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futurequibblerjournalist · 4 months ago

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The Ancient and Most Noble House of Black names explained:

I’ve gotten a few asks about my thoughts on the Black family and specifically their names and the middle names I’ve assigned them so I figured I’d make a post and explain them all, along with how I see the meanings of their names translating to their personalities! I was originally going to do the Black sisters and brothers in this one too but it just got too long so you guys are getting Riddle era Black family until I return with the second installment vjnbjgnbj

tw: brief mention of rape in Lucretia's section

Walburga Irma Black:

Unlike most of her family members, Walburga is not named after a star. Her first name is an alternative spelling of Walpurga which comes from Saint Walpurga, a nun born in 710. Saint Walpurga was also given an annual feast day called Saint Walpurgis Night or Saint Walpurgis Eve. Ironically one of the things she was hailed for was battling witchcraft. She was said to repel witches and was known as a healer of illnesses and one of her only talents not fully related to her religion is noted to be very detailed embroidery. I like to pull things from things like this, especially when it comes to characters we know very little about, so what this tells me about Walburga is that she likely did not have a lot of (female) friends which fits with the fact that I generally think the Black family kept to themselves. She was a skilled healer, which is very interesting considering how she’s usually portrayed as a woman who ruins so much. Is she aware of this aspect of her personality and that’s why she decided to learn so much about healing? And at last, she’s talented at embroidery. This yet again fits with another headcanon of mine that the finer families in pureblood society showed their status through things such as embroidery or homemade lace, to show that the women in the family were so well taken care of that they could focus on nothing but raising a family and making said family look good. I would imagine Walburga was taught by her mother.

Speaking of her mother, Walburga gets her middle name from her mother, Irma Black (born Crabbe) which means she is once again not given a name with a connection to the stars. Irma means complete; entire and is derived from the Old High German word ‘irmin’ meaning ‘world’. One could argue that while Walburga does not have a star specific name she is named in a way that could be interpreted as someone’s whole world.

Alphard Pollux Black:

Alphard is named after the star of the same name, the brightest star in the constellation Hydra. Alphard comes from the Arabic al-fard which, if Wikipedia is to trust lol, means “the individual”. The star is also known both as “the backbone of the Serpent” and “the heart of the Serpent”. From this I like to pull a bit of personality. Alphard has a clear connection to his family, one with a noticeable connection to serpent imagery through the Black family’s consistent history of being sorted into Slytherin. He’s an individual, he’s got the backbone to stand out yet still in a way more acceptable to the family and he’s got the heart to still show love and kindness towards Sirius. I think, and I don’t know if this is an unpopular opinion, that Alphard values his family a whole lot. Which is ironic, because in part that’s what gets him blasted off of the family tapestry. Another name for this star is Soheil Solitarius, which translates to the bright solitary one. I interpret this to think he’s got some sort of loneliness to him, even within a family with so many people. That is what being too much of an individual in the Black family gets you. You can only push it too much before you become an outsider and I think Alphard is living right on the cusp.

Just like Alphard, Pollux is yet another star that is the brightest in its constellation, this time it’s the Gemini constellation. Just like how Walburga got her middle name from her mother, Alphard got his from his father. The name Pollux, albeit also the name of a star comes from the twins Castor and Pollux in both Greek and Roman mythology.

As a fun little extra thing, I think Alphard’s fun older guy that he seduces whenever he feels like it (Arvid Thicket) calls him Hydrae and occasionally he calls him Hydra’s Heart because he’s a sap lol.

Cygnus Phineas Black:

Cygnus was the third Cygnus in the family, being named after his paternal grandfather. It's suspected that Cygnus I was likely Cygnus's great-great-grandfather which would be the father of the second man he's named after, former Hogwarts headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black. Cygnus, the constellation derives its name from the Greek word for swan. Looking at the most common symbolism associated with swans, we can assume Cygnus has a certain amount of wisdom to him, which also works perfectly with the fact that he was named after a former headmaster at a respected institution.

Speaking of said former headmaster, Cygnus got his middle name from Phineas Nigellus Black, the most disliked headmaster of Hogwarts, at least believing the statement from Cygnus nephew, Sirius Black. The name Phineas does not come from a star but instead it is a name of Hebrew origin meaning “the mouth of a snake”/“serpent’s mouth”. From this we can pull that Cygnus not only shares the typical views of his family, but looking at a similar saying “having a serpent’s tongue” which means having a tendency to speak maliciously, we can assume that Cygnus might have been either particularly opinionated, a tendency to come off as harsh or negative or both. I would also like to note that Cygnus is specifically named after Phineas Nigellus and not Phineas Nigellus’s son of the same name (as he was disowned for supporting muggle rights).

Lucretia Elladora Black:

Upon first glance, one might think Lucretia is another Black not named after a star. That would technically be correct, though she is named after an asteroid known as 281 Lucretia, an asteroid belonging to the Flora family in the Main Belt. Lucretia also shares her first name with a noblewoman from Ancient Rome. Lucretia was raped by Sextus Tarquinius and subsequently committed suicide after confessing about the rape to her father and husband. It's said that this act was the/one of the first stepping stones in the rebellion that made the Roman government transition from a kingdom to a republic. While I won't go into details interpreting the fact that her namesake was raped, we can look into the fact that Lucretia was noted to be exceptionally devoted to her husband. I think this is especially interesting given how the Prewett family is connected to the Weasleys. They likely weren't at the time Lucretia married Ignatius but even if they were she probably walked the line of marrying someone too different from the Black family and yet she was so devoted to Ignatius that to her it hardly mattered.

Lucretia's middle name Elladora comes from Elladora Black, the sister of Phineas Nigellus. Elladora was actually alive when Lucretia was born (she died six years later in 1931) so it wouldn't be far off to assume that the two possibly had some sort of relationship. Elladora is another name not derived from a star or anything similar, though it is speculated on Elladora Black's wiki page that the name comes from Elladora's mother possibly being named Ella and Callidora Black (the character known as Callidora Black is born after Elladora of course, being the daughter of one of Elladora's nephews, but knowing how the Black family liked to name their children after previous relatives it does not seem completely unbelievable that there was a Callidora Black born before Elladora that she could have gotten the second half of her name from). There are two takes on "Ella", that it comes from the Norman form of the Germanic "Alia" which means "other" or "Aella", a Greek name meaning "whirlwind". Either way, looking at Lucretia one could argue that they fit in regard to her marriage to someone who is from a family that is not necessarily the most respected and in later years is very much considered an "other" to the Black family. The second half, "Dora" is derived from the Greek word "doron" and means "gift". It kinda follows a similar pattern to Walburga's middle name. Just like Walburga is "someone's whole world" Lucretia is "gift/a gift". Considering the usual take on the Black family I think this is kind of sweet.

On the opposite end, to talk a bit more about Elladora. She is noted as the Black that introduces decapitating house elves and hanging their heads on plaques when they're no longer useful. I think Lucretia would share a similar sentiment to her namesake and a more aggressive/demanding way of handling the elves does not seem far off.

Orion Regulus Black:

Orion is a constellation known for featuring a number of bright stars. It is also known for being a good star to navigate from. Looking at this I think it fits with Orion being the head of his family but also the head of Black family in general based off of the fact that he and his family were the ones to live and grow up in 12 Grimmauld Place, the ancestral home of the Black family. I’ve always found this very interesting with him being the youngest as well. In ancient Egypt the stars of Orion were regarded as a god and to me this tells me that this man holds himself in high regard, likely above others even his fellow Blacks. Ironically the bible mentions Orion three times, naming it “Kesil” which literally means fool. I think this perhaps speaks more to others perception of him rather than his own. I would suspect that perhaps due to his age there would be circumstances where he wouldn’t be taken as seriously, something that would surely infuriate a man who considers himself godlike. In Greek mythology he is described as unnaturally strong which one could pull from for a physical description though I don’t personally. What I find interesting is that he stood up to Gaia saying he could kill every animal on earth and was thus punished for it by Gaia sending a scorpion (the constellations of Scorpius) after him. He was later revived by Ophiuchus, the serpent bearer. He’s described as a hunter and a skilled one and while the best way I can think this translates to what we know of him in canon, it could be the way he protects his ancestral home with quite skilful magic. The fact that Orion is made up of so many stars, especially bright ones could also symbolise the Black family in general and how many not only came before him but also how tight knit the family is that he is literally made up of them. This could also be a nod to their incest tendencies, especially given how Orion is the only Black we actually know of (other than his wife of course) to marry another relative.

I am personally a big fan of Orion’s middle name being Regulus, no matter if it’s from a cis or trans Regulus standpoint. Either Orion named both his sons after himself which seems entirely on point with a man that likes himself so much, or Regulus looked enough up to his father and valued family naming traditions enough to name himself after the man. Obviously sharing a name with his son there's going to be some overlap when it comes to personality traits that you can pull from it. Regulus means "prince" and/or "little king" in Latin and this is another time where you see Orion with a name that means something of great importance/something that is generally speaking better than someone else. It is also known as "the king", "the great", "the mighty" and "the centre" as well as one of the royal stars in the Persian monarchy. Even if the whole "heart of the lion" does not fit with Orion in the same sense that some might think it fits Regulus, I'd argue that Orion values/possesses/wishes to possess a good amount of the things that a lion traditionally symbolise, such as courage, nobility, royalty, strength, stateliness and valour.

This ended up so much longer than originally planned which is why I'm saving Bellatrix, Andromeda, Narcissa, Sirius and Regulus for another post lol. Hopefully someone enjoys this ramble vjnfjbngjb I've already made multiple people listen to it as it was being made.

This was inspired by an ask I got from @starchildlazaro so I figured I'd tag you since it turned into a post instead of just a normal answer,,,

#walburga irma black #walburga black #alphard pollux black #alphard black #cygnus phineas black #cygnus black #lucretia elladora black #lucretia black #lucretia prewett #orion regulus black #orion black #riddle era #knights of walpurgis #the knights of walpurgis #marauders #marauders era #dead gay wizards from the 70s #the black family #the noble and most ancient house of black

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myapothecarydiary · 9 months ago

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Thoughts from reading The Apothecary Diaries Manga Ch. 3

An expansion on an idea presented last chapter–how Jinshi's appearance affects how others treat him and the potential seriousness of it. Don't want to take it too far, but could it be said that people treat him how women are often treated in real life? With cat-calling and such. Only there's a difference in the power dynamics at play as Jinshi is in a role of authority.

Here we are also getting more insight into Jinshi's internal life and thoughts, which present a notable contrast to how Maomao views him and the persona she has so far observed. He's not all charming smiles and sparkles, we see him contemplative and expressing a range of emotions.

As of now, though her intelligence is notable, you wouldn't say Maomao could check these boxes, but lineage + beauty + intelligence are qualifications I think we should keep in mind in relation to her character. Maomao low key has some princess raised as a peasant vibes going on. Maomao and "a sense of virtue" have a less clearcut relationship, but it will be a topic of conversation in the future.

I think it's easy to imagine that in a more typical story, Maomao might have a more Cinderella-like arc, a peasant gaining the attention/favor of the Emperor through beauty and kindness and I am once again reminded of how Maomao is valued first and foremost for her intelligence. She will be found to be beautiful, but her beauty did not gain her Jinshi's attention or her position as a lady-in-waiting.

Both Maomao and Jinshi think of the rear palace as a cage. I wonder if he considers it a cage for himself as well considering what he must do to occupy space there? Or is it simply the opposite–a path to freedom? Perhaps both?

Jinshi also recognizes the role he is to play, but that does not mean he supports all the actions he must take. Everything is not always what it seems. Like Maomao, Jinshi is pragmatic about his appearance and recognizes the value/power in his beauty, but he also seems to resent it to some degree and view it as a burden. Pragmatic but resigned.

Jinshi's pov on the entire concubine system is quite interesting. He seems to disapprove of how things are done (and how the consorts/women are treated?) Surely this clashes with his desire for the Emperor to secure an heir?

Is "the plan" the one regarding the aphrodisiac (and the mid-ranking concubine/military officer)? Or his wider plan regarding working in the rear palace?

I'm wondering about what exactly produces Jinshi's feelings of...let's call it "glee"? in regards to "using" Maomao and how useful she will prove to be. Is it that she entertains him? Excites what feels like a dull and monotonous life? Is it that he enjoys exercising power in this way? I feel it's more the former, especially since he next goes on to describe how she treats him differently than anyone else he has ever encountered. She is novel. And Jinshi, as someone used to people being taken with his beauty, enjoys how her reaction to him goes beyond being unaffected by his beauty to the point of being repelled by it.

It's interesting that Maomao can seem rather monotone and subdued (except when she's not–she is extremely expressive when it comes to what she is passionate about, like poison), but her face also often acts as a give away. (Is that just a Jinshi related thing?) I mentioned this in the previous chapter and how she skirts the line in terms of respectfulness in how her actions and expressions (and even tone) clash, but maybe she isn't really so successful in skirting the line if her expression is so obvious.

I find it interesting how the manga opts to adapt the idea of Maomao as a "new toy" for Jinshi–he is the one to think it and make that connection. Also lol at it having him explicitly state he's "not a masochist" because hmm there's an argument to be made that both he and Maomao derive pleasure from pain.

Maomao as intriguing to Jinshi feels important. I said that he values her knowledge and skills, and I suppose that + how she treats him differently than others do (+ him eventually seeing her as quite beautiful) forms the basis of his attraction to her. But her being intriguing also factors into that and reminds me of all the intrigue and mysteries Maomao (and Jinshi) get involved in. She herself is like a mystery to be solved (as is he to her as the story goes on!)

Maomao as a toy also speaks to how Jinshi uses her. Yes, she entertains him, but "toy" also connotes a power dynamic (and so part of the enjoyment does come from having power over her?) Maomao is of course later referred to as a cat, not to mention her actual name, and Maomao as Jinshi's pet seems like an apt way to describe their initial dynamic.

(oh no she fell down a (pet) rabbit hole) BUT I really think there is something to be said for considering Maomao and Jinshi through "pet" and all its various meanings. Only thing is Maomao is not tamed or domesticated XD (but maybe she'll trend in that direction as time goes on aka adapt to Jinshi's lifestyle and status?)

For now, Jinshi is the master and holds the power in a traditional sense, but he will also quickly develop affection and favoritism for Maomao (and wants her companionship!) + despite how the dynamic should work, Maomao will hold power over him in turn (as with actual cats, the question is who is really the master and I think the answer is both)

Cutie Maomao appreciation segue

The panacea is presented here as a bit of a segue itself and to show Maomao's enthusiasm + passion + dedication to medicine and experimentation, but it always feels like a weighted thing to drop, like it will be important later, at least symbolically/metaphorically. Perhaps it also works as the perfect intersection of Maomao's care for others + thirst for knowledge/curiosity.

Mini Maomao! A reminder of how petite she is and how that works along with her status (as a visual representation of it in contrast with characters higher up who tower over her). Another way she appears unassuming and is underestimated.

(also–yay Gaoshun is here!!)

In terms of Jinshi using Maomao vs Maomao using Jinshi– Jinshi's status enables Maomao access and freedom (that she wouldn't normally be afforded in her position and situation) through her connection to him. She is able to do work she enjoys and indulge her curiosities because of him.

Circling back to what I said earlier about how Maomao can seem subdued but is extremely expressive when it comes to what she is passionate about. And it actually goes beyond her facial expressions, her whole body is invigorated and taken over XD

Her blushing expression and body position at the top of that second page almost resembles a girl in love lol

It is an interesting adaptational choice to make Jinshi's expression kind of an unamused frown here–I wonder what to make of it. (We get it described as "He watched her with a mixture of curiosity and sheer bewilderment" in the light novel). Especially as it presents Maomao in a different light than he has seen her in so far.

It feels like Maomao is almost actively seeking reasons to criticize and dislike Jinshi (to justify the instinctual bad vibes she gets? And going off the fake-ness she picks up on. This can also demonstrate a general dislike of people in high positions and the behavior their status affords them) but also this moment illustrates her appreciation for hard work and competence. Not that Jinshi is doing anything admirable here, it is just that Maomao seems determined to (understandably) see the worst in him/leans into bad faith interpretations of his actions.

Paper and ice–I call this the collection of planting seeds for future storylines and topics. I love how we're given information that will be relevant later in a way that feels natural and factors into the world-building.

Things to add to Maomao's list of skills XD

Okay Miss Maomao getting distracted on the job! More of her getting invigorated by her passions and how they can take over her mind and focus. But also amusing considering her criticisms of Jinshi "having too much free time" (yes, she still washed the dishes and did work, but her attention was diverted and she lost track of time)

More of Maomao's skill set and add alcohol to the list of seeds for the future (and lol @ everyone's reactions to her late night snack plans "what weird shit is this girl into?")

"Alcohol can be categorized as a type of medicine. The more sensitive a person is to a particular drug, the greater the impact." Not just a seed but add it to the pile of potential poison/medicine symbolism

More lol @ Maomao. I said her upbringing in the pleasure district serves her well in the rear palace, but it (in addition to her apothecary background) also give her a unique and potentially off-putting outlook. This whole scenario can go to show how in spite of her regard for propriety, Maomao doesn't always behave how she "should."

More of how Maomao frames Jinshi–"anyone would be attracted to him but to me, he is a worm." Does Maomao's familiarity with beauty make it somewhat ineffective on her? She makes the connection here about how Jinshi's beauty could be a burden (or not just harmful to others but to himself).

I also enjoy how a blushing Jinshi is described as being enough "to make anyone lose their head" when Maomao often says she does things/follows orders because she wants to keep her head attached to her body (aka not be executed).

Jinshi's attractiveness to both men and women is both a nod to varying sexualities and how he in a way transcends a binary understanding of gender presentation. I think it is interesting how Maomao is so blunt and matter-of-fact about people's attraction, to Jinshi and in general.

Similarly, I love this (repeated) matter-of-fact outlook on aphrodisiacs and pleasure from Maomao (it is almost non-judgmental but also emphasizes safety).

Alright, guess who used too many images and so has to continue this post elsewhere for the very end of the chapter...

#kusuriya no hitorigoto #the apothecary diaries #kusuriya no hitorigoto manga #the apothecary diaries manga #analysis #thoughts #maomao #jinshi #jinmao #jinshi x maomao #tad manga #manga #annotations #tad manga chapter 3 #chapter 3

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velvetvexations · 5 months ago

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But they still use the n-word, anon. They still use the n-word. Yet you think that years and years ago they were so worried about being "challenged" on grounds of transphobia ("transmisogyny" was not in widespread use at the time) that they felt the need to change their language? Even though they still, to this day, use the n-word.

You're an idiot.

And yes, actually, GNC boys who present in a feminine matter does affect things! You can't seriously pretend that every single depiction of an AMAB person wearing women's clothing could only ever possibly be a trans woman or based on trans women. That's not only ahistorical and erases real people right in front of you, but it also gets fucking racist as hell when you start imposing that view on other countries. Did you know, for instance, that "kathoey", the term "ladyboy" is a translation of, is generally used by people who self-identify as men? Because I'm guessing the answer is "no."

Femboys are and have always been a thing, stop fucking erasing them and appropriating their language just because you desperately want the world to revolve around you.

So many young trans girls are going to come out of this traumatized from the dooming, isolated and potentially trapped in abusive relationships because they'd been indoctrinated into the belief that only other trans women will ever love and support them.

The problem is that it has "fab" in there, so they can't do it like they're trying to do with femboy because it inherently points to "TMEs."

(2/2 ana mardoll) i really dont mind when trans women genuinely criticize specific terrible shit that a trans man has actually done, and mardoll has always been a fucking loser who does all the stereotypical negative shit that people tend to act like trans men do. i just wish people would not act like its standard behavior to be like that and judge us all on the basis of the worst of our community lmao. this is behavior that goes both ways tho, trans men judge trans women like this too. idk lol

The person I've seen most accused of being a ringleader was Neon Yang, who was definitely not that even though they contributed. The one I most remember was the trans woman who said something to the effect of "yeah well it didn't sound like the author was trans so I was completely justified actually" and that drives me up a wall because the transradfem girlies are going to lose their mind when I post the first chapter of Nursed with Kerosine.

I have to answer them mostly in batches, with a few exceptions, because I get so many.

@ratbastarddotfuck

Imagine if everyone just decided to start saying a PoC who votes Republican is white.

It's going to be difficult for them to ever actually make a callout post for me because they can screenshot my takes but there will never be a single piece of evidence that I've ever harassed anyone and they know it.

It's not just about taking it seriously, but it's extremely repellent just as content and can be severely triggering, which it would have been for me if I hadn't watched it when I was a teenager before The Deeplore Trauma settled into my bones. I don't think I can even get into the later stuff now because of the association.

But fuck me gently with a chainsaw, everything else about it should be immensely cool and it sucks it's not in something that isn't weighed down by that.

Explicitly using dysphoria as a plot point like that is interesting and does sound like good fuel for a transfem headcanon.

No, it isn't, the only thing being discussed is whether he fits the criteria for "TMA" or not, and he does.

Buffalo Bill is not a stereotype of trans women, and in fact I applaud and deeply appreciate the author for making that crystal clear and treating trans people with great respect and sympathy for the time in which it was written, but he became the model for a stereotype of trans women that transphobes have taken and ran with since the day the the movie came out.

#transandro phobia #trans misogyny #exor sexism #discourse #cw slurs

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girlsteria · 11 days ago

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That Time James Gandolifni Radicalized Me

A couple of days ago, I was struck by a quote from beloved New Jersey Princess, James Gandolfini. The line comes from a conversation between Gandolfini and Lorraine Bracco for the March 1991 issue of Interview Magazine. The actors cover what you’d expect two nasally, east-coast Italians to cover: the mafia genre, its relationship with Italian-Americans, and strip clubs. I wish I could say the quote in question derives from a meditation on Italian-Americanism or Italiano ennui, but no, it’s from the strip clubs side of things. When discussing the aforementioned strip clubs, a horrified Bracco asks Gandolfini why men are attracted to such a venue. Gandolfini responded, “Um, I don’t know. I guess it’s a safe place to look at women,” (Gandolfini, 1999). I’m aware that this does not read as the striking statement I mentioned earlier, at least not at first site. It’s a simple answer, one that does little to satisfy the fear in Bracco’s question. But what has lingered with me is not its validity as an answer, rather, the idea behind it. You have to admit, conflating a strip club with a “safe place” leaves a lot to the imagination.

Is there any relationship quite as fluid as the one between women and the strip club? If you were to ask this woman about her relationship to the strip club, you would get something between a well-worn sigh, followed by an apology for how long the response will be. I will say that in recent years, I’ve become more confident in my thinking. As a woman, I am discomforted by how robust the strip club is within the male gaze. A place that prioritizes male pleasure oftentimes at the expense of female safety is not one I find particularly appealing. As an anti-capitalist, I am also put-off by the idea of, quite literally, using your body as a form of profit. While I find there to be truth in these beliefs, my opinions have been challenged by this concept of the strip club as a safe space. What does that mean exactly?

If we are to look at Gandolfini’s thinking from a more inquisitive lens, there is a fascinating undercurrent running through it. More often than not, referring to the strip club as a “safe space” would either get you laughed at or cancelled. But when functioning at its best, the strip club can act as a kind of padded room. If its workers and clientele are treated generously and proper precautions are installed, then the strip club becomes a forum where patrons can interact with sexuality, the body, and taboo in a healthy, non-judgmental place. When sitting with this iteration of the strip club, it doesn’t sound so inhumane, now does it? In fact, it sounds rather productive, especially in today’s culture given how frayed our relationship to taboo is. So why isn’t the strip club, and ideas similar to it, more embraced?

I know I just said we have a frayed relationship with taboo, but that’s putting it charitably. In actuality, we are shockingly repelled by it. Despite welcoming much needed change in what is perceived as deviant, we are just as pearl-clutchy as we were pre-woman being allowed to wear pants when it comes to taboo. This is arguably best understood through the loathsome sex scene discourse. Sex scenes in media have long been scrutinized, however, the conversation was reinvigorated online when “The Boy is Mine” actor Penn Badgley professed that he would no longer film sex scenes out of respect for his marriage. Badgley received overwhelming support for his decision which in turn instigated a new wave of disdain for the sex scene online. The artist formerly known as Twitter has become a hotspot for the discourse. If you open the app, chances are you wouldn’t last two seconds without running into a post that goes like, “This is so true!!!!!!!! Sex scenes are uncomfy, exploitative, and never serve narrative purpose anyways!!!!!!!” A real post from a real person, which got two million views by the way, goes as such, “We are adults, we don't need to see sex scenes. Just show the actors kissing then cut to a scene where they are laying in bed afterwards,” (Aynda Mthimkhulu, 2023).

The backlash against taboo can be attributed to an inexhaustible list of factors. I want to make it clear that my goal here is not to divulge into that list. There is plenty of scholarship that communicates the history and cultural reputation of taboo far better than I can. What I am attracted to, however, is the irony in the belief that taboo and interactions with it are inherently useless, if not downright harmful. Taboo is often seen as a synonym for deviancy. Deviancy, like taboo, is in a state of moral panic. Our current reaction to deviance, no matter how severe, is to publicly shame and criminalize the perpetrator. Whether it’s Jeremy Allen White kissing his co-worker or Chris Brown beating a woman within an inch of her life, any indiscretion is met with offense. And it is also met with plans to avoid them in the future.

We’ve all seen the, “video games make kids trigger happy,” defense at some point in time. The suggestion that follows is usually that violent video games should be banned and we have come to accept a similar framework for taboo or deviance. Don’t want your kid to become the guy who masturbates on the MFL? Ban sex scenes! Don’t want your wife to become a revenge-induced psychopath? Don’t let her read Gone Girl! You get the picture. There is obviously research that disproves such an approach is successful, but even without the research, I have to ask, when has repression ever been advantageous? Do you think the purity-obsessed and sexually repressed homes of future pedophiles helped them at all? Or was it that repression that yielded them to a warped perception of sexuality? And if we remove the depictions of domestic abuse in The Bluest Eye is that going to make abusive fathers just disappear? If we want to truly avoid anti-social behavior, we must foster spaces where people can converse with the sick, the ugly, and the crude in a low-stake and structured tone. The alternative, while appealing in its simplicity, is throwing the baby out with the bath water.

We don’t all have to go to a strip club in order to develop a well-adjusted relationship with sexuality. Sex scenes, of course, achieve a similar effect within the comfort of our living rooms or a theater. Participating in celebrity gossip is another apt way of discovering what taboo means to you. Talking about a celebrity cheating on his wife with friends allows you to consider what you want from monogamy while also acting within the parameters of a fourth wall between the celebrity and yourself. It’s the definition of a no harm, no foul situation. By giving ourselves the chance to flirt with taboo, we not only learn more about who we are, we also put all of our nasty, little deviancies into something secure and fruitful.

I don’t know if Gandolfini knew what he was tapping into when he told Bracco about his safe place. What I know, however, is that his safe place has become an endangered species. And just when I think it is gone forever, a clip of Julia Ducournau’s Titane appears on my feed. Without even realizing it, I have found a safe place in the wild. Although the clip’s portrayal of a woman having sex with a car is as painful as it sounds, I watched the whole way through. All the aches and pains are showing me entirely new sides of myself that I didn’t even know I had. I can’t wait to get to know them.

#featured #girlsteria #zine #essay #james gandolfini #New Jersey

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failing-to-write-again · 2 years ago

Text

Imagine Confusing the Sakamakis using Optical Illusions

"Vampires are basically an evolved predator species, so their eyesight is pretty different to ours. Turns out that if you put a big geometric shape right up close in their field of vision, it confuses the shit out of their brains and, you know, makes them panic" -Trevor Belmont.

So what Trevor speaks to there is motion dazzle, a theory as to why zebra have vertical stripes. Basically vertical stripes tend to confuse predator brains more than horizontal ones due to how our eyes work. And think to what crossed used to look like when Christianity was fancy:

[photo above of potential iron age stone cross, note the intricate geometrical knot design]

[Above is an example image of vertical stripes like a zebra being hard to look at for long periods of time]

Vertical and geometric patterns which could confuse predator eyes as they do not know where to focus for a few minutes. It's not a repellent more a delay of sorts. See how even human eyes can start to make weird splotches of ovals or shapes when looking at the vertical stripes?

So from what I know of the Sakamakis they were born around the time wooden crosses were more common for poorer folk, crosses which would have less of an effect. So they probably haven't actually interacted with a cross like that which could confuse em. So imagine a sacrificial bride showing the boys optical illusions and them realising maybe some of the vampire myths hold some weight. You are already starting to get Shu and Reiji to warm up to you. For simplicity’s sake below is the motion dazzle optical illusion you’ll use.

Shu

Slowly two blue eyes peak out at you when you plop down in the hallway across from one very sleepy blonde. “I wanna make a deal.” You sat in front of the sprawled out boy holding some paper, waiting for any indication it was safe to keep talking or to leave him to his music.

After a short stretch of silence you receive an eyebrow raise, leading you to push onward. “Can you look at a picture for me and tell me what’s in it? Same return as always you can suck my blood and I won’t struggle.“ A harmless task as always for a simple favor, a comfortable habit formed not long after your arrival. Shu was hardly complaining, you were certainly less dense than some of the other women sent by the church and knew not to ask too much from him. Slowly removing an earbud and shifting to not be as slouched against the wall behind him, Shu nodded finally giving full attention to the girl across from him.

Flipping up the card revealing the image, immediately you saw his eyes begin to dart about and his eyebrows furrow in confusion. You begin to smile realising you were right.

“Remember when I said how I was interested in why myths about vampires existed? You though it was all just nonsense but thanks to my biology essay we now know where the cross thing comes from.” Slowly lowering down the card and allowing his brain to calm down you explain.

“Your eyes are more like a predator than mine so optical illusions that match camouflage patterns like zebra, it scrambles your brain for a few minutes because your eyes don’t know where to focus.“ You looked awfully proud of yourself in Shu’s eyes. He almost had to admire the fact you had figured something out he had not yet experienced. You had not yet given up on trying to find small human joys or entertainment, it was almost cute,

You didn’t get much of a response though, already getting pulled into his lap allowing him to even the playing field with his fangs...

Reiji

Three gentle knocks sounded followed by the squeaking of hinges as Reiji opened the door. “You are on time,“ a simple statement neither praising nor scolding, but the best you could hope for from the bespectacled man. Tea times had once been a cause for much more fear than now, cups laced with potions being given to you once a week when you first came to the manor. However, after a failed potion allowed you to drink and converse normally with Reiji he had since lessened the drugging to a minimum. You weren’t daft enough to question his change of heart.

Sinking into the large armchair closer to the window you politely waited for Reiji to introduce that day’s tea. “I decided to go for a simple pomegranate tea after you mentioned not having an expansive fruit palate, if we are to continue these meetings your knowledge on beverages should be improved.” You thank him for his thought behind his choice as always, allowing the backhanded complement to pass by you.

From there conversation begins as to Reiji’s recent workings and the going on of the household until coming to your current reading.

“Well, as I mentioned before I want to look into the differences between humans and vampires and why so many myths you’ve said to be false have been made. I have actually made some progress on both in the library recently,“ you begin.

“Do go on, I am more than content to correct or verify any claims made in the library.“ Reiji sets down his teacup and crosses his legs, he looked both intrigued and unimpressed at the idea of you knowing details as to how he works.

“To put it simply, motion dazzle. The myth of the cross helping preventing vampire attack began back when Catholics made very ornate crosses for their churches, these would cause motion dazzle which could be confused with being God’s will. A simple cross won’t do much but I believe your predator based eyesight would potentially be distracted by these designs.“

“I highly doubt something that simple could confuse a being such as myself, I would remember to not shape your knowledge to fit our bias.”

“Well may I ask you to see if I am right at all?“ Pulling out a piece of paper and passing it face down to Reiji you simply wait for a response. Slowly taking the paper and turning it over, Reiji immediately gets a reminder as to why he stopped drugging you. You were not dull, you were sharp and would not believe something without proof and the way a headache was beginning to form between his eyes and his inability to focus fully on the image was certainly disproving his statement. A hand coming in to block the image allowed Reiji to snap out of his thoughts. You weren’t smug however, much to your benefit, not saying anything as you moved to sit back down. At least that was what you attempted before you were moved faster than you could process to be sitting in Reiji’s chair as you hands were pinned to you sides.

“You’re lucky you at least asked before pulling such a stunt. However, I cannot excuse you trying to act above your station. You are a human, you are easily toyed with and you obviously need to be reminded of this.“ Leaning forward and burying his fangs in your neck, you knew better than to argue back while his ego was bruised like this.

Yet it didn’t elude Reiji how he had not bitten as hard as he could, and his knee hitting the floor as he drank leaving him in a position he would rather be caught dead in. Kneeling...

Well I cannot write anymore tonight. If this is interesting enough to anyone to want more of the boys I can certainly try to write more. I just thought this was a neat headcannon lol.

#shu sakamaki #reiji sakamaki #reiji sakamaki x reader #shu sakamaki x reader #Diabolik Lovers #diabolik lovers imagine #diabolik lover headcannon #probably ooc sorry

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lilyundertaker · 3 years ago

Note

https://9gag.com/gag/aGjr4d6

(Don't worry it's not suspicious)

Boruto headcanons and reaction of when Boruto was protected by his childhood friend (Saradas twin sister) who he absolutely loved like it was shown in the video as Boruto hurt his leg..yes Sarada's sister is incredibly girly with obvious reasons but she's a fighter with swords..Sasuke taught her. Borutos childhood friend broke down in tears afterwards saying outloud "I'm the kind of scary strong girl you hate! *cries*" even though Boruto never said anything like that..he may act immature but he admired her for every sword moment and Sasukes reaction..

Note: Oh gosh, I just LOVED that scene from the Black Butler: Book of Atlantic! I kinda can imagine that the reason, why Boruto would be cautious of stronger girls was prollly from angering up Himawari or even more so - by Mitsuki's failure to provide him an alibi, which gave him some scolding from mom Hinata.

Pairing: Boruto x Sarada's!Twin-sister!reader, Boruto x you

Headcanons:

You stood right in front of injured Boruto as your father repelled the charging shinobi;

You were thankful that your twin Sarada wasn't yet discharged from hospital after her last mission, meaning that you wouldn't have to worry about her too, who in fact was eager to join the mission of discovering the motives of a group, consisting shinobi gone-astray;

As Sasuke was holding back the attackers you wrapped Boruto's arm around your neck and helped him to retreat further back, however, the path was blocked by three other shinobi, who had come to aid their comrades;

You looked in worry as you were unsure of how to proceed further, the problem being that you had this huge crush on Boruto, however, after Mitsuki's unsuccessfull attempt to provide a cover for Boruto's actions, Boruto got into trouble from HInata and ever since then he would ramble now and then of how scarry his mom could get;

You took it as a sign that Boruto wasn't keen on strong and powerful girls, so, in spite of your training schedule with your own parents, you began to attend less by the day, giving mild impressions that you had given up on a life as a shinobi, especially since you switched from your training shorts to a long, dark-blue skirt and a matching top (the look being mainly inspired by Ino Yamanaka);

At this moment you were afraid to break your newly developed charachter, on which you had worked so hard, however, your main priority now was to rather make sure that Boruto does not sustain any more injuries than he already has;

You leaned him against a tree on your left and instantly activated your sharingan, putting the three opponents into a deep state of genjutsu and knocking them all out with a single blow to the head without breaking a sweat;

However, another rogue came running towards you from your right, making you instinctively to unsheath your katana, to block his kunai;

Despite your long training gap, you still excelled in fighting, disarming the shinobi and putting him under a genjutsu as well;

The red of your eyes turned black once again, yet as Sasuke aproached you, he couldn't help but notice that you were crying;

First the elder shinobi decided to attend to Boruto's wound, healing it as much as he could (since medical ninjutsu is not exactly his thing), and only then he was going to ask of what his daughter was so upset about;

But Boruto beated him to it and asked in his stead;

Boruto was shocked, when he heard your reasoning of not acting lady like, but most of all he was surprised by the fact that you just fully confessed your feelings for him, making him blush like crazy;

"Well, I was just refering to my mother, when I was talking about not liking scary women, but...let's just say that....well I think it's kinda cool, what you just did...saving my life. It's definitely clear that you're an Uchiha heiress!" said Boruto, blushing and messing all over with his words;

Sasuke could only smile from afar, thinking of how much his daughter had grown and feeling proud, seeing a lot of Itachi's potential in her.

#boruto naruto next generations #boruto x reader #boruto x you #you #oc #boruto uzumaki #sasuke uchiha

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years ago

Note

Lao Nie and Nie Mingjue have a good day together and bond. What was their relationship like before the qi deviation?

Boys - ao3

“Two paths, hmm?” Lao Nie said, squinting at the road markers in front of him. “Well, I don’t see why we can’t go down this one to the right –”

“No.”

“No? Why not?”

“Because little uncle asked me not to let you meet any new dangerous women,” Nie Mingjue said, looking as serious as ever – only his little hands, swinging to the side, revealed that he was just a ten-year-old. Still a child, no matter how mature he tried to act. “And a place called the Springtime Ghost Valley sounds like it probably has dangerous women.”

“Hey,” Lao Nie protested mildly. “Who’s the father here, me or you?”

“If a-die wants a new wife, little uncle will find one that isn’t inclined to kill him.”

That sounded like a recitation.

“Then what’s even the point,” Lao Nie grumbled, and reached out to ruffle his son’s hair, enjoying how Nie Mingjue yelped when he did, glaring up at him with offended dignity.

In all honesty, Lao Nie had no idea how he’d ended up with a son as serious and sincere and earnest as Nie Mingjue – he himself hadn’t taken anything seriously in years. Probably it was his mother’s influence.

Now that was a woman.

Not that his foxy second wife hadn’t been woman enough to blow him away either…

Hmm.

Perhaps they had a point about his taste in women.

“How about men?” Lao Nie suggested. “If it really means so much to you, I could swear off of women entirely –”

“A-die.”

“Mm?”

“Leave Sect Leader Wen alone.”

Lao Nie cracked up.

Because Lao Nie was the father, however easy-going he might sometimes be, they ended up heading down the right-hand path regardless. They were supposed to be night-hunting, after all – it was the perfect bonding experience according to Jiwei, though Lao Nie suspected his saber of having selfish intentions there – and deliberately avoiding a place with ‘Ghost’ in the name was hardly appropriate for scions of a Great Sect like theirs.

Although the reference to springtime was admittedly a little worrisome.

If it turned out to be a brothel, with the ghost thing being just a clever if somewhat tonedeaf marketing ploy, Lao Nie was turning around and taking them both home at once. He wasn’t going to risk little Nie Mingjue turning out anything like that awful Jin Guangshan – or, nearly as bad, having to explain anything more about the joys of sex to those earnest little button eyes and dimpled cheeks with no time to prepare first. He still hadn’t recovered emotionally from the last few times Nie Mingjue had asked him a question like that.

When they finally reached the end of the path, turning a corner to behold a clearing that was probably completely ordinary during the daytime, Lao Nie found that he’d been both right and wrong.

“It’s a ghost brothel,” he marveled. He’d never seen anything like it in his life.

“Dangerous women,” Nie Mingjue reminded him.

“A-Jue! Let your father live a little!”

Nie Mingjue rolled his eyes.

Lao Nie virtuously ignored his slightly judgmental brat of a son. It wouldn’t do him that much harm to go visit for a while, with the risk of Jin Guangshan-ness being relatively minimal; they were ghosts, after all. It was the duty of every cultivator to fight against evil, wherever it lived, no matter its form –

“Fighting? Is that what it’s called?”

“Who taught you sarcasm?” Lao Nie asked, knowing perfectly well that the answer was himself. “I ought to smack them.”

Nie Mingjue crossed his arms over his chest and pouted at him. “Fine, it’s fighting, we’ll go fight them. Do you want me to start drawing ghost-repelling talismans?”

“Liberate first!” Lao Nie sang out. “Come on, let’s go see what they’re like – er, that is, I mean, see what grievances they have that are keeping them here, of course. There’s no harm in dangerous women. Just don’t let them eat your yang energy!”

“It’s not my yang energy that I’m worried about, a-die…”

The ghostly madame was an extraordinarily charming person and Lao Nie liked her at once.

Not liked her liked her – he’d fallen head over heels with both of his wives from the first word, and that hadn’t happened here – but still, conversing with her was an extraordinarily enjoyable way to spend time.

She was witty and clever, with a broad range of knowledge and a gift for keeping a conversation lively and exciting; she could meet every verbal riposte with ease, and looked utterly gorgeous and composed the entire time. Sure, she kept trying to lure Lao Nie into an orgy in which all of his yang energy would be slowly sucked out before his body was ripped to pieces and his bones cracked open so that the ghosts could consume the marrow within, but what a way to go, right?

Nie Mingjue spent his time making friends with the ghost prostitutes.

Lao Nie wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting.

Well, he supposed he’d been expected a range of things – anything from Nie Mingjue getting suckered in by one of the ghosts and needing to be rescued by his father to Nie Mingjue just pulling out his Baxia and trying to stab them because he felt offended by their existence. He wasn’texpecting his ghostly conversational partner to suddenly frown mid-sentence and say, “What is he talking to them about?”

Lao Nie turned his head slightly and started listening.

“– just because you’re a ghost doesn’t mean you have to work allthe time, surely,” Nie Mingjue was saying, completely serious and earnest in the way he so often was. Lao Nie’s son had in fact inherited his sense of humor, only it tended to be buried fairly deep down and make its way up to the surface in an understated way in the most unexpected times; the rest of the time, he was straightforward to a fault, treating everything sincerely. “The birds in the trees, the animals in the fields – even among prostitutes, even the street-walking ladies know they need to take time to rest! I can’t believe you really have to work every single night. How long has it been since you had a night off?”

The ghost prostitutes around him had contemplative looks on their faces.

“Isn’t the whole point of becoming a vengeful man-eating ghost that you have more power than regular humans? I don’t know, it kind of seems like a bad deal if you have even worse conditions after all that –”

“I’m sorry,” the ghostly madame said, looking irritated underneath all her carefully painted smiles. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment…”

Lao Nie had to bite his hand to keep from laughing out loud.

“I think we’ve all learned a valuable life lesson today,” Lao Nie announced.

Nie Mingjue was pouting again.

“I don’t think we did,” he said, sounding profoundly skeptical. A filial child like Nie Mingjue shouldn’t sound so skeptical of his beloved father’s words of wisdom, really; if Lao Nie wasn’t so heartless, he might be offended. Of course, the skepticism might have originated from the heartlessness, so it was all six of one, half a dozen of the other in the end. “Those poor ghost ladies! They were still fighting each other by the time we left!”

“I’ve never seen a ghost pull another ghost’s hair before,” Lao Nie conceded. It had been brilliant. “One day, someone’s going to figure out a more reliable way to use ghosts to fight ghosts, mark my words.”

“Isn’t that demonic cultivation?”

“Oh, sure,” Lao Nie said, still cheerful. “If whoever it is does too much of it, eventually it’ll build up into a backlash that’ll kill them in some grossly horrific manner. Probably ripped into pieces by the backlash. And that’s not even counting how they’d be ostracized and hunted by the cultivation world first! But still, imagine how exciting it’d be in the meantime!”

“A-die…”

Lao Nie patted Nie Mingjue on the head again, earning another glare. “Immortality is a lie, A-Jue. We’re all here for a short time, each and every one of us, and only the length determined by fate and man. All that matters is what we do with the time that we have, and whether we’ve used it well.”

“To fight against evil wherever it lives, no matter its form?”

“To leave the world a better place than when we entered it, and to let our memories linger in the hearts of those that love us,” Lao Nie said. “Fighting evil is the best way to accomplish the former, and living a good life the latter. And you might as well have a good time doing it, if you can! Everything else is just extra.”

Nie Mingjue thought about that for a moment. “And a-die likes to have second helpings of extras?”

That was true. Lao Nie was a man of prodigious appetites of all sorts.

Despite that, he protested, “That wasn’t the point I was trying to make. I was being serious for once.” Seeing Nie Mingjue’s skeptical look, he made a face. “I can be serious, sometimes!”

“Can you?”

“It’s been known to happen! A date written on a wall will be right once a year.”

“Not if the wall gets painted over.”

“Ouch,” Lao Nie said. “I don’t even understand the metaphor you’re making, and I’m still going ouch.”

“Uh-huh,” Nie Mingjue said, utterly unimpressed. “You know, if you wanted one of the ghost ladies to be Third Mother, you would’ve been better off with the one playing the qin, not the ghost madame. She was much more powerful.”

Lao Nie arched his eyebrows. “Was she?”

Nie Mingjue nodded. “She had claws like a lizard.”

Lao Nie tried to remember which one of them had been the ghost girl playing the qin. He couldn’t quite remember at first – the women there were all surpassingly lovely, almost to the point of over-saturation – and then suddenly an image came into view, a beauty with a veil and sharp sword-like eyebrows, leaning over the qin with the shining pearl hanging in the center of her forehead dipping down.

And, yes, claws like a lizard.

“Hmm,” Lao Nie said. “That might have been a dragon, actually. You should be careful of those, they’re tricky.”

They’ll rip you and three dozen other cultivators besides into more pieces than can be picked up without blinking an eye, he meant, and you won’t even know what hit you. Avoid at all costs.

“Oh,” Nie Mingjue said, blinking. “Oops.”

“…what do you mean, oops?”

“Nothing bad! If I’m not supposed to interact with her, does that mean I should go and give back the gift she gave me?”

“She gave you a – give me that,” Lao Nie said. “This instant.”

“But a-die, you said there’s no harm in dangerous women –”

“For me, you foolish child!”

“I suppose it’s fine,” Lao Nie finally concluded, having inspected the dragon pearl from all angles several times over. “I don’t know how you do this, A-Jue.”

“Do what?”

Lao Nie thought about how his foxy second wife had cooed over his eldest son with a (slightly disturbing) fervor that she otherwise reserved only for eating snacks, and how viciously she’d dealt with anyone who’d even thought of interfering with Nie Mingjue in any way. He was fairly sure he himself had only survived his second marriage on account of having such a charming son.

“Don’t worry about it,” he finally said, mostly because he wasn’t entirely sure how to explain – or if he even entirely understood. “Anyway, it’s nothing dangerous. Rather the contrary! Dragon pearls like this are given to baby dragons to protect them.”

Nie Mingjue frowned. “What feeds on baby dragons?”

“…I think it’s mostly to protect them from themselves,” Lao Nie said, feeling a little uncertain about it himself. “And if it’s not, I don’t think I want to know, to be perfectly honest. There’s fighting evil, which is only right, and then there’s suicide, which is a waste – a wise man should know how to judge the difference between them. Anyway, that wasn’t the point I was trying to make.”

“It wasn’t?”

“It wasn’t, and you aren’t allowed to start worrying about the fate of theoretical baby dragons – I forbid it.” Nie Mingjue scowled. He’d probably started worrying already. “My point was actually that a pearl like this is a remarkably powerful protective tool for cultivators – one of those things that can only be found by chance and not made. Keep this on you, and you’ll never have to fear your opponent in battle.”

Nie Mingjue looked thoughtful.

“What do you want to do with that pearl, anyway?” Lao Nie asked after they’d gotten home and split up just long enough to take a nice long relaxing bath and gobble down dinner. “Do you want to put it in the treasury?”

Nie Mingjue blinked twice, which for him was practically the same as looking terribly shifty-eyed.

“You already did something with it,” Lao Nie deduced. “Something that isn’t using it as intended.”

“Oh, no,” Nie Mingjue said, looking shocked at the mere suggestion. “I’m definitely using it as intended.”

Lao Nie looked him up and down. “You’re not wearing it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t use it. Protection from your opponents in proper battle – that seems like cheating!”

Lao Nie felt a slight headache coming on. People who said they wanted a good boy for a son had no idea what they were getting themselves into, he reflected. Why couldn’t he have birthed a complete rascal instead?

“All right,” he said, instead of saying any of that because at the end of the day, bewildering as he might be, Nie Mingjue was his son and he loved him more than anything. “So what did you do with it?”

“I gave it to Huaisang.”

Lao Nie blinked. He supposed that really was using it for its intended purpose – protecting babies from themselves – although he suspected the dragon lady had been thinking of Nie Mingjue as the baby.

“Although…”

Lao Nie raised his eyebrows.

“…I think he may have swallowed it.”

My boys, Lao Nie thought, and had to sit down and hold his ribs because he otherwise feared he might split his sides from laughing so hard. Only my boys.

#mdzs #sect leader nie #nie mingjue #my fic #my fics #boys

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chubbology · 4 years ago

Text

Inertia

prompt: a man gains weight trying to get his ex-girlfriend back, but goes way too far and gets addicted to gaining

He hadn’t gone to the gym even once in ages.

After a year of singlehood, he wasn’t ashamed to admit anymore that he’d only really gone in the first place to impress women. Ironic, of course, since his ex had never been more than vaguely dissatisfied about his gym habit.

When they first started dating, he had love handles he hated and his thighs had been too thick. He assumed she dated him despite these flaws. Only after he lost weight to please her did he find out that it was his chub that caught her eye. It was bigger guys she was into. It was a lot of miscommunication. A lot of insecurity on his part, since what her preferences meant was that she wanted him to be a little heavy, and he couldn’t possibly accept that with his society-ingrained doctrines about attractiveness.

But those doctrines meant fuck-all now; he was eating a double cheeseburger in his car, helping it down with an orange soda, thinking about dessert. He was wondering if she’d be proud of him now that he’d gained thirty pounds. He wondered if she’d look at him with half-lidded eyes like she used to, if he put on another thirty. Fifty. Whatever.

His phone buzzes. He sits up straighter, belly swelling a little into his lap. It’s her.

Hey. My friend needs to sell her two tickets. I know it’s your favorite band. Interested?

The next text was a link to an information page about an upcoming concert. He’d been so disconnected lately, he hadn’t even heard about it.

Even though he wasn’t actually all that interested, he replied that he was, and they set a date to meet up the next week. Shit. He looked down at himself. If she were someone else, she might be repelled. But she wasn’t someone else…

He was hit with a brilliant, maybe brilliantly stupid, idea. It’s execution began with going right back through the drive thru.

In the days leading up to seeing his ex again, he ate almost constantly. Since he was only doing freelance online at the moment, his work didn’t get in the way of this. He let himself eat whatever he wanted, in amounts three times what his body craved. He pushed himself to a state of being constantly past full. She liked fat guys? Fine. Even if she still didn’t want anything to do with him, he wanted her to see what he could have been, if he hadn’t been such a gym-rat douchebag. If he’d let himself become a lazy, docile boyfriend like she wanted instead, weak and overweight.

It was hard, gaining a lot of weight in a week. The number on the scale didn’t go up as much as he expected, even though he’d eaten enough calories to gain twenty pounds at least. He compensated by showing up to their meeting spot wearing clothes that tightly hugged his body, which now had a good forty-ish pounds of fat clinging to it. Looking in the mirror before he left, he’d almost seen what she was into. His ass had gotten kind of wide and dumpy, but in a sexy way?

He was all nerves when she showed up looking healthy and cute and indifferent about him, holding the tickets in her hands. Almost indifferent. She definitely gave him a once-over, when she thought he wasn’t looking. He could tell she bit the inside of her lip.

“Well,” she said, meeting his eyes fearlessly. Were her cheeks a little red, or was that wishful thinking? “I’ll see you.”

“Really?” he blurted. “Kinda miss hanging out.”

She smiled and turned to leave. “Maybe.”

He went home and binged hard.

In contrast to how he grew too slowly in the week before meeting up with her, in the weeks afterward, he gained weight doubletime. Fat rounded him out as easy as if he were a swiftly filling water balloon, engorging his thighs and belly and ass and hips wide and heavy. He ate compulsively as his appetite skyrocketed, as cravings crushed his will to restrain himself. His budget was thrown out of whack as he spent his savings on pantry loads of unhealthy food. His clothes stretched and seams snapped as he struggled to fit in his largest clothes. He shopped in the plus sized section first for comfort, then by necessity.

All the while he could only think: I wished she was watching.

He started imagining her with him. In the car as he ate fast food. At the store as he bought new clothes. Walking beside him as he forced himself to get exercise.

“Slow down, big guy.” “No, I think you need one size bigger.” “Sweating already? You’re so out of shape.”

Why did he like it? Imagining her mocking him? Teasing him? Eyeing his body, fleshy and overfed.

The next time she texted, it was late at night, and his eyes were glazed watching television, eating huge spoonfuls of that miracle drug called Nutella. His belly swelled out of his shirt. His breasts and face were puffy. According to the numbers he punched into Google, he had long crossed the threshold of obesity.

How was the concert?

He stared at the words. This was it. Maybe his only chance. He replied: Didn’t go after all. Been feeling off lately.

To his (very manly) delight, this prompted more questions, and it became clear she wanted a real conversation. Was she thinking of him? Missing him like he missed her? He thought out every response with the careful focus of a rocket scientist. He wasn’t going to mess this up.

He didn’t seem to, and they texted into the early hours of the morning, catching up. Finally, finally she asked to meet up with him again, and - feeling more eager, a little reckless - he tapped out a disclaimer. Or to her, hopefully: motivation.

Just so you aren’t shocked when you see me, I’ve put on weight since I bought those tickets from you. I’m not sensitive about it or anything, but it’s a lot. So here’s a fair warning.

He held his breath as he waited for her reply. Held his breath. Held it…

Oh. Really?

Like before, they set a time the following week. This time, to get coffee. No big deal.

He knew he had more than fulfilled his little scheme of putting on weight to catch her attention, and he could push the breaks now, but he felt helpless against his inertia. At this point, he’d cultivated half a dozen habits that had his weight steadily rising, and he couldn’t just turn them off. If he so much as thought of eating less, his whole body seized up in fearful anticipation and unhappiness, and he found himself cramming a couple moonpies into his mouth just to calm down.

He gained another six pounds between their text conversation and their coffee date. He felt so out of control, so out of shape, so out of line with the standards of popular society that he felt oddly…free. In a way, he felt free of anxious self-consciousness as he heaved himself out of his car and waved at her through the coffee shop window. She was sitting in a corner at a table for two. Despite his warning, she looked a little shocked.

When he sat down across from her, his huge ass hanging off the ends of the seat, she appeared to inhale deeply. Her expression was inscrutable.

“You weren’t kidding,” she said.

Blushing, he supposed he deserved a bit of tactlessness, for the tactless way he broke up with her. “What? Oh. Yeah, no. I wasn’t.”

She sipped her coffee, eyes flicking between his flabby chest and his flabby face. In a low tone that no one else would hear, she said, “What happened? For you to get fat as fuck.”

He opened his mouth and closed it. This wasn’t how he was expecting this to go. “Well. I’ve been working from home, stressed out. I let myself go and…” He trailed off when he realized her eyes were cold. No - so hot they seemed cold, like his shower water when turned to the highest setting.

“Is this because of me?” she asked, cutting to the chase. She crossed her legs, now openly surveying him. “Did you decide it was okay to gain a hundred pounds because you thought I’d be into it?”

He was speechless. He swallowed.

“Well? Do you want me back that badly? Ever since I saw you last time, all chubbed out, I’ve been thinking maybe I should give you a second chance.”

“Um.”

“But I don’t know…” She shrugged, but a smirk was hiding just behind that indifferent frown, and he wanted. He wanted her forgiveness, whatever that meant. “How about you gain a hundred more and we’ll go on a real date? Sound good? You’re not the only fat guy out there.”

She was full-on grinning now, and he missed her little games like this. He could play them, too.

“Maybe, but I bet I’m the only guy who’s gotten this fat for you,” he said. She was immediately affected by this, and he licked his lips. “You really want to wait to see me a hundred pounds bigger than this, or do you want to stick around to watch?”

Even quieter, she said, “You saying you like gaining weight? How convenient.”

So she still doubted him. He put out his hands for her to see. “Just look. Look at how fat my hands are. I can’t…” And finally his composure cracked a little. “I can’t stop. I couldn’t stop if I wanted. Even if you never talk to me again, I’m gonna gain weight.”

Any playfulness was gone now from her. She looked like she wanted him, too. “Hmm. Maybe we should go before you break that poor chair, huh?”

He blushed again. God, he was getting docile. “I’m not that bad,” he muttered. But she gave him a cruel grin. She hadn’t entirely forgiven him. “You will be.”

And he knew then: he was doomed. He was already a little bit into his own heaviness, and she was going to take that feeling and amplify it tenfold. She was going to enable every bad habit he had, watch him flounder under his increasing size and become weaker under layers and layers of fat until he could barely lift a two pound dumbbell.

He knew she wanted this to happen, and maybe he’d broken up with her before because he’d been afraid.

But he wasn’t anymore.

“Let’s go then,” he said.

Thank you to the reader who commissioned this work!

I'd love to write more. Check me out <3 etsy.com/shop/Chubbology

#weight gain #fic #male gainer

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variousqueerthings · 3 years ago

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This is a consequence of Carmen not being a POV character + the general “women on the show are mainly seen through their relationship with men,” + I do imagine that your kid really liking someone/basically considering that person a father-figure, would be a big deal relationship-wise, but I just cannot unsee that Carmen’s interest in Johnny is so predicated on his relationship with Miguel.

She’s at all times either drawn to him or repelled by him, depending on whether his influence on Miguel is good or bad:

Johnny brings a beaten Miguel home after Halloween: she tells him to stay away (and calls him a loser behind his back)

Johnny asks (and Miguel begs) to train together again: Carmen invites him over for dinner and expresses concern for Miguel fighting

Miguel wins at the All-Valley: she brings him a victory dessert and cautions him that she didn’t like everything she saw at the tournament

Johnny is consistently a good teacher to Miguel: Carmen accepts his invitation to go out (this is the least related to Miguel, but it’s still relevant considering what comes next) -

Miguel breaks his back: Carmen says she never wants to see Johnny again

Johnny helps pay for Miguel’s surgery: actually it’s Rosa who asks him to stay, but this is what thaws the ice between Carmen and Johnny

Miguel decides he wants Johnny’s help to rehabilitate: Johnny sees Carmen crying over Miguel and comforts her - this is also what leads him to take Miguel to a Dee Snyder concert and-

Miguel starts to regain use of his legs: Carmen from here on out only gets warmer towards Johnny and the last thing they talk about before sleeping together is about how much he’s helped Miguel

(and the conversation the following morning also strongly centres on him being Miguel’s teacher and what that would mean for their relationship).

again, it’s not that I don’t believe that This Person Is Basically A Hero To My Son wouldn’t be ideal for a potential relationship, it’s more that (and again, this is because of her not having a POV) I want to know what else for Carmen that Johnny is bringing to the table.

Especially considering her influence on Johnny’s life has been huge: Through Miguel, obviously, but she’s consistently given him advice, given him hope, given him support, literally helped him out while he was drunk, brought him food, given him confidence, hell, teaching him to dance!

What - other than being there for Miguel - is Johnny offering Carmen? And that’s not a loaded question, I just want her POV (alas to be the love interest and mother role all in one and also mothering the main guy character...)

I know that it’s tough being a mother - especially a single mother off the back of what is strongly hinted was an abusive relationship with your kid’s father - and there’s that thing about motherhood that society strips you of personhood and simply considers you “a mother,” so I don’t think it’s at all a stretch to imagine that Carmen feels the same way - her life needs to first and foremost bend towards Miguel.

Especially considering Miguel wasn’t popular and they don’t have a lot of money and she has to work long hours - of course she’d try to structure her life as much as possible around what’s best for her kid.

I just wonder if the show will give us that insight. And also give Carmen some friends. Anything to let her breathe/have something for herself that isn’t first filtered through her role as Mother, or at least some textual self-awareness on the show’s part that this is her role (and that it’s Hard). Even having a character say “this is my son and he’s the person I have to think about first, even before myself,” shows that this person is making a choice and that choice influences her decisions - including the decision to sleep with (and possibly go out with) Johnny.

And possibly... some hesitation? Every time Johnny has done something that has put Miguel in danger, it’s first and foremost been presented as “Miguel is in danger, therefore this man is not a viable option.” But I want to see “this man could potentially turn my son into a violent man (which was hinted at in the “I didn’t like everything I saw at the tournament” conversation. This man is himself a violent man, with a loooooot of his own issues he’s bringing to my door. What does that mean for me, who has run from a bad man”?

This is such a long-winded way to repeat: I just want to see her POV.

And until then I just can’t really be onboard with their relationship as presented, because I see all the tropes and think they’re more clichés, because they’re unexamined.

If the love interest doesn’t seem to be acting on her (mainly her) own desires - desires that we understand, because they’re in the text - then I will invent my own reasons for her going for a lead guy character. And usually I’ll assume that those reasons aren’t sustainable. Especially if the love interest’s purpose is mostly acting as a sounding board for said lead character.

Show: What Does Carmen Diaz Want?

#carmen diaz #johnny lawrence #ck #cobra kai #(this is about me not shipping them - but is NOT anti-carmen i want to be clear)#like... what do they talk about? when they're not talking about johnnys issues or miguel?#cobra kai meta #i want amanda to just take carmen out... so they can vent... i want amanda to dare carmen to say fuck #and they've driven a car out in the middle of nowhere and carmen just yells fuuuuuck and amanda is delighted

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

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A Beautiful Little Fool | dark!Sebastian Stan x reader (The Great Gatsby AU)

well, The Great Gatsby entered the public domain today, so I thought I’d besmirch it with some filthy dark smut. overall I did not put too much effort into relating my story to the plot or themes of the novel, just the setting and basic instigating actions, so don’t look too hard for an obvious allegory or familiar characters. this stunning moodboard (and, best of all, the incredible edits of seb as gatsby) was made by @nsfwsebbie who was also so kind as to beta for me and be my sounding board, thank you so much!!

summary: a reclusive millionaire throws extravagant parties in hopes that his lost love will attend and he can get one more chance to win her back. one can get used to getting whatever they desire, a little too comfortable with the idea that money can attain anything.

word count: 5.2k

warnings: smut (noncon/heavy dubcon), forced infidelity, a touch of breeding kink, period-accurate sexism (if anything it's a bit more toned down compared to 'period-accurate'), very slight yandere energy, obsession, one (1) slap

all my works are 18+, if you are under 18 please do not read

I was within and without; simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life.

You could already hear the music and you were still a block away. “Sounds like quite the ball,” Walter observed, and you clung tighter onto his arm as you walked with him along the damp pavement. “Seems like the rumors might just be true about Stan parties.”

“All the rumors are true,” you informed him quickly, pulling your shawl up to protect your shoulders a bit better from the chilly evening breeze, “except for one.”

You took in a slow, deep breath as you observed the mansion from the outside; partygoers were mingling about in the yard and gardens, even though it was much too cold to be outside for very long, in your humble opinion. Walter opened the door for you, being polite that way, but you found yourself hesitating before you stepped in out of the dark and the cold into the overwhelming light and warmth of his mansion.

You thought maybe you could avoid him, at least for the first hour or so of the party, but it was like he had been waiting at the door just for you to arrive, twiddling his ring-adorned thumbs in that gaudy tuxedo of his.

“Darling!” Sebastian greeted with a beaming grin, outstretching his arms (a cane in one hand, and a drink in the other) to wrap you in an embrace. “You’re late!”

“Fashionably,” you defended with a nervous laugh, pulling back from the hug a little sooner than he seemed to want you to. You almost forgot Walter was standing right beside you, and an awkward beat made you suddenly remember they ought to be introduced. “Oh! Sebastian, I’m not sure you’ve met my fiancé, Walter Penner.”

“Pleasure,” Walter offered his hand for a handshake, smiling warmly. “Your home is stunning, I must say. You… really know how to throw a party.”

Sebastian just shrugged like it was nothing before returning the handshake, but his cheeks were a little pinker than they were before— maybe it was just the draft you’d let in when you and your date had entered the front door. “The pleasure’s all mine,” he assured, “I’ve been hearing so much about you from your lovely fiancée here, I’m excited to see if it’s all true.”

“Walter said the same thing about you, outside,” you admitted with a sheepish grin, and your date cast you a brief glare of embarrassment.

“She’s never been too good at keeping secrets,” Sebastian chuckled, “yours, mine, or hers.”

The negging comment made your cheeks warm a little, wondering if you should defend yourself, but Walter spoke instead. “You must be used to it by now, I hear the two of you have been close friends since you were children.”

Memories of summer flashed in your mind, of green soft grass between toes and secret hideaways in trees and warm sunshine casting the countryside in a golden glow. It seemed like that was all so far away now, the hilly landscape replaced with industry, the sun outshined by the electrical lights that seemed to cover nearly the entire mansion these days.

“Yes,” Sebastian agreed, tearing you from your train of imaginative thought and turning to address you, “you’ve known me since I was just a penniless dreamer with two good legs.”

You were a little surprised he was so comfortable admitting that he didn’t come from wealth. Maybe some people thought it was more inspiring that way, but others would say that it was impossible for him to truly shed his place in society as a poor sharecropper’s son.

But then again, they would say the same thing about you, and you’d become engaged to the wealthiest bachelor in Manhattan, as well as a man you were lucky enough to say you were truly in love with.

Sebastian let the two of you go and enjoy the party for a while, though you were sure you could feel his eyes on you all the while. Walter went and fetched the two of you some drinks, while you waited beside a small statuette that Sebastian must have collected some time, tilting your head as you observed it. He had an eye for art that you couldn’t relate to, although you at least understood why he might enjoy a bronze cast of a beautiful nude woman.

As some young women flocked in a group beside you, their conversation became impossible to ignore. “He’s single,” one of them announced, “and fabulously wealthy. The perfect man.”

“Yes,” another agreed, “but he’s so reserved.”

“I like that!” the first defended.

“I think you’d like anything about somebody who could afford to throw a party like this,” yet another accused with a smirk. A fit of giggles made it seem like the rest agreed with that sentiment.

“You’re all just jealous because he was looking at me,” she frowned defensively. “He’ll want a wife sometime, and I’ll be here waiting.”

You were almost compelled to butt in, but if you told them the truth they probably wouldn’t even believe you. Some papers had reported that the elusive Mr. Stan was disinterested in dating or engagement, but usually attributed it to eccentricity or promiscuousness. What they had not discovered was that he was still hung up on his childhood love, the girl next door who had captured his heart as a boy and never given it back— not for a lack of trying.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t considered it, in fact you had returned his affections many years ago when he left to fight in the Great War. It seemed that with you and Sebastian, it was always the right person at the wrong time; and maybe, deep down, you knew that Walter had been the wrong person at the right time, but your love for him was true if forced. He didn’t make you laugh like Sebastian could, but in the end it was best that the two of you stay friends and that he finally take up any of the lovely girls vying for his affection. Maybe some were only seeking his money… okay, maybe all of them were only seeking his money, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a girl worth his time in the bunch. An ambitious man like Sebastian wouldn’t have much trouble forging a real connection with someone like the woman standing beside you know, gossiping about how secretive and handsome he was.

When the chit-chat stopped, you looked up to see what had garnered their attention… only to find Sebastian standing right beside you. “I bought this in Sicily, thinking it was an original, but I learned recently that it’s a fake,” he informed you. You furrowed your brow in confusion until he pointed forward and you realized he was referring to the statue you’d been staring at.

“Oh! Right,” you mumbled.

“I still keep it on display because as of yet, nobody else can tell the difference,” he admitted. There he was lifting that façade again, letting his guests see a glimpse of the dirty truth he usually hid away.

“What’s inspiring this openness, Sebastian?” you asked him with a nervous giggle. “Are you high on something?”

“Just your presence,” he returned with a flirtatious grin, “and a bit of opium.”

You knew he was joking, although the ladies eavesdropping nearby didn’t seem so sure. “Yes, I think an opium addiction would suit you nicely,” you rolled your eyes, “to go with all this excessiveness you indulge yourself in.”

“I think I’ll just stick with the champagne for now,” he decided. “Have you had some yet? It’s exquisite.”

“Walter went to fetch me some,” you remembered, glancing out into the crowd to see if you’d find him there looking for you.

“Oh, perfect!”

You weren’t sure what was perfect about that.

“I’ve been meaning to speak with you, in private, if I can,” he explained.

That idea didn’t sit right with you. Even just speaking to him now without your fiancé nearby was a bit scandalous, but at least there were plenty of people nearby to witness to the fact that nothing especially untoward had occurred. Being truly alone with him sounded much more dangerous. “You can,” you replied solemnly, “but I can’t say that you will.”

“Please,” he whispered, just a hint of his desperation becoming apparent. You nodded and he smiled back at you, guiding you across the foyer and up the stairs. He grabbed a drink from a waiter and handed it to you as you dutifully followed him upstairs, glancing down over the banister at the merriment before he led you into his room, the sounds of the party fading to near silence behind the door as he closed it behind you.

"Do you like the party, darling?" he asked as you swallowed a gulp of champagne which tingled at the back of your throat and did less to calm your nerves than you’d hoped.

"Yes," you nodded, "your parties are always… lavish."

"It's all for you," he informed you with a gentle smile. "All this: the music, the fireworks, the champagne—" he motioned to the glass in your hand— "it's all for you."

"For… me?"

He stepped closer with a chuckle, that light little chuckle that you’d grown to understand meant ‘oh, you silly little thing.’ “Of course. Who else? I love you, darling, I’ve loved you all my life— you know that.”

“And I’m engaged to Walter,” you reminded him. “You know that, too.”

His smile faded slightly, and you saw him trying to shake that anger that was always waiting just below the surface. “Yes, I know that. I’m not stupid—”

"You must be if you think this is going to work, that I’ll leave him for you because… because what? You threw me a party?”

“I threw you a thousand parties. Every single one, it was all a show— all the dancing and the small talk, I don’t need it. It could just be the two of us, for all I care.”

“I could hardly imagine we’d finish all the booze…”

“Don’t joke with me. Do I look like I’m joking?”

“You’re funny either way; you hardly speak with me, you hardly know me, and you think you love me.”

You gasped as he stepped forward, grabbing your wrist tightly. A sharp sound made you understand that your champagne flute had fallen to the floor and shattered, but you didn’t see it because you couldn’t look away from his icy blue eyes piercing through you as they burned with rage. “I love you. I’ve never loved anyone or anything like I love you. And you’re gonna love me, too.”

Protests died in your throat as the air was knocked from your lungs when he pushed you back into the wall. He forced his lips over yours, holding the back of your neck so you couldn’t turn your face away. Your free hand beat at his chest before it, too, was pinned by the wrist while he sighed and moaned against you, pushing his tongue between your lips. A swift kick to the shin deterred him more effectively, knocking him back just enough to let you run for the door. Your fingertips just barely brushed against the cold metal of the doorknob before he grabbed you at the waist and pulled you back. “Help!” you screamed hoarsely.

“Nobody’s gonna hear you,” he laughed, pressing his chest against your back, his breath hot on your neck. “The party’s too loud.”

He spun you around quickly, leaning in for another kiss. “Walter!” you yelped, purely out of instinct, but he stopped you with a hand clamped over your mouth.

“How dare you say his name,” he hissed. “How dare you bring him into my house?”

You couldn’t answer with his strong fingers holding your mouth shut, but you could mumble indistinctly as you began to cry.

“Has he fucked you? Hm?” he interrogated coldly. Afraid of giving no answer at all, you hesitated before shaking your head. Sebastian smiled a little bit as he let his hand slip down from your face, his expression softening.

“He’s… he’s a real gentleman,” you explained weakly.

“Oh, I’m sure,” Sebastian chuckled incredulously. “Never thought you’d want someone so… traditional.”

“He treats me right,” you continued.

“That can’t be true, if he hasn’t taken you properly,” he smirked. “God, you don’t even know how good you can feel, do you? Poor girl. I have half a mind to throw you over that bed and show you right now.”

“N-no, Seba, please, you wouldn’t,” you stammered anxiously, watching his eyes drift from your own down to your lips, and your neck, and your chest. You knew the plunging neckline was a bad idea.

“You haven’t called me that since we were children. I miss that, when you still cared for me.”

“I’ve always cared for you, it’s you that pushed me away,” you reminded him. “But it’s okay, we’ll be close again, like we used to. We’ll be friends. Just… just let me go, we should go back outside… your guests are expecting you.”

“What was that game we used to play back then?” he wondered aloud, ignoring your suggestion entirely. “It was your favorite.”

“Ch-checkers?”

He grinned, more devilish than before. “No… it was ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.’”

You looked away, wincing at his mocking laughter as he held you a little tighter; the back of your dress was rather low, meaning that his rough hand was stroking your exposed back which made the hairs at the nape of your neck stand up.

“Do you still remember how to play?” he purred as he spun you back and tossed you onto the bed. You tried to sit up but he was already on you, reaching under your dress to grab at your pantyhose.

“W-wait,” you whimpered, but he had already found your undergarments and begun to pull them down your thighs.

“These legs,” he growled, “god, I can’t get enough of ‘em. You know what you do to me, sweetheart?”

He answered his own question rather quickly as he grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to where he was kneeling on the bed— pressing the back of your thigh against the hard shape tenting his trousers. You grimaced and looked back up at the ceiling, but he grabbed your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, pulling your face back down to look at where he was hovering over you.

“No, no, darling, don’t look away,” he cooed, “I want you to see this.”

He lifted your leg as he turned his head to the side, never breaking from your gaze as he started to kiss your skin, moving up your calves and dipping lower to reach your inner thigh. You weren’t entirely sure what he was doing, but you felt it sending shivers up your body as he moved closer and closer to somewhere he was very much not supposed to be. “Seba,” you whimpered, not sure what you were pleading with him for but hoping it would get through to him anyways.

He just smiled wider, letting his teeth nip the delicate skin just beneath your hips. You yelped a bit before biting down on your lip to keep quiet; you knew that if someone walked in now, you wouldn’t be able to say that he’d forced himself on you… not when you were lying back and letting him do this to you.

Just when you thought his mouth couldn’t get any closer to the part of you that was suddenly throbbing of its own accord, he pulled back and pushed up your dress even more, growling at the sight of you spread wide for him. “What a gorgeous pussy, darling.” It didn’t seem like a sign of approval though, when he brought his hand down against it with a harsh smack, forcing you to cry out and throw your head back. It hurt, at first, but then it felt so oddly good and you couldn’t explain why. When he did it again, the pain and the pleasure were even more intense than the last time, making your legs quiver a bit. “Oh, you like that,” he realized proudly. “You’re getting so wet already.”

He hit you again, and again, until you were sobbing and begging for him to stop— not just because he was hurting you, but because you knew if he didn’t stop, you would reach your peak and that could not happen under any circumstances. You couldn’t like this. If you came, he would be able to tell so easily; he was literally staring right between your legs, there was nowhere to hide from him.

“Fuck, I can’t wait any longer,” he groaned, “I need to get a taste of you.”

You, being foolish and innocent in these regards, thought he was going to kiss you again. In a way, he did; he grabbed your thighs tightly as he leaned down and latched his mouth onto your aching, swollen sex, moaning loudly as he explored you with his tongue. Your eyes shot wide open, your hands reaching down to push him away only to falter halfway through and dig into his hair instead. Between his lips, his tongue, and his teeth, it was like you couldn’t keep track of all the ways he was touching you. Each moan from him vibrated right through you, until you were moaning even louder. It was shameful, and your heart ached to know you were betraying Walter like this, but you were lost completely in the throes of pleasure that Sebastian was giving you.

Forcing your eyes shut only made the feeling more intense as your hands tightened into fists, gathering the satin-y through beneath you in your clammy palms. But opening your eyes and looking back at him wasn’t much help either, with the way he was staring back at you so intensely. You’d never seen his eyes so dark before, not in all the years you’d known him, and it made your skin crawl.

He stopped briefly to catch his breath, his prideful smile glistening with your arousal; it was awfully lewd, and you hated how attractive he looked all disheveled and hungry like this.

“You really ought to be spoiled,” he decided, his voice deeper and rougher around the edges. “It’s a waste if nobody’s making you come like this every day, getting a taste of this sweet little cunt.”

That word made you wince, and you realized you were more offended by what he was saying than what he was doing, oddly enough.

He got back to it with more vigor than before, pushing his tongue into you as you bit down on your lip to keep from screaming. How could something so wrong feel so thoroughly right, so perfect? You hated him just as much as you loved him in that moment, and you wanted him to stop just as much as you wanted him to keep going. The tricky thing was that you didn’t get to decide if you loved or hated him, or he stopped or continued. Your body and mind were his playthings, pliable to whatever he wanted to take from you.

Apparently, he wanted to take more from you; when he had pushed you to your peak against your wishes, and done so much more easily than you would’ve liked to admit, he sat back and tossed away his jacket, freeing him to shirk his suspenders and unbutton his trousers.

“N-no, Seba, you can’t—” you whimpered mindlessly, attempting to crawl back away from him on the bed.

“You’ll let me devour you until you come, but don’t want me to get mine, too?” he grinned. “Greedy little girl.”

He grabbed you and pulled you back down into him, gripping the neckline of your dress and tearing it down the front in a few quick rips. You fought back but it was laughably useless, your strength nothing against his.

“I hate when you wear things like this— things he bought you,” he explained with a snarl. “These pearls, too, he got you these, right?”

There wasn’t even time to answer before he grabbed the string and snapped it, sending the pearls flying everywhere and rolling across the floor. You felt more naked without them than you did without the dress. Still, you felt especially naked when he pressed his hips forward and his length slid through your folds. “No,” you sighed, “no— stop, it’s not funny anymore.”

“Funny?” he grimaced. You yelped when he grabbed your jaw tightly, forcing you to look back up at him with wide, watery eyes. “I love you. You hear me? I love you.”

“I know,” you sighed shakily.

“Say it back,” he demanded. “Say you love me, too.”

“I can’t,” you shuddered, crying when he released your jaw to slap you harshly across the face.

“I’m sorry that I had to do that,” he sighed. “I don’t think it’s right for a man to strike a woman, even if it’s with an open hand, but you need to get some sense into you. I know you love me, darling. You just need to say it.”

That false impression of mercy faded quickly when you only responded with silence.

“Say it!” he yelled, dripping with rage.

“I love you!” you finally cried, and he made swift work of reaching down to push his cock right up against your entrance, driving forward with brutal force. Your back arched and your head fell back, your hands gripping at his half-buttoned shirt— some kind of silent plea that he slow down a bit, perhaps. It didn’t seem to work, each thrust deeper and faster than the last already. The only sounds now were his quickening breaths right beside your ear, his skin slapping against yours, and your weak little cries that you choked out each time he pushed himself all the way into you.

It stung and burned inside you, just like your eyes stung with fresh tears and your chest burned with some incomprehensible storm of emotions. You wouldn’t call anything about this a relief, and yet there was something cathartic about it as well.

“He’s not gonna want you once he knows what I’ve done to you,” he whispered in your ear, tickling your leg as he pulled it to wrap around his waist. “Once he knows I’ve taken your innocence, made you mine.”

You whimpered as sobs made your chest convulse, but said nothing; you knew he was right.

“He’s not gonna want you once I’ve knocked you up. Nobody will… but me.”

You started to struggle underneath him, pushing at his shoulders helplessly. “No, you can’t— you have to stop.”

“You’ll make such a beautiful bride, darling, especially if you’re already showing,” he grinned, bringing his hand to rest just below your bellybutton— just over your womb. “I’ve dreamed all my life that you’d carry my child,” he admitted wistfully.

Crying did more to egg him on than anything, it seemed, as you barely managed to speak enough to plead with him not to finish inside you. Maybe you were naïve, but not so much that you didn't know how easily you could become pregnant if he didn't pull out, or how quickly your engagement would be broken off and your reputation ruined if that happened.

He ignored your denial and moved faster, running his hands all over your body with a few brief detours to grope your breasts and pinch the hardened nipples.

As his lips attached to your neck, you felt his teeth sink into your skin as he sucked just by your pulse. “Don’t,” you whimpered, “you’ll leave a mark.”

“Good,” he mumbled, breaking away from his work at your neck to teasingly nibble on your ear. “It’s no trouble to me if everyone knows what I’ve done to you. I want them to know. Don’t you think they saw us come into my room? Maybe if you moan loud enough they’ll get to hear you coming for me.”

It should’ve made you try even harder to stay quiet— and it did, it just didn’t work at all, and soon your moans were echoing around the room as he smiled down at you. “Close again, already? You’re so sweet for me,” he praised, somehow angling his hips just right to hit the most sensitive places inside you, your walls rippling and convulsing around him.

“You have t-to stop,” you breathed, holding the waves of pleasure back with everything you had.

“I can’t,” he groaned, “you feel too good. It’s okay, darling, just let go…”

He continued with a string of whispered praises, but you couldn’t hear it anymore as your body began to erupt in jolts of pleasure, your arms and legs shaking uncontrollably where they were wrapped around his neck and hips, respectively.

“Keep going,” he encouraged gently, “you sound so beautiful when you come, darling.”

But the sensation threatened to consume you, burned you from the inside out until you couldn’t take anymore. It was overwhelming to the point that you lost all control over your words, needing this to end more than you needed to preserve any dignity you had left. “Please,” you sighed, “please come, Sebastian…”

He laughed a bit, kissing your ear again. “Sweet girl, I knew you’d come around. Want it inside, darling?”

You shook your head, he laughed again.

“Yes you do,” he sing-songed condescendingly, “you want to have my baby, don’t you? Wanna leave that awful man and be with me, like you should?”

He must’ve known there was only one way to get you to agree to that.

“Remember, darling,” he whispered, “it won’t end until you say yes.”

“Yes,” you choked out, “I want to be with you, Seba, I want your baby— just please come and get off of me.”

He grinned and fucked you faster, the slapping of skin so loud now that surely anyone in the hall would hear it. His own moans were quiet but desperate, breathless as he started to pump and flex inside you, his warmth coating your insides as he groaned your name weakly. He laid on top of you, motionless, for quite some time until finally sitting up and pulling out; unfortunately, you were too weak to do much with that freedom, just laying there and staring up at the ceiling as numbness chilled your extremities and fogged your mind.

“You just stay here and catch your breath,” he instructed gently as he gave you one last kiss before sitting up, readjusting his trousers and suspenders before finding his jacket on the floor to put back on. He circled the bed to look out his window into the gardens, seeming much too relaxed and satisfied with himself.

“W-Walter,” you remembered suddenly. “He’ll be looking for me.”

“Hm, doesn’t seem like it,” Sebastian frowned, “I can see him now, having quite the conversation with a fine young woman.”

“What?” you shivered, sitting up to look at him as he stared down into the yard.

“I’m looking right at him, darling. I figured you knew about his… reputation…”

You did, but you never really believed it; the papers lied about Sebastian all the time, so surely rumors about your fiancé could be just as unfounded.

“I need to go,” you decided as you jumped up off the bed, trying to cover yourself with your torn dress.

“Sweetheart,” Sebastian cooed sympathetically as he looked back at you, “where are you gonna go dressed like that? Or, should I say, not dressed like that? I know my parties can get a little wild, but we try not to have any nudity.”

You hated that he was right; you were trapped here, until you found some way to dress yourself. And frankly, leaving his room dressed in different clothes than when you came in was nearly as bad as leaving his room naked.

“I’ll get you something to wear, just give me a moment, alright?” he offered, stopping to give you a peck on the forehead before slipping out of the door and back into the party.

He took a deep breath when he shut the door behind him, closing his eyes briefly to stabilize himself before putting on a smile and rejoining his guests. A lot of people tried to stop him on his way, congratulated him on the party or asking him mundane questions, but he shrugged them all off as he continued his search for Walter Penner. He found him looking rather lost somewhere by the west wing of the house, a drink in each hand.

“Two at a time, I like your style,” Sebastian boomed as he patted Walter on the back affectionately. “The drinks, I mean. I don’t believe everything I read in the papers.”

“Good,” Walter chuckled, “because it isn’t true— about girls or drinks. The second glass is for my lovely fiancée— you haven’t seen her, have you?”

“Oh, I believe I have,” Sebastian put on a face like he was thinking about where he’d last seen her. “She was just leaving.”

“Leaving?!” Walter pshawed.

“Yes, she said she’d forgotten something she had to do and scurried out the door. I tried to stop her, but you know how she is when she gets her mind on something.”

“Hm,” Walter frowned. “I suppose I’m meant to go looking for her.”

“Take a coat, it’s cold out there,” Sebastian offered. “And if you see her, do tell her I give her my best.”

“Always,” Walter nodded, setting his drinks down and merging back into the crowd as he navigated out of the party. Sebastian hummed a little tune to himself as he made his way back to his room; he could hardly wait to see you again already, tell you all about how your unfaithful betrothed had run off with one of his more promiscuous friends, but he had to be careful not to run too fast on his bad leg. He figured you wouldn’t believe it, truly, but you’d give in to the story anyways if it was reason enough to justify your affair with him. You had a talent for accepting whatever reality served your purposes best, and he was happy to give you whatever you wanted. He figured you’d want an extravagant wedding, too; that would be easy enough.

Ascending the stairs and resting his hand on the knob to open his door, he braced himself to see you there and finally know you were his— and only his, forever. All he’d ever wanted, just on the other side of a door. If a poor boy can become a millionaire in spite of everything, and he can finally get his girl in spite of a pesky engagement, then maybe anything’s possible. It was you that had told him since he was a boy that dreams were just dreams and couldn’t come true; such a fool you were, a beautiful little fool— the best thing a girl can be, and now that you were his girl, he intended to cherish your foolishness rather than attempt to educate you. Because truthfully, you were a smart girl, and only a fool for him.

#sebastian stan x reader #dark!sebastian stan x reader #dark!sebastian stan #dark!sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan dark fic

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watching-pictures-move · 2 years ago

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Movie Review | Star of David: Beautiful Girl Hunter (Suzuki, 1979)

There's a scene here that pretty much every review of this rightfully brings up, that gets across pretty succinctly why this movie comes with a great big "Watch at your own risk" warning. The protagonist, after learning about the Nazis in school, goes home and masturbates to images from the Holocaust. And lest you think this might be implied because these movies can't show genitals and whatnot, there is no doubt about what is happening here, especially when certain bodily fluids splash onto a photograph. On one hand, this is all kinds of offensive and were you to swear off watching this movie forever based on this image, you'd probably be justified in doing so. On the other hand, I'm always looking for movies to give me images that I haven't seen before, and this is certainly an images I haven't seen before. Like I said, watch at your own risk.

What I do think needs to be noted is that the scene doesn't exist in a vacuum, but is a manifestation of the protagonist's and movie's rage at the whitewashing of Japan's history, the way perpetrators of war crimes have been able to reintegrate into society after the end of the war. But the protagonist's rage is not based on any moral standing, but a certain jealousy that they were able to get away with it. Imagine every meathead you know who viewed movies like Wall Street as aspirational, but instead of Gordon Gekko they're looking up to, it's Hitler. Like the other pinkus I've been watching recently, there's a theme here of transference of abuse and trauma. The main character is borne of a rape of his mother by a criminal, which causes her husband to torture her to death out of her perceived enjoyment of this degradation. Having grown up, he channels this childhood trauma into carrying on in the footsteps of both father figures, by kidnapping and torturing women, usually of perceived public influence, like a pop singer ("The more famous we become, the more we’re forget our real names") and a schoolgirl who gave an award-winning speech in favour of peace ("The history of human beings is the history of wars"). The only levity here comes from the Game of Death fake beard disguise sported by the main character.

Like the scene mentioned at the beginning of this review, the movie's expression of this rage is unrelentingly queasy. Because this is a pinku, the protagonist's torture of his victims is captured with extreme fetishistic detail. But lest you start to think it's okay to get off on this and that the victims might be enjoying this, the movie finds a particularly pungent image or act of cruelty to snap us back into ugliness. (An early example has the main character covered with the arterial spray of a victim as he thrusts into her.) It's genre critique through self-immolation. The sheer repellence of the material seems jarring given the lushness of the visuals and the tinkly piano music, but images like the juxtaposition of suspended victims alongside a picture of Christ or the cross of candles somehow intensifies the proceedings. This movie's themes have been explored in some of the other pinkus I've watched of late, but here they're delivered with a particular forcefulness.

This is directed by Norifumi Suzuki, best known for the nunsploitation pinku School of the Holy Beast, considered a classic in the genre. I remember struggling with that one as I found it too perverted to work as religious satire and too serious-minded to be enjoyably perverted. Given how well this worked for me and that its effectiveness seems directly tied to its sleaziness, I'd like to revisit that one and see if I gel to it more this time around. (I should say I enjoyed some of the more action-oriented entries in his oeuvre, like Roaring Fire, Girl Boss Guerilla, and Terrifying Girls' High School: Lynch Law Classroom, the last of which has a respectable amount of sleaze.)

Very good. Very grimy. Like I said, watch at your own risk.

#film #star of david: beautiful girl hunter #movie review #norifumi suzuki

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imagine-lcorp · 4 years ago

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Call You Mine (One Shot)

Request

Yay you're taking requests! Lena x reader where reader is constantly being hit on by other men and women day after day. Lena doesn't think too much of it at first but slowly it'll start to irritate her. One day Lena is fuming with jealousy"I seriously can't take you anywhere! It doesn't matter where we go there are always some idiot flirting with you!" R jokes about putting a ring on her finger to make her invisible to other single people. Lena takes the idea and decides to propose to R.

A/N: Hello my dear beans, long time i know, I know, I just hope you’re doing good and that u are taking care of yourselves. I know these are hard and complicated times, things are uncertain and the world seem in utter chaos, just know that I’m here. Try your best and reach out if u need. You’re important and I’m here for u. I know this isn’t much but pls enjoy this little piece. Love u guys.

Lena Luthor x Fem!R//Word Count: 1,729

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There was something about you, Lena knew, that drew people like moths to the flame. It was the energy that radiated from your body every time you met someone new. It was the warmth in each on your smiles that could disarm an entire army. It was the light that was instantly conjured inside every room you stepped in. Lena had experienced this and much more and she knew she couldn't blame the others for looking at you, or approaching you, in searching for that light.

She, unfortunately, didn't expect the kind of approach that involved lingering looks and flirtatious tones some strangers used when talking to you. Like that bartender you were talking to.

She could notice it from far away as you ordered your drinks. The way he smiled at you, the way he talked making jokes trying to coax a smile from you. The lingering touch of his hand on yours as he handed you the drinks over the table. In the grand scheme of things, that was nothing, a simple exchange and interaction that would lose all meaning once you left the beach in that marvelous summer day. Lena had tried to repeat herself as much as she observed you and the bartender, with her eyes hidden behind sunglasses.

She had tried not to think too much about it, but when you were being hit on by others, once or twice or more, day after day, Lena finally had to admit it was something she didn't enjoy. What frustrated her the most was the fact that, objectively speaking, she could say nothing about it. It was not as if she could put a sign over your head that could read 'Lena Luthor's Girlfriend. Do Not Tresspass' or stop people from even looking or talking to you. But she also couldn't help the sting of possessiveness that struck her every time she had to witness that.

This time, however, she couldn't seem to hold it anymore. She left her chair and walked towards the bar as the bartender kept trying to keep the small talk going between you two.

"There you are, darling. Are our drinks taking too long?"

"Hey, babe. Sorry, I'm the one who is taking too long." You innocently apologized, unaware of the hint of annoyance in Lena's voice.

"Johnny here was telling me about this surfing event the beach is gonna be having this week. It seems like a big thing."

"Yeah, it is. I'm gonna be there too so, if you wanna see a good show, you can just come and see me." The bartender replied with a grin.

"What a shame." Lena replied before you could. The mock clear in her words. "I mean, we are leaving tomorrow."

"Oh, that's right." You said nonchalant.

"I guess it will have to be another time. Now, we should go, (Y/N). He probably has a lot of work." The mention of your name finally made you realize something was off with Lena. That and the forced a smile she was trying to pull at the bartender. "Nice meeting you, Johnny."

"Likewise." Lena saw him wink at you unaltered by the interaction, and felt herself almost losing it.

Instead, she took her cocktail from your hand and, without another word, she strode back to where you had been taking your sunbath.

You had to blink a few times before muttering your own goodbye and catching up with Lena who, by the looks of it, wasn't having any more fun.

"I seriously can't take you anywhere!" Came the exasperated response.

"Hey, what has come over you?" You asked a bit worried this time. You had never seen Lena this irritated before.

"It doesn't matter where we go there are always some idiot flirting with you!" Lena stopped and turned to look at you. Even with the sunglasses, you could see the little frown in her face.

You were slightly surprised by it but now you understood what it all was about. "Wait, are you like... jealous?"

"No, I'm-" Lena turned around with a huff and walked towards your little spot on the beach, taking a seat again. "Never mind, it's nothing."

"Babe?" You called, taking a seat next to her. "Lena?"

"Mmh?" She was trying to hide her face by drinking from her cocktail.

"Look at me." You asked softly.

Lena left her drink on the little table beside her and took off her sunglasses. A bit reluctantly, she did as you said.

You had never known Lena to suffer from jealousy but, of course, there was still a lot of things you didn't know about Lena Luthor, and not for lack of trying.

You knew that from a young age, and ever since Lena had become part of the Luthor family, she had to learn to keep her true feelings to herself. Having a heart of your own was a dangerous thing to have among the Luthors, who prided themselves on being methodical, analytical, always in control. The image she gave to the world was that of an ever composed, always calm, collected prodigy and business woman. Everything that was expected from her to be.

It was hard some times to really know what Lena was feeling when most of her life she had been conditioned to compartmentalize her feelings. Putting them in tiny boxes and shoving them to the darkest corners of her mind so they would not affect her rational thinking. It was even harder for Lena to change that and relearn how to navigate and not to hide her emotions.

There were some occasions, like this one, when you were unaware of Lena's true feelings until you noticed she wouldn't talk much, or until you started to fight over trifles and trivialities. Only then you would realize there was something bothering her and try to talk to her about it. You knew it wasn't an easy feat, for either of you, but you were making progress.

"It doesn't matter how many idiots try to flirt with me because, hear me out, they got nothing on you." You assured her in a soft voice, pulling yourself closer to the edge of your seat, so you could reach her hand with yours. "I don't even think it is possible for me to care about anyone but you."

The frown in her face dissolved as she looked at you with a little pout.

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes, I do. I'm sorry." Lena said caressing your hand with her fingers.

"It's alright, just remember I love you and only you." You pulled yourself forward, planting a quick kiss on Lena's lips. "But if that keeps bothering you, I don't know, you can make me an invisible cape or ring to keep them at bay." You said smiling and winking at her.

Although Lena was still annoyed at the whole situation, she couldn't help but smile. Unaware of it, you had given her something to think about. "I love you too, (Y/N)."

Lena loved you with every fiber in her being and that was a matter of fact. There was no easy way for her to deal with all the attention you sometimes received. She didn't want to make you invisible to the world, as that would mean depriving it from your beauty and kindness, but she did want for it to know you were, somehow, off limits. If someone else wanted you, they would have to go through her first.

So, after your little vacation, Lena put her mind to work, to design a device that could be able to repel the people around you, particularly those who tried to make unsolicited advances on you. She knew it wasn't exactly a good idea. She wasn't sure you would agree to what she had in mind and she needed to talk to you about it, but she was already on the making.

It was almost a month before she could come up with a proper idea that was viable, practical, and with at least ninety percent changes of working. Unfortunately, she discovered this device wasn't something she could do by herself. But once she had it in her hands and was sure it was the thing to do, she didn't wait long to show it to you.

"Wait, are you serious?" You asked with raised eyebrows.

You had been in her office, seated in the couch and in conversation after lunch, when the conversation turned to the topic. When you had suggested Lena for an invisible cape, you had not expected her to actually pull it off or consider it as a real possibility.

"It's exactly an invisible cape but I'm sure it will do the work." Lena shrugged.

"But you have made, in fact, something to keep people away from me?" At that moment, you couldn't decide between being impressed or worried about it.

"Sort of. Also, I didn't make this one. I had to call someone to help me with it." She pulled a small black leathery box from the pocket of her coat, and you imagined it would be one of those nanotech devices she was very fond of lately. "Since I'm no goldsmith or jeweler, I had to leave it to the professionals."

Her words didn't make sense to you until she opened the tiny box, and even then your brain was slow trying to understand what was happening. The box held inside a silver ring with a small diamond at the center of it, accompanied by two other tiny diamonds at the sides of it, with an intricate design carved on the ring that made it look as if it was wrapped in vines.

"I know this wasn't in our plans yet, and it may seem a bit of an extreme measure from my part wanting to keep people away from you. But when people ask me, I want to tell them I'm yours." She took the ring out of the box and put it in front of you. "Will you do me the honor of calling you mine? (Y/N) (Y/L/N), will you marry me?"

"You're unbelievable, Lena Luthor." It took some time picking your jaw from the floor.

"Is that a yes?" Lena asked hopefully, she was getting nervous.

"Yes, it is. Yes!" You launched yourself towards her, wrapping your arms around her, almost falling from the couch.

#lena luthor #lena luthor imagine #lena luthor imagines #lena x reader #lena luthor x reader #lena luthor x female reader #fem reader #Female reader #fem!reader #call you mine #one shot #request #lena luthor x you

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tennesseetrekkie · 4 years ago

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The A-Team/Leverage Crossover Ideas

The crossover we all needed but time robbed us of. They’re very, very similar shows. Me and my brother love both and talk about this way too much. Here’s what we’ve come up with:

We like the idea of these two crews running into each other and then trying to outdo one another, think “The Two Live Crew Job”. That’s never gonna work though. They’re both so good that they would stalemate each other forever. At some point Nate and Hannibal just keep coming up with more and more elaborate and impossible plans until the rest of their crews just stop and sit around thinking “this is ridiculous”. Sophie and Face have go to them and convince them that it would be much better to work together.

Of course, when they do combine forces they are unstoppable. I don’t know who they’re taking down, but it’d have to massive. What’s really fun to think about though is each member with their counterpart, like so:

Hitter: B.A. Baracus and Eliot Spencer. There’s an episode of The A-Team where B.A. keeps trying to beat up this one guy while the others are off doing something else but he just won’t go down. This is what fighting Eliot Spencer is like. In the initial encounter when they’re rivals these two fight but can’t beat each other. After a while they agree to take a breather and sit down and start talking all casual about mundane stuff. When there’s a lull in the conversation Eliot asks “you ready to go again?” and B.A. is just like “yeah, I guess we should” and proceed to beat the living daylights out of each other (it’s not personal, just business)… Until Nate and Hannibal call a truce to which Eliot and B.A. get very annoyed and are like “you couldn’t have said that an hour ago?!”. They both sit through the first joint team meeting seething while icing various body parts. After the team-up they take on a small army, and each keeps score to see who can knock-out the most bad guys.

Hacker: Alec Hardison and Frankie Santana. So, the A-Team didn’t have a hacker, but Santana (go watch season 5 if you don’t remember him) is closest thing, and will fill that role for the purpose of this crossover. Unfortunately, this means we can’t really compare their skills, but I can say that they’d get along great, which is wonderful because Hardison needs a hacker friend.

Grifter: Faceman Peck and Sophie Devereaux. This has to be my favorite pairing. They figure out the other is a grifter in like 0.0004 seconds but keep playing the game anyway. And when they join forces... I have a clear image of Face in a white 3-piece suit with a black bowtie and Sophie in a beautiful white dress with gold jewelry walking into a fancy gala being like Sophie: “you take the women, I’ll take the men.” Face: “Let’s do it.” By the time they’re done every millionaire in the place has been picked clean. They’re having a lot of fun seeing who got the biggest haul “I got $20 million!” “I got a yacht!” “They’re naming a building after me!” Until Nate and Hannibal tell them to give it back and come on. There is much sighing, groaning, and rolling of eyes.

Wildcard: Parker and H.M. Murdock. Yeah, so Murdock is not a thief and Parker is not a pilot, but I think “wildcard” sums them up nicely. To be honest, I don’t have the imagination to figure out what these two would get up to. I know that Parker would 100% go along with whatever Murdock has going on whether it be one of his weird organizations or his French documentary (Parker: “you’re ruining the shot, Hardison!” Hardison: “what? Babe, the man doesn’t even have a camera!” Parker: “ugh, now we have to do it all over again!”). At some point Parker definitely repels off of Murdock’s helicopter.

Mastermind: Nate Ford and Hannibal Smith. They get on each other’s nerves at first, both very competitive but equally matched. Thank goodness for grifters who can talk some sense into them. Once they start to work together they actually find they enjoy it and are impressed by the other. This episode ends with Hannibal lighting a cigar and Nate pouring a drink, Hannibal delivers his famous line “I love it when a plan comes together”, then Hannibal gives Nate the cigar at the same time Nate slides the drink over to Hannibal. Fade to black.

Thing is, other combinations are fun, too.

Sophie and Hannibal would discuss acting and argue about whether theater or movies are better.

Hardison and B.A. would start talking about the cool things they’ve invented for their teams but then it just becomes a deep discussion about the love they have for their vans. B.A. is secretly inspired to name his van ala Lucille, he tells no one. Murdock somehow knows anyway.

Eliot and Face would talk pick-up lines and sports cars and the like.

Santana thinks Murdock is a lot of fun and Parker would be no different. He’d enjoy learning thieving and Parker loves to teach it.

This leaves Murdock and Nate... While these two have next to nothing in common there are few things more funny than a confused/annoyed Nate and Murdock is definitely the person to provoke such a response.

Seriously though, have you ever just watched The A-Team and saw a scene and was like “if you put Leverage characters here instead nothing would change”? If I had a time machine I would be wildly irresponsible and make this happen, which is probably why I don’t have one...

#The A-Team #Leverage #BA Baracus #HM Murdock #Hannibal Smith #Faceman Peck #Frankie Santana #Nate Ford #Eliot Spencer #Alec Hardison #Sophie Devereaux #Parker

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ask-the-crimson-king · 4 years ago

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More Stuff from Betrayer

[While on the topic, I want to show the various humans out there a very interesting scene out of Betrayer.

Two, technically, but one that's a bit longer than the other. Image IDs will be provided at the end of the post, cause there's going to be a LOT.

Some interesting insights into how Lorgar views Chaos and a bit about the Emperor as well. I always find this scene to be fascinating, especially since he's borrowed the astropathic choir of the Conquerer to listen to worlds dying across Ultramar while he muses on this.

And then there's when Angron walks up.

Some interesting, albeit a bit morbid, banter between brothers. I do like how Angron even greets Lorgar on the way in, and Lorgar is just standing there stunned. The insights into how Angron views the Devourers is also neat, and it is to be expected at this point. Lorgar trying to argue for them and trying to get Angron to stop ignoring them outright is another neat touch.

The two begin talking of Ultramar, and Lorgar reveals that Nuceria is going to be the capstone for his ritual. Angron asks why, and the following is said:

I like this passage for a few reasons. Firstly, how Angron "dreams" has always been something of interest to me. Because I doubt he ever really gets much rest and respite. Here we get some insight into this, although this also was already expressed a bit earlier. This passage also leads into Angron's recollection of the Night of the Wolf, but I wanted to focus on this.

Lorgar and Angron's "bond" is something that's always intrigued me. It definitely feels more one-sided, with Lorgar seeking for brotherhood that isn't really there, but there are a few moments to make it feel a bit more genuine. However, there is still something missing from these interactions. I can't really describe it other than a barrier between two primarchs who will never see eye-to-eye. Lorgar does, to his credit, try to be understanding and patient throughout, but I can also definitely feel his annoyance coming through at certain places.

In a way, I can almost feel a similar sort of vibe to how Magnus interacts with some of his brothers. Namely with Perturabo in one of the opening chapters of his primarch novel. However, the bond between those two is still very different from the one Angron has with Lorgar; those two actually do have a deep connection, while these two don't. There's a misunderstanding and underestimation coming from both sides in certain aspects; Lorgar in almost sounding condescending to Angron, and Angron still thinking Lorgar a weakling.

TL;DR, Betrayer good.

Image IDs below the cut:

Image ID 1 & 2: A scene from Betrayer where Lorgar is standing and listening to worlds burn. It reads:

Serving as conductor for an astrological orchestra was more taxing than he’d dreamed, though his blunter, more militant brothers would struggle to grasp the finer points of his efforts. Exhaustion left him wondering, even if only briefly, whether absolute peace would create a stellar song as divinely inspired as absolute war. Fate had played its hand and Chaos was destined to swallow all creation whether or not Horus and Lorgar raged against the Imperial war machine, but if what if they’d stayed loyal to the Emperor? What then? Would the Great Crusade have shaped a serene funeral dirge, to play behind the veil as humanity died in a defenceless harrowing?

Therein lay the fatal flaw. The Emperor’s way was compliance, not peace. The two were as repellent to one another as opposing lodestones. It didn’t matter what enlightenment the Imperium stamped out in its conquering crusade when obedience was all its lords desired. It didn’t matter what wars were fought from now into eternity. The Legiones Astartes would always march, for they were born to do so. There would always be war; even if the Great Crusade had been allowed to reach the galaxy’s every edge, there would never be peace. Discontent would seethe. Populations would rebel. Worlds would rise up. Human nature eventually sent men and women questing for the truth, and tyrants always fell to the truth.

No peace. Only war.

Lorgar felt his blood run cold. Only war. Those were words to echo into eternity.

He didn’t trust the Ten Thousand Futures the way Erebus claimed to. Too many possibilities forked from every decision made by every living thing. What use was prophecy when all it offered was what might happen? Lorgar was not so devoid of imagination that he needed the warp’s twisting guesswork to show him that. Anyone with an iota of vision could imagine what might happen. Genius lay in engineering events according to one’s own goals, not in blindly heeding the laughter of mad gods.

More than that, Lorgar sought to keep one thing in mind above all else. The gods were powerful, without doubt, but they were fickle beings. Each worked against its own kin more often than not, spilling conflicting prophecies into their prophets’ minds. Perhaps they weren’t even sentient in the way a mortal mind could encompass. They seemed as much the manifestations of primal emotion as they did individual essences.

But no, there was a wide gulf between hearing them and heeding them. Gods lied, just like men. Gods deceived and clashed and sought to advance their own dominions over their rivals’. Lorgar trusted none of their prophecies.

Image ID 3-5: A series of screenshots from Betrayer. Angron comes into the scene. It reads:

Angron entered the basilica, armoured in his usual stylised bronze and ceramite and with two oversized chainswords strapped to his back. He even wasted time with a greeting, raising his hand in the first time Lorgar could ever remember such a gesture from his broken brother. The Word Bearer tried not to let his amazement show at his brother’s new consideration.

‘Lotara says you stole her astropathic choir.’ Angron’s lipless smile was a ghastly thing indeed. ‘I see that she may have been correct.’

‘Stole is a strong word. “Appropriated” seems much less ignoble.’ Lorgar spared a glance for the skies above the cathedral, as the Lex ripped onwards towards Nuceria.

‘What do you need them for?’ Angron asked. His wounds from being buried alive had already faded to scrunched scar tissue pebbling his flesh, just another host of scarring to overlay the last.

The Devourers lurked behind him, stomping into the cathedral without the primarch sparing them a glance. To be one of Angron’s bodyguards was no honour, despite how fiercely the World Eaters’ champions had fought for it in the first, optimistic years. Angron ignored them no matter where they went, never once fighting alongside them in battle. In their Terminator plate, they’d never managed to keep up with their liege lord, and they were as prone to losing control as any other World Eater, meaning any hope of them fighting as an organised pack was a forlorn one at best.

Lorgar watched the Devourers – those warriors who’d spent a century learning to swallow their pride and pretend they weren’t ignored – speaking amongst themselves at the basilica’s entrance.

‘Hail,’ he greeted them. They seemed uneasy at being addressed, offering hesitant and wordless bows.

Angron snorted at his brother acknowledging them. ‘Bodyguards,’ he said. ‘Even their name annoys me. “Devourers”, as if I’d named them myself – as if they were the Legion’s finest.’

‘Their intentions are pure,’ Lorgar pointed out. ‘They seek to honour you. It’s not their fault you leave them behind in every battle.’

‘They’re not even the Legion’s fiercest fighters, any more. That rogue Delvarus refuses to challenge for a place in their ranks. Khârn laughed when I asked him if he’d ever considered it. And do you know Bloodspitter?’

‘I know Bloodspitter,’ Lorgar replied. Everyone knew Bloodspitter.

‘He beat one of them in the pits, and carved his name into the poor bastard’s armour with a combat knife.’

Lorgar forced a smile. ‘Yes. Delightful.’

Angron’s face wrenched again, at the mercy of misfiring muscles. ‘What primarch ever needed guarding by lesser men?’

‘Ferrus,’ Lorgar said softly. ‘Vulkan.’

Angron laughed, the sound rich and true, yet harsh as a bitter wind. ‘It’s good to hear you joke about those weaklings. I was getting bored of you mourning them.’

It was no joke, but Lorgar had no desire to shatter his brother’s fragile good humour. ‘I only mourn the dead,’ Lorgar conceded. ‘I don’t mourn Vulkan.’

‘He’s as good as dead.’ The World Eater smiled again. ‘I’m sure he wishes he were. Now, what are you doing with Lotara’s choir?’

‘Listening to them sing of other worlds and other wars.’

Angron stared, unimpressed. ‘Specifics,’ he said, ‘while I have the patience to hear such details.’

‘Just listen,’ Lorgar replied.

Angron did as he was bid. After a minute or more had passed, he nodded once. ‘You’re listening to the Five Hundred Worlds burning.’

‘Something like that. These are the voices of the freshly dead, and those soon to join them. The mortis-moments of random souls, elsewhere in Ultramar, as our fleets ravage their worlds.’

‘Morbid, priest. Even for you.’

‘We’re inflicting this destruction on them. We mustn’t consider ourselves distant from it. It may not be our hands holding the bolters and blades, but we are still the architects of this annihilation. It’s our place to listen to it, to remember the martyred dead, and to meditate on all we’ve wrought.’

‘I wish you well with it,’ said Angron. ‘But why steal Lotara’s choir? What happened to yours?’

‘They died.’

It was Angron’s turn to be surprised. ‘How did they die?’

‘Screaming.’ Lorgar showed no emotion at all. ‘What brings you here, brother?’

Image ID 6 & 7: Two screenshots from later in the previous scene, when Angron asks 'Why Nuceria?'. It reads:

‘The metaphysics are complicated,’ said Lorgar.

That had Angron growling. ‘I may not have wasted days in debate with you and Magnus inside our father’s Palace, but the Nails haven’t left me an absolute fool. I asked the question, Lorgar. You answer it. And do so without lying, if you can manage such a feat.’

The Word Bearer met his brother’s eyes, and the rarely-seen palette of emotions within their depths. Pain was there in abundance, but so was the frustration of living with a misfiring mind, and the savagery that transcended anger itself. Angron was a creature that had come to make his hatred a blade to be used in battle. He’d weaponised his own emotions, where most living beings were slaves to theirs. Lorgar couldn’t help but admire the strength in that.

‘We’re going to Nuceria,’ he said, ‘because of you. Because of the Nails.’

Angron stared, and his silence beckoned for his brother to continue.

‘They’re killing you,’ Lorgar admitted. ‘Faster than I thought. Faster than anyone realised. The rate of degeneration has accelerated even in the last few months. Your implants were never designed for a primarch’s brain matter. Your physiology is trying to heal the damage as the Nails bite deeper, but it’s a game of pushing and pulling, with both sides evenly matched.’

Angron took this with an impassive shrug. ‘Guesswork.’

‘I can see souls and hear the music of creation,’ Lorgar smiled. ‘In comparison, this is nothing. The Twelfth Legion’s archives are comprehensive enough, you know. Your behaviour tells the rest of the tale, along with the pain I sense radiating from you each and every time we meet. Your entire brain is remapped and rewired, slaved to the implants’ impulses. Tell me, when was the last time you dreamed?’

‘I don’t dream.’ The answer was immediate, almost fiercely fast. ‘I’ve never dreamed.’

Lorgar’s gentle eyes caught the warp’s kaleidoscopic light as he tilted his head. ‘Now you’re lying, brother.’

‘It’s no lie.’ Angron’s thick fingers twitched and curled, closing around the ghosts of weapons. ‘The Nails scarcely let me sleep. How would I dream?’

Lorgar didn’t miss the rising tension in his brother’s body language – the veins in his temples rising from scarred skin, the feral hunch of the shoulders, no different from a hunting cat drawing into a crouch before it struck.

‘You once told me the Nails stole your slumber,’ Lorgar conceded, ‘but you also said they let you dream.’

Angron took a step closer. He started to say ‘I meant…’ but Lorgar’s earthy glare stopped him cold.

‘They give you a serenity and peace you can find nowhere else. Humans, legionaries, primarchs… everything alive must sleep, must rest, must allow its brain a period of respite. The remapping of your mind denies you this. You don’t dream with your eyes closed. You dream with your eyes open, chasing the rush of whatever peace the Nails can give you.’ Lorgar met Angron’s eyes again. ‘Don’t insult us both by denying it. You slaver and murmur when you kill, mumbling about chasing serenity and how close it feels. I’ve heard you. I’ve looked into your heart and soul when you’re lost to the Nails. Your sons, with their crude copies of your implants, have their minds rewritten to feel joy only in adrenaline’s kiss. Those lesser implants cause pain because they scrape the nerves raw, thus your World Eaters kill because it gladdens their reforged hearts, and ceases the pain knifing into their muscles. Your Butcher’s Nails are a more sinister and predatory design, ruining all cognition, stealing any peace. They are killing you, gladiator. And you ask why I’m taking you back to Nuceria? Is it not obvious?’

End Image ID.]

#warhammer 30k #word bearers #world eaters #lorgar #angron #enjoy some betrayer folks #long post

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