#i guess its just “this is cooler in the version i made in my mind palace”

[skybristle]

oh my god im not alone in hating him. thank you i was going insane

i think itd be fun if he was... an actual threat since hes meant to be CHAOTIC but instead he does Vaguely evil stuff and acts grating. i dont like the beasts but i can recognize mflour and bspice have good writing for the most part hes just annoying and shows just how devsis values a character being likeable more than the actual plot - tell me one reason why he somehow got unsealed other than needing more screentime

and then was prominent in the wind archer event too .....

idk i dont find him funny at all just very childish. also its a shame the silly jester character can't take an offense whatsoever and is always throwing tantrums. i think i migth have found him less annoying if he was more aloof

i just think it bugs me how [to me anyways] he is SUCH OBVIOUS fandom bait and everyone FELL FOR ITTTTTTTT

[lindseymcdonaldseyelashes]

i didn’t mind the "fixer" title as far as it sounding real enough, but i think that’s cause i read/watch too much stuff with fixer lawyers lol. like that’s very much a thing but the implication when it comes to harry is a bit awkward lol. like calling a corrupt lawyer a fixer is not exactly a compliment, and harry’s trying to NOT be a corrupt lawyer anymore.

"maker" sounds a bit more made up to me. i always thought "hitter" was a bit of a funny title too so i guess ill get used to it. i know that technically hitter was already a word before leverage but its just so uncommon. it sounds like a gender neutral term for hitman… which i guess it basically is, right? and im sure that just naturally came into being but the scenario that makes in my minds eye is so funny… that women & trans ppl in the Murder Industry sat down & decided on a more inclusive term for hitman… "hmm hitman or hitwoman?" "no, what about nonbinary people?" "hitperson?" "theres gotta be a cooler sounding option than that". i think that’s how it would have happened in the leverageverse to be fair lol, life’s just a bit more quirky there. i think a leverageverse hitter would respect my they/them pronouns right before they kill me. like "oh yeah, i get it, my colleague Freddie uses they/them too. they’re an excellent hitter - that’s a gender neutral term agreed upon at the Crime World convention. Freddie got to speak on the ‘Trans, Intersex & Gender Diverse People In Assassination’ panel there last year. interesting panel, i learnt a lot. anyway i gotta poison you now."

I think it's interesting because I'd definitely heard "hitter" before in the same context, so I guess it never sounded weird to me, but I can't remember where for the life of me? I feel like it pre-dated it being an issue of inclusivity but I could be remembering wrong. Your version is more fun, though.

And "fixer" is another one that's been around forever, but when you try to put it in any order with "maker" and the other names it starts sounding real goofy to me for no good reason

[heavenlyhoundoom]

Me roasting Johto.

Chikorita: AKA, Johto's biggest punching bag.

Bayleef: I can't believe this pokemon was originally going to look nothing like its pre - or post evolution!

Meganium: The most forgettable final grass starter.

Cyndaquil: How does it feel having Fuecoco take all the credit for breaking the Chinese Zodiac theory?

Quilava: Or the sausage shrew as I like to call it.

Typhlosion: I can't believe Gamefreak took away its idle neck flames for nearly a decade!

Totodle: The Feucoco for water type fans.

Croconaw: (cue Flintstones theme song here)

Feraligatr: I can't stop thinking of that infamous back sprite that made it look like it was thicc.

Sentret: (Engineer voice) Spy is sapping my sentret!

Furret: Oh, look, it's a ground type! No, wait, the anime's just stupid.

Hoothoot: Its name is literally just the sound its real-life counterpart makes.

Noctowl: Sorry, Noctowl, but the other regional birds are just cooler than you.

Ledyba: Look at that thousand yard stare. There's not a single thought behind those eyes.

Ledian: If it didn't look it up, I would've never guessed that it was based on a superhero.

Spinarak: You're not a true spider, you only have six legs!

Ariados: You have the most forgettable signature move.

Crobat: I feel like Gamefreak just decided to slap the friendship evolution onto it because they could.

Chinchou: What's with the plus sign eyes?

Lanturn: Look out, Seel and Dewgong, you got competition for the least creative name.

Pichu: I can't believe pichu has a special form that's just it having a tuff of fur on its ear.

Cleffa: Was this pokemon really necessary?

Igglybuff: For real, the idea of bouncing and never being able stop is terrifying!

Togepi: The poster child for baby pokemon.

Togetic: That neck though.

Natu: It looks like it's judging me.

Zatu: I feel bad for it, since it's in constant dread due to seeing horrible futures.

The Mareep line: Beep beep, I'm a sheep. I said beep beep, I'm a sheep.

Bellossom: How does it feel to be shorter than your pre evolution?

Marill: (Insert pikablu joke here)

Azurill: The water bunny egg pokemon.

Sudowoodo: What if I bring out the hose?

Politoad: We finally have a frog pokemon that actually looks like a frog.

The hoppin line: Dendelion, a million little wishes blowing across the sky.

Aipom: No thoughts, head empty.

Sunkurn: The most useless pokemon.

Sunflora: Boring...

Yanma: One rock throw, and you're dead.

Wooper: The derpy pokemon.

Quagsire: The Family Guy pokemon.

Espeon: How does it feel to be overshadowed by your edgy counterpart?

Umbreon: You know people only like you because you're edgy, right?

Murkrow: I'm glad it got an evolution later on because it really needed it.

Slowking: Despite being a genius, you still look so derpy.

Misdreavus: This was the most random pokemon to get a paradox form.

Unown: Cool concept, poor execution.

Wobbuffet: Jessie's comedic relief pokemon.

Girafarig: Its beta design is proof that sometimes less is more.

Pineco: Am I the only one who wants to know what it actually looks like?

Foretress: Stop exploding and let me catch you, dammit!

Dunsparce: Remember when people wanted Drampa to be your evolution?

Gligar: Its color pallet is so consistent.

Steelix: You're no crystal onix.

Snubull: Too bad you're only known for being a bitch thanks to the anime.

Granbull: Are those tusks under your lips painful?

Qwilfish: Anyone hungry for some fugu?

Scizor: Big meaty claws!

Shuckle: Dorkly's biggest punching bag.

Heracross: Its female gender difference makes almost as little since as Wobbuffet's.

Sneasel: Why wasn't this a version exclusive alongside gligar, it would've made more sense.

Teddiursa: It's so cute, I wanna hug it forever!

Ursaring: Oh God, never mind!

Slugma and Magcargo: It was cruel to put these pokemon in the Hoenn region.

Swinub and Piloswine: No one cared about you until you got an evolution in Sinnoh.

Corsola: Just like Primape, no one cared about you until you died. That's just sad.

Remoraid: The urge to hold this pokemon like a pistol is killing me!

Octillery: You could've been so interesting, but they had to censor your design!

Delibird: 🎶It's Christmas all over again, yeah again!🎶

Mantine: It looks like it's starting into my soul, and I don't like it.

Houndour and Houndoom: I hate how these pokemon were locked behind post game!

Kingdra: Why does it look so pissed?

Phanpy: No, Phanpy, I do not find you destroying my home cute just because you were only playing!

Donphan: I'm a tire.

Porygon2: Porygon2, Electric Boogaloo!

Stantler: Do you think Delibirduses this pokemon to pull its sleigh?

Smeargle: Probably the most gimmicky gimmick pokemon to ever gimmick.

Tyrogue: No, anime, Tyrogue evolves into either Hitmonchan, Hitmonlee, or Hitmotop, not the other way around.

Hitmontop: It's beyblade!

Smoochum: You think they wouldn't give a baby form for such a controversial pokemon so early on.

Elekid: Hey, could you please charge my phone for me?

Magby: Such an unfortunate Japanese name.

Miltank: Poor thing was demonized just because of that annoying brat, Whitney.

Blissy: Egg...

Raikou: The most overshadowed of the gen 2 legendaries.

Entei: That fact that a volcano erupts eveytime it barks makes it a miracle that there's still any life left in the pokemon world.

Suicune: Gamefreak really went out of their way to make sure this was the most popular of the legendary beasts.

Larvitar: Look at those stubby little arms.

Pupitar: Did we really need another caccoon pokemon.

Tyranitar: One brick break and your dead.

Lugia: The "why isn't this a water type?" pokemon.

Ho-Oh: This pokemon is seen as giving Ash immortality.

Celebi: You, you're the one responsible for all the event pokemon that use FOMO to trick fans into wasting their time going to Gamestop. Let that fact weigh heavily on your shoulders...

(Hoenn shall be next)

[lunatic-fandom-space]

Guess who just wrote a really long and detailed post in my notes app that I accidentally managed to delete. meeeeeeeee <3

So yeah, for better or for worse, heres a more condensed version of a very long post where I complain about 2000!Judas again that Ive written in like, two hours probably (I know that sounds like a lot but trust me, it isnt for me)

Basically, when I watched this version for the first time I thought the reason I didnt like this portrayal of Judas and thought he was really unsympathetic was because of the actor and some of the directorial choices made for his scenes. But then I rewatched it, paid closer attention and even made pretty detailed notes as I was watching like the nerd I am, and I realized that no, the direction is consistantly really good and does a great job at putting you in the characters head, which is a good way to get an audience to sympathize with a character, even for Judas' scenes. Heaven On Their Minds is a great example of this, here are the notes I took during the scene bc it took me days to write that original post that I deleted and I dont feel like rewriting stuff:

• At the start of Heaven On Their Minds: Judas singing directly at Jesus while theyre engulfed in blue but glowing orange before the apostles show up and the lighting changes to something more orange-y golden (signaling Judas snapping out of his thoughts about Jesus and back into reality) • At the end of Heaven On Their Minds: Judas stepping out of the warm golden light with Jesus and his apostles back into a cooler, blue-ish light to signify his disconnect with the others, wavering trust in Jesus

So, if its not the direction thats the issue, what is it? The actor? Well yeah, I think the actor is definitely the bigger issue for me here. idk if thats a hot take, I certainly dont think it should be. However, there are two big directorial choices that I have issues with, one thats very obvious and mostly concentrated in one scene and one thats a bit more 'spread out' so to speak and that I initially had some trouble pinpointing

The first and more obvious one is the Superstar scene. This song already has some tonal issues by virtue of being a funky disco song sandwiched between The Scene Where They Brutally Beat Jesus and The Scene Where They Brutally Crucify Jesus and having Judas be all smiley during it like hes happy about Jesus dying a slow and painful death only to get all sad at the very end when they actually start crucifying him does not help. Like at all. Its like they didnt get that Judas was meant to be like, frustrated during this song because it acts as an extension of his character throughout the musical, who was very frustrated with Jesus because he didnt understand him or why he did the things he did. Its also meant to be an expression of the audience's presumed feelings, since we, like Judas, just spent a long time with this guy and thought we kinda understood what his deal was only to then realize that no, we did not, actually.

Thats pretty much it, there is a similar weird kind of smugness and almost schadenfreude permeating the rest of this guy's performance as well, its just the most noticeable in that song

Now, Im gonna change the topic here for just a second because I think its necessary to talk about the costuming, specifically the colors of the clothes, to properly explain myself. Unlike the 2012 version, which did its own thing when it came to assigning colors to these characters, the 2000s version takes pretty much all the notable character colors from the 1973 movie. That means Jesus wears white, Herod also wears white which could be a way to visually connect them since Herod is referred to as king and seems to have some kind of special authority over jewish people even though he apparently doesnt have a lot of actual state power, kind of how Jesus is also hailed as king of sorts even though he obviously doesnt have any kind of stately power either ? idk, Im not analysing this further bc thats not what the post is about, Caiaphas, Annas and their three guys all wear black, Pilate wears purple (albeit a cooler tone than the 70s version thats closer to the purple the roman guards wore), Judas wears red and Mary wears red... in the 2000s version. She wears orange in the 70s movie

So, why would they change that when they otherwise changed very little about the costumes' colors? Im not gonna beat around the bush here, they were trying to emphasize the idea of Judas and Mary as foils and romantic rivals with Judas being the dark 'incorrect' "option" and Mary being totally morally good as a contrast. Think about it, Judas wears mostly black in this version with the red being closer to an accent color while Mary wears mostly red with black as an accent color, theyre wearing the same color scheme but inverted and Judas ended up with the darker and more menacing version of it (although I would argue its kinda hard to style the red-black combo as anything but edgy, vaguely threatening, vaguely sexy and seductive or a combination of any of those), Judas is a lot more physically aggressive towards Mary in this film which wasnt the case in the 1973 version (I havent rewatched the 2012 one yet and I dont remember a lot of the details but Im pretty sure he wasnt as physical in that version either), theres that weird bit right after I Dont Know How To Love Him where he inecplicably shows up to, idk, intimidate Mary? which then leads directly into Damned For All Time/Blood Money and the way its framed makes it seem like his betrayal was motivated by jealousy and some weird yandere-esque "If I cant have him, no one can" line of logic which is just weird. Like, I dont dislike this concept on the face of it, but they had no idea how to pull it off well

Actually, now that I think about it I feel like they work well enough as foils without any attempts to emphasize them as romantic rivals. Like, obviously Judas sings that little reprise of I Dont Know How To Love Him before his death but also his whole thing at the start of the musical was that he was turning away from Jesus while Mary's thing was that she was very close and loyal to him from beginning to end, like thats one of the things that Peter's Denial demonstrates right

Whatever, thats kind of it. I feel like thats a pretty abrupt ending to this but I dont care that much lol. In conclusion, although I love this movie for the direction and lighting I have a lot of shit to complain about, mostly relating to Judas and also this post ended up being a lot longer than expected, hope you enjoyed

[agendergorgon]

I finished my mini of Iron Man tonight which means I've now painted every character in both of Marvel Crisis Protocol's Core Sets. (Buy the old one if you can get it cheap!) I did the two a few years apart, with a lot of practice in between, so here's me showing off some improvement in my painting by the medium of comic book lads I guess.

Proof that Tony Stark looks cooler in shiny gold. Don't know why I made the OG corset version of him so muted. Second most improved sculpt between versions of a character, I'll save the best for last but to save time wow the original MCP Avengers line up sure are standing with one hand forward and one hand to the side/back. You'll see on the following slides, Captain Marvel is the best posed of them.

See below for a bunch more of two similar comic book type lads stood next to one another with a view of my garage out of focus in the background.

Star Spangled Man. I made the first one vibrant so to compensate I made the new version of Cap dull and dark. He's got the Ultimate Captain America colours now. And a tactical rock. As far as I'm concerned, thats America's rock.

I did a poor job on the first Black Widow model and I didn't know she came in white but I liked the idea of the palette swap. Plus I wanted to practice painting white better. I can't believe she's killing Tony Stark in the new model.

Darol Canvers. I Wanted to give the other Captain Marvel a more Ms Marvel look. Plus I keep seeing Antares from Ward on my dash so I had black and gold on my mind. I kinda like how my first one came out but every so often I look at her chest and she looks as emaciated as a Xenomorph. Or Sil from Species. Old sculpt suffers from trying to fly with one leg on the floor, like many a warhammer figure with a jetpack who is just happening to accidentally whack their leg on a pipe while in flight.

Trying to paint the Spectacular Spider Man as Spider Man 3 taught me a valuable lesson. Never try and start with white and pick out the top parts in black. Slow, painful, and it didn't even really work out well. I appreciate the venom on the base but this was the least fun model to build across both core sets, and that includes the original Ultron after I thought I lost his face and scoured the floor for an hour before finding it stuck in me bra. On to the villains.

The Red Skull from the OG core set is a nice recreation of his Captain America the First Avenger costume and part of why I love MCP because this officious greatcoat and other serious mcp pouch and line laden costumes are sharing a game space with much goofier comic booky designs. Anyway, Red Skull's new core set version is much more excited to show off his cube. First sculpt is more passive but I think that works to its benefit, makes it stand out amongst dynamic hero poses.

Baron Zemo has the best costume here. I didn't do his jacket too well but the bomber jacket just goes so well with the rest. His pose lulls the opponent into a false sense of security before they read his card and realise that he can clear half the board and back in one turn. New Zemo has more momentum but doesn't slay as hard. I tried non-metallic metals on his sword, need to practice that more.

Bane is my all-time favourite Batman villain. With the original one I wanted to try and mix the colour scheme of Tom Hardy's Bane with the glowing veins of the Arkham games and many other Banes. The newer Bane sculpt is more quiet and cerebral, gun discarded while he contemplates his foe and makes a show of muscle. Accordingly, he's themed after the softer spoken Bane of Batman the Animated series.

Ultron and Doctor Doom. Neither of these are Iron Man villains but they are metal so they do frequently appear across from him in board games, video games etc. Ultron was meant to be styled like he is in the movie but I don't think it came out that well. Nice pose, not much action to him tho. Doctor Doom has a calmer pose but the thrust and cape sell him better. Surprisingly the least changed character design between core boxes tho I'd say.

Doctor Octopus is my least favourite sculpt in the original Marvel Crisis Protocol Core Set. Stood stock still. Arms folded. Those tentacles don't convey much either beyond wiggling I botched his colours bad and just drybrushed Leadbelcher for the tentacles. To compensate I laboured over the new Doc Ock, the sculptors and manufacturers deserve praise, I'll buy em a pint if I ever meet em. Best sculpt in the new core set. The elevation. The greatcoat that calls back to Alfred Molina but slides atop comic booky spandex. I gave him plum hair to distinguish it from the jacket more, I think it makes him look a lil fruity.

Anyway, that was Marvel Crisis Protocol Assemble and Marvel Crisis Protocol: Age of Ultron. I've played this game so much in the last few years and I got a lot better at painting.

[thesunmeltedthegrayaway]

His Lucky Charm: Johnny Cade x Reader

I used female pronouns for this, if you would like me to write a gender-neutral or male pronoun version of this fic then I will!

This is a request! If you would like to make a request take a look at (this post) for all of the characters I am currently writing for.

My Multi-fandom Masterlist

The request is...

"And he could feel her magic working Keeping him from harm Away to someplace mystical and warm His lucky charm."

Pantyhose by TV Girl

~~~ I was positive that people around us thought we were together. I couldn't blame them, we were very close to one another. Smiles that no one else could bring out of us would bloom to life when we saw each other. Lingering gazes, brushing touches, hand-holding, and not to mention the number of times we had fallen asleep together on the Curtis's couch. It was all a normality to us, it was nothing more than a sign of the closeness of our friendship. That's all it was, a friendship. Nothing more, nothing less.

But my brain would soon work against me. It of course had to take those affectionate gestures we showed to one another and make it into something else entirely. Soon enough I began to notice how much longer I took to get ready, how I always seemed to want to look my best whenever he was around. How hugs from him that felt simple to me before now made me want them to last forever. How much deeper his struggles felt to me, and how I would do everything in my power to make him smile again.

It confused me, how I could think of him as nothing more than a friend one day. But then slowly begin to feel adoration and love for him the following days. It was terrifying feeling something so intense for someone who didn't feel the same way. It was terrifying knowing that the intense emotions that coursed through me could very well destroy one of the best friendships I had ever had. It made everyone encounter him that much more difficult to hold those feelings back.

But, I would do anything I could for him. If all he wanted me to be was a close friend, then that's what I would be.

~~~

We sat on the roof of my parent's house, the orange sky slowly faded into a deep, dark blue. The night wind was surprisingly warm but it felt comfortable. Johnny was surprisingly quiet, well, surprisingly quiet for him. I could tell something was bothering him, it could be a lot of things really. But my guess was on the fact that Dallas was stuck in the cooler again. I didn't want to push him to talk about anything he didn't want to. But, my curiosity overrides my self-control.

"You okay over there?" I question softly, he jumped slightly at the sound of my voice.

He must've been stuck in his own thoughts.

"Huh? Yeah, I'm fine Y/N." He replied, his voice wavered slightly as he spoke.

"Johnny," I say softly as I scooted closer to him, draping an arm around his shoulder. "You know you can tell me anything that's on your mind."

He still didn't answer me, the look on his face seemed troubled.

"I mean you don't have to if you don't want to," I add quickly. "I didn't mean to upset you."

He sighed, his face slightly losing its troubled features. "No, you didn't upset me. It's just-" He paused, hesitating to finish his sentence.

"Yeah?" I asked gently.

"You know Dal's girl, Slyvia?"

I cringed at the mention of her name, I hadn't known her long. But the second Dallas introduced her to all of us. I immediately got a bad feeling about her.

"Yeah," I reply bitterly without meaning to.

"Well, ever since Dal got locked up in the cooler again she's been... talkin' me up," He admitted uncomfortably.

I tense as soon as the sentence left his lips. "What?" I hissed out.

Jealousy coursed through me making my blood feel as though it was on fire. My jaw clenched as I tried to hold back the color curses that threatened to release themselves.

"I feel terrible," Johnny muttered sadly making my anger melt away into confusion.

"Why do you feel bad?" I question genuinely. He didn't answer me, he merely turned his head away in embarrassment.

"Y-you really don't think that her hitting on you is your fault do you?"

He nodded his head sullenly before replying. "She's one of my best friends girls and she's hitting on me."

"Johnny, if you have told her to leave you alone then you are not at fault here. She's just being a pushy asshole who can't take a hint or just rejection period."

"I don't know, I could've tried harder to ignore her or-"

"I am positive if Dallas heard what was going on he'd be agreeing with me here, okay?" I interjected without hesitation.

He turned his head to look at me, his dark eyes had a hopeful glisten in them due to the moonlight. "Really? Are you sure?"

"Of course," Johnny leaned his head on my shoulder after my reply. The tension in his body lessened by the second.

"Thanks, Y/N... you always know the right things to say."

I breathed out a laugh before replying. "It takes a lot of practice."

I heard Johnny laugh himself before sighing. "I love you Y/N/N, you're the best."

A bittersweet feeling rang through me because I knew that "love you" was strictly platonic. And that was all it ever would be.

"Love you too Johnnycake."

~~~

Slyvia was bold, I'll give her that. I wouldn't dare flirt with my boyfriend's best friend while his other friends were a witness to it. If I didn't like her before, I officially hated her guts not. I could feel my fingernails dig into the palms of my hands as I walked. My blood felt hot again in envy and anger. I could see how uncomfortable Johnny was with Slyvia's advancement but she wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Knock it off Slyvia," Johnny muttered uncomfortably.

"Aww, you're so cute when you get flustered." She replied in a sickly sweet tone, completely ignoring Johnny's reservations.

Steve, Soda, and Ponyboy were walking beside me, all three of them livid at the situation that was unfolding in front of us. Soda looked disgusted, Ponyboy looked on in disbelief, while Steve looked as though he wanted to rip her head off. I on the other hand felt a combination of all of their reactions.

"Slyvia-" Johnny spoke up.

She interrupted his sentence by leaning on him. A seductive giggle fell from her full lips. At that moment, Steve snapped, his face skewed scarily in anger.

She seemed taken aback at his "sudden" hostility and let Johnny go. Johnny stood frozen in his place not sure what to do.

"Look, you're already fucking around with one of my buddies. But if you try to pull any of your dirty tricks on another one," He paused looking over Sylvia's shoulder at me.

"I know a girl who personally wants to be the tar out of you." He spat out finishing his sentence. Sylvia spun around on her heels to follow Steve's gaze. She scoffed as soon as her sights landed on me, only making my anger intensify.

She began to laugh as her sentence split out of her lips. "Sh-she's going to beat the tar out of me? Maybe in her dreams, she wouldn't dare try to put her hands on me now."

"Wanna bet?" I spoke up tensely. Ponyboy, Soda, and Johnny looked at Steve and me with apprehensive expressions.

Slyvia stepped closer to me, staring me up in down judgementally. "Yeah, I do." She said bravely, no trace of fear could be seen in her.

"Why are you so mad at me? Are you jealous? Are you insecure?" She questioned mockingly, her lips pouted playfully. "Why should you care if I'm flirting with Johnny?"

My teeth bit harshly on my tongue as she patronized me. It hurt to admit that she was right in her guesses.

"You're clearly making him uncomfortable jackass. He is your BOYFRIEND'S best friend after all." I spoke up being sure to emphasize boyfriend.

"Sure, that's totally the only reason." She replied skeptically. "It's not because your heart flutters whenever you're around him. Or that he makes you feel a love you've never experienced before." She spat out viciously.

"Shut up." I tried to say strongly, but it came out as a broken mutter.

"Did I strike a nerve? I am a right?"

The walls that I had built up completely crumbled. Any words that I tried to formulate became broken stutters and nervous laughs. I couldn't try to recover from this. He had to know now that Sylvia's assumptions about me were correct. As I turned my head to look over at Johnny his face was stunned. Soda and Ponyboy looked over at me sympathetically.

"Uh... I-I..." I could feel tears of humiliation well up in my eyes as I look at every one. Before I could embarrass myself even further I ran off.

"Y/N! Wait a second!" I heard Johnny yell out from behind me.

I didn't dare look back though, I couldn't bear the thought of seeing him right now.

I had been humiliated enough for one day.

~~~

I huffed out breaths unceremoniously as I reached my house. I sat down hunching over as I tried to catch my breath. I was screwed I could just tell. The look on Johnny's face I saw before I left told me everything I needed to know. The worst thing about everything was the fact that I wasn't even the one to tell him how I felt. It had to come out of someone else's vile lips.

The hot sun burned down on me as I tried to recover from the events that just happened moments ago. I felt so nervous it felt as though my fingers and toes went numb. My hands shook as I tried to calm myself down. The wavering of my hands didn't falter when the sound of gravel crunching underneath someone's shoes grew closer. I knew who it was, and for once Johnny was the last person I wanted to see.

Johnny's labored breaths grew louder as a shadow suddenly loomed over me. "I'm glad I checked here first," Johnny said breathlessly, a broken chuckle followed his sentence.

I didn't reply to him, I kept my head down staring at my shaking hands. I heard a sigh before Johnny's shadow lowered. He knelt in front of me, taking my trembling hands.

"I'm sorry," I spoke brokenly. "I know I made you really uncomfortable... I didn't want you to know about this."

"Y/N," He replied making me look up at him. "I'm pretty clueless when it comes to stuff like this I have to admit. But, I know one thing, I really like you too." He spoke with a confidence I had never heard out of him before.

"You don't have to say anything to make me feel better," I utter not really believing the words that were leaving his mouth.

"I'm not, I swear I'm not." He replied quickly wanting to reassure me. "You've always been there for me, and the amount of love I feel for you is overwhelming sometimes. He admits bashfully.

I sniffled slightly before replying. "Wow... Sylvia's finally useful something huh?" I joked making him laugh.

"Yeah for once." He replied bluntly taking me aback. He brushed a stray tear that was still on my face softly. Before I knew it, we were leaning toward one another. It was as though an invisible force was controlling our movements. Before our lips intertwined with one another, I noticed now more than ever the nuances I had fallen in love with. The slight dimples that showed themselves whenever he smiled wide enough, the tiny freckles that splayed on his nose, and of course, that hopeful and happy gleam he would get in his eyes.

Then, a soft pair of lips embraced mine. The kiss was light yet breathtaking all at the same time. I could feel my cheeks heat up, my arms wrapped themselves around the back of his neck. Goosebumps developed as soon as I felt Johnny's hands rest themselves on my hips.

We pulled apart and began to smile shyly at one another. We then just melted into a hug, the relief I felt as I relished in the embrace we were. It made me close my eyes in comfort.

I should've told him how I felt a lot... sooner.

~~~

A/N: After I found out that Slyvia was flirting with Johnny while Dallas was in jail. This idea popped into my head for this request lol. Hope it worked!

Also, genuine question... are there any pictures of Johnny looking happy? Every time I go to write a Johnny fanfic that doesn't have some sort of angst in it all I find are pictures of him either sad, terrified, or a combination of both lol. It took me half an hour to find that picture of him I put in the collage.

[nectar-cellar]

Reminiscing about The Sims

Share how you discovered the Sims franchise & the very first sims game you played (e.g ts2). 

Thank you for tagging me @nocturnalazure !

Long, meandering post ahead 😂

Have some spicy pictures of Amir to make up for it. He’s thinking. It’s on theme.

@thesimperiuscurse you are responsible for pic 1 btw

The very first Sims game I ever played was The Sims 3, on the Xbox 360 console, when I was a teenager. Back then, TS3 was one of the bigger and newer EA games of the time, and it was everywhere. I spent hours in front of the TV, playing my households with no CC or DLC, wrapped up in my own imagination, no consideration for picture-taking, nothing! Just pure self-indulgent fun. I wasn’t a PC gamer and I had no idea CC or Simblr even existed. It was a much simpler time.

I think it was around the final year of high school when I first stumbled across sims CC somewhere on the internet. (Someone had posted screenshots of their very attractive male sim, that I do remember. Explains a lot doesn’t it?) I can’t remember the exact time. It might have been on my personal Tumblr account (all my friends had one and we thought we were so cool) or even Google Images lmao. My mind was blown. I never knew you could make hot sims. I immediately bought a Sims 3 CD and installed it on my Dad’s laptop. The PC version of TS3 was so much better. That was also when I started a Simblr, to follow others and share my own pics... this very same one!

After I discovered CC and Simblr, I never played the game the same way ever again. My interest shifted to character creation and ~fashion~ I guess. The endless amount of simspiration and CC spoiled me and ruined my appreciation for the game in its untouched form. I wanted my sims, my builds, my pictures, everything to look perfect, and I was never satisfied. I viewed my game and my content through other people’s eyes, not my own.

I remember being so in awe of everyone else on here. At the time, I only had the base game, I didn’t know how to torrent anything, my Dad’s laptop could barely run the game, I didn’t have money to buy dlc, and I had no idea how to make any kind of CC other than the simplest graphic edits. All I really did was make sims and pose them for photoshoots. Obsessively downloaded a shit ton of other people’s CC. Wrote a little bit here and there. Played my household once in a blue moon. Everyone else, with their cliques and fun legacies and bachelorette challenges and CC creations and intricate builds and amazing editing, seemed so much cooler than me. There were so many different websites and forums and blogs. The TS3 player base was huge. I was amazed by all of it. I couldn’t believe we were all playing the same game. I couldn’t believe people were so creative and talented. It was an odd mixture of admiration, envy, and feeling like an outsider compared to the “big” Simblrs of the time.

I made some simple cc here and there to contribute to the community, but I didn’t know what I was doing and I didn’t take it seriously. I wanted to create better things but it all seemed so complicated, and I didn’t think I was smart enough to learn.

Then, I went off to university. Away from my Dad’s laptop, I lost interest in the game, and became preoccupied with other life things and other console games. I wasn’t really around for the release of The Sims 4. I was busy, and it just didn’t have the same magic. For a few years, I didn’t even log into this Tumblr account. I didn’t pick up TS3 again until right before the pandemic happened, on a nostalgic whim. 

When I first started posting again in 2019/2020, I didn’t expect much. A lot of my previous Simblr mutuals/friends were no longer here. Every post on my dashboard was about TS4. Most of my followers from years ago were no longer active. There were only a few familiar faces left. It was lonely, coming back here only to see how everyone had moved on, and I was nobody. But still, the game was just as fun as I remembered it, with years’ worth of new CC to check out, so I kept playing and posting and catching up on all I had missed, and slowly I started finding community again.

Now that I’m a bit older, I find myself appreciating the game a lot more, in ways I couldn’t before. The beautiful scenery. The open world. The Create-a-Style tool. The maxis-match aesthetic. The humor. The dated yet charming look of the clothes and the townies and the worlds. The time in my life when the game was still new.

I also feel like it’s easier and less stressful to participate in the community now that I have a little bit more maturity than when I was 18. It feels freer and more fun. When I read posts by simmers talking about how they feel like their content is not good enough, or comparing themselves to others, I feel sad. I used to feel the same way. But being “good” at Simblr/social media, and having fun with the game (in whichever way you define fun), are two very different things. I hope that makes sense. It took me some time to learn how to not let comparison steal my joy, and give myself permission to just do what I wanted to do, regardless of whether other people might like it or not. When I look back on my older posts, I feel like I’ve grown so much, both as a simmer and a person.

Well, maybe I haven’t changed that much. I still love my hot pixel men.

I’m so glad I came back to Simblr. My simming hobby has turned into a much bigger thing than I ever thought it would. I mean, I learned how to make CC that other people like? I’ve made so many new connections? My sims have become OCs I’m attached to? I see the TS3 community being revived again as EA drives TS4 into the ground more and more each day? Who would’ve guessed 😆 

I love this game, I love the creativity it inspires in me, and I love the wonderful people that make up this little corner of the internet. ✨💛

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Title: The House in the Cerulean Sea

Author: Nnedi Okorafor

Rating: 2/5 stars

I just finished reading this book, and it was a pretty cool adventure story. That was the problem. (I mean, that's not the biggest problem in the world.) It was a decent adventure story -- or, to be more precise, a fantasy story that tried to be an adventure story -- but in doing so it was a fairly generic one, and generic in a particularly bad way. I guess it's because the standard fantasy trope I have in mind when I hear the word "adventure" is something like "a quest for an artifact of magical power," and this book basically had that. Yet it did so in ways that made the quest seem generic.

The protagonist is a teenage boy named Zuko, who has been separated from his mother (who died years ago), and he's been raised by his father in a world with magic. The story starts with Zuko doing a "solo," i.e. traveling on his own, to find his father. The plot, as far as I can tell, is standard and generic, and involves Zuko (and a magic sword and a giant monster) traveling alone across the kingdom and defeating a villain at the end; there's some cool worldbuilding at the outset with magic items and the like, and a scene or two of Zuko training himself to use his sword -- but even there, nothing special. We know that he has a magic sword and that's that, so much so that when we get to the part where he uses it there's no particular suspense involved in watching a sword fight (in fact, it's played for a few minutes straight, with all the action of a video game cutscene). As for the monster, well, the opening chapter introduces us to it, and also to a female love interest who is introduced about halfway through and who, while initially interesting, never seems to live up to our expectations of what a fantasy heroine should be like (she's smart, but also, well, kind of the perfect person to be rescued by Zuko as a child and then to fall in love with, which she does). Zuko doesn't look particularly cool until the last few chapters, and then he ends up looking cooler than ever, but it seems like a case of "cool" being used here as a synonym for "shiny," which, I mean, okay. (The last few chapters also show us that Zuko has an incredibly special ability, one that we never saw him use in the story proper, which makes it easier for us to go "oh wow, cool, this is awesome, they finally got that special thing into the story so that they can show us its awesome powers.")

What I said above sounds like a huge complaint, but it's not really. There are a few things here that are pretty nice. There's a fairly interesting worldbuilding/setting -- one that draws from African mythology, and that seems at least in part inspired by a real place Okorafor visited during her childhood and later wrote about in The Shadow Woman -- and there's a fair amount of worldbuilding that's not used for anything interesting. The worldbuilding is pretty generic: the kingdoms are divided between a handful of noble families ("clans" or "tribes" as in, the clans are "people"), and the common people are mostly illiterate, though there are some interesting subclans. I guess in a lot of ways this is meant to evoke the pre-modern world, but not much else is done with it beyond the fact that it's used, and there isn't that much pre-modern to evoke beyond the pre-modern's tendency to view people in general as being more like people in their own time, I guess.

And the most interesting thing about this book -- that most of my problems with it were a result of -- is how well the story is told. This is a huge spoiler, so you should look away if that's something you care about, but in order to make the end of the book seem real, Okorafor had to create a realistic version of the final villain. I don't actually know how or why he did that -- maybe the original version was unrealistically cartoonish, and then Okorafor decided he wanted something that would look like a villain, and the final version seemed more realistic as the result. But anyway, what this means is that at the final battle, the villain was a big monster, and the big, awesome sword that Zuko finally wields in the climax was the magic sword he was supposed to have found earlier in the story. I'm not sure this was intentional (and if so, it's just a dumb gimmick), but given that the villain was real in the story in the first place, the scene felt so anticlimactic that I actually thought "that's it, that's the whole book, there can't possibly be more here." In particular, there were a couple of scenes toward the end that felt superfluous -- the love interest's introduction was fine, but her appearance and personality and the fact that she has an important thing to say (for the first of many, many times) in the last few chapters are such a big deal that you just know that these chapters must be there, for one reason or another, even though they feel like they could be cut down to nothing.

In short, this book is a sad way of telling an adventure story. It has its flaws, its genericness, its overly shiny characters -- but there's something that's very appealing about its attempt to do what I would do if I tried to turn a generic story into a good one. And that is a lot of fun.

Edit: There are spoilers for the book here, and also for the other book, The Shadow Woman. I have to be very very vague about which parts of those books are similar to what parts of this one, because I'm not sure I want anyone reading The Shadow Woman to see what's in this review. The story that is similar (mostly) is that of a teenage boy going off alone to find his father, which has become standard fantasy adventure in this century (there are some significant differences of course). (It is, if anything, slightly less generic in the case of the Shadow Woman because it takes place in a vaguely "medieval" version of the pre-modern African kingdom of the novel, and there's a lot more interesting worldbuilding and a stronger plot twist.) Also the novel has a female love interest and a scene involving swords.

[retrogradedreaming]

UHHHH maybe,, you could write a little thing for reki making the sk8 fam tea? and kaoru thinking hes gonna have to pretend he likes it but then "oh wait reki can actually make tea what-"

just bc this has been living in my head for awhile sdkljfs

(capt-snoozles)

It turns out I am completely incapable of writing ANYTHING short, so have a full one shot type thing, I guess. I hope it's okay that I kinda borrowed headcanons from you and @that-was-anticlimactic for Reki with TS at a couple of small moments in the fic?

----

It used to be Kaoru alone who visited Kojiro’s restaurant when it was closed on Mondays. But since the start of winter break, Sia la Luce had become much livelier now that Reki, Langa, and Miya weren’t in school all day, and Shadow came when his days off lined up right. If Kaoru were being honest, it took some time to get used to the space no longer being only his and Kojiro’s, but he’d grown to like how their group came together like this.

The afternoons were the quietest part of these days. Kojiro took these opportunities to try out new recipes on them, leaving everyone contentedly full and pleasantly sleepy. Today, Langa had actually fallen asleep in the booth, and Reki sat beside Kaoru at the counter, playing with a tiny skateboard and making soft sounds like a small motor. Shadow and Miya sat at a table across the room, arguing over whether clown or cat makeup looked cooler while Kojiro finished cleaning. Kaoru let himself sink into the lull, Reki’s noises and that of the skateboard wheels on the counter an almost comforting presence beside him. And yet, one thing was missing, keeping him from truly relaxing.

“Seems like a good afternoon for tea,” Kojiro said, as if reading his mind as he appeared out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. “You want me to make some?”

“Absolutely not,” Kaoru scoffed. “People who microwave their tea should be arrested.”

“There’s no way you can tell the difference,” Kojiro said, defensive. “Hot water is hot water.”

“Only an uncultured pig would believe that,” Kaoru snapped. He was about to stand, to tell Kojiro he’d make the tea himself like he always inevitably had to, when Reki all but leaped from his seat, skateboard abandoned for the moment.

“I’ll make it!” he offered, and the way his face lit up meant that Kaoru took too long to say not to bother. By the time he’d found his words, Reki had already bounded around the counter and into the kitchen, and Kojiro didn’t even try to stop him. Before Kaoru could tell Kojiro to stop him, Reki called out to Kojiro, asking about the industrial stove, and soon, Kojiro was not only allowing Reki to make the tea, but encouraging him.

Kaoru supposed this was a step up from Kojiro’s microwave technique, but if Kaoru were likely to trust anyone other than himself to make a decent cup of tea, it wouldn’t be Reki. The idea that he’d wanted his tea made well and was unlikely to receive it as such set him on edge. As he listened to the water boil and the conversation continued around him, he found himself wrapping a strand of his hair around his finger and tugging, letting it go, and repeating the process until his scalp hurt. He didn’t even notice that Langa had woken up until he appeared beside Kaoru and spoke.

“What’s Reki doing?” he asked.

“Making tea,” Kaoru said, doing his best not to appear so anxious about something so small.

Langa peered over the edge of the counter to where Kojiro and Reki were talking in the kitchen, and then turned back to Kaoru. “I like how he makes it. I never liked it before I met him.”

Kaoru hummed a halfhearted response. He doubted that Langa’s standards were very high, given that he’d grown up in Canada. He’d likely had tea often enough, given that his mother was Japanese, but Kaoru knew from experience that plenty of people even here in Okinawa had no idea how to brew a proper cup. It was about timing, knowing how hot to make the water, how long to steep the leaves, and so many people rushed the process—or worse, forgot about it and steeped too long—that Kaoru preferred to make his own.

He couldn’t help but envision Reki handing him a bitter cup, or one that tasted like little more than hot leaf juice. He grimaced at the idea of having to drink it and pretend he liked it, suffering all the while. He would have to wait until he was home later to make something better for himself.

He was still trying to think of a polite way to decline the tea he’d obviously wanted when Reki came out bearing a tray of steaming cups and began making the rounds through the restaurant. Reki handed the first one to Langa, who accepted it, smiling softly up at Reki. Langa sipped the tea immediately, only to flinch and draw it away after the first sip.

Not promising, Kaoru thought. If he’d boiled the water, it was ruined, even if it was something as simple as green tea. And yet, Langa only took another sip while Reki looked on approvingly.

“It’s good,” Langa finally proclaimed, and Reki glowed as if he’d received praise from the emperor himself. Reki moved on, handing Kaoru his cup.

“Thank you,” Kaoru said, accepting it with both hands. Fortunately, Reki moved on to Shadow and Miya without waiting for Kaoru to try it, which meant that he didn’t know Kaoru only held onto it without making a move to taste it. If nothing else, he could enjoy the warmth that crawled from his fingertips all the way to his elbows.

Neither Miya nor Shadow hesitated in drinking theirs, though Kaoru couldn’t imagine they cared much how it tasted, as long as it was hot. And yet, as he watched, the two of them looked just as pleased as Langa when they tried it.

“Oh wow, the slime makes good tea,” Miya pronounced, hugging the cup close to him like a space heater.

“Damn, this is pretty good,” Shadow said, drinking deeply and draining half the cup. “How’d you even learn to make it like this?”

Reki shrugged, taking up his own cup, the last on the tray. He set the tray down on the counter and took the empty seat beside Langa. “I dunno, I guess I just picked it up over the years. It’s kinda like making skateboards, y’know? You have to figure out how all the parts fit together, and if you do it wrong, the tea doesn’t taste right.”

Kaoru looked up at him from the murky depths of his tea, brows raised. When it came to making tea, the analogy was rather profound, and Kaoru couldn’t argue it. Reki was right—tea was about the sum of its parts, the pieces fitting together perfectly. And as with building skateboards, the person making it had to know exactly how to combine each piece to create the whole.

“That doesn’t make any sense, but whatever,” Shadow said, taking another sip. “All I care about is that it doesn’t suck.”

“How come you’ve never made us tea before?” Miya asked, eyes trained on the Switch he’d pulled from his pocket now that he’d abandoned his conversation with Shadow.

“I don’t really have the patience for it,” Reki said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s kinda like, if I don’t wanna put in the time to do it right, why bother?”

While everyone was wrapped up in conversation, Kaoru finally chanced a discreet sip. If it was as bad as he’d expected, he could school his expression appropriately while they were all distracted. Perhaps he could even get away without having to lie about how good it was. And yet, when the tea touched his tongue, he paused.

It wasn’t too hot.

It wasn’t too weak or too strong.

It wasn’t too bitter and the leaves didn’t taste as though they’d been burnt.

It was, as far as Kaoru was concerned, some of the best tea he’d had outside his own home. For a moment, he couldn’t find the words to say so. He sipped it again, just to make sure he hadn’t deluded himself based on everyone else’s praise. Sure enough, it was almost more delicious the second time.

“You surprised?” Kojiro murmured at his ear, his own cup dangling from his fingertips. Kaoru jumped, nearly spilling his tea. When he turned to face him, Kojiro’s lips quirked in a smug grin, and he raised one brow meaningfully. Kaoru shot him a hard glower in return, a silent command to keep his mouth shut before Kaoru turned back to Reki.

“It’s delicious,” Kaoru said, and it wasn’t forced in the least. “I’m impressed.”

Reki, who had already immersed himself in talking to Langa, gaped at Kaoru, one of his hoodie strings falling from between his teeth. Then, he flashed a wide grin. “Glad you like it!”

“Have you ever practiced tea ceremony?” Kaoru asked, reluctantly setting his tea down on the counter.

“Nah, my parents let me try it once when I was younger, but I kept messing up the steps,” Reki said. “It’s not really fun when people get mad at you for doing it wrong.”

“I studied it for some time,” Kaoru said, remembering how the order felt comforting, how the amount of concentration it required gave his anxious mind something to focus on, how the simple yet refined aesthetic felt like clearing his head. In recent years, he didn’t have time for it with his calligraphy business, but a part of him missed it. “It’s quite a bit different from drinking tea like this, but if you wanted to, perhaps we could do a...modified version of it. Something less formal with everyone here.”

Reki’s eyes brightened, and he looked to Langa, who only seemed to share his enthusiasm. “It sounds fun, yeah! A lot better than getting yelled at by a bunch of old people because ‘tradition.’”

“I’d say so,” Kaoru said, and they devolved into talking about their favorite teas and the best ways to brew them. Kaoru couldn’t remember the last time he’d talked to someone who actually understood that tea was an art even more than it was a drink. But Reki did, and when the rest of the group finally left, leaving Kaoru and Kojiro alone in the restaurant to clean up, Kojiro nudged him with an elbow.

“You didn’t think Reki could make tea like that, did you?” he said, the words teasing but too close to Kaoru’s own thoughts for comfort.

“Shut up or I’ll leave you here to wash dishes alone,” Kaoru quipped, even as he accepted the next cup to dry. “I will admit, I was pleasantly surprised.”

“I knew you would be,” Kojiro said as he dried his hands and stretched.

“Anything is better than microwaved tea,” Kaoru said. And although it was true, he couldn’t help but look forward to the next Monday, and the last before the kids started school again.

[picusviridis]

🖊 VINCENT AND MAKIIIIIIII

HGRK GOIGN IN FOR THE KILL IMEEDIATELY OKAY.......... I SEE HOW IT IS....................../silly

im like debating on what 2 say for vincent hes jus tlike hes he . hes he he. okay but anyways i guess it's less VINCENT and more characters so inherently related TO vincent its like might as well? but that guy he dreams about i named him i gave him a personality a design. yet he will never see the light of day because his name gives me psychic damage but at the same time i DO have an alternate name....? but im so torn. but that is a fun fact . also i lied about him never seeing the light of day he will see it just this once. a peek through the oubliette's bars or whatever (*specifically like the dream version because its cooler

also, a more vincent-y fun fact: hes like dodging chamption #1 in netzachs floor because fun fact! hes on netzachs floor, which was an accident mind you. i didnt mean for that to happen (i dont think????) but like it fits (<- random but i think i found out WHY vincent vdl was on netzachs floor. ok storytime i used to have a character named vincent, no relation to vincent vdl nor the vdl, but i like grew 2 hate him after i read the void dream logs because like i could never make vincent vdl without it being THIS vincent. then i DESTROYED him sent him to the deepest pits of hell and made vincent vdl in his place and also that other vincent happened to be in netzachs floor because he was 'vincent from safety' or something. do with all of that what you will. he was also ugly as hell. here;s a pic)

this art is so

literally dont remember the art being this bad but like whatever i guess i drew this like a year ago???

anyways i cough. he nigh soloed alriune llike the idk dodging champion he is. that is all i was supposed to say

anyways ======= maki =========

UHHH UHH MAKI.........THE LOBSTER........ i guess i will like i dont knowe. talk about like backstory or something. so like i have a corp a district, district 19, Symbiosis Corporation, they make test tube babies and im still trying to think of a good singularity but like yeah and they like animals a lot and like so many of my characters are from district 19 which also in tandem means theyre all British i didnt think this through i just thorught it would be funny i didnt expect to have consequences. anyways so like maki is the first in a line of like really Really specific babies 2 actually like LIVE and everyone was like WOOO YEAH FUCKJIGN FINALLY and then they fuckedthem up irreversibly (<- albeit accidentally but like letting the bastards who only know how to experiment care for the like magnum opus of your corp was not a good idea mr "dr freeman " (<- sigh he's the guy who made symcorp .ya he's cool? ) but at least they dont know fear shame or.... sadness so a win in my book ithink.

also i remembered actually what i actually wanted to talk about ? ?? ? the fact theyre like undead ????? because thats something. originally explained by the original symcorp singularity, which was baiscally Living Juice, it could revive you but then i was like no man thats kinda fucked. like thats TOO much. so i scrapped it so now maki is just too indecisive to die. or too silly. either or . for the longest time i debated with myself about maki's actual like... state of life, in a sense, like are they TRULY alive? and like.... i mean they're SAPIENT. that's close enough to being Alive. right. anyways another fun fact before i like actually end this i think its too long? but them being dead is like the only reason why samuel is in the "main friend group" of ocs . cuz . um . he can see ghosts? maki was ghost once. also wait. FINAL FUN FACT I SWEAR i hope you know the way maki died (the first time) was due to me not understanding that +200 stats from you must be happy will like make that employee Disappear. but yeah i got like a million stats for maki on the second? day and they disappeared and i was so sad that i immediately remade them the next day. which is why they are 1. still an oc and 2. like a zombie????????? like ???? rose from the dead? ????? a rotting corpse ?????? yeah :3

[detective-crescend]

let go

The low buzz of the electric shears fills the air within the four walls of the apartment’s bathroom.

With its sleek body and rapidly vibrating blade, the machine looks oddly foreboding in Klavier’s hand. It is heavy, too, enough that Klavier can feel its potential for change in its weight.

“I am going to cut my hair,” he’d said to Apollo an hour ago. The comment was made without any preamble, no prior indications of his intentions, and yet when Apollo looked up into Klavier’s face from the desk he was sitting in, he did not look surprised.

His reply was equally succinct. “Okay.”

“You are alright with that?” Klavier had pressed. He was not so deluded to think Apollo was unaware of his reasons for making this declaration—after all, Kristoph had played a significant role in his life as well—and yet, this was the only version of Klavier that Apollo had ever known.

But, again, Apollo’s answer was direct; he’d only shrugged with his lips pressed into a small, obliquely supportive smile. “Yeah. It’s your hair, Klavier.”

And that had been that.

Now, the monotone humming of the clippers continues, persistent.

It is hard for Klavier to compartmentalize the symbolism that the artificially blond strands represent.

He was seventeen when he’d first made the decision to grow it out. Despite what the tabloids and water cooler gossips alike had surmised, it had been his choice alone—Kristoph had mocked him for the decision; though his face had been oddly affected, his words lashed out with all the sting of a steel tipped whip, imitation is the most sincere form of flattery, I suppose—and it was one that he had not taken lightly. With his atypical ascension to the district attorney’s office cemented by the events of his first trial, it had felt necessary to mark his newfound dedication in some form; the hair, therefore, was a representation of the gravity of his commitment, the resolute pursuit of the truth.

The irony that the declaration instills, in hindsight, should be enough to raise the clipper in his hand, to methodically shear each and every bleached and dyed piece of hair from his previously wide-eyed and faux-idealistic head.

And yet, though he had been arrogant and presumptive, Klavier had also been sincere. His only thought, then, had been to leave the word better than he had found it. Through the law or through his art—the specifics hadn’t mattered, much. Yes, it had been naive of him. But had it really been wrong?

Klavier stares at his reflection, expression so blank that it could be a portrait looking back at him from the dark wood frame of the mirror. The hair of his reflective doppelgänger is longer than it’s ever been before, curling slightly where it falls inches below the line of his collarbone. It had taken time and effort to reach this point, regular cuts and careful application of products, hours upon hours spent in a chromed, rotating chair.

He had been proud of this hair, once. It had been a part of him for so long, such a recognizable feature on the front page of entertainment magazines and newspapers alike. Synonymous, almost, with his name, with his brand.

But it was also recognizable in photographs of Kristoph as they’d led him in recently applied handcuffs from the courtroom���calm and collected on the first occasion, with his own hair perfectly styled, not a strand out of place; unraveled and wild on the second, a perfect allegory to his brother’s deteriorating mental state.

After the trial, Klavier had placed all the mirrors from his apartment that could be easily removed into the back of a very deep closet. Those that could not be taken down were covered in dark and opaque sheets. The thought of looking into the eyes of his reflection, then, and seeing the accusations and the truths in Kristoph’s eyes staring back at him had been completely unbearable.

For that reason alone, he should cut it.

And yet…

Klavier tucked an errant piece of hair behind his ear as he spoke, almost, but not entirely, clearing it from the line of his gaze. Apollo’s eyes, on the other hand, had narrowed considerably at the gesture. “Why do you always play with your hair when we talk? If there’s something you want to tell me, just say it.”

And,

Apollo wrinkled his nose, plucking a long strand of hair from the weave of his suit’s fabric. “Ugh, you shed worse than Mikeko and Vongole combined. Your hair is literally everywhere.”

And,

The room was completely silent, except for the sound of Klavier’s own pulse crashing in his ears and the gentle sound Apollo’s dress shirt crumpling upon contact with the floor. Klavier’s hands were still placed firmly against the sides of Apollo’s jaw, partially to keep Apollo close, but also for support—it was very possible that, without Apollo there to ground him, Klavier might lose himself in the rush of ‘finally’s and ‘at last’s. The sensation of Apollo’s fingers raking through the hair at the back of his neck, twisting around handfuls of the strands, tugging slightly in their haste to feel as much as possible in the shortest span of time, hadn’t helped to keep his thoughts level. He’d found himself gasping gently into Apollo’s lips, the sound enveloped almost immediately by an even more intent kiss.

And,

Apollo looked up sharply at the question, his gaze confused as it passed between Klavier’s amused face and his own hand, which was still coiling strands of Klavier’s hair absently around his fingers. “I guess I didn’t even realize I was doing it,” he’d shrugged, face shifting to an expression that was half embarrassed and half apologetic. “Your hair’s nice? I can stop, if you want.” But Klavier had only shaken his head slightly—it was difficult to move more without losing several of those same strands to Apollo’s grip—and laughed.

And,

Though the room was dark, Klavier’s too-wide eyes could see the scene quite vividly, a frame by frame replay of the trial flashing before his eyes in the stillness. He was aware of Apollo’s arms holding him, of one hand rubbing circles across the skin of his back while the other moved rhythmically to smooth the strands of Klavier’s sleep-wild hair. It would take time for the nightmares to fade, for Klavier to fall asleep in the comfort of Apollo’s arms without the worry of waking hours later in the throes of the guilt-ridden dreams, but knowing that Apollo would be there, should he need him, had helped.

And, back in the bathroom of Klavier’s apartment, nearly half an hour after retreating behind the closed door, Klavier thumbs the switch of the clippers. The sudden silence rings out like an alarm around him; the absence of their sound, so encompassing only moments before, is nearly as distinct.

When he opens the door, Apollo is waiting just beyond, legs folded beneath him in the armchair where he sits. His face is carefully arranged into an expression that would pass, for most people, as neutral. Klavier, however, can see the slight furrow of concern in the space between his brows, the tint of relief in the curve of his mouth.

“Changed your mind?” Apollo asks, equally mindful in tone.

His attempts to maintain neutral despite the worry he is so clearly struggling with evokes a surge of emotion from deep within Klavier’s chest that is difficult to swallow back down.

Klavier’s voice, when he responds, shakes gently. “Ja. Is that alright?”

Sometimes, it is possible to watch a person’s heart break under the strain of nothing but a simple question.

Without another word, Apollo stands and takes the steps across the room, too quickly to be anything other than affected by Klavier’s words. The difference in their heights is enough that Klavier has to bend slightly to fit into the circle of Apollo’s arms; in the process, his loose hair falls all around them and over the curve of Apollo’s shoulder.

“It’s your hair, Klavier,” Apollo repeats. The words are insistent and their meaning, dichotomous.

Klavier sighs gently—the exhalation a mixture of grief and the early traces of relief—and closes his eyes.

[bjy-on-ao3]

Kinktober 2021, Day 7

As usual, you can find the AO3 version of all my uploads [and some things I don’t post here to tumblr] via my Masterlist blog page.)

It is a crying shame how little Baizhu actually exists in-game (at least as of the last time I played) and I wish there was more. Looking forward to the day when he’s a PC, but until I’ll just distract myself with prompts like these, I guess.

Summary Cold mornings aren’t always pleasant, but they’re certainly good for getting close, in one way or another.

Tags/Warnings Cockwarming, Cuddling, Kinktober, Kinktober 2021, Oneshot, Prompt, Reader-Insert, Vaginal Penetration

Kinktober 2021, 07: Cockwarming (Reader x Baizhu | Genshin Impact)

The abrupt chill of something pressed against you tore rudely from sleep, and in half-consciousness, you squirmed away from it. A heaviness prevented your escape, though, and whatever felt so cold only shifted back against you more firmly. You groaned in discontent, eyelids fluttering fitfully, and once more trying to wrench yourself from the chill before you came fully to.

After another moment of discomfort, you opened your eyes, blinking rapidly to clear the lingering blurriness of sleep and wipe away the grogginess swaddling your mind. The sight of the room before your eyes was enough to jog your memory, to remind you of where you had been, and with whom. You had spent the night with Baizhu again, as oft was the case of late, and you lay in his bed, facing the doorway of the quiet room.

Off to the far side of the door, further from the end of the bed, you took in Changsheng curled in a pule of snowy coils, tucked into a basket kept conveniently warmed for her. A method of keeping her from sleeping in Baizhu’s bed when the two of you wanted some time alone. You could only assume she was asleep, her head tucked under her coils. Were you the only one awake then?

Movement making the bed shift beside you told you that might not have been the case. You were aware again of the cool press against your skin, from your shoulders to your toes, and with your consciousness returned, you realized what it had been. You twisted your head back, looking at Baizhu as best as you could with his arm wound over your shoulder and torso.

You hadn’t remembered falling asleep in a tangle of limbs, as had found yourself suddenly. Neither of you had been wont to cling to the other after the evening’s activities had left you sweaty, sticky, and short of breath. That had changed overnight, though, and you noted that the room beyond the blankets and bedsheets was much cooler than the night previous. Despite that, you had been pleasantly warm before Baizhu’s full-body embrace, or at least you thought you had been.

He looked rather peaceful, amber eyes closed, free from his glasses set on a bedside table. His hair was everywhere, freed from its usual braid and bun, spilling onto the sheets and across his face, onto you, and spreading over the pillow. As if your gaze had burned him, his eyes opened after a few seconds of scrutiny. They held no hint of drowsiness to them, however, and you wondered if he had truly woken up just then.

Dismissing the thought, coming more awake, you were aware that not everything pressing against you was so unpleasantly cool. Something warm and hard prodded at your thighs, and you were awake enough to know what it was. For the time you had other concerns.

“Mmph, Baizhu, you’re too cold, let go,” you muttered sleepily, voice raspy from lack of use while you slept.

Turning back away from him, you attempted again to slip out from under the arm that pinned you to him, and to untangle your legs from his. Baizhu laughed softly, an air and pleasant sound, but made no move to release you from his grasp.

“Well, I am, and you’re quite warm. It’s far too cold in here right now to let you go,” he explained casually as if it were completely obvious. “In fact, I think there might be more you can do to warm me up,” Baizhu added, moving his face closer to you until the cool tip of his nose skimmed your neck.

You turned in his hold again, as much as you could, seeing a sly look painted across his face. One you well recognized. There was no missing when Baizhu thought he had something to gain and knew just how to get it.

“You’re already sapping all of my body heat. What else could I possibly do for you?” you groused playfully. The conversation distracted you from the chill, even if it didn’t alleviate it entirely. You couldn’t deny that, if it weren’t for the cold, you would have welcomed his embrace.

Baizhu shushed you gently, moving one hand to place a finger over your lips briefly. “Something like… this, perhaps?” he mused, moving to untangle himself enough to delicately pry your thighs apart.

His hips wriggled against your backside for a second, before the warm, hard sensation you had noticed before settled between your thighs more securely. The heat of Baizhu’s partly erect cock was much more pleasant than the rest of his cool skin, though it made your gut flutter giddily. He wasn’t satisfied at simply sandwiching his cock between your legs, though.

You bit back a soft moan as he pushed more insistently, his cock twitching further to life and the head of him pressing into you. The slow stretch ached a bit, but the fullness it brought was enjoyable.

Baizhu behind you hummed in satisfaction as he sheathed himself in your heat, followed by a gentle sigh. He returned his arm to its previous position, falling still with his cock buried inside you. He made no move to pull back or set a pace, and a sense of frustration swelled within you.

You tried to rock yourself against him, wondering if perhaps he meant for you to set the pace and do the work for him. But he stopped you quickly, moving a hand to your hip to hold you motionless, eliciting a whine of protest.

“Mm, stay like this. Just like this,” he told you, nuzzling your neck and planting a few soft, kisses there. His lips and breath whispering over your skin were warm at least, too.

You huffed, still obviously frustrated with Baizhu, but willing to do as he bade. His length stuffing you full was nice, yes, even if he wasn’t completely hard, but it was also maddening. When his cock would twitch again or when he shifted to make himself more comfortable and his length moved inside of you, it made that same tight, roiling sensation curl in your belly, complemented by a shiver running up your back or a reflexive clench of your cunt.

Held as you were, Baizhu denied you even the means to reach down and stroke yourself, to grant yourself some reprieve from the tantalizing feeling of his cock filling you up. You were unsure how it didn’t affect him even worse than you, given he was completely enveloped in the heat of your cunt. Perhaps you were just lacking more in patience than you had thought.

For it didn’t seem nearly so maddening for Baizhu, though, and your could almost picture his sly, satisfied smile. You wonder how long he would insist you kept him warm, craving for the moment when he abandoned his leisurely game and indulged the burning need in your gut. You breathed deep, trying to divert your attention from the vexing feeling, and simply enjoy having him so close - even if everywhere else he still felt rather cold.

But try as you might, you couldn’t persuade the reflexive clenching of your walls to stop, or the heat in your belly to die away. “Baizhu, please…” you tried after a while on enduring - how long, you weren’t sure.

Silence was all that met you, however. Listening more closely, the gentle sounds of soft snoring and slow breaths broke the air. You were sure if you wanted to cry out in frustration of laugh. You had warmed Baizhu plenty, it seemed, well enough for him to drift back off to sleep, despite remaining inside you. You contemplated escape again but decided it would be futile.

When he woke back up, you would have to make him pay you back for keeping him warm.

[chattegeorgiana]

You keep insisting that the ending Naruto pairings are the reason Boruto's sales are nowhere near as great as Naruto's, yet how come Boruto Naruto the Movie has brought in far more income than both RTN and The last combined? The Boruto Movie has gained almost 40.000.000$ while The Last only 20.000.000$ and RTN only around 17.000.000$. The reasons boruto is not as popular as naruto was is because the plot sucks, the anime has too many garbage fillers, the artstyle in the manga sucks, the new gen characters suck, and the manga wasn't even written by Kishimoto until recently. It has nothing to do with pairings. Hell, if NS became canon, people would've hated it even more, considering how hated Sakura was, and you even admitted she is the most hated character. And you also contradict yourself. First you say she's the most hated, then you say SP missed a marketing opportunity with her... like girl make up your mind? She's the most hated character in the franchize, in a poll she was chosen as the most hated by both male and female, even Kishimoto went out of his way to say girls came at him and said how much they despised Sakura, most people don't give a shit about her, using her as marketing strategy would've done more harm than good. She's even more hated in Japan and other Asian fandoms than she is in the western fandom, and that already says a lot! You're really arrogant to assume that the "silent majority" you speak of are all NaruSaku fans. I guarantee you it isn't. In fact, most people don't even care about ships that much. NaruSakus, you along with the SNS fans, SS fans, NH fans are part of the vocal minority that has nothing better to do than bitch about ships all day long.

But did I ever say that they were THE ONLY reason they are bad? They are an integral part of it yes, but not the only one.

Just because you saw some asks of mine here on Tumblr, you just throw these things around, like this is the only place I talk about the story of Naruto and this is the only aspect I do.

Yes, here on Tumblr I might do it through the virtue of the asks I receive, but that doesn't mean it's the only space I address these matters.

I have other social media channels as well where I discuss other aspects as well. Ya know, how like Boruto is nothing more than a tweaked "cooler" wanna-be version of Naruto, with no real substance whatsoever, a story that doesn't truly leaves a message behind, a morale, with characters that are the shells of their former selves or mechanics that are skewed and "free of" any logic.

But sure, make it as if that's the only aspect I talk about if that makes you sleep well at night.

As for the reason Boruto made so much? Well, I'll tell you why: because it had NaruSasu. Because they knew they messed-up with The Last, so they did the next best thing they could to try and keep the fanbase engaged.

Focused on the biggest portion of the fanbase that gathered around both shippers and non shippers by the virtue of focusing on Sasuke and Naruto and their offsprings. You know why? Because this way they catered to two human emotions: familiarity/comfort & curiosity.

Aka familiarity via having NaruSasu and curiosity to see the new gen kids.

Which yes, had momentum and seemed to have a perfect recipe: no focus on the ships that initially brought he whole mess (Sakura and Hinata were close to non-existent in that movie), and "repaying" the fanbase that was initially pissed at the fact that people thought this was gonna be a T7 movie because of the heavy Kakashi and Ssuke advertisement when they were there to be found for onlyyy few seconds, lol.

But you see, in the test of time, Boruto failed because of the aforementioned reasons.

You say that people would've hated the ending if NS would've been canon, yet curiously enough the number of people that are even non shippers and agree to the idea that NS should've been canon has been increasing over the years. Which in a really curious way was surprising to me too as an NS fan that returned to the fandom after so long.

So you see, I am not sure exactly about that aspect there. Not to mention, since when does a story has to do what the fanbase dictates it? The story should follow its course and intended narration and that's that.

Yes, Sakura was hated, but that's not a reason to not have Naruto end-up with her because within the story mechanics we had many proofs that indicated that they should've ended together, regardless of how people felt about them.

Kishimoto didn't say girls came at him, he said girls sent him letters, which are two different things, because to his face no one truly said that, minus the editors who kept pushing Hinata forward and their bias as well.

Lol at you saying that using her as a marketing strategy would've done more harm than good when she's the only female character being marketed right now via figurines and all those other things.

So reality seems to be contradicting you a bit on that side.

Not to mention, you say that she's the most hated even in Asia and Japan? LOL, where did u even take out these lies?

The hate phenomena has always been a western fandom thing, not an Asian/Eastern fandom one.

You say that the pairings ripped with Sasuke and Naruto as well (funny how NaruSaku isn't dead even after years of being supposedly dead tho), for a character that should've been hated??

This whole hate thing was always a western fandom mirage, sadly, but in Japan and Asia she's always been loved. Like where did u even pull out that information from?

Also what I always said about a NaruSaku ending was that they could've taken a RTN route where they could've had ALL the pairings shown within a parallel universe, but sure, nice way to twist my words and make it like "I can't decide".

There are slight nuance differences which you either purposely not address or you don't know how to do the difference. The truth in this case only you know it.

But stop trying to act that high and mighty coming here on anon making it seem like ooh, I contradict myself and spread nonsense, just because you read a faction of all the ideas I discuss over my social media.

And now to address the silent majority argument. I never said silent majority are ONLY NaruSaku fans. That's what you assumed. Silent majority included NaruSaku fans yes, but also other fans who ya know, have some common sense within them and see how the story has been butchered for the sake of poorly treating a certain aspect of Naruto, which was the romantic one.

Which btw, you say that it wasn't a big deal, yet it was the no. plot included within the story, being presented as early as chapter 3, because chapter 1 and 2 revolved around Naruto wanting to become Hokage for people to acknowledge him and create bonds.

You say that the pairings aren't such a big deal in the fandom, yet guess what, SJ and SP directed a movie on that specific subject. Makes you wonder why now, doesn't it?

And it's a normal aspect to care about if you think about it for a manga that has been focused on BONDS. The romantic plot gets weaved in within the one about bonds really easily, because at the core of it it's about relationships.

And this whole world that we live it it's a relationship: between the body and the spirit, between then heaven and the earth, between friends, between relatives. EVERYTHING IN THIS WORLD HAS A RELATIONSHIP BASIS: atom interacts with atom and here we are, living, breathing beings.

But sure, come to me and paint me in this way you're trying as if talking about relationships and their quality is a bad thing.

Mhmm.

Whatever floats your boat, I guess.

You're free to have your opinion, sure.

I just happen to not agree with it.

And that's that.

Have a good day or night or whatever.

[one-boring-person]

Fair Game.

T-800 x reader (Terminator: Judgement Day version)

Warnings: sexual themes mentioned, gun use

Context: The T-800 wants to learn to be more human.

A/N: I absolutely love the terminator films, so I will try and write more for them, even though it's not very popular amongst you guys 😅 this is just some idea I've had rattling around in my head, so enjoy!

P.S. To the people who have requested things, I have not forgotten or ignored you! I'm just in the process of writing them out, so I should have one out by tomorrow.💛

Masterlist

The temperature has slowly gotten cooler over the last few hours or so, the sky beginning to darken a little until the last light comes from the rays of sun just cresting over the horizon, casting the landscape in an orange tint. Annoyingly, it also means I can't see what I'm doing, the shape of each separate part of the assault rifle in my hands nearly indistinguishable as they start blurring into each other. A sigh of irritation leaves me as I put them down again, stretching my back as I stand up from the picnic bench again, shaking the stiffness from my joints, my body cramping from sitting in the same position for hours. My hands ache, too, my palms and fingers coated in a layer of gun oil, a result of the rigourous cleaning I've put the weapons through, something which wasn't necessarily required, but I felt like doing anyway, to take my mind off the more gruesome details of the past day or so, still trying to process what exactly is happening.

Just yesterday, John and I were messing around in the arcade, using his hacking skills to our advantage as he stole some money, the two of us having a great time with his friend, who we had to leave behind, for his own safety. A cop went around asking others about John, making the mistake of questioning our friend, who then let us know of the possible danger of being caught, prompting us to run, trying to escape another warning from the feds. From that point onwards, everything went pear shaped: another man appeared from nowhere and shot the cop, who had pulled a gun on us, saving us from certain death as he then gave us time to escape, letting us both get back to our motorcycles, which we promptly used to get away, speeding as quickly as possible down into the aquaducts, where we know our way round pretty well. Leading the cop on a long chase, we soon became very knowledgeable of the fact that our bikes are nowhere near as fast as the truck the cop was chasing us in, meaning we very nearly got hit by it. Long story short, the man from before saved the two of us, before explaining to us what exactly is happening.

Having been in John's close friend circle for most of our time together, the information I learnt was not too surprising; a cyborg (the cop) has been sent back in time from the future to kill him, so he can't lead the resistance against a future mechanized army, a T-1000 made of liquid metal, though another cyborg, a T-800 this time, has been sent back to save him. Having established this, we quickly found that our foster parents had been murdered by the T-1000, leaving the two of us mostly parentless, though John still has his mother, who we broke out of a mental institute last night. And now here we are, somewhere in the middle of nowhere, sheltering with a friend of her's called Enrique.

The sound of steady footsteps draws me from my reverie, my head snapping round as I notice the T-800 walking towards me, it's expressionless face mostly in shadow now because of the setting sun. Turning to face him, I pick up the gun components once more and start methodically putting them back together again, trying to ignore him as he comes up to me, annoyed that my mind has formed an attachment to the handsome cyborg already within two days of knowing him.

"You have experience in the use of firearms." It's not a question, but rather a statement, the cyborg's deep, accented voice resonating in my ears.

"My parents, my real parents that is, were fugitives. They showed me how to use weapons from as young as I could hold them. They thought I needed to be ready to protect myself." I laugh dryly, "I never thought they'd actually be right about something."

"This will be useful in the war." He states tonelessly, watching as I slot the magazine back into the stock, loading it ready for immediate use.

"If I make it that far." I murmur, putting the assembled gun back down on the table, turning my body to properly face him, "Did you need something?"

"No. I am trying to learn "small talk". John Connor has told me to be more human, and that is what he recommends." He reveals, standing beside me, his body towering over mine.

"Oh, right, well that's fair game, I guess." I smile, knowing that the bond between my foster brother and the cyborg has grown quickly, which is unsurprising given the willingness to learn on both of their behalf.

"What is "fair game"?" The T-800 looks over at me, brow furrowed slightly.

Stuck for words, I try to figure out how to explain it, only to be distracted by the sight of two of the younger members of the group already living here making out a little way away. Clenching my jaw, I look down at my feet, a pang of jealousy making itself known.

"Its a figure of speech. I use it to clarify whether I think something is a relatively good idea or not." I finally answer him, unable to resist another look at the couple, which he catches and follows.

"Why do you kiss?" He inquires again, watching unashamedly as the couple make out passionately.

"You mean people? People kiss when they are romantically involved with each other, or if they want to reassure each other. It's a sign of love. Not that I'd know." I say the last part quietly, hoping he won't hear it, "Get it?"

"No."

I smile sadly at this, not really expecting him to understand it, given that it is an extension of human affection, something which he does not really know how to do.

"Maybe one day." I say to him wistfully, leaning back against the table behind me.

"Affirmative. I will understand when I have a concept of human behaviour." He states, turning back to face me, standing much closer than before, "What is wrong?"

I look up as he asks this, having been staring at the floor dejectedly, trying to think up whether there will be a "one day" or not. I've always been a pessimist, but situations like this do not help.

"Oh, nothing. I'm just a little...down, I guess." I explain to him, sighing.

He frowns, clearly confused by the terminology.

"Down meaning sad in this context." I inform the T-800, clarifying what I mean.

A look of understanding dawns on his face, before a look of deep concentration replaces it. Suddenly, he steps forwards, caging me into the table, his hands coming to rest on my hips, pulling me into his hard body. Instinctually, my hands move to lay themselves on his chest, feeling the firm muscle beneath them move as he picks me up and places me onto the table behind me, pressing closer. Before I can say a word, I feel his lips smooth themselves against mine, their cool, dry surfaces moulding with mine as I reciprocate out of instinct, enjoying the feeling of him kissing me as he wraps his hands around my body. Somehow, he manages to draw my mouth open, slipping his tongue into it to lick at the interior of my mouth, swallowing my moans and grunts of air, his hands slipping under my shirt and onto my bare skin. Arching into him, I card my fingers through his hair, pulling gently as he presses even closer, his abnormal strength pushing me down onto the table beneath me, his muscular arms caging me in underneath his huge body. Propping myself up on my elbows, I try to keep up with him, only to fall back as he pulls away and starts kissing down my neck, easily finding my sweet spot. Licking and sucking at it, he allows his hands to roam over my body to my ass, gripping it gently as he holds me close to his chest.

"What in the hell are you doing?!" John's voice suddenly cuts through the haze of pleasure, drawing my attention away from the T-800, who stops what he is doing to look at the boy, helping me upright again as he answers.

"I am reassuring (Y/n). She told me that kissing is a form of reassurance to people." He recites, looking over at me again, his eyes slightly less dead than normal.

"Generally those kisses don't look like that." John points out, looking slightly disgusted as I try to adjust myself again, embarrassed and flustered as hell.

"What do they look like, then? My files show that that is normal."

"Normal for people who are in love! For other people, it tends to be a quick kiss on the forehead, or cheek!" The boy continues to argue.

"If it makes you feel any better, John, then I feel a lot more relaxed now. It worked really well." I interject, shyly, looking down with my cheeks flushing red.

"Then it is a successful method." The T-800 says, clearly confused.

John goes to reply again, only to be cut off by the sound of a car door slamming. Turning, we see Sarah suddenly climb into the corresponding car, the engine starting as she puts it into drive, not looking back as she leaves the camp, John racing after her, screaming for her.

"Don't try kissing him to reassure him. I don't think it will work for him." I inform the cyborg beside me, smiling up at him as he gives me his own version of one, though it looks much more like a grimace than a smile.

"That is fair game."

[remmushound]

Toddler Mutant Ninja Turtles, chapter 1; Hall of Science! @brightlotusmoon @selfindulgenz @scentedcandlecryptid

They were running. Silent feet pounding on stone and impressive forms guiding them over the gaps between rooftops fast enough to disappear between blinks. Like shadows, completely unseen, the brothers raced to the location of their next mission.

“Can I get another runthrough, Don?” Raphael called to his brother as they glided side by side, looking to each other mid-jump.

Donatello didn't need to pay attention to where he was going; his body was so used to the nightly activity that his feet guided him even as his mind was focused on other subjects. He tapped the band on his wrist to bring up a map of New York that immediately settled on his location and the path they would have to take to arrive at their destination; naturally, being the only one with such tech, and as second oldest, he took point with Raphael.

“There’s been a recent string of robberies in every major museum and science building in a hundred block radius. Just the normal stuff: jewels, gems, priceless artifacts, experimental technology—anything worth a pretty penny really.”

“And we’re sure this is our kinda thing?” Leonardo asked; for stamina, the turtle was not built, so already he was panting and coated in a heavy layer of sweat. Still, he was able to keep up quite easily with his brothers. “We do mutants and we do Foot Clan, we don’t do petty robbers.”

“With their MO, I am 99.8 percent certain this is a new mutant.” Donatello reported.

“And what MO would that be?” Raphael questioned.

Donatello cleared his throat and closed his eyes, sticking a finger in the air to annunciate himself as he spoke. “They break in without any clear entry or exit points, door and windows locked and intact, and no security cams or security sensors can seem to pick up on when the attacks occurred. And, most incriminating, they leave behind nothing but a water trail.”

Michelangelo whistled. “Did Piebald go all dark side? Can’t she do all that?”

“I don’t know Michael.” Donatello admitted, “But we’re about to find out. I’ve figured out a pattern in the places they’re targeting and I have a pretty good idea of where we can catch them in the act.”

Raphael nodded and gave an approving grunt. “Then let’s put a hustle on it!”

The journey was an easy and short one. They came onto the roof of the museum and, while they split up at Raphael’s order to find a way into the building, Leonardo took the chance to read the sign.

“New York Hall of Science?” Leonardo scrunched up his beak.

Michelangelo hummed and put his hand on his hip; he had just found a way in through the vent shaft. “Are you sure this is a mission and not just a Donnie field trip?”

Donatello’s lips curled down and he put a hand to his chest. “I reel at the actuation! Gasp! I, the respectable and beloved green mutant lad I am, would never ever do anything like that, never in a million years!” Wild hand gestures enunciated his dramatics. “This is purely professional!”

Michelangelo rolled his eyes. “I found a way in!” He pointed to the vent shaft and was easily able to pry the cover, tossing it aside and going to climb in.

Raphael was there before Michelangelo could do much more than put a foot in, grabbing his baby brother by the shell to pull him out and plop him back down on the safety of the roof.

“Leader goes first!” Raphael declared proudly. Then he immediately melted into soft coos and kneeled beside Michelangelo, pinching the box turtle's cheeks and rubbing his head, “I can’t have my baby brother getting hurt can I?”

He stood up again and gave the seething Michelangelo a final pat on the shoulder before jumping into the vents without a care as to where they led. Michelangelo tried to follow after, but he was forced back by sharp nudges from Leonardo and Donatello as they side-checked him before ducking inside. Michelangelo was the last one in the vents and the last one out.

The brothers fell one by one from the vent shaft, landing with solid, yet muffled thumps as the stealth mode drilled into them took over. The building was completely dark, but that was expected given the fact it was long after hours and the security guards and workers had all gone home for the night.

“Nice.” Leonardo whistled, eyes going white as they scanned across the dark room. “Now this is more my style!”

The museum, despite its namesake, didn't much resemble a museum as it did an indoor playground. There were several exhibits quartered off with rope and chains; a rocket ride that resembled a better, cooler version of a coin-operated horse, a trampoline with a harness attached to a bungee cord, several displays showing off depictions of the solar system or sand dollars you could dig for in a sand pit or a small chemical set for little experiments. It was like something straight out of a child's imagination! Michelangelo had to rub his eyes several times just to be sure he was actually seeing it.

Donatello stepped in front of the awed group and gave a bow before motioning widely to the room. “Welcome, dear brothers, to the greatest place on earth if you happen to be a science child! Ohhh I’ve always wanted to come here!” Donatello practically melted, his eyes shimmering with the child-like wonder as he leaned his full weight on his bo staff. He sucked in a shaky gasp and one of his spider arms deployed to offer him a tissue. “It’s so beautiful.”

“I guess.” Raphael laughed, smiling at the sight of his brother happy as could be. “But I don’t really see how this fits our thief's MO…”

“Allow me to elaborate!” Donatello declared, spinning on his heels to face his brothers again as he threw purple sparkles into the air, “This museum of wonder and extravagance will be displaying the illusive and highly controversial trillion-sided die in their Math-mania exhibit this Saturday eve! School children from all over with come to marvel as this beautiful piece of scientific—“

“Woah woah woah, trillion-sided die?” Leonardo interrupted, fixing Donatello with his ‘I don’t believe you’ eyes, “That sounds totally made up!”

Donatello gasped as if Leonardo’s words were a personal affront. “I assure you the trillion-sided die is a hundred percent, genuine marvel of the world—“

“How could there be a trillion sides?” Leonardo asked, “Who counted all them sides!”

“T...they clearly had a highly advanced expert to prove—“

“Another question,” Leonardo raised his hand, “How big is the die? It’s gotta be pretty big to have a trillion sides.”

“I… It’s a… it’s just a regular sized die!”

“Then are the sides all like… really small or… or how did they do that?” Leonardo leaned against a wall and smirked.

Michelangelo was quickly growling bored with the argument and his eyes began to wander, searching for some movement or stimulation to keep his mind happy. What he found instead was a wet spot on the floor, and once he saw it, it was impossible to unsee it. It was like someone had been carrying a bucket full of water with the bottom full of holes, dripping it all the way through the walkway and then around a bend and out of sight.

“Guys—!” Michelangelo tried to get their attention. He was met with a finger pressed to his lips to silence him.

“Shush, Angelo. Big boys are talking!”

Michelangelo’s hands became fists and he growled. If he had been in a cartoon, steam would have poured out of his ears! But before he could try again to call their attention, Leonardo had jumped forward, leaning his entire weight on Michelangelo’s head to point.

“Hey look! A water trail!”

Raphael came over grinning. “Good job Leo! Great find!”

“Oh come on!” Michelangelo groaned loudly.

[rigmarolling]

Historical Holiday Traditions We Really Need To Bring Back

Here comes Santa Claus, and also a bunch of annual holiday Things we do to ensure he commits a truly boggling act of breaking and entering and leaves goods underneath the large plant in the living room.

Because I’ve always got a hankerin’ for the days of yore, here are some historical holiday traditions we really need to bring back:

1. Everything that happened on Saturnalia

Saturnalia was the ancient Roman winter festival held on December 25th--which is why we celebrate Christmas on that day and not on the day historians speculate Jesus was actually born, which was probably in the spring. 

Saturnalia was bonkers. As the name suggests, it celebrated the god Saturn, who represented wealth and liberty and generally having a great time.

Above: Their party is way cooler than yours could ever hope to be.

During Saturnalia, masters would serve their slaves, because it was the one day during the year when everybody agreed that freedom for all is great, actually, let’s just do that. Everyone wore a coned hat called the pilleus to denote that they were all bros and equal, and also to disguise the fact that they hadn’t brushed their hair after partying hard all week, probably.

Gambling was allowed on Saturnalia, so all of Rome basically turned into ancient Vegas, complete with Caesar’s Palace, except with the actual Caesar and his palace because he was, you know. Alive. 

The most famous part (besides getting drunk off your rocker) was gift-giving--usually gag gifts. Historians have records of people giving each other some truly impressive white elephant gifts for Saturnalia, including: a parrot, balls, toothpicks, a pig, one single sausage, spoons, and deliberately awful books of poetry. 

Above: Me, except all the time.

Partygoers also crowned a King of Saturnalia, which was a predecessor to the King of Fools popular in medieval festivals. The king was basically the head idiot who delivered absurd commands to everyone there, like, “Sing naked!” or “run around screaming for an hour,” or “slap your butt cheeks real hard in front of your crush; DO IT, Brutus.”

Oh, wait. Everyone was already doing all that. Hell yes.

(Quick clarification: early celebrations of Saturnalia did feature human sacrifice, so let’s just leave that bit out and instead wear the pointy hats and sing naked, okay? Io Saturnalia, everybody.)

2. Leaving out treats for Sleipnir in the hopes of avoiding Odin’s complete disregard for your property

The whole “leave out cookies and milk for Santa” thing comes from a much older tradition of trying to appease old guys with white beards. In Norse mythology, Odin, who was sort of the head god but preferred to be on a perpetual road trip instead, took an annual nighttime ride through the winter sky called the Wild Hunt. 

Above: The holidays, now with 300% more heavy metal.

Variations of the Wild Hunt story exist in a bunch of European folklore--in Odin’s case, he usually brought along a bunch of supernatural buddies, like spirits and other gods and Valkyries and ghost dogs, who, the Vikings said, you could hear howling and barking as the group approached (GOOD DOGGOS).

That was the thing, though; you never actually saw Odin’s hunt--you only heard it. And hearing it did not spark the same sense of childish glee you felt when you thought you heard Santa’s sleigh bells approaching as a kid--instead, the Vikings said, you should be afraid. Be VERY afraid.

Because Odin could be kind of a dick.

Odin was also known as the Allfather, and like any father, he hated asking for directions. GPS who? I’m the Allfather, I’m riding the same way I always ride.

And that was pretty much it: “I took this road last year and I’m taking it again this year.”

“But,” someone would pipe up from the back, “there are houses on the road now--we’re gonna run right into them. We could just take a different path; there’s actually a detour off the--”

“Nope,” Odin would say. “They know the rules. My road, my hunt, my rules. We’re going this way.”

So if you were unlucky enough to have built your house along one of Odin’s favorite road trip sky-ways, he wouldn’t just plow right past you.

He would burn your entire house down--and your family along with it.

Kids playing in the yard? Torch ‘em; they should have known better. Grandma knitting while she waits for her gingerbread Einherjar to finish baking? Sucks to be her; my road, my rules, my beard, I’m the Allfather, bitch.

Above: Santa, but so much worse.

To be fair to Odin, he could be a cool guy sometimes. He just turned into any dad when he was on a road trip and wanted to MAKE GOOD TIME, DAMN IT, I AM NOT STOPPING; YOU SHOULD HAVE PEED BEFORE WE LEFT.

To ensure they didn’t incur Odin’s road trip wrath, the Vikings had a few ways of smoothing things over with Dad.

They would leave Odin offerings on the road, like pieces of steel (??? okay ???) or bread for his dogs, or food for his giant, eight-legged horse, Sleipnir, because the only true way to a man’s heart is through his pet. 

People would generally leave veggies and oats and other horse-y things out for Sleipnir, whose eight legs made him the fastest flying horse in the world and also made him the only horse to ever win Asgard’s coveted tap dancing championship. 

(Side note: EIGHT legs...EIGHT tiny reindeer...eh? Eh? See how we got here? Thanks, nightmare horse!)

Above: An excellent prancer AND dancer. 

And if Odin was feeling particularly charitable and not in the mood for horrific acts of arson, children would also leave their shoes out for him--it was said that he’d put gifts in your boots to ring in a happy new year.

If all that didn’t work and the Vikings heard the hunt approaching, they would resort to throwing themselves on the ground and covering their heads while the massive party sped above them like a giant Halloween rager. 

So this holiday season, leave your boots out for Odin and some carrots out for his giant spider horse or you and your entire family will die in a fiery inferno, the end.

3. Yule Logs

Speaking of Scandinavia, another Northern European winter solstice tradition was the yule log. Today, if you google “yule log,” something like this will pop up:

...which isn’t an actual log, but is instead log-shaped food that you shove into your mouth along with 500 other cakes at the same time because it’s CHRISTMAS, and I’m having ME TIME; so WHAT if I ate the whole jar of Nutella by myself, alone, in the dark at 3 am?

But that log cake is actually inspired by actual logs of yore that Celtic, Germanic, and Scandinavian peoples decorated with fragrant plants like holly, ivy, pinecones, and other Stuff That Smells Nice before tossing the log into the fire.

This served a few purposes: 

It smelled nice, and Bath and Body Works scented candles hadn’t been invented yet.

It had religious and/or spiritual significance as a way to mark the winter solstice.

It was a symbolic way of ringing in the new year and kicking out the old.

Common belief held that the ashes of a yule log could ward off lightning strikes and bad energy.

Winter cold. Fire warm.

Everybody loves to watch things burn. (See: Odin.)

The yule log cakes we eat today got their start in 19th century Paris, when bakers thought it was a cute idea to resurrect an ancient pagan tradition in the form of a delicious dessert, and boy, howdy, were they right.

In any case, I’m 100% down with eating a chocolate yule log while burning an actual yule log in my backyard because everybody loves to watch things burn; winter cold, fire warm; and hnnnngggg pine tree smell hnnnnggg.

(Quick note:  The word “yule” is  the name of a traditional pagan winter festival, still celebrated culturally or religiously in modern pagan practice. It’s also another name for Odin. He had a bunch of other names, one of the most well-known being jólfaðr, which is Old Norse for “Yule father.” If you would like to royally piss him off, or if you are Loki, feel free to call him “Yule Daddy.”)

4. Upside down Christmas trees

I just found out that apparently, upside down Christmas trees are a hot new trend with HGTV types this year, so I guess this is one historical trend we did bring back, meaning it doesn’t really belong on this list, but I’m gonna talk about it, anyway.

Side note: Oh, my god, that BANNISTER. I NEED.

Historians aren’t actually sure where the inverted Christmas tree thing came from, but we know people were bringing home trees and then hanging them upside down in the living room as early as the 7th century. We have a couple theories as to why people turned trees on their heads:

Logistically, it’s way easier to hang a giant pine tree from your rafters upside down by its trunk and roots. You just hoist that baby up there, wind some rope around the rafter and the trunk, and boom. Start decorating.

A Christian tradition says that one day in the 7th century, a Benedictine monk named Saint Boniface stumbled across a group of pagans worshipping an oak tree. So, instead of minding his own damn business, he cut the tree down and replaced it with a fir tree. While the pagans were like, “Dude, what the hell?” Boniface used the triangular shape of the fir tree to explain the concept of the holy trinity to the pagans. Some versions have him planting it right-side up, others having him displaying a fir tree upside down. Either way, it’s still a triangle that’s a solid but ultimately very rude way of explaining God. Word’s still out on whether anyone was converted or just rightly pissed off that this random guy strolled into their place of worship, chopped down their sacred tree, and plopped HIS tree down instead. Please do not do that this holiday season.

Eastern Europeans lay claim to the upside-down tree phenomenon with a tradition called podłazniczek in Poland--people hung the tree from the ceiling and decorated it with fruits and nuts and seeds and ribbons and other festive doodads. 

(God, who lives in these houses? Look at that. That’s like a swanky version of Gaston’s hunting lodge. Where do I get one? Which enchanted castle do I have to stumble into to chill out in a Christmas living room like that?)

Today, at least in the West, upside-down trees are making a comeback because...I don’t know. Chip and Joanna Gaines said so. 

Some folks say it’s a surefire way to keep your cats from clawing their way through the tree and then puking up fir needles for weeks afterward, which checks out for me.

5. Incredibly weird Victorian Christmas cards

So back in the 19th century, the Christmas card industry was really getting fired up. Victorians loved their mail, let me tell you. They loved sending it. They loved getting it. They loved writing it. They loved opening it. They loved those sexy wax seals you use to keep all that sweet, sweet mail inside that sizzling envelope. (Those things are incredibly sexy. Have you ever made a wax seal? Oh, man, it’s hot.)

The problem, though, was that while the Victorians arguably helped standardize many of the holiday traditions we know and love today (Christmas trees, caroling, Dickens everything, spending too much money, etc.) back in 1800-whenever, a lot of that Christmas symbolism was, um...still under construction. No one had really agreed on which visual holiday cues worked and which...didn’t.

Meaning everyone just kind of made up their own holiday symbols. Which resulted in monstrous aberrations like this card:

What the hell is that? A beet? Is that a beet? Or a turnip? Why is it...oh, God, why does it have a man’s head? Why does the man beet have insect claws? 

What is it that he’s holding? A cookie? Cardboard? A terra cotta planter?

And then there’s this one:

“A Merry Christmas to you,” it says, while depicting a brutal frog murder/mugging. 

What are you trying to tell me? Are you threatening me with this card? Is that it? Is this a threat? How the hell am I supposed to interpret this? “Merry Christmas, hide your money or you’re dead, you stupid bitch.”

Also, why is the dead frog naked? Did the other frog steal his clothes after the murder? WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THIS?

Victorian holiday cards also doubled as early absurdist Internet memes, apparently, because how else do I explain this?

Is this some sort of tiny animal Santa? A mouse riding a lobster? Like, the mouse, I get. Mice are fine. Disney built an empire on a mouse. And look, he’s got a little list of things he’s presumably going to bring you: Peace, joy, health, happiness. (In French. Oh, wait, is that that Patton Oswalt rat?)

But a LOBSTER? What’s with the lobster? It’s basically a sea scorpion. Why in the name of all that is good and holy would you saddle up a LOBSTER? I hate it. I hate it so, so much. Just scurrying around the floor with more legs than are strictly necessary, smelling like the seafood section of Smith’s, snapping its giant claws.

This whole card is a health inspector’s worst nightmare. It really is.

I gotta say, though, I am a fan of this one:

Presumably, that polar bear is going in for a hug because nothing stamps out a polar bear’s innate desire to rip your face from your skull than candy canes and Coke and Christmas spirit.

This next one is actually fantastic, but for all the wrong reasons:

I know everyone overuses “same” these days but geez, LOOK at that kid. I can HEAR it. SAME.

If you’ve ever been in a shopping mall stuffed with kids, nothing sums it up better than this card. This is like the perverse version of those Anne Geddes portraits that were everywhere in the late 90s. “Make wee Jacob sit in the tea pot; everyone will--Jacob, STOP, look at Mommy; I said LOOK. AT. MOMMY--everyone will love it.”

Actually, you know what? Every other Christmas card is cancelled. This is the only card we will be using from now on. This is it. 

Wait, no. We can also use this one:

Merry Christmas. Here’s a fuckin’...just a dead fuckin’ bird.