#definitely complementary

[jessieren]

So umm…. I figure Fidget Fridays could also become a thing…

Y’know… just saying

@librawritesstuff @shaun-evans-fanblog @too-antigonish

[miyabilicious]

Did Messina expect me to choose? Does someone in head office ship it?

Simon - god tier. deliciously creamy and moreish, perfect contrast to the buttery cracker crumb. Brain went completely smooth. Would definitely get a tub to take home.

Johnny - unsure at first as flavour was strong, almost medicinal, not too sweet. Absolutely demolished it once I could balance it with the cone. Left me feeling slightly tipsy.

[softgrungeprophet]

I think— I've just been thinking a lot lately about Radiant Black characters and queer-coding and subtext as I re-read and continue to read—

There is this fact that when we first meet Red it is in this idealized masculine form, and yes ostensibly we can say this is to prevent her true identity from being discovered (lol. lmao.) but we can also look at Satomi and note that her being is run through with emotion and I don't mean this in a "oh, girls and their feelings" way (god) but everything she does is steeped in anger and despite her conflict and like, uncertainty and trying to make the right decision and to fix everything, she still acts very impulsively, driven by her heart rather than her brain, in the same way that Marshall is an "act first, think never" kind of character—and her impulse is immediately a larger than life, muscular, very masculine form, and yes this hides her identity but then also—

Then also, again, we have the panels in Radiant Red where she is framed by chains, as just Satomi in the costume. And this is of course partly that she is shackled by her life; by her marriage/betrothal, by her expectations as a woman and a teacher, as a good Japanese daughter who can barely speak Japanese and never went to Japan despite all her talk. And also that she is shackled by her own powers, that where they make her feel, well, powerful, she is also uncertain (has always been uncertain) and feels trapped in the role that she has given herself through the use of her powers—but again. This is a politely punk woman who cannot cut her hair in weird styles or wear piercings anymore, who must always be the thoughtful one, who must always be the good woman, who insists she will go to grad school and who still hasn't—who was "never going to do it!"—whose alter-ego began masculine and who even after dropping that alter-ego initially continues to be masculine in its power-ups and armored forms, even as Satomi is surrounded by chains, thinking of an alternate future where she shaves half of her head, which cannot be.

And I have been thinking also about Marshall whose entire interiority is a tangled mess of codependence that hinges upon his male childhood best friend—on the fact that he is jealous of Nathan, wants to be like—wants to be Nathan—that he feels Nathan's judgment at all times, that he hates Nathan but no, he doesn't hate him. He loves him. And he says it over and over again. I love him, I love you. Of course Nathan says, "I love you too," but there is a different weight to it in Marshall's inner universe that is not reflected there, necessarily. Not entirely in the same way, at least.

And when JJ shows up, he's sarcastic and catty. And it's obvious. And when she comes over at the bar, and Nathan is happy to see her, Marshall's entire demeanor changes, an immediate depression. And he went to Nathan's hospital room every. single. day. But when he snapped and disappeared and people thought he killed himself, not a single person was relieved to see he was alive, they all just thought he was a worthless asshole just like always. The wastoid, irresponsible, selfish. God forbid he snap under the weight of his entire universe being potentially destroyed. And none of them do seem to get that. I mean, if Nathan had not been brought back (if the timeline remained as it was meant to be?) — We saw him, you know? He was dream-hallucinating Nathan's ghost, presumably via the traces in <existence>, and crucially he was also wasted on the floor with his dog. I mean, they thought he must have killed himself because, presumably, if all of that had failed and he hadn't been able to face truth in existence, he would have.

Of course Nathan understands to some extent, because he knows the truth, to some extent, but still always has this metaphorical arm up to put this distance between them even when they are essentially sharing existence together by copiloting (and breaking) this radiant. And there's still this kind of constant denial of truth after Marshall brings him back, this friction between them. Barriers and boundaries from one (Nathan) that the other (Marshall) cannot entirely tolerate, (though Nathan's ability to establish boundaries is (as we see when he goes to LA a second time) is important to his maturity as a person and as a writer, but that is admittedly kind of a separate topic lol)

And I just think.

God.

The gender-bending is not nothingness, and Marshall is not just a loser. Existence is a mirror and that extends to the Radiants of course. Satomi's mirror is a man, and Marshall's truth culminates in "I love him."

What that ends up meaning in the future (if anything), I don't know, but I do think it's something (technically two things, I guess) that I want to acknowledge even if they fade away into spacetime as nothing more than aesthetic and drama, or whatever else, you know? Is it Canon, is it Lore, is it the Real Truth? Well I don't know about any of that but I know that to me as the reader I think it's legit lol and that's worth acknowledgment of some kind, as with any other textual analysis that might pop up over time

[the-nysh]

I've been wracking my brain as to why yellow was chosen as the colour for the volcanic monster armour he has in the surface fight but now I reckon it might be coming from his eyes, and it's part of the reason his eye is given such focus when the armour breaks a bit. And more specifically his *left* eye, the eye that for the longest time remained untouched by monsterisation, as if it's a literal indicator that Garou's true nature, his softness, is still buried underneath it all. in this essay

🥹👍👍 I......also thought about how the glowing golden fissures kinda resembled the kintsugi effect. With him getting constantly battered and broken yet still enduring it with the determination to quite literally reconstruct himself (and armor his emotional pain) even stronger. :')) our hidden golden boy~ Also the fact that when it breaks over that eye that's when his character's real golden strength shines through~ (plus later his fists with the glowing gold bhudda theme too!)

[lavender-temult]

why do baby otohan’s colors look like fuckign TOOTHPASTE in this version 😭😭😭

[maiamars]

i was like howland is the lady of the lake in the scenario of arthur giving up dawn but its definitely ashara especially if her name is a nod to asherah

[rotisseries]

just saw pictures of atsushi in the bsd manga who was gonna tell me he has a black streak in his hair

[vamprisms]

working on the list for my halloween double features project um i am sooo smart hehe

[honeylover]

ok I'm in tsn rpf mode one more time look away. accidentally watched a video of Jesse Eisenberg being ??rude and it reminded me of the making of tsn doc because it was that weird charismatic rude that he used on Andrew. remember when Andrew said that Jesse amplified and woke up certain parts of him. Yeah I believe that was partially related to a kind of anxious desire for closeness or approval bc that's the easiest way to be woken up and Jesse definitely has that kind of humor where he puts you down but wants to have dinner with you every night. He doesn't want you to say sweet things in interviews but he's lonely in L.A. without you

[devotion-between-the-wheat]

also the life!si is branching from their original concept, so it seems we are losing overall blue fairy vibes (though the bones of it still runs through it all somewhat).

[hivepixels]

.

[ravnloft]

astarion would never go for it cause he has Issues(TM) but god. i LOVE the thought of him and amma using his Technically Dead status to commit spectacular acts of insurance fraud. of chicanery. skullduggery. even murder most foul. i want her to put him in a cargo container on a ship and let him loose like dracula

[running-with-kn1ves]

Fitness Trainer

A/N: I blended some french terms of endearment with English don't come for me. But is Antoine really French, or is he feigning this way to get closer to you? (Had a fem idea for this too)

Synopsis: Another day at the gym, your personalized trainer is helping you out a lot more intimately than he would with most clients.

TW: Creep gym trainer, yandere themes, mentions of future stalking/imagined groping, sensual content

And up... and down, just like that."

The squeeze on your hips kept you stable, even with your fingers shaking, mouth agape as hot breath was sucked in, and out. 

"One more, you can do one more for me."

"I can't..." you huffed, thighs quaking as the barbell on your shoulders made you ache. 

"Yes you can. C'mon sweetheart, we'll do it together."

He gripped the barbell beside where your sweating hands were, chest flush against your back as his feet entrapped the outside of your own. 

“Do it with me now,” He pulled the weight lower, forcing you to squat despite the agony in your ankles and tailbone. “Push through it, baby.”

The sweet name just slipped out, breathy against your ear as his hot exhales slowed compared to your huffs. It almost made you slip.

You could feel the muscles in your wrists shaking, vision going blurry as sweat drips into your eyes. One of his hands leaves the barbell to grip your hip, forcing you back into a standing position as your knees nearly give out. 

You rise slowly back up with the barbell in your hands, nearly groaning in pain at the strain. You finally lift your arms to your chest, finishing the rep with a strained frown as your personal trainer forces the weight off of your arms. His taller stature makes it easy to put the barbell back on the rack in front of you. 

You feel as if you could collapse, an hour and a half of intense training brought upon by your own determination leaving you exhausted and a little discouraged. You thought you could do more, push yourself harder-- but at the end of the day, the amount of reps your body would let you do, was it. You’d crack if you tried to go even further, end up tearing something or worse. 

Your trainer could tell; the way you sweat, your eyebrows furrowed as you kept that hard, strained look with each motion he made you do. 

“I hate to say it, but you’re done for today.” 

You look up at him from your place on the ground, water bottle hanging from your grip as you try to catch your breath. 

Antoine had only worked with you for a couple weeks now, what started as once a week now thrice, if you had the time after work of course. But somehow, he always enticed you to come back. 

His body, which should’ve been motivation, was more or less disheartening-- rippling muscles and bulging quads peeking beneath his tight ‘TRAINER’ black tee and athletic shorts as the perfect ensemble. 

He was so sweet, so encouraging and upsettingly positive. Always filling up your water bottle, saying how he’s always admiring the growth of muscle definition in your back, giving you light touches to show which area of your body that a machine might work out. He even offered post-exercise massages to make sure you didn’t get sore after each session, free of cost as a perk of joining the gym’s ‘premium membership’, an idea he sold you on. That, along with the complementary protein shakes made that were hi “specialty.”

You knew it was his job to hook you in, but who could say no to that sweet meathead’s face? Which is why you were here, on a late saturday afternoon, in this nearly empty gym with him that he convinced you to love. 

You couldn’t help but feel a little guilty, even if he was the one persuading you, offering to use his time off to come in and help train you.

“Feelin’ sore?” Antoine bends down next to you, offering a small towel from his pocket. The twinge of accent in his speech makes him sound funny, dry lips parted as he looks you over. “You went harder than usual today.” 

“Yeah,” You let out after a gulp of water. “Definitely gonna feel this later tonight; ha, maybe I’ll actually take you up on one of those massages.” 

You point with your water bottle, grinning tiredly as Antoine’s eyes seem to shine. He licks his lips to hide a giddy grin. 

“Of course-- definitely, I’d be more than happy to. These hands can work magic you wouldn’t believe.”

Antoine shuffles behind you, pulling at your shoulders to make you sit up straight. 

“Wha- you mean right now? I’m all, sticky.” 

“Now’s the best time, your muscles are just coming down from the effort they’ve exerted. Best to prevent any aches and pains as soon as possible rather than waiting.” 

He begins gentle rubs against the base of your neck; vast, warm fingers grace your collar with a softness you hadn’t expected. Usually when people try to massage your shoulders they’re too harsh, too grippy; but Antoine was rhythmic, pushing into your back with his palms as he made his way down to your shoulder blades. 

“But considering you’ve pushed so hard, I don’t want to see you back here for a couple of days.” Antoine insisted.

“Awe, you want me outa here that badly?” You joked, laying your head forward as Antoine’s fingers made their way to the back of your neck, running pressed thumbs down from your hairline. “I see how it is, prefer your other clients over me.” 

It felt sort of weird, having him massage you so deeply on the gym floor out in the open. But the only person here in the middle of the afternoon was an older woman, paying more attention to her cellphone on the treadmill than anything you two were doing. 

Antoine shook your shoulders. 

“Don’t say that, now!” He leaned his head over next to yours from behind, getting so close your nose almost brushed against his cheek. “It’s not funny; I hope you don’t see me that way.”

“It’s just a joke,” You titter, running your handtowel down the front of your shirt.

“I never understand your jokes.” He sighs, hands moving down to your tailbone. He lifts the bottom of your shirt sticking to your skin, digging his hands against the soft flesh. 

“Woah, hey,” You turn to look at him, but his head is down, looking at his fingers. 

“I have to get to your hips, you can’t do so many squats without release. And at the rate you were going to day… well, you see what I mean.”

The bottom of your tanktop covers his knuckles as he pulls and kneads the skin of your lower back. 

“O-okay.. I guess..” 

He’s not usually so insistent, but he seems so genuine about it-- and, he’s the trainer, shouldn’t they know best? 

He begins with little strokes to your skin, almost caressing. You grow anxious until his thumbs push deep lines into your flesh. 

“Does that feel a little better, Mon cœur? Less pain?” He asks up close, staring at your heated and perspiring cheeks. 

You’re awed by how good it actually feels, the tension melting away with each push of his knuckles into your skin, and grip of his hands around your waist as each of his thumbs digs into your sides. 

“Yeah… feels a lot better..” 

“You can rest your head on my shoulder, don’t be embarrassed, sweetheart.”

You do as he says, arching your back with your head against his shoulder. He had easier access into your back, working his hands up beneath your shirt to reach your mid abdomen.

The deeper Antoine kneaded, the farther he grew up your back, the more… audible, his groans became. Each dip was another breathy moan into your ear. It was fine at first, just the sounds of his work; and then, it became almost, uncomfortably sensual. 

“Just like that...” He mumbled, giving a deep hum.

With your neck so close, his nose dips against your jaw to sneak a sharp inhale of your scent. It was heightened from your hour of strenuous work, a smell he couldn’t get enough of. 

But you jumped forward before he could nuzzle as deep against you as he wished. 

“Uh! Thanks, I feel a lot better now. Really… got all the kinks out.” 

You clutch your towel, facing your trainer to prevent him from working his “magic fingers” again. 

“Of course. And that’s just a taste, a fully body massage would leave the workout you just completed to drain away, as if it was just a dream.” He wiggles his hands with a sheepish grin, one so simple and sincere your guard fell again.

Sure, guys at the gym could be creeps, but he was your trainer, eyes kind and a little foreignly clueless, who only wanted to see you thrive; he’d never try something with you, his client. 

“Yeah, maybe next time. But now, I need to shower and get this stink off of me.” You bring yourself to your feet, all wobbly and achy-galore. Even with Antoine’s work on your shoulders, you can feel your back beginning to seize up. It’s gonna be hard to bend down for a while. 

Offering a hand to Antoine still on the rubbery gym floor, he takes it with a slight ease. He doesn’t use the weight in his hand to get up, knowing he’d just drag you back down to the floor if he did. 

“Thanks again-- I mean, I know it’s your job but--” 

“Don’t thank me; it’s always a treat to have you here, my cherie. I’d train you for free, you know!” 

You laugh, flattered at the idea. If you were a bit more forward, you’d ask him for that little perk. Hey, paying for his service certainly wasn’t cheap!

Making your way to the bathroom, you thank your lucky stars the hard part’s over. Too bad you can’t look at Antoine’s pretty face anymore, though. 

Antoine on the other hand, follows your stumbling body with his eyes, watching as you disappear behind the water fountain and bathroom door. 

His eyes jut back and forth between the machines and front door for witnesses, seeing none before snatching up your forgotten towel. How’d you never notice they didn’t just give these things out? 

He’d brought the cute handkerchief from home, wanting to appear the most of a gentleman. And, in the hopes that you’d use it every and anywhere. 

Oh, he thrived off that scent, pushing the white damp cloth heavy against his nose. It smelled even more potent of you, moreso than the few inches away of sniffs he usually got. 

His tongue just barely brushed against it, writhing in ecstasy from how it still held the stickiness of your sweat. You didn’t know how intoxicating it was to him, watching each bead of sweat leave your neck, the dip of your back when he got the chance to help hold that barbell with you… it was almost maddening, how strictly he had to restrain himself from lapping at your hot skin and running his hands beneath your gymwear. 

 No, he had to save this for later. What would his manager think if he saw him acting so ferally? 

Besides, there were more important matters to attend to. Such as, taking out the bathroom trash, a simple excuse to slide his manager for the opportunity to watch you shower. 

Who knew working here would have such great advantages in getting close to you. 

[myplasticadversary]

I feel like, while girl Kendall would be overall more comfortable performing femininity than canon Kendall is performing masculinity, she's still got a deep sense of inadequacy and alienation and I think the kind of approval she seeks from other girls and women might kind of masculinize her in relation to them, like she can never quite figure what they're talking about or how to act and maybe tries to attach herself in a sort of servile "boyfriend" role when she can't fit in otherwise.

[transgaysex]

its 5 am and i really shouldnt be having thoughts right now but im so anxious about school

[silverlininghills]

"300 tracks"

you know those hand signals tyler does during the line "300 tracks in my Adidas track jacket"?

i, like probably everyone else, assumed that was him signing 3-0-0 with his hands.

but no. he's signing F-0-0.

consider the ASL signs for F vs 3:

yeah, he's definitely signing F there

so what does F-0-0 mean? well, funny thing about that--you know hexcodes? those 6 digit codes that indicate a specific colour? well, there are also three digit codes as well, where you basically double each number to get the full 6 digit code. wanna guess what #F00 is?

yup, that's pure red babey!!

and, better yet, wanna know what its complementary colour is?

why it's pure cyan of course!!! y'know, like the whole __cla_im00FFFF.jpg = CLAIM CYAN = I AM CLANCY thing.

tyler, you sneaky sneaky bastard.