#foot-soldier

[shallowseeker]

So, the lantern and the bottle are standing strong despite the storm.

Cas visually occupies the empty chair and protects Dean, who is on the side with the new growth, the fireplace hearth, and the drinks.

But also... what lovely cinema...

Here for example, we see the image of Dean and the hearth again, smoke swirling and a kitchen on fire.

And later...

Cas is devastated by Raphael's words, but Dean decides to lend support and encourage him anyway; tells him to go and look for his father!

And Cas rightfully worries about leaving Dean without the support of his family, his brother.

Dean isn't good exactly, but suddenly, there's something so soft in his gaze.

He confides in Cas about the stresses that come with worrying over Sam's addiction and bad decisions. It's something Cas understands, what with Raphael pledging to start the Apocalypse and revealing that "he wants it all to be over/wants to die."

Cas has a spiraling brother (Raphael), and Dean has a spiraling brother (Sam).

But Dean looks so soft here as they commiserate!

Conjecture//// I think, even if he's not aware of it, Dean's enormously relieved that Cas made it through this whole Raphael thing alive.

A joke slips out again, like it's covering up more of Dean's strong emotions.

Note how the color palette and shadows darken here, like it's pointing to a shroud of mystery that Dean can't quite understand or navigate properly yet.

It darkens as Dean ponders why he was having so much fun.

And yes, on the one hand, it's about the objectively heavy weights of our familial obligations, and how our attachments take work (especially when you're smack-dab in the middle of a fantasy-urban horror genre show).

But it's also the mystery of Dean's feelings...

Dean's locating his happiness in the lack of familial obligations, but is he correct in his analysis of himself at this point?

One wonders...

Or maybe there's something else in the mix now, something as scary as it is effervescent? Something that makes even the burnt-out hearth feel lit, something that makes a squatter house feel like A Home.

///

CORRECTION: There are a few lit lanterns sprinkled around the house. THe motif stands, though. <3

DEAN: *is all watery-eyed and weird when cas dies the first time*

CAS: *returns and is very, very Cranky (TM) and yelling at everyone*

Instead of being happy, relieved, or appreciative of one another's fighting spirit outright, they fall into a pattern of fighting and banter. They're full of fear, fatalism, and their own discordant Hail-Mary-style ideas.

And they disagree with each other. Their fear, in general, manifests in being short with one another and hilariously calling each other's plans stupid.

They're very immature and ill-equipped to handle caring about each other, basically. It's kinda cute.

They could say "thank you," or "I'm glad you're okay." Instead? Cas flies out of the gate, bossily laying into them about needing to be more careful. Later, he arrives at the hospital and calls the plan of fighting Lucifer stupid.

When Dean responds that Cas's plan is even stupider, Cas tells Dean that he wasn't worth rebelling for at all because he's a failure and should shut the Hell up.

Glorious.

There's so much Weird tension getting in the way of what should be a renewed brother-in-arms-friendship. It should be simple, a hearty hug between friends, some thuds on the back—you know, a simple "we made it, brother!" style of camaraderie.

Instead, they're weird about it.

///

And while Dean is usuallyweird (he's a weird, word-vomitey guy at heart), he's being epically weird in 5x03.

I'd say he's being even weirder than Cas is at times, and not just about his nervousness surrounding personal space.

It's everything.

It's even played for laughs a little bit. Cas says a lot of weird shit to the cop, and then somehow gains the cop's trust anyway.

Right after this, the cop calls Dean out, but not Cas.

"Uh, no, Kolchak."

In the end, Cas winds up having the advantage in this bizarre exchange. In a surprise twist, the officer has responded better to Cas's frank honesty than to Dean's sarcasm and indirectness.

///

But anyway, it's no wonder Dean's being odd. Man's Hella stressed.

Per the conversation with Sam at the end of 5x01, Dean is barely hanging in there. "He's trying." But he's also feeling the weight of his own fatalism. "I'll fight, but we haven't got a snowball's chance in Hell of winning."

And I personally think he's still anxious post-Cas's first death.

That's a frightening thing to contend with, that one of your strongest, "seemingly invincible" Superman allies can die. It rocks the tenuous stability beneath your feet, so to speak.

Here's the strangest thing: Cas asks Dean to go on a mission with him. But even after Cas straight-up tells Dean no angel would dare harm him, Dean assumes that they're both going to die anyway.

...

I think this speaks to Dean's issues focusing. His anxiety must be through the roof, because he's usually so good at hanging on to details like that.

There's also his guilt surrounding Cas facing Raphael alone the first time. And it's coming out this way.

This time, he's automatically cast himself in the role of being there alongside Cas, dying alongside him.

It's not until later that his denial falls away and the truth catches up to him, that Cas means to die alone:

Cas repeats himself, that the archangel wouldn't dare harm Dean:

This is not a revelation.

Cas told him as such right off the bat. But like in the scene with Chuck, Dean's brain prefers to dive straight into denial.

It's interesting for a character like Dean. He's VERY used to losing people, but with Cas, there's a creeping denial and disappointment clouding the whole thing.

There's probably already a crush there... it's coming out in watery eyes and hilarious ADHD-word vomit (Thelma-Louise, fussing about personal space and then getting into his personal space, Bert-n-Ernie-are-gay, last night on earth) because Dean doesn't know what to do with it.

He doesn't know how to handle the confusing mix of feelings. He had a lot of them when Cas died the first time. Now, where can that energy even go?

The face journey he goes on as he realizes Cas is expecting to die... again.

It's a little sad, tbh.

///

And then later, when they face off against Raphael, facing him together as Raphael enters "their" kitchen, Dean's fears all come out as jokes and banter again.

It's his preferred defense mechanism against strong emotions. He's worried, but he can't show it.

///

Another thing.

I think it's neat that they're squatting in this cute, dilapidated house.

Raphael appears in a kitchen, recreating the circumstances of Cas's first death in Chuck's kitchen.

Some other cute details about the house they're chosen. Dean has his usual cooler, but here he's put it near the hearth of the home, one of his motifs. He acts as bait, drawing Raphael nearer while Cas moves to attack him.

But the specter of the hearth is still meaningful.

And while Dean distracts Raphael, they lure him deeper into the home, a space they're controlling together.

And still, they banter. Cause they're immature and adorable.

DEAN: "Don't look at me it was his idea."

Aside// The lantern and the beer bottles.

Here, we get another glimpse of their symbols. For Cas, it's this dark lantern on the table; it's been on the table "with him"on his side" since the very beginning of squatting in this house.

It symbolizes both Cas himself and this concept of Dean waiting for him. "Where have you been?"

The fact that this lantern is OUT is a callback to Cas's death, and a nod to his current fatalism.

///

Actually, the house they're squatting in IS pretty cute. The table they sit at together is cute. Here we have the two of them, mutually aching over their absent fathers... and reeling over the painful, complicated brokenness and betrayals with their respective brothers (Raphael, Sam).

The inside of this house is "dead and dusty," but there's new growth just peeking into the window. Greenness. Renewal.

This living room, where they're spending time together, also contains important Dean-Cas symbols: empty chairs, lanterns, and an unlit hearth.

While the two of them are trying desperately to fix their respective families, they're automatically carving out their own living space together, instinctually, almost without knowing or trying.

It's also funny that we see some of the strife that will color their relationship. It looks like Dean wound up doing a lot of waiting around, and he's irritated about it.

Note the prominently lit empty Cas-chair. While Cas runs off to do his suicidal Heaven errands, Dean waits up for him in a room with a hearth and a conspicuously placed lantern.

Cas appears in front of the stairs. Later, these stairs will be prominently lit by the only lit lantern in the entire house.

///

Here we go. Dean and Cas return to face off against Raphael in the house they've come to bond in—in a home they control. Now, the stairs are highlighted by a homey, welcoming light.

It's the only lantern on.

It leads upstairs to the bedroom, or it's a nod to "Heaven" if you prefer that reading.

But it seems to me that this light is conspicuous like, despite the storm and the power outage, these two are carrying a secret torch for each other, a nascent longing to cobble a life together.

Raphael's pyrotechnics are exploding all the lights except this one, after all. Perhaps the lighted stairs represent them as a Heaven-Earth unit, Heaven + home, the one who guards the door + and the one who lights the hearth:

///

And goodness, some of these images are lovely.

Raphael breaks the window, letting the storm into the little nook they'd carved for themselves.

The lantern and the beer bottle.

That's their table!

It's funny. It's almost like they instinctively gravitate to trying to fix/rebuild a home when they're together. They naturally want to fall into this weird... rhythm of life.

It's maybe a bit spooky for them, it maybe unnerves them, and they don't know what to do with that. They've both got so much baggage with their respective families that they mostly try to ignore it, and they get pissy and short with each other as a result of ignoring it and circling this...

...confusing thing.

[grand-theft-carbohydrates]

first day as an agrarian society foot soldier lmao these steppe barbarians are already retreating. time to break ranks and pursuit them on foot into that wide-open field!

[skullssy]

Need more people to check out loser ranger just for Figher D

[galionne-vibin]

My son who is always angry and wants to bite people

[ultimateinferno]

Every so often I remember Lirin was a doctor while Dalinar was Blackthorn, and his entire worldview makes a shit ton of sense. I can go on and acknowledge that he was a subject of Sadeas but really... nah. That man absolutely witnessed first-hand the casualties of that war.

[pastelcl0udy]

happy 10th anniversary, Garden Warfare!

[isp-annafer]

Hey guys Hephaestus has glasses in the livestream animatic. I know its just for funsies (and also probably based on Jorge's dad, who was the singer), but you guys know what this means????

A possible canon explanation for Polites having glasses CAN be a 'gift of the gods' now, except not from Athena as some people have jokingly suggested. It can be from Hephaestus instead, lol.

(ALSO, recall how Hephaestus's brief argument was 'trust isn't given, it has to be forged', which can be an echo of Polites's philosophy, which was something like 'show trust, and be trusted in return'.

There's SOMETHING there that can be played with between two characters that didn't show up much in the musical. One more than the other.)

[whaliiwatching]

unfair, he says, meaning something else entirely

[starjetipvz]

WEDGIE !!!

[sunko-bunko]

foot soldier is not good at anything

but that’s why we like him

[quinloki]

Who do you think are the biggest fans of holding hands during sex?

Mmm....

Marco, Sabo, Thatch come to mind off the cuff.

Crocodile isn't against it either, though he does rather prefer to hold your hands down. (Sabo and Marco fall into this category too).

Kid's not against holding hands, but he prefers to see your fingers flexing against the ropes while you're losing your mind.

Sanji definitely likes to hold hands, and I think Zoro's for it, but he'll move his hands away from yours when he's close, cause he doesn't want to flex his hand in the moment and accidentally bruise you (or worse, that beast).

Doffy enjoys it, but only as something he imposes on his partner - there's not really any softness in it.

Law doesn't by default, but you can get him to do so easily. I think he's very tactile, and once you open those gates he's into it.

<.< Robin holds hands all the way through that lucky lady.

Oh Heat is definitely a hand holder

Killer too I bet.

Shachi is more of a hand holder than Penguin, but only cause Penguin's hands tend to wander a lot. (I feel like Sabo's a wandering hands guy... I think Sabo just like... hands. Sabo's hands. My brain is happy to think about them in Every Context.)

Ace holds hands. Whimpery little golden retriever man whining in your ear while he's holding your hands. (I don't know why he's just so vocal in my head canon during sex).

[conflipt]

THEY ARE PLAYING PROFESSIONAL TIC TAC TOE IN D’S FANTASY BECAUSE THAT IS THE ONLY EARTH GAME THE INVADERS KNOW HOW TO PLAY

[last-starry-sky]

kinktober day 28 - leather

ghost x f!reader

[MDNI - NSFW - MIND THE WARNINGS: 1.4k, established relationship, leather kink, vaguely implied masturbation, no sex in this, just cute, kink-flavored fluff.]

tag list (lmk if you'd like to be added!): @slut-lmao, @mishaglass

“Si?” you asked peaking around the corner, trying to catch your boyfriend’s eye. “Mind if I wear this tonight?”

Your boyfriend looked up from where he was sitting on the couch, tying his shoes while you put the finishing touches on your outfit before you went out for the night. He looked up, dark brown eyes flashing over you once, down to his shoes, then quickly back again as his brain processed what he just saw. 

You stood in the hall, hands nervously clutched together as you waited for his response. Your outfit wasn’t anything special, just a comfortable and classic white t shirt paired with a short black jean skirt and a pair of high tops. You weren’t worried about those, though. It was the old leather jacket you had found in the back of his closet that had you dancing side to side, awaiting his approval. 

As he sat there, hands on his knees, slowly blinking like he was trying to decided if what he saw was real or not, you started to sweat. Then he stood up, wide-eyed stare on you as he crossed the room. He loomed over you, running his hands over the soft, cracked leather draped across your shoulders. 

“Where’d you find this, love?” he mumbled, eyes glazed as the feel and smell of the jacket brought back a flood of memories. “Thought it was long gone.”

“Bottom of a box while I was cleaning our closet,” you answered, biting your lip. 

His hands trailed down the arms of the jacket, fashionably oversized on you, but you could imagine when he had last worn it, practically a lifetime ago at this point, it would have fit him like a glove. His hands closed around your shoulders, scrunching the thick material as he hauled you closer to him. He pressed his face down into the crown of your head, a deep inhale ruffling your hair as his arms ran across your back, smoothing down the jacket almost reverently. 

You did the same, hands running up and down his torso, giving what comfort they could. You still weren’t sure what answer you were going to get. Any unexpected tiptoe into Simon’s past had usually not ended well, so you tried to avoid it altogether. 

“Don’t have to-” you started to say, trying to give him a gentle way to let you down.

“Looks fuckin’ gorgeous on y’, love,” he interrupted, pulling away to look down at you, eyes now half lidded and heavy. “Better than it ever did on me.”

With that, he stepped away, leading you with him toward the door by the hand. 

“Ready?” he asked, suddenly more excited for this night out than he had been all week. “Be late if we don’t leave soon.”

You stuck your head out of the dressing room nervously. You looked around for Simon, somehow unable to spot his unusually tall and wide form in the mostly empty shop exactly at the time you needed him. You stepped gingerly out from behind the curtain in your socks, the outfit you wanted to show him still on, when you spotted him flipping through hangers on a round carousel. 

“Si!” you hissed, catching his attention immediately. 

His back straighted as he turned, the small piece of clothing on it’s hanger swinging in his hand as he turned quickly to face you. You held your hands out, silently asking for his opinion.

“Nice,” he said flatly, before shoving whatever he had picked out into your hands. “Try this one on f’ me. Wanna see you in it.”

You held the miniskirt out to look it over. It was technically the correct size, which he had chosen by some miracle, but it was short. Short short. At least it was black and not some bright, tacky color.

“My ass is gonna hang out,” you said rolling your eyes. “Want me to look like some sleazy barfly, Si?”

“It’s . . . it’ll wear in. Leather, you know? Just try it on,” he urged you, slightly trembling hands pushing the hanger back toward you before tucking them away in his pockets. “Please, love. Just f’ me.”

“Okaaay,” you said with an over dramatic sigh, followed up with a smile before you walked back into the changing room. Before you disappeared behind the curtain, you turned back to your boyfriend telling him, “Now don’t wander away again, or else I won’t get it.”

You almost choked on your laugh at how fast he sat down. His expression graven as he took his position. Most people asked you how you got along with a man that came off so emotionless, practically expressionless most of the time. You could never make those people understand how wrong they were. Like now, you only had to look at him to read him. When he wanted something, it was so so obvious. 

You shuffled into the tight little skirt, giving yourself a look in a few poses, deciding you liked it before you stepped out. Simon didn’t even have his phone out, his attention fully on you the second you stepped out. The world must have slowed down for him, the way he reacted. You heard his breath catch in his throat. A blush dusted his cheeks, tinting his ears a violent pink. His eyes, heavy and half-lidded, went nearly black as he stood up, lurching like a Hammer Horror monster toward you.

You couldn’t help but let a little smile creep across your mouth as he closed his hands around your waist, fingers itching to stroke at the material.

“Like it?” you asked coyly, pulling the front seam down, already knowing his answer.

“Fuck, love,” he groaned, petting down your leather-clad hips. “Buyin’ this for you. Don’t care if you ever wear it out, just . . . just wear it once f’ me? Okay?”

You giggled, pulling out of his grasp and his shadow to back into the changing room. The way he was acting, riled up over almost nothing, had you regretting pushing him backwards to prevent him from following you in. You liked this shop, though, and it would be a shame to never be able to come back because your man couldn’t keep it in his pants until you got home. 

“Si, you have to stop,” you told him over the phone, connection crackling as you tried to catch up with him while he was off god-knows-where for the third month in a row. 

You toyed with the box in your lap, the latest package to arrive with your name on it and you had an idea what was inside. The first had held a pair of black boots. Expensive as hell, leather boots, mind you. They were exquisitely made, with tall uppers that zippered just under your knees, and a sensible, stacked leather heel. 

The second package was a pair of pants: white and boot cut. They didn’t look all that amazing at first, until you tried them on. They gripped your ass like no tomorrow, putting it fully on display. The sight alone made you blush, and that was standing alone in your bathroom. It had been your mistake sending Simon a picture, asking if he was sure about them. He was groaning and whimpering on the other end the whole call, not even trying to hide what he was doing. 

Now you were sat on your bed with the latest package between your knees, scissors in hand, opening it at his request.

“Want to hear your reaction this time,” he said breathless, ignoring your complaints.

Slowly you cut away the packing tape, knowing that whatever was inside could be punctured and was probably expensive. Inside was a smaller, decorative box. When you opened that, a sheet of folded over tissue paper protected the goods inside, gauzy material obscuring everything but the color. You held your breath as you removed the paper, revealing what the red mass was. 

“Oh,” you gasped into the phone, holding it up.

It was a dress, short, red and revealing in just about every place it could be. The tiny set of straps criss-crossed around your neck to hold up a bodice shaped into a shallow v at the front. Between your breasts, down the front center, was a barely hidden zipper that ran all the way down to the hem. It even had little slits at the sides.

Don’t want to look too demure, you thought.

“Well?” he asked. You could hear him pacing on the other end. 

“I love it!” you said with a laugh, breaking the awkward silence. “Can’t wait to wear it for you,” you continued, “But Simon, love. You gotta face the fact you have a fetish at this point.”

You could almost see his blush as he grumbled on the other end: something about “nothing being wrong” and “just wanting to treat his girl” while you laid back against your shared bed and had a good long laugh over it.

[tyrianludaship]

Soldier genuinely reminds me of this sometimes

[thesillyexpresser]

I’ve been getting into go go loser ranger/ranger reject and they’re so silly I love them

[pastelcl0udy]

plants (totally not zombies)

i decided to make a more creative approach to their outfits