#i love their dynamic so much they just click

[mingi-s-dimples]

At his mercy - hj

KINKTOBER DAY 24, REQ. BY anon

~"hongjoong tortures y/n by strapping a vibrator onto her pussy and tying her limbs, causing y/n to squirm and stop for him to make it stop. hongjoong edges y/n by turning the vibrator off everytime she's abt to come."

pairing: dom!hongjoong x sub fem!reader

genre: 18+, bdsm au

summary: one broken rule of his would bring you on the edge of being desperate and begging.. for him

wc: 3.2k

warnings: bdsm au, dom/sub relationship, harsh dom!hj, whiny sub!reader, use of toys (vibrator), lots of edging, denied orgasms, crying (out of overstim), slight dacryphilia, use of restraints (he uses soft scarfs to tie her up, and the toy), kissing, neck holding, neck grabbing, slight choking, clit stim, some praising here and there, completely consensual, for sure forgot something, will edit later.

Author's Note: I love writing bdsm style fics sm... y all can see one of my personal kinks ups🧍‍♀️it s all good tho, I love conveying my thoughts whenever I write bdsm typa fics 🤭 I'm so so into the edging thing I'm going insane... anyways, anon, enjoy !!! 🤗💖

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way.

The soft glow of twilight filtered through the curtains, casting shadows across the room that felt heavier than usual. You had been home for barely an hour, your shoulders aching from the weight of the day, when the realization hit you like a jolt of lightning: your phone was dead.

You froze mid-step, the memory of Hongjoong’s firm words echoing in your mind.

“Keep your phone on, *always.*”

It wasn’t a casual request. In your relationship—both romantic and deeply rooted in the careful dynamics of trust and power—it was one of the fundamental rules. His rules weren’t arbitrary; they were meticulously crafted with your safety and the trust you had placed in him at their core.

But today had been a whirlwind. You’d been caught up in errands, lost track of time, and when your phone had died, you’d brushed it off. *I’ll charge it when I get home,* you’d thought. It didn’t seem like a big deal at the time.

Now, as you stared at the lifeless device in your hand, your stomach sank. You knew Hongjoong would already be home, and you could practically feel the weight of his disapproval before even stepping into the bedroom.

A deep breath did little to steady your nerves as you opened the door. The sight of him, seated on the edge of the bed, confirmed your fears. He was dressed impeccably, his shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms, a casual elegance that only heightened the intensity of his presence. His head lifted as the door clicked shut behind you, his dark eyes locking onto yours.

“You’re late,” he said evenly, his voice calm but sharp enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted, your hands tightening around your dead phone. “I—”

He raised a hand, cutting you off. “Spare me the excuses.”

He stood, his movements deliberate, and the sheer authority radiating from him made your pulse quicken. As your Dom, Hongjoong’s presence carried an unspoken weight—a mixture of love, control, and safety wrapped in his unwavering confidence. Tonight, though, you could feel the shift in the air, the tension crackling between you like an unstruck match.

“You were unreachable for hours,” he said, his tone quieter now, but no less commanding. He crossed the room with slow, measured steps, stopping just in front of you. “Do you know how dangerous that is?”

“I wasn’t thinking,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” he agreed, tilting his head slightly, his lips pressing into a thin line. “You weren’t. And because of that, you’ve broken one of my rules.”

The weight of his words settled heavily on your chest. Hongjoong wasn’t one to lose control or raise his voice; his power lay in his restraint, the deliberate way he handled every situation. You knew how much effort he put into crafting your dynamic, ensuring that every boundary, every rule, was there to protect and guide you.

“Tell me,” he continued, his voice deceptively soft, “what happens when you break the rules?”

You hesitated, heat rising to your cheeks. “There are consequences.”

“Good girl,” he said, nodding once. “Then you understand why we’re here.”

A thrill of nervous anticipation coursed through you, your body already responding to the subtle shift in his demeanor. This was no longer just about the broken rule or the dead phone. This was about his rule—rebuilding it, reaffirming it, and reminding you of the structure you had both agreed to.

“Strip,” he said, stepping back just enough to give you space.

You swallowed hard, your fingers trembling slightly as you reached for the hem of your shirt. There was no hesitation in his gaze, no flicker of doubt. His command wasn’t rooted in anger but in the unshakable confidence that this was what you both needed.

Piece by piece, you removed your clothing, the vulnerability of the act heightening your awareness of every movement, every breath. When you were finally bare before him, he gestured toward the bed.

“Sit.”

You obeyed, perching on the edge of the mattress, your heart racing as he reached into the bedside drawer. He pulled out the familiar length of silk—a scarf he often used during scenes—and the sight of it made your stomach flutter.

“Hands,” he instructed, his voice firm but not unkind.

You lifted your hands, palms up, and he moved closer, the scent of his cologne washing over you as he carefully bound your wrists. The fabric was cool against your skin, the knot secure but not too tight—a reminder of the balance he always maintained between control and care.

Once your wrists were bound, he stepped back, his eyes raking over you with an intensity that left you breathless.

“Do you know why this is happening?” he asked, his voice low and steady.

“Because I broke the rules,” you replied softly, your cheeks flushing under his gaze.

“More than that,” he said, leaning in slightly, his presence overwhelming in the best way. “Because you forgot what it means to me. To let me protect you.”

The words hit you like a bolt of lightning, your heart clenching at the weight of his words.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, the sincerity in your voice evident.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against your jaw as he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. “I know you are,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “But sorry isn’t enough. You need to feel this—so you don’t forget.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, anticipation thrumming through your veins as he stepped back. Slowly, he climbed onto the bed, his movements deliberate and precise. He positioned himself above you, his hands braced on either side of your head, and the sheer proximity of him made it hard to breathe.

“You trust me,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent heat coursing through your body.

“Yes,” you replied without hesitation.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

A small, satisfied smile tugged at his lips. “Good.”

He leaned down, his breath warm against your skin as he pressed a kiss to your temple—a gesture that was both comforting and charged with electricity. Then, without another word, he began his work.

His hands moved with practiced ease, tracing a slow, deliberate path over your body. Every touch was calculated, designed to heighten your awareness and leave you yearning for more.

Hongjoong’s eyes gleamed with something primal as he pulled back slightly, his fingers trailing down the curve of your waist, leaving a path of fire in their wake. Without breaking eye contact, he reached back into the drawer. The faint hum of anticipation in the room grew sharper as he retrieved a small, sleek vibrator.

The sight of it made your breath hitch. He held it up between you, tilting it slightly, the light catching its smooth surface. His thumb hovered over the button, and with a soft click, it came to life—a low, teasing buzz that made your body tighten in response.

“This,” he said, his voice dripping with authority, “is for me to control. Just like you.”

A shiver coursed through you as he climbed off the bed, placing the vibrator down for a moment. He grabbed another length of silk, this one thicker, from the drawer and leaned down to secure your ankles to the bedposts. His touch was firm but careful, ensuring the bonds were snug but not uncomfortable. The vulnerability of having your legs spread and tied left you quivering.

With your wrists already secured above you and your legs now restrained, Hongjoong stepped back to admire his work. His gaze traveled over your body, appreciation and dominance mingling in his eyes.

“Look at you,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Completely at my mercy.”

You couldn’t hold his gaze, your cheeks heating as you squirmed under his scrutiny. But the sound of the vibrator clicking to a higher setting snapped your attention back to him.

“Eyes on me,” he ordered, his tone sharp enough to cut through your haze.

“Yes, sir,” you stammered, your voice shaky.

He smirked, the corners of his mouth lifting in that way that always left you breathless. Slowly, he climbed back onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he positioned himself between your thighs.

“I’m going to teach you,” he said, running the vibrator along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, just shy of where you wanted it most. “Teach you to listen. To remember who you belong to.”

The vibrations against your skin were maddening, a tantalizing promise of what was to come. Your hips instinctively arched toward him, but he pressed a firm hand to your stomach, holding you in place.

“Uh-uh,” he said with a click of his tongue. “You’ll take what I give you. Nothing more.”

“Yes, sir,” you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible over the hum of the vibrator.

The heat in his gaze intensified as he trailed the toy higher, stopping just at the apex of your thighs. The anticipation was unbearable, your body trembling as he kept you on the edge, never quite giving you what you craved.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice soft but full of power. “Now let’s see how well you can obey.”

The sound of the vibrator’s low hum filled the room as Hongjoong continued his torment, letting it hover just close enough to make your body tighten, only to pull it away at the last second. His precision was maddening, each pass over your skin deliberate and cruel in its restraint. You could feel your orgasm building—heat pooling deep within you, your breaths turning ragged—but just as you neared that peak, he stopped.

A desperate whimper escaped your lips as your body ached for the release he denied you.

“Ah, ah,” Hongjoong tutted, clearly relishing your reaction. His smirk was wicked as he trailed the toy lightly along your stomach, far from where you wanted it. “Did I give you permission for that?”

“N-no, sir,” you stammered, your voice shaky.

“Then why are you acting like you have control here?” he teased, his tone both sharp and teasing as he leaned down, his breath ghosting over your ear. “You don’t. Not tonight.”

Your body trembled as he brought the vibrator back to your clit, the sensations sharp and all-consuming. This time, he pressed it against it with just enough pressure to send your nerves spiraling toward that edge again. Your breaths quickened, your hips bucking against the restraints as pleasure surged through you.

But once again, just as you were about to topple over the edge, he pulled back, switching the vibrator off with a casual click.

“No!” The protest slipped out before you could stop it, your voice thick with desperation. Tears of frustration pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you pulled weakly against the silk holding you in place.

Hongjoong chuckled, low and rich, clearly enjoying your unraveling. “Oh, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement as he brushed his fingers gently along your jawline, tipping your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. “You’re really not in a position to argue, are you?”

You bit your lip, unsure how to respond, and his smirk deepened. “Since you seem to need a reminder of your place…”

He reached into the drawer again and pulled out a silk ribbon. Your heart raced as he carefully tied the vibrator against your inner thigh, angling it perfectly over your clit, where every nerve felt raw and exposed. He secured it with meticulous care, ensuring it stayed in place.

“There,” he said, flicking the toy back on to a steady, teasing hum. It wasn’t enough to overwhelm you, but the constant stimulation was maddening, leaving you squirming in your bonds.

You let out a soft cry of frustration, your body both desperate for relief and overwhelmed by the unrelenting sensation.

“Comfortable?” he asked, his tone mockingly sweet as he knelt on the bed, watching you with that same unshakable confidence.

“Please,” you whispered, tears now slipping down your cheeks as the frustration became unbearable.

“Please, what?” he prompted, his voice softer now, almost tender.

“Please, sir,” you choked out, your voice trembling.

He leaned down, brushing a thumb across your cheek to catch a tear. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, his voice rich with satisfaction. “Desperate. Completely at my mercy.”

The hum of the vibrator against you was relentless, the teasing just enough to keep you teetering on the brink without ever letting you fall. Hongjoong’s eyes burned with intensity as he watched you writhe beneath him, the control firmly in his hands.

“Let’s see how long you can hold on,” he said, his voice a mixture of warning and promise, leaving no doubt that he was far from finished.

Hongjoong climbed over you, his presence overwhelming as he hovered above, his knees bracketing your hips. His face was close—so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. The intensity in his gaze was magnetic, holding you captive as he leaned in slowly. When his lips finally met yours, the kiss was firm yet teasing, a tantalizing mix of control and tenderness.

His fingers trailed down your sides, deliberate and unhurried, until they found your thighs. He pressed his palms into the soft flesh, his touch both grounding and electrifying. Without breaking the kiss, his hand drifted lower, brushing over the vibrator tied against you. He pressed it gently against you, just enough to amplify the sensation.

A soft, breathless moan escaped your lips, and Hongjoong broke the kiss just long enough to chuckle—a low, amused sound that sent shivers down your spine.

“You’re so responsive,” he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Every little touch drives you wild, doesn’t it?”

You nodded weakly, your body trembling beneath him. His fingers resumed their journey, tracing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. When he reached the vibrator again, he paused, applying just enough pressure to make you arch into him.

“Easy,” he murmured, his tone both commanding and soothing. His touch softened, his fingers now trailing upward with featherlight strokes that left you aching for more.

When his hand finally settled over your wet cunt, he didn’t rush. Instead, he teased, tracing slow, deliberate circles on your clit, each movement precise and controlled. You gasped at the sensation, your body straining against the bonds as he continued his careful exploration.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, his voice firm but intimate, as if sharing a secret meant only for you. His fingers continued their torment, each movement designed to draw you closer to the edge without letting you fall.

“Say it,” he commanded softly, his fingers pausing just enough to make you desperate for their return.

“I’m yours,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion.

A satisfied smile spread across his lips as he leaned down, pressing another kiss to your lips, softer this time, but no less consuming. His touch remained relentless, a masterful mix of restraint and precision, leaving you completely at his mercy in the best possible way.

Hongjoong’s fingers moved in circles, his touch relentless yet measured, keeping you balanced right on the edge of release. The vibrator’s steady hum against you combined with the pressure of his skilled fingers made your entire body tense, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable peak.

You felt it coming—the moment your body would give in, the flood of the orgasm you so desperately needed. But just as you reached the brink, Hongjoong’s hand stilled, and he pulled the vibrator away ever so slightly, leaving you hanging in exquisite frustration.

A cry of anguish escaped your lips, tears of desperation welling up and spilling over as your body trembled beneath him. Your head fell back against the pillow, your breaths coming in shaky gasps as you looked up at him, pleading silently with your tear-filled eyes.

Hongjoong’s expression softened, but his smirk remained. He leaned in, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his thumb catching a stray tear on your cheek.

“Poor thing,” he murmured, his voice rich with mock sympathy. “You’re falling apart, aren’t you?”

You nodded, your voice breaking as you whispered, “Please.”

“Please, what?” he asked, his tone deceptively gentle as he tilted his head, his gaze boring into yours. “Say it. Use your words. Tell me exactly what you want.”

Your cheeks burned with humiliation, but the desperation in your chest outweighed any shyness. “Please, sir,” you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper. “Please let me…”

Hongjoong chuckled, the sound dark and intoxicating. “Oh, sweetheart,” he said, leaning closer so his lips brushed against your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine. “You’re going to have to beg better than that.”

Tears slipped freely down your cheeks as you swallowed your pride, your voice trembling. “Please, sir, I need it. I can’t take it anymore. Please, let me come. I’ll do anything.”

His smirk faded slightly, replaced by something deeper, more genuine. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “You did so well for me.”

With a flick of his wrist, he brought the vibrator back against you, his fingers resuming their work, but this time his touch was more focused, more demanding. The build-up was immediate, the sensations overwhelming as he guided you closer and closer to your orgasm.

“Cum, darling… isn't that what you've been asking for?” he said softly, his tone commanding but tender.

The tension in your body snapped, and your irgasm hit you like a tidal force, your body shaking as you cried out in relief. Hongjoong didn’t stop, his fingers and the vibrator easing you through the intensity, grounding you as you came down from the high.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his free hand smoothing over your thigh in a comforting gesture. “Breathe, mhm… this is only the start..”

As your breaths began to steady, the room still thick with the remnants of your pleasure, Hongjoong shifted. The comforting caress on your thigh was replaced by a firm grip on your chin, gently tilting your face to meet his gaze. His dark, smoldering eyes held yours with an intensity that made your stomach flip.

“I hope you’re not under the impression that I’m satisfied yet,” he said, his voice low and velvety, carrying a teasing edge. He leaned closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, his breath warm and deliberate. “We’re just getting started.”

Before you could respond, his hand slid to your neck, his fingers wrapping around it—not enough to hurt, just enough to command your attention, to make you feel utterly claimed. The weight of his touch sent a new wave of heat through your body, an unspoken promise hanging in the air between you.

“Next time,” he said, his voice a blend of a growl and a purr, “if you push me like that, you won’t get to cum so easily. Do you understand me?” He tilted his head slightly, studying your expression as if savoring the moment.

You swallowed hard, the mix of his authority and care electrifying. When you managed to nod, his thumb brushed softly against your jaw, a stark contrast to the intensity of his grip.

“Good,” he murmured, his lips curving into a satisfied smirk. He released your neck, his touch trailing down to your shoulder, and leaned back just enough to take in your flushed, breathless state.

“Now,” he continued, his tone playful yet resolute, “we’ve got a long way to go, darling. I’d suggest you keep up… for your sake.”

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @arki-sha @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @peachy-bell26 @atiny1 @cursed-eastern ?, I can't find your acc 😞

[capquinn]

Quinn being the type to just say “whoops!” and then get excited when it’s an unplanned pregnancy because the thought of a big family makes him so happy

omg yes especially if it’s his second baby!!!! Like, the second you tell him, he’d probably blink a few times, let out this breathless little laugh, and then immediately pull you into his arms, squeezing you tight like he’s trying to anchor himself in the moment. He’d lean back just enough to look at you, his grin spreading wider by the second, that stupid, lovesick expression lighting up his entire face.

“Guess we’re doing this, huh?” he’d say, all casual like it’s no big deal, as if this wasn’t the furthest thing from your plan. Like it wasn’t even a surprise but something he’d been secretly hoping for. And honestly? Maybe he had. Because the idea of a big family? It clicks for him. It’s who he is.

You’d see it in real time — the way the initial shock of it fades entirely, replaced by this quiet joy that starts in his eyes and spreads like wildfire. He’d start picturing it almost immediately, you know? The baby years he loves so much. The chaos that comes with it. Two little voices shouting through the house, the mornings that are already messy turning into full-blown beautiful disasters of mismatched socks, spilled juice, and a thousand “daddy, can you help me?” moments.

“Another little one running around?” he’d ask, his grin growing so wide it almost looked ridiculous. “We can handle that. Easy.” And he’d mean it, every word. Because for Quinn, the more love, the better.

And of course, because he’s Quinn, he’d find a way to make you laugh about it, easing the weight of the surprise in that smooth, effortless way of his. 

“Guess we really don’t need that guest room,” he’d joke, glancing at you with that playful glimmer in his eye that you know means he’s already mentally rearranging furniture. 

Maybe he’d even throw in something about how Bug might have to share her toys, just to get a rise out of you. And when you shoot him a look, half exasperated, half fond, he’d hold his hands up in mock surrender, grinning the whole time.

But then he’d get softer — because he can’t help himself — and say something like, “she’s gonna be the best big sister. I mean, she already loves being the boss, but she’s too sweet to ever use it against them.” 

And you’d laugh because he’s right, and because it’s so very him to start thinking about what the new sibling dynamic will look like before you’ve even wrapped your own head around it.

Honestly, he wouldn’t even see it as an accident. He wouldn’t frame it that way at all. Instead, it’d be like life just handed you both something unexpected but perfect in its own messy, wonderful way. Because for Quinn, this is the dream. Family is everything. Always has been, always will be.

[inquisimer]

Loving the rook and viago dynamic, chefs kiss 🤌.

If your taking requests, I love the idea of rook slowly becoming more angry or snappy after the regret prison. Thought the "I've been taking care of myself for a long time and don't need your help" prompt would be perfect for an angry rook to their bro. viago

YESSSS I love them so much, Crow Dad makes me [screeches unintelligibly]. And yes, I always take prompts, thank you for this one!! It had me looking at Arlow & Viago's relationship through a different lens, which was great 💜

Arlow de Riva & Viago de Riva | 680 words | endgame spoilers, referenced major character death

-

Arlow’s fingers slipped against her armor’s leather straps again and she huffed, frustrated. It was a buckle, it shouldn’t be so damn hard—

“Need a hand?”

She stiffened, fist clenching around the strap instead. “No. I’ve got it.”

Viago stepped into the meditation chamber anyway, the door shutting with a deafening click behind him. The blackout curtains over the windows kept the room dark, save for a few clusters of candles that flickered over the sharp, familiar planes of his face. Arlow stared pointedly down, cursing under her breath when the strap slipped from her grasp again.

“Yes, clearly,” Viago said dryly. He leaned against the buffet at the back of her couch and folded his arms. “The offer stands, if at any point you’d like to be less stubborn about it.”

Arlow ignored him. She wasn’t going to tell him that dregs of Solas’ Fade prison lingered on her, a numbness in her fingers and toes, a persistent chill that no fire or blanket could ward off, an unmistakable sense of being watched and judged and found wanting. He didn’t get to kick her out of the nest and expect things to be the same once she’d found her wings; she’d gotten this far and she would get through this, too.

Her fingers slipped once more. “Cazza,” she muttered.

“Arlow��“

“No, Viago,” she snapped. “I just need to—“ She pinched the strap between her nails this time and pulled it through the buckle. It left a little half-moon indentation in the purple leather, but it was fastened and it would fade. Much like she assumed the bitter coating on her teeth when she looked at Viago would fade… eventually.

She knew he was proud of her. She knew that he cared, in that closed-off, brusque way of his. But her heart was only getting about two-thirds of the way to letting him back in, because Solas’ trap finally had her dwelling on the way this contract started.

If Viago were caught in a prison of his own regrets, would he see her, leaving with Varric? She’d told Lucanis that she knew he didn’t have a choice, with the other Talons out for blood. And she did believe that. But the job had finally scraped her too raw for that to be anything other than a cold comfort.

He could have saved her. And someone else might have tripped into Varric’s crosshairs—someone who might have saved him. And Davrin. And Bellara.

Guilt and regret crept up her throat. They curled around her neck and trailed after her like a smoky shadow she just couldn’t shake. So she clung to the anger instead and let it shield her from the breakdown they threatened.

“Did you need something?” she asked, pulling on her gloves and flexing her fingers. “I should go check on my team.”

“Look at me.” His stern, quiet voice brokered no argument; it never had. Reluctantly, Arlow put the wardrobe at her back and did as he ordered. Her eyes were steely and the hard line of her jaw invited no comfort—not that she expected he would have offered, anyway.

His own expression was as inscrutable as always, almost foreboding in the odd shadows cast by the half-melted candles. For a moment, Arlow had the sense of how everyone else must see the Fifth Talon—terse, unyielding, the quiet threat of an expert assassin without any of the care that she was accustomed to.

It almost chilled her enough to make her relent. Almost—but her hands were still numb, and her heart still hurt. She still needed the anger, or she was going to get someone else killed.

“No, I—“ Viago cleared his throat. “No. You should go.”

Before we say something we both regret, Arlow thought. She knew what it would be for her. As he glanced away—he never looked away first—she wondered what he was afraid of letting slip. And she wondered, as she gave him her back, if he, too, felt the painful echo of watching her walk away.

She left.

[hotvintagepoll]

Tony Curtis Operation Petticoat, Some Like It Hot, The Defiant Ones, Trapeze)—He Scrungles! He jumps around and his face crumples! He scrungles in a uniform, he scrungles in drag! He scrungles in black and white, he scrungles in colour! He scrungles in in tragedy, he scrungles in comedy! He scrungles on the big screen, he scrungles on TV! He manages to be athletic, dynamic, a beautiful man really, and yet... and yet, he *scrungles.* He's pathetic, he's a poor little meow meow, he's got the puppy eyes and he's at his most charming when he's awkward, and he manages to look small, always. HOW? Because he's the Scrungliest :D

Mantan Moreland (Mr. Washington Goes to Town, Cabin in the Sky)—i love mantan moreland SO. MUCH. and he is the pERFECT scrungly little guy!!!!! like a lot of black actors at the time he was always getting sidelined into small parts, but unusually he also managed to become a star in his own right and was almost one of the three stooges! he was a groundbreaking comedic actor known for his distinctive stare (very good for the horror movies he did), and he always is way more fun to watch on screen than anyone else. he had a famous double-act where he perfected this technique of non-conversations (where both people keep finishing each other's sentences before any actual information is conveyed). a lot of his movies are free on youtube and i really enjoy seeing him do his silly little guy thing in all of them!!! anyways yeah please include mantan he deserves some recognition as peak scrungle

This is round 2 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you're confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Mantan Moreland:

here's his double act in action!! [editor's note: Benson Fong cameo too!]

He just had a scrungly look about him and he played big with his roles so any of it became especially scrungly. Plus he was very funny in the way only scrungly people can be.

the FUNNEST GUY TO WATCH ON SCREEN. he was an immensely gifted physical comedian, able to convey loads with his eyes, and while some of his parts are so sad and cringeworthy, I feel like he always brought a humanity and humor that lifted them beyond cheap stereotype.

Tony Curtis:

WET and PATHETIC (and chained to Sidney Poitier, to boot!) in the Defiant Ones. Also the film will break your heart. Enjoy!

[hulloitsdani]

PLS go on another rant about Kiran Fire Emblem I’m begging you 🙏

I love to read you yapping💞💞💞 I like your TedTalks

:D

Aw thank you stranger! I’m happy to provide!

So recently I feel that I have been putting Kiran Fire Emblem through the wringer. Which is all well and good, but I believe it’s time for them to have good things. As a treat. This oddly takes the form of book 5.

In case it’s your first time witnessing my monologues or are in need of a refresher, let me provide a little context. Kiran had a life before being summoned to Askr and a major part of their arc is suppressing just how deeply that loss affects them. Like it or not, it bleeds into everything they do. This all culminates into book 4, which was an all time low for their character. A lot of issues all started blowing up in their face all at once, last but not least being the grief they hold from losing their entire world. It very nearly kills them. It was an extremely bad time.

However, lessons were learned. Since then, Kiran has been trying to vocalize their discomforts more. It’s a bit weird though, considering Anna and Sharena witnessed firsthand their little meltdown in the realm of dreams. It’s… damnit it’s just weird! Really weird! Most of their cards are on the table now and it’s weird! It’s not like their friends heard about this stuff by talking to them, they SAW it nearly KILL THEM. The dynamic is, understandably, different than it would otherwise be.

If they weren’t willing trying, Anna would pry their issues from their mouth with crowbar. Hell, sometimes she does anyway if she gets, in her own words, “a hunch.” Sharena meanwhile has been very pampering. They didn’t know she could be more pampering than she already was, but oh boy were they wrong. Three homemade meals a day guaranteed under her watch. And if they’re being honest, it does feel very nice, which ultimately makes them feel awful because the realm of dreams was rough for her too. She should also… they don’t know. They feel bad. She has reassured them many times that it’s all good and that this helps her too. And how even if it didn’t, she loves them and would do this stuff anyway. They don’t doubt that anymore but… they still feel bad. They feel bad about feeling good. It’s all a complicated mess. They are telling Alfonse about this though, which makes it feel less overwhelming. His insights help. He provides a bit of a sanity check.

It is within this state of recovery that book 5 occurs. Considering the weaponry of their enemy, Kiran ends up talking a lot more openly about their world. Delving into the literal and metaphorical mechanics of it. And it’s oddly fun! Alfonse has a leg up since he’s the only one who has been curious enough to ask prior to this. So there’s many scenarios where a.) something Kiran previous told him finally clicks now that he has a better visual for what they mean, which leads to b.) Alfonse and Kiran trying their best to explain to Anna and Sharena. It’s an absolutely ridiculous sight to behold— Sharena catches on a bit quicker since she’s pretty good at visualizing things, but Anna has no such boon and is STRUGGLING. Kiran and Alfonse aren’t exactly teachers either, so it’s a fun time.

Then they meet Reginn.

It feels obvious, in hindsight, that they were bound to click with each other. At first though, it seems like it’s going to be the same dynamic Kiran always has with the new stray the Order picks up. Polite friendliness alongside genuine empathy with a side of reassuring presence. The group agrees to help and Kiran gets cracking on how to make that a reality. But then something interesting happens. As Reginn speaks in further vulnerable detail about her plight to them, Kiran begins… talking. Like actually talking. Talking about their family and their life prior to Askr.

It starts small. The both of them are fixing up Reginn’s metal horse (the Order broke it in their initial fight with her) and she asks how they know so much about her country’s technology. She knows they’re from an alien world and, well, they aren’t proficient at this by any means— but they know enough to be helpful. And for once, Kiran is honest. “…My mom was a mechanic.” They say, not turning to face her. “She, uh, knew how to fix this kind of stuff. Taught us a little bit.”

It’s a small snippet of information that has taken five seasons to wring out of Kiran, and Reginn of all people is the first one to hear it. It’s way easier to tell her, for a multitude of reasons. One of them being exactly that— there’s no build up. Reginn didn’t see their book 4 meltdown. She doesn’t know how big of deal this is for them. That’s good. It takes the pressure off and makes it easier. For Reginn, this is information they offered casually and willingly from the beginning. And in doing this, they keep talking and both end up relating to each other rather deeply. It quickly becomes obvious that Kiran isn’t simply helping her out of the goodness of their heart, but because they personally relate to her plight. Kiran was extremely close with their siblings, and now they may never seen them again. They don’t want the same thing to happen to other people. This recontextualizes a lot of their actions, but it importantly builds trust. Kiran is immediately knocked off this pedestal as some morally pious figure and into a human person in her eyes. Someone who gets it and wants to help.

This creates a delightful dynamic between them. She is immediately more than friend, as that’s pretty explicitly what the Askr trio are to them. This is different. It’s familial. Reginn is working with information and a cultural context pretty perfectly equipped to understand them in this way. And, considering the losses they’ve both experienced, they crave this placement in each other’s lives. It’s healing. Kiran lost their family and Reginn’s family hasn’t been a family since Fafnir took the throne. It’s far from a replacement, but it’s definitely filling a void. They both needed this.

Gods, they both needed this.

They needed someone to respond to playful quips with a laugh and a clap back. They needed someone to triple dog dare to sling a spit ball into the back of a god’s head. They needed someone to people watch with as a late night to early morning watch shift wrapped up. They needed a shoulder to lean on after Otr finally said all the quiet parts out loud. They needed someone to understand some parts about them a bit more inherently than either are used to, for better or worse.

Without this, neither of them get better. Not anytime soon, anyway. But luckily, Reginn and Kiran entered each other’s lives at just the right time.

[maxthebabylion]

“You have to win it.”

Max heard, this little grumpy voice next to him.

“What?” was the only thing he can come up with as an answer, he was about to fall asleep, wrapped up in cozy sheets.

“You have to win it.”

“Ok what’s going on honey?”

“It was for fucking nothing, all of it. You just have to win it.”

This bring Max to his senses, Oscar was clearly upset one look at his face confirmed everything Max need to know with red eyes and runny nose. He had his phone in his hand, looking to the screen like it killed his childhood pet.

“Tell me what happened? What are you doing with your phone in the middle of the night?”

“They are saying they never intended to win the driver’s, their only focus was always constructor’s. But they took my wins, my podium places. They tricked me Max.” he was trembling a little, Max never seen him like this.

“We would’ve finished 1-2 in the sprint even if we didn’t swapped positions, same amount of points isn’t it? They are discrediting all my hard work, all this papaya rules thing was really shit. I should’ve never accepted their agenda, they never deserved it. So you have to win it Max please.”

Max now fully awake, back against the headrest took Oscar’s hand in his own, calmed him down then took the phone and read some of the interview Oscar just saw.

He was saying the truth, there in bold letters saying constructors is the priority for Mclaren, after all the sacrifices Oscar made they were giving up just like that. Max knew this would’ve happened, never mentioned it to Oscar because he respected his boyfriend’s choices. Even if he suspected it to happen, the situation was still disappointing.

He couldn’t imagine how Oscar was feeling right now, betrayal coming from your so called family must’ve been so hard to deal with otherwise Oscar never would’ve mentioned anything related to championship to Max. He never did, intertwined his team and their relationship like this.

This was a first, he actually asked Max for something and Max would be damned if he didn’t make it happen.

“I will, i will win it for you.”

[makiswirl]

can i just say. and this is probably a niche hill to die on. that i am so gobsmacked every time someone vaguely hints at the idea that jotaro doesn't care meaningfully for the other crusaders, usually particularly kakyoin and joseph, when those two actually tend to be the ones he reacts to being hurt the hardest

like he cares for his loved ones!!!! that literally plays into his character motives in every single part he shows up in!!! stop lying to me!!!!!!!

[luck-of-the-drawings]

[OLD ART ALERT] A COLLECTION OF SCENES FROM THE GILLIONS CATSCRATCH ARC THAT BROUGHT ME GREAT JOY. i love fishy chips especially when its just gillion being delirious and violent and hostile

[demigodofhoolemere]

Does Disney know that one of the best friendships ever depicted on any of their television shows was that of a nerdy teenage boy and his step-uncle the redeemed former villain?

[panharmonium]

i am not usually interested in dramatically canon-divergent scenarios because the canon story is what compels me, but i've been obsessed with this moment ever since i re-heard it during my second viewing. from the perspective of someone who already finished the story once and now knows the truth - this was wild.

WHAT IF?

[3416]

9188 | stars @ leafs | 02.07.24

[eissaphir]

I thought of this with a carnival in mind but feel free to interpret this any way you want. Looking at you, Radioapple shippers

[gayvecchio]

"I had one of your hunches, Ray. Felt good."

[shorthaltsjester]

taliesin and laura remain truly so fantastic at making characters who… don’t necessarily have something extremely and inherently in common but do have experiences that were caused by similar sources and that lead them to have quite different opinions/ideas about things but in ways that are typically very reconcilable? which is a lot of qualifiers but it’s a through line of vex/percy with nobility, jester & cad with loneliness (and also god stuff but in a different post maybe someday i’ll talk about how actually their god stuff is intensely related to their different experiences of loneliness), and now imogen & ashton with being left behind.

like vex was this character who technically had a claim to nobility due to her blood but at the same time was burdened because of that same claim. and percy who was born into and raised by nobility but that nobility ended up making his family the targets of a massacre. and then vex who lets down her walls and Do I Look Like I Come From Money? and percy giving her the title grand mistress of the grey hunt because it has nothing to do with blood, or his love for her, or anything aside from the fact that it’s something she can prove herself worthy of simply by virtue of who she Is, not who someone makes her. and percy and vex’s conversation about forgiveness and it’s necessity for growth as probably two of the characters most inclined to hold grudges.

and caduceus clay who gets left behind with nothing but his Belief while his family goes off into the world. and jester lavorre who gets shut inside with no company except her Belief as her mother protects her from the world. and they both get the burden of loneliness and the understanding of love’s nonmalicious imperfection. and caduceus having a panic attack on a ship and jester telling him that the world is a lot bigger than his cemetery and that means he has to break out of his comfort zone to find his path. and caduceus telling jester that he doesn’t think she gets as much credit as she ought to and she deserves more pastries. and jester thanking caduceus for showing her how cool it is to actually heal people and caduceus asking if she wants to use his shield while he doesn’t need it.

and ashton who was left broken and dying on the ground and was given inescapable pain as their means of survival. and imogen who was left behind by the only person who could provide true understanding of the pain she’d one day come to feel. and ashton who’s a barbarian, who wields their rage casually and unapologetically and who sees the Shittiness of the world but is unrelenting in his version of optimism. and imogen who is weighed down by pessimism she doesn’t Want to have but hasn’t cracked how to undo and who doesn’t admit her anger until it comes up again and again and again and carries it like a burden or like guilt, who we only see really Grasp and feel Confidence about her anger being something good in front of others when she has those conversations with ashton. and like. ashton who looks at imogen and sees a superhero. imogen venturing through ashton’s mind and holding his bleeding and exhausted head and saying i’m sorry. i’m sorry. and imogen who looks at ashton and sees someone special. and fucking “we got him killed.” and “no, we didn’t. don’t you dare. […] we are not what fucking killed that man. […] we are his eventual victory. we are his fucking revenge.” and “i’ll be his revenge.” and “i have no fucking doubt.”

and in general rp wise they both tend to make some of my favourite characters (also typically the ones i find most frustrating) because they both tend to make flaws that are easy to hate and they make those flaws very central to their characters but i think that’s also what makes their character interactions so deeply compelling because so frequently it’s like. yes yes these two characters have like. a helix of things they have in common but also things they deeply disagree on but they’re going to spider-man point at the things that are the same and they’re going to honour their differences while doing so. and it’s just. i always enjoy it so much and i was psyched when i heard about an imogen and ashton side pit stop in last nights episode and i was not let down when i watched the episode today.

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

"until i realised you wanted me to be doing what was right for some reason beyond the fact that you wanted me to"

[poisoned-pearls]

wanting to write a fic set one year in the future of twst for azujami is tough bc neither of those motherfuckers have a ton of friends. What do I have? The twins? Ruggie? Riddle? That lowkey feels like all I’ve got. Maybe ace, for basketball, but still.