is misogyny).

In every one of the examples Clown OP mentioned, the humans either have 1) supernatural or learned martial skills or 2) the monsters they are fighting against have weaknesses that humans can easily exploit.

In the Twilight universe, vampires are literally the humans’ predators with no exploitable weaknesses. Vampires are not harmed by garlic, stakes, crucifixes, or the sun, nor do they have need to stick to hunting at night. No human can outrun or hold their own against a vampire. A young and healthy Carlisle couldn’t even handle a weakened vampire. The only creatures that can hold their own against vampires are werewolves, either the Children of the Night or the Quileute shapeshifters.

Bella is neither of them, and until very recently only learned vampires are real. Very few humans know for sure of their existance. So no, you can’t use the “it’s not an excuse!!1!!1” excuse to justify your misogyny, Clown OP. You can bitch about how the vampires are overpowered all you like (I’ll even agree!), but Bella is not weak for not being able to fight against them. She literally cannot.

Bella literally relates her life to classic literature in every book (Pride and Prejudice, Romeo and Juliet, Wuthering Heights, and Merchant of Venice), bitched about the thin selection of books at the Forks library, and nearly got raped looking for a good bookstore in Port Angeles (#relatable). She is a book girl, all right, and last time I checked, that is a hobby.

Also, Meyer hates Leah so much that she made her leave Sam behind and be free to become Jacob’s second-in-command and made Jacob learn to trust and respect her.

Because Bella’s insecurity is totally not a thing she overcomes and conquers by the end of the series and it’s not framed critically by the narrative. Because Twilight doesn’t totally show Bella’s parentification and how her parents just made her their parent. All these things just do not exist because to Clown OP only the first book and the dumb film series exist.

I literally read Life and Death not too long ago and there was essentially NO difference between Beau and Bella save in very minor details and (actually realistic) 2000s socialization. Beau’s “protectiveness” is largely emotional and ineffectual—it never actually serves a role in the story and Edythe dismisses it out of hand. He is not an active protagonist at all, or at least about as active as Bella is; he is still victimized in the latter half of the book and he even has to undergo a full vampire transformation.

Mormonism!!1!!1

Oh, God, where do I start?

“Humans who became divine—” And who lust for human blood to sustain them. There is already a creature who must drink blood to survive, so use it. Hell, Meyer didn’t even make up the whole “vampires are so beautiful/seductive/seemingly angelic” trope; that is your most basic vampire lore since Dracula.

“Bella’s aversion to drinking, smoking, coffee/tea—” Because a 17-year-old in the 2000s would totally smoke. Bella doesn’t go to parties, as she is de facto the parent of her family, so no, she wouldn’t drink and as the daughter of a police chief she would not have been raised to drink. As for coffee and tea, these are simply not mentioned—a far cry from being an aversion. Hell, no drink other than water and maybe milk is mentioned in the series. Does Bella even mention liquids???? She only seems to describe meals. As it is, Bella does ingest caffeine—she drinks Coke. Also, kind reminder that Bella has no religion.

“Rosalie/Leah feel incomplete not having babies—” Rosalie is a ‘30s girl who wanted to be a trad wife, which includes having children. Leah is worried that not having her period would make her unable to have children—not that she necessarily desires them, but it is weird and disconcerting not to have that option anymore. Moreover, Leah was getting ready to marry Sam, so she may have expected a life together with children. But it makes sense for their characters to be alike in this way, since they are mirror characters.

Meanwhile trad wife Esme is perfectly fine with adopting and caring for others and Alice doesn’t even mention that side of humanity at all. The Denali coven includes a trio of single sisters who loved having sex with human men so much that they decided to go vegetarian—they obviously are not obsessed with babies.

Jacob/Renesmee Hate Dumb

Apart from definitively resolving the love triangle, (thank God) Jacob’s imprinting on Renesmee stopped the Quileutes from attacking the Cullens after Bella gets bitten and changed—they have a law that prohibits harming a fellow werewolf’s imprintee. Moreover, it provides a much more firm alliance between the Cullens and Quileutes, thus resolving their rivalry/hate. But Clown OP doesn’t care about actual plot and theme resolutions, just the “ick” factor of the imprinting.

Meyer technically could have made the Cullens be forced to move after Bella’s becoming a vampire and have Renesmee and Jacob meet later. But I have a feeling that she didn’t expect to write more Twilight so she set up Jacob/Renesmee right away to dispel the love triangle once and for all. Given that Meyer got the idea of imprinting from A Midsummer Night’s Dream, that may have been her rationale.

That said, Jacob imprinting on Renesmee was a key plot point in Forever Dawn, the original sequel to Twilight, which did not have the love triangle—Jacob was just a platonic friend to Bella. Again, for plot and thematic resolutions, and perhaps for future set-ups.

Friendly reminder that movie canon is not canon and will never be because, ha, fuck the movies.

But! This does give me a chance to talk about imprinting in the books vs. the movies. Not only does Jacob never say anything of this sort to Edward in the books, but he doesn’t even have a reaction when he learns Renesmee will be fully grown in seven years. Edward confirms he doesn’t care and his feelings towards Renesmee are strictly platonic.

I read the official Twilight guide’s entry on imprinting—written very neutrally and very careful not to say anything about romance—and it basically confirms this:

If the human is young, the werewolf becomes the perfect platonic playmate and protector. As the human ages and changes, the werewolf instinctively switches roles to fulfill the human’s needs.

This implies that if the human doesn’t want to make the wolf a romantic partner, then the romance will simply not happen.

So what this shows me is that imprinting is not inherently a romantic phenomenon. The fact that Sam/Emily, Jared/Kim found each other in early adulthood and developed a romantic bond was because of the needs of Emily and Kim than Sam and Jared’s. Soulmates, after all, can be platonic.

So if Jacob/Renesmee ever become a thing, it would be because Renesmee herself would want it. Jacob would be incapable even to wish for anything more. In that sense, imprinting is the exact opposite of grooming: It is literally giving all the power to the imprintee.

The movies, quite frankly, fuck all this up. From portraying Jacob’s imprinting as a vision of Renesmee growing up (🤮 and not in the books) to his “joke” to Edward (stupid and 🤮 and not in the books) to Alice suddenly being able to have a vision Jacob and Renesmee together on the beach (in the books she cannot see werewolves or hybrids; this canon was broken by the movies for the fight scene with Meyer’s permission). So no, that is not how imprinting works.

[aggressivelyarospec]

que submitted:

“The Menu” (2019)

A very smart film with elements of horror, satire, thriller, and subtle comedy thrown in. Could be considered a deconstruction of social class, specifically the kind of people who go to high-end restaurants and celebrity chefs. 

Somewhat hard to describe without spoilers, but a very general summary is that the main character Margot goes with a rich associate of hers to a ridiculously high-end restaurant on an island. Turns out the island and everything on it is owned by world-famous chef Slowik, who is very clearly tired of it all to the point of finally preparing to do … something about it. 

Romance-free. Though Margot is technically Tylers date, they are definitely not in a romantic relationship (made clear later in the film). Felicity is George’s assistant, not girlfriend. While it is possible they had a sexual relationship in the past, the dialogue is ambiguous enough to make it so that she may have just been aware of where he took past girlfriends. There are two minor characters who are married, but they aren’t in it much and story-wise exist to provide more backstory for Margot. 

Trigger warnings: People do die on screen. One character commits suicide with a gun on camera, and another hangs himself off camera. There are other gory moments as well. A particularly disgusting character named Richard admits to having sexual fantasies about someone he is related to. Richard is killed at the end and has his wedding finger chopped off (not in that order). This last detail is somehow not on the imdb parents guide, so including it here to hopefully prevent anyone from being triggered. Richard is murdered at the end and is clearly presented as a villain - in fact, the films main villain is actually disgusted by him and makes sure he dies.

Additional Information: 2022 | R | Comedy, Horror Trailer:

Added!

[more-than-a-princess]

your  name: Arsene Lupin

your age: 22

your perfect date: We would paint the town red as the Americans say, perhaps a day at an amusement park, then we can go to movies, make sure people SEE us entering a hotel together only to secretly leave from an alternate exit for a heist. (gotta create an alibi)

make out in private or in public?: Hmmm, if you'd give me the pleasure I'd say in private. I am a gentleman after all, whilst I have no shame of public affection it would be unruly of me to make out with you in public.

do you like to cuddle?: Yes please mademoiselle.

tell me something about you: I have a photographic memory and i can manipulate my own vocal chords to sound like anyone I've heard at least once, i'm also not bad at imitating machines and vehicles as well.

why do you want to be my valentine?: There's a part of me that knows..it knows that I may not be able to call you 'wife' or even 'lover' one day. I'd be satisfied to call you my Valentine even if it were for one day, I would be the happiest man alive.

Valentine's Day Application - Accepting through February 14!

She tended to forget: despite the fact that she was on the run and needed to remain in hiding until there were no public threats against her life, he was still younger than she was. And still, sometimes recklessly, calling the shots alongside his friends, all employed by the Novoselic Royal Family to keep her safe.

"I'm not entirely sure if it has occurred to him that being seen entering a hotel together would, inevitably, lead to having the press tipped off," Sonia remarked. Even without royal duties to speak of at present, she still couldn't turn off the part of her mind that worked through all the potential ways she could cause scandal. Scandal that had nothing to do with her hobbies, that is: she was far more amenable to being caught in a graveyard in the wee hours of the morning tracking some sort of paranormal activity than she was having her love life speculated about in the media. "And the immediate assumption would, inevitably, be..."

She trailed off, her cheeks turning pink at what was left unsaid. Sonia had a hunch that the world imagining they were engaging in such acts would likely appeal to him, if not will it into existence. Even if it would be all anyone would ask her about once she was able to resume her old life: who he was, where he came from, what he did and had he met her family yet.

That was the trouble with dating as the Princess of Novoselic: expectations were always heightened beyond anything a budding relationship should ever need to handle. She could smile at a man and laugh at something she found sincerely funny, and the rumor mill would churn out something akin to a passionate romance destined for the altar.

"I would enjoy visiting an amusement park and seeing a film, though. I cannot deny that," She agreed. "As long as we do not skip the roller coasters and haunted houses: those are essential. But more importantly-"

Sonia paused, sighing as she set the application aside. Not in a discard pile, not in an acceptance pile, but somewhere in-between. Rather like how she felt about him.

"He is a man of disguises and there are so many instances when I feel I do not know him. He desires an intimacy with me, emotionally and physically, but I wonder if he has truly considered what that means. The life I have been living since I met him, that does not resemble anything of what it will be once I am no longer under threat."

She swallowed, running a hand through her hair, the way she did when she was anxious. "I am not allowed, nor do I have it in me, to participate in casual relationships. I suppose I just do not understand how he can be so interested in me, when I feel we do not really know or understand each other. That when this is over...so will we."

"Nevertheless, a date might be a method of getting to know each other. No masks or costumes or voices that do not belong to us: just...us."

"I decline a visit to a hotel, though. Even if it is meant to be a facade for a heist in progress. There must be another way that does not invite unkind gossip."

But a date with no added pressure of a romantic holiday? She would give it, and him, a try. If just to try and get to know Arsene Lupin, whoever he was beneath his many disguises.