#i thought the line was trying to make them aware of it/taking it beyond fan spaces. but now im second guessing everything i write

[lurkingshan]

Helloooo, Shan! This is a bit out of left field but it’s something I’ve been wondering for a while. BL has developed more as a genre and shown itself to be increasingly sociopolitically aware (whether or not it effectively engages with that awareness beyond marketing is another thing), do you have thoughts on any sort of progression of how women and girls have been portrayed? Or observations on the general state of women and girls in BL? It seems to me their roles have become meatier, not just one-dimensional femme fatales or fujoshi. Or am I projecting a false narrative of genre evolution? 🤔

Hey Megan, thanks for sending! I love an out of left field ask. And I agree with you, I do think there has been a clear evolution in the way women characters are portrayed in BL, and I have been making note of it where I see it.

It used to be that female characters in BL were mostly just there to be antagonists, either as villainous femme fatales trying to break up the couple (like Plern Pleng in TWM) or fujoshis inserting themselves into the main couple's relationship in really inappropriate and fetishizing ways (like Pang in Love Sick). Even the precious few decent women characters from early BL (like Manow from UWMA) are still really only there as side characters who provide support to the boys and/or a bit of comic relief. Women in early BL were either problematic or kind of an afterthought in the narrative.

But more recently there have been BL dramas featuring women who are more fully fleshed out and actually a crucial part of the story. This is not linear and consistent, of course--there are BLs airing as we speak, like Knock Knock Boys and Blue Boys, that are still relying on women as primary antagonists--but there has been some growth. Here are some of the characters I find particularly notable in regards to the role they play in the narrative:

Ae Ri, The Eighth Sense

Ae Ri was a notable character because the narrative set us up to think she was going to be a typical femme fatale. She seemed to like Ji Hyun and we were naturally inclined to assume she would be an obstacle to him pursuing Jae Won, until the show completely turned that on its head and made her a knowing ally instead. It was a delightful surprise and she remained an important support and get a grip friend for Ji Hyun throughout the story.

Nara, La Pluie

Nara is another in the category of the subverted femme fatale trope, but this show took that much further by writing her with so much empathy and making her a fully fleshed out character with her own arc and even the start of a new romance by the end. It is still the best treatment of an ex-girlfriend character I have ever seen in a BL.

Fujisaki/Pai, Cherry Magic

Speaking of trope subversion, let's give a shoutout to these two corrective takes on the fujoshi archetype. Each version of this story did it a bit differently, but the common thread was that Fujisaki and Pai only wanted the best for their friends, and kept a firm line on how much to interfere in their relationship. Fujisaki is gentle and kind, offering small encouragements and nice gestures. Pai is much more of an enthusiastic fangirl so I was a bit weary at the start of her story, but the show used her fannish interests as an opportunity to model respectful fan behavior and I was quite pleased in the end.

Yiwa, Wedding Plan

And of course, I have to mention the current title holder for best female character in a BL, Wedding Plan's Yiwa. She is not only a great character in terms of having a fully formed personality, clear motivations, and a great set of relationships, she is also the engine that drives the entire narrative. I am still kinda amazed she exists.

This is separate but related to the recent increase in GL content and GL side couples in BLs, which is also getting steadily better. And I want both! I want solid GL dramas where the girls own the narrative, and I want BLs to write women better when they choose to include them in the story. I'm encouraged by the progress we've already seen.

[padawanlost]

just saw a text post about how leia killing a slave master when anakin was a slave himself is cool but i find it interesting how ppl can find rational things to point out for stuff like that but when its anakin disliking a sandy planet like its ridiculous thing for him to say? but made so much sense cause you know... he's been enslaved there with his mom as a kid. idk i guess im still bitter of hayden/anakins treatment of his character

I get it but I believe the key here is to understand this weird moment we are a living right now (suddenly the prequels are cool and *everyone* had always loved them) by separating the old negative crap we were used to, from the genuine takes coming from the new found love the prequels are getting.

What I’m trying to say is the people who are excited by the prequels, who are discovering the value of the movies for the first time or just rediscovering it after so long, are not necessarily the same people who trashed the movies and made fun of Anakin’s “sand issues” or Hayden’s performance. So, to me at least, there’re two different issues here:

1 – for the longest time PT fans and Anakin fans had to deal with unfair amount of criticism, hate, mockery and even attacks. These behaviors came from part of the fandom and the media because for the longest time hating on the prequels made you cool and a “real star wars fan”.

2 – we have a bunch of new fans (literal new fans but also old fans who didn’t like or didn’t want to be seen liking the prequels) who are now vocal about the PT-Era, who want to talk about it, to engage, to discuss and, you know, just share their appreciation for the movies.

I try not to mix the two, especially in this particular case. From my own experience with this fandom, the people who trashed Anakin for not liking sand didn’t understand his character enough to get the impact slavery had on the Skywalker family.

I’ve talked about the “sand issue” here before:

But, to sum it up, the meaning behind the “I hate sand” is pretty obvious once you look beyond “Anakin is whiny/The prequels suck/George Lucas ruined my life”.

“When I was in Level Three, we used to come here for school retreat,” she said. She pointed out across the way, to another island. “See that island? We used to swim there every day. I love the water.” “I do, too. I guess it comes from growing up on a desert planet.” He was staring at her again, his eyes soaking in her beauty. He could tell that Padmé sensed his stare, but she pointedly continued to look out over the water. “We used to lie on the sand and let the sun dry us … and try to guess the names of the birds singing.” “I don’t like the sand. It’s coarse and rough and irritating. And it gets everywhere.” Padmé turned to look back at him “Not here,” Anakin went on. “It’s like that on Tatooine—everything’s like that on Tatooine. But here, everything’s soft, and smooth.” As he finished, hardly even aware of the motion, he reached out and stroked Padmé’s arm. [R.A. Salvatore. Attack of the Clones]

It’s about childhood trauma, privilege and systemic injustice and inequality. The sand physically represents everything Anakin loathes about his home planet, specially when compared to Padmé’s own childhood and home planet:

“This is Anakin. Anakin, this is Ryoo and Pooja!” The blush on the pair as they shyly said hello brought a burst of laughter from Padmé and a smile to Anakin’s face, though he was equally ill at ease as the two children. The girls’ shyness lasted only as long as it took for them to notice the little droid rolling behind Anakin, trying to catch up. “Artoo!” they shouted in unison. Breaking away from Padmé, they rushed to the droid, leaping upon him, hugging him cheek to dome. And R2-D2 seemed equally thrilled, beeping and whistling as happily as Anakin had ever heard. Anakin couldn’t help but be touched by the scene, a view of innocence that he had never known. Well, not never, he had to admit. There were times when Shmi had found some way to produce such moments of joy amid the drudgery that was life as a slave on Tatooine. In their own way, in that dusty, dirty, hot, and smelly place, Anakin and his mother had carved out a few instants of innocent beauty. Here, though, such moments seemed so much more the norm than the memorable exception. [R.A. Salvatore. Attack of the Clones]

[Ahsoka] was hyperalert again, all her instincts firing. One of these millennia she’d make a pretty good Jedi, probably. Provided he could smooth the rough edges off her. “Yes, Master,” she said. “You can trust me.” He frowned down at her. Was I ever this young? Was this how I used to look to Obi-Wan? He doubted it. Slaves lost their innocence while they were still in the cradle. [Karen Miller. Star Wars: The Clone Wars: Wild Space]

Of course, because it became a meme used to “expose” George Lucas inability to write, direct or even understand what Star Wars is all about (eyeroll), that’s what most casual viewer think about when someone says “I hate sand”. But, on a more hopeful note, I do believe we’re doing good work claiming it back, by talking about it and even making memes about it in a way that’s not offensive to the characters, actors or fans. There are healthy, fun ways to laugh at Star wars  without diminishing the experiences and feelings of others.

Anakin represents so much different things to so many different fans it’s impossible to put everything in one single answer, but I hope you know I do understand exactly how you feel. I’m also very protective of Anakin, flaws and all. And it does annoy me to see people dismiss him and Hayden’s work in ways that can be very…cruel. But, Prequel/Anakin’s fans are awesome and now we’ve reclaimed the prequels proper place in history as peak star wars, we are unstoppable!! So let them come!

They just can’t accept how incredible Anakin’s story is, and that’s their loss.  

“Anakin had always hated sand. It was one of the many things about his Padawan that Obi-Wan understood better now that Anakin was dead. That was the horror of losing someone: Understanding came too late.” [Obi-wan Kenobi in Jude Watson’s The Last One Standing]

[butmakeitgayblog]

Hard to say but I think ADC has been trying to shake the lesbian fandom for a while and for me this puts the nail in the coffin. She's made some truly terrible choices before and I don't blame her for every thing but she's not a messy teen making these decisions. She wants to appeal to the male gaze with her modeling and her thirst traps and I'm not interested anymore. Waste of talent.

I'm genuinely saying this with kindness, I think maybe you need to take a breath and step back here. Because this is reading very parasocial relationship to me, and I don't think that's healthy for you.

She is an actress. She wants to act in wide varieties of things like most actors do rather than being typecast. She has said herself she never even expected to be in the sci-fi/horror genre to begin with, but those just so happened to be the jobs she landed at the beginning of her career. Her moving on and branching out to different kinds of roles is good for her as an actress. It's good for her career and her bank account lol.

I personally find the thirst trap comment particularly raised-eyebrow worthy because the woman barely posts on social media at all. She keeps a very defined line between her personal life and all of her fans, gay and straight alike. She posts pics of herself that she obviously thinks are pretty and chic, mixed between 47,000 pictures of her dinner and random walls. She knows her looks are a commodity in her field because I'm assuming she's not stupid, but beyond bolstering her image for modeling opportunities (none of which have been male gaze oriented at all I'm sorry but they haven't), she's explicitly said she enjoys getting dolled up and looking pretty. I don't think it's fair at all to insinuate a woman enjoying that is somehow doing something wrong or provocative. And even if she is trying to be provocative, why is a woman intentionally being sexy and confident in her looks on social media a bad thing?

As for the wanting to leave her lesbian fans behind, I really have no idea what to even say to that. I don't agree at all. What I do think is that she wants to broaden her fanbase. It makes sense that an actress wants her work to be seen by more and differing factions of people. Again, assuming she's not stupid or blind, she has to be well aware that her queer fans are ride or die (mostly), so.... overall I'm just not entirely sure what exactly it is you expect her to do to show she appreciates the support. Only ever play queer characters? Never have a male love interest on screen? Never take roles that require her to be anything other than chaste? Thank her queer fans in every interview? I don't mean that in a smartass way, I'm just genuinely perplexed by this thought process because what is she supposed to do?

Honestly and truly I'm not trying to be an ass to you here or even dismiss you. I just think that maybe you're attributing some inner feelings you have and are projecting them onto her, when all it really seems like she's doing is just being out here trying to work and live her life

[allisonreader]

Hmm, let’s see if I can put this into words the way I want to. (Sometimes I feel like I fail spectacularly at trying to translate what I’m thinking in my head into words in a way that makes sense and is as articulate as I want them to be. It’s that struggle of trying to convey what I truly mean, while I don’t know if it actually gets the point across that I am trying to make.)

Anyways, I think that if you’ve followed me for any length of time, that you’re aware of my; at least mild, enjoyment of Pixar’s Cars. (If by mild I mean at times obsessive.)

Because I have recently taken to watching YouTube videos of people watching and reacting to the three Cars movies, I find myself once again musing on them. So if you so dare to take a gander at my love and thoughts of the movies, and my phases with the movies, read on below.

Starting off with the most beloved to me; the original Cars movie that came out all the way back in 2006, making it 20 years old next year.

It really came out at the right time. My dad’s always been a bit of a car guy. He’s not a mechanic, but works adjacently in sourcing parts for well over 30 years now (not all at the same business, but always the same job). So growing up I was always around car shows, watching races and other motor sports. (My uncle was also a semi truck driver, but that’s a little less relevant). Possibly a year before we had watched an IMAX movie about the history of NASCAR, and dad had us watching Dukes of Hazard, and would show us clips of Smokey and the Bandit. So overall there was a heavy influence of car related shows, movies, events and such around the house.

So when Cars came out, we went and saw it, and I think it was even on the opening weekend, which is something that never happened. We rarely went and saw movies in theatres because it was so expensive and if we did it would often be in the cheap theatre. (It might’ve actually been the first movie that my brothers saw in theatre, minus the IMAX documentary about NASCAR). My youngest brother was absolutely terrified of Frank, the combine, and we've never let him forget it, but I mean, he was also only 4 at the time. (We just might've ended up with a bootlegged dvd copy that we watched so many times that when I still watch Cars today I expect the movie to glitch/skip back where Lightning's being sarcastic about turning right to go left making sense.)

My brothers and I watched that movie so many times that first year that it came out, that it had to be close to everyday. I mean, we literally had little ad-libs in about certain parts of the movie. Like saying "and Mater jumps over the moon" when Mater is showing off his backwards driving skills. Or when Mia and Tia gasp at Lightning's spin out during the tie-breaker race when they're all done up in Chick's gear we'd say "they're still very much Lightning's fans". Not that I remember if we really had anything beyond that.

I also remember when I had my best friend at the time watch Cars with me. I found that she just didn't get the ending the first time. As she wondered why Lightning didn't cross the finish line first and then go back to help Strip Weathers. I don't think she realized that while yes he technically could have, it wouldn't have been as momentous of an event and finish his character arch off in its entirety. The whole point of him stopping is to show that winning is no longer his top priority. That he's grown past that mind set. (And the music's so triumphant.)

Talking about the music, I absolutely love the entire soundtrack of this movie. From the Sheryl Crow song starting off the first race, to Life is a Highway (which I knew the Tom Cochrane version first), to Our Town, to Sha-Boom, to all of the instrumentals. I love them all, and will sometimes watch the movie just to listen to the music. The soundtrack should be talked about more often.

Also, it's just a visually stunning movie even all these years later. The dust is still truly incredible and the shine on the vehicles. The attention to detail in town as the residents clean up their places. Just, mm.

Can you tell I love this movie just a little bit?

It's not like it's a new story being told, but it is told well. I will always stand by the fact that people who write the movie off just because the characters are talking cars, just aren't the ones these movies are for.

Onto number deux.

🌷🌹🪻🌺���🌻🌼

Cars 2 is by far my least favourite movie of the three. And a big part of that is because there isn't enough Lightning McQueen in it and there's too much Mater. Also because it's a spy movie, the tone is so completely wrong. (I was also in BIG denial that it WAS a spy movie until I actually watched it.) I honestly didn't want to believe it was a spy movie and then once I watched it I was also annoyed that all the best action bits were already shown in the trailers. So that was the first time I was thinking that trailers show too much of the interesting parts sometimes.

So yeah, unlike some people who love the movie, I never could develop as much of an attachment to it. (I initially swore that I would never watch it again, but broke down when the Cars 3 trailer came out. And thought it wasn't quite as bad as I remembered it to be. Still didn't like it a ton, would rather watch the Planes movies.)

I honestly think that it would be better as two separate movies, in a few ways. First being the fact that with Mater taking centre stage, the movie felt more like an extended Mater's Tall Tales. All the spy stuff could be it's own movie, even an in world movie like it was originally conceived as (at least I thought that's what I heard somewhere along the line, I'm not checking that currently, I just know that I had heard it somewhere). Then the racing could be it's own focus.

There have been times where I have been tempted to try and write a fic that would rewrite the movie to what I would have liked to have seen. Which would have been removing all references to the spies and focus not only on the World Grand Prix races, but on the grief of losing Doc, that I feel should have had more emphasis in this movie. Like I don't even mind there being a scandal with the gasoline, I just wanted more Lightning and the rest of the Radiator Springs crew besides just Mater.

Anyways, I really don't have much more to say about this movie, other than I have come to appreciate it for what it is, but it will always hold a bit of a sour taste about it.

🌷🌹��🌺💐🌻🌼

Number 3. I was so excited and pleased about the third movie being announced. I had been hoping that they would make a third movie so that the franchise wouldn't end on such a sour note. A little terrified that it wouldn't be what I was hoping for. (At least until the trailer came out, then I knew it should be good.)

Finding Dory and The Incredibles 2 had also been announced at similar times and while everyone seemed to be more excited about Incredibles 2 (which I couldn't have cared less about), I was excited about Cars 3, even with people saying nobody was asking for it. (Because yes I was).

The trailer with Lightning's wreck. I can remember so many people thinking Lightning was dead. Which frustrated me so much because no; clearly it's supposed to be a Doc Hudson type of wreck that Lightning was in. One that potentially could have been career ending. (It was also a visually stunning looking trailer). That trailer pulled me right back into Cars. (It had me eating, breathing, sleeping Cars for a long time and clearly still has me hooked.) I started reading so much fan fiction for it. I met a great friend (hi @nurfhurdur) through a fanfic story which I still go back to time and time again (and all the others related). And I started watching the first movie nearly daily again (as well as the second and the two Planes movies).

I took my parents and brothers out to see it opening weekend again. And when I came out of the theatre I was ready to turn back around and go watch it again right away. (I did not. I did watch it a total of three times in theatres though.)

I loved all the parallels to the first movie and the fact that they pulled in some of the soundtrack from the first movie. I loved Lightning's arch coming full circle with him becoming the mentor (though I can't say that I particular cared for Lightning's Hudson Hornet Blue look at first. It took a long time to get used to it). I loved that we actually got a proper send off for Doc.

This entire movie was much more along the lines of what I had been hoping for for the second movie. So I'm at least glad that we got it for the third movie.

I have to say that I was also glad that there was no real references to the second movie, which I do think is a smart choice. I did feel like Mater just was there and like he wasn't used properly. There's just something that's feels so inherently awkward about most of his scenes, not bad, just don't quite hit the way that they could. I think that's in part due to the kerfuffle that the second movie was with his overuse.

At this point I don't know that I have any flow for the thoughts that I have about this movie.

Jackson Storm did remind me a bit of Lightning as a rookie, if Lightning had shown less reverence for the racing greats. Because Lightning was just as arrogant and cocky as Storm, but he also has a lot of respect for Strip and Doc (at least once he learned about Doc's racing past).

I feel like there's a lot more that I could say about this movie, but I don't have the brainpower for it currently. Also I have something else that I want to mention because of a post that I've seen and it plays as big of a part as the movies, even though it's related to fanfic instead of anything from "official" sources.

🌷🌹🪻🌺💐🌻🌼

Of course, these days I feel like I can't talk about Cars without talking about my favourite fics. (The ones mention ever so quickly by my friend.)

Nurf's story Life's Highway was the first humanized story that I had come across that I actually enjoyed and found to be well written. Never could I have expected that leaving a rambling mess of a comment would turn into such a wonderful friendship and more AU ideas than could be counted. Many of these AUs living rent free in my brain along with Hard Enough Left, Doc Hudson's origin story that my dear Nurf wrote with me cheering her on from the sidelines, her biggest cheerleader (at least I claim so, that I'm her number 1 fan, which I will fight others on. Number 1 commenter for sure. Also the only person's stories who I have commented on every chapter at least once if not more.) But like truly, Nurf's take on the canon characters and her OCs live permanently rent free in my head. There's a reason why I write fan fiction of her stories. Emily Piston and Ruth Hudson are a huge part of it. (That and Emily and Doc are my OTP, I have shipped them so hard since Emily was first introduced as practically a throwaway character. I have adopted her and Ruth as mine and I'm so glad that in all AUs that we have with Ruth living, that she and Emily become great friends.) I honestly wish more of our AUs could be shared. One day I will get the movie AU out there. I have a couple versions of the Titanic AUs out there. But there's so many good ones out there.

Anyways, if I don't stop now, I will keep going and going. Because I can and will gush about these stories as much as the movies or more.

So with that I'm going to conclude this, though it could be much longer than it already is.

[fussyspace]

Word count: ~65,600

Cover: This seems to have gone through a few different covers, so I'll comment on the one we were sent, which appears to be the latest. It definitely gets across everything it needs to: the noir detective vibe, the fact there are humanoid aliens, and the fact at least one bloke gets abducted. It gives the impression the detective and the alien are working together, too, which tracks. And it looks good. A solid cover.

Blurb: 'Brent Bolster doesn't give a damn.

'Overlords, invaders, the Earth Upgrade Committee: they can all go to hell.

'But abduct him? He'd like to see them try.

'Like any good PI, Brent has a snub-nosed pulse pistol hidden under his pillow. But he's just met his worst nightmare, an alien with an attitude that just won’t quit, and things are about to get...complicated.

'Join Brent as he tackles Earth’s new overlords and uncovers a deadly plan.

'With the help of a mysterious dame, an assistant with serious muscle, a neurotic scientist, and a fish called Algernon, he might make it through.It's a tough job, but Brent can handle it. Just as soon as he's had his third cup of coffee……and found that damned pulse pistol.

'You’ll get a kick out of this comedy because all scifi fans love a tongue-in-cheek reference.

'Dial G for Gravity takes the world of an old-fashioned gumshoe and propels it into the future. But like all good scifi, it has something to say about where we’re headed and the way we live now.

'So grab a pot of joe, fill your favorite Star Fleet mug, and start reading.'

Whew. Bit of a long blurb. Much like the cover, it gets that detective vibe across pretty well, and it imparts a dash of the humour that will follow it the book. I might have left it a bit long between reading and writing my notes up into a review, but I can't remember it having much to say about where we're headed and the way we live now, so I feel like that bit may have been a bit redundant. In any case, it's a fun one. Let's dive in.

Vote to continue at 30%: Yes

This book was hard to review without spoilers, so please be aware that there are probably many below – mostly to do with characters rather than the plot.

Content: This was an enjoyable and easy read from the outset, with a decent dash of humour and an interesting if slightly cheesy setting including an obvious but entertaining Spock stand-in. We had a detective getting abducted even though he should have been exempt, an alien getting pranked by his co-workers, and not-android-Spock falling mortally foul of their captain's temper. A lot of these colourful characters got thrown together for much of the book, with plenty of opportunity to bounce off each other. It was a promising setup.

However, with several different plot lines moving along at once, it didn't go as far as I expected by what I thought was the 30% mark (it had a pesky sample of the sequel at the end, which skewed my perception of how long the actual book was), beyond presenting the mystery of why the detective was mistakenly abducted and revealing a ship of aliens heading for Earth. By halfway, the main characters had teamed up and started working through the problem, but I felt a general lack of 'spark' that I struggled to put my finger on. Perhaps it was just the pacing, but I think it may have been the number of PoV characters, each knowing their bit of the story and thus removing some of the suspense. The prose was entertaining enough, but the plot failed to deliver and I found the eventual resolution so sudden that it was disappointing.

While I did have a few chuckles as I read, the humour did often fall back on something that always falls flat for me: characters constantly being rude or just plain mean to each other. (Also references to some TV shows I assumed were either before my time or American, or both.) I'm never quite sure if it's meant to be funny or not, but I just find it makes me retreat from the characters. In this case I don't think Brent is meant to be particularly likeable, but his behaviour got more grating for me as the book went on. I held out some hope of him changing and becoming nicer, but he didn't, and was particularly keen on trying to get with Maisie even after she made it perfectly clear she wasn't interested.

In fact, all the men seemed to make jokes at the expense of the women. This would have been less of a problem if the women were actually strong characters. I expected Maisie to constantly cut through Brent's nonsense, but by the end she was practically simpering at the thought of a man protecting her. I thought Tsumper would be an intelligent investigator, but she didn't reappear and was written off as stupid. I thought Breamell would be sharper than Rawlgeeb gave her credit but, but she was just all over him and did nothing but get captured. Individually, perhaps nothing of note. Together, they paint a frustrating picture. Maybe I'm just being stupid here and it's deliberately embracing a trope of noir stories, but it didn't come across as a result of unreliable or rose-tinted narration, and it didn't sit right.

In the end, while I enjoyed the book's writing style and its quirky setting, the plot and characters left me feeling a bit more ambivalent. It was a quick and reasonably entertaining read, but I wasn't itching to dive into the sequel.

[kayayeteae]

If you got to write re4-part 2, what would you do?

This might get long so u get a read more lol

To preface—I’ve never played RE beyond playing bits of RE4 and then watching my brother beat it (I am a jumpy person with anxiety leave me be 😩). I don’t even consider myself an RE fan, I am in the most basic sense, an RE4 fan. So everything I say will likely get subverted because of some canon event I’m unaware of. ANYWAY.

I love RE4R because it’s overall a better narrative that lines up with current canon (I’m aware of some RE lore lol). It’s also just a better told story than RE4 in so many ways. So whatever I say will relate to remake.

Let’s say anything after the events of 4 have yet to happen, here’s the possible routes I’d take

The obvious—get plaga in different hands that’s not umbrella

The cliche—have Leon relapse with plaga

Not so cliche but pushing suspension of disbelief—have someone who is a carrier of plaga/asymptomatic carrier of plaga leave the island

Lastly, because I’m insufferable—Luis survives (some fucking how) and has a duplicate superior plaga with him (some fucking how)

Leon relapsing can be the most emotionally driven narrative if RE was no longer an action game. Like RE4, I imagine he’s struggling to control himself and it would be a race against time once again. Without the machinery that helped him cure it the first time, he’d kinda be be shit outta luck and it would be up to…idk Claire because she’s cool…or Ada because…it’s Ada lol to help Leon before he turns. Essentially, ur controlling anyone but Leon to solve it. But part of the gameplay is Leon surviving and being controlled and it gets slowly harder and harder but if u give into plaga controlling Leon gets easier. Then boom ur back in Spain, u learn that umbrella europe team left paper trails. Another branch is still researching plaga blah blah big bad is trying raise another cult bc cults are interesting. Marketing for this game would be painting Leon as an enemy like they did with Dante in DMC4 LOL.

Having another carrier is easy. Idk u learn that someone survived the village and is roaming some city as a refugee. Like idk maybe this person has plaga version 2.0 that can idk self breed and spread by contact. It’s pretty straight forward. Plot twist is that patient 0 didn’t know they were infected and no else did either. God that’s so cliche, you’d have to make a really good story for that to work. Either way they should end it by having a choice to kill the carrier/patient 0.

NOW IMAGINE IF LUIS SURVIVED (I do this everyday because I am unwell)—this would be very emotionally driven knowing damn well that Luis was involved with plaga (I think he’s involved with RE3 too which is cool). Idk he has another version of plaga because idk he was researching 2 different strains, and like it’s almost a war between two variants because Ada gave hers to someone. So like whatever Leon is fighting and shit and they’re like, the only way to beat this is with a stronger strain (and science). AND THEN, someone keeps dropping hints (it’s Ada cuz she be doing shit like that) like a trail to follow and then they’re like chasing this trail, but whomever is at the end realizes they’re being followed, so theyre hard to catch. Anyway like 3/4 into the game they catch them and it’s no one other than LUIS. And then drama ensues like “bitch I thought I were dead, wtf ur working on a different strain still??” and like u learn he’s still trying to make amends and has a new name and identity given by idk the US government because that’s just the kinda environment they’re in lol. Also Luis deserves to be petty, he should try and kill Ada. I would lol. She got the fuckin plaga anyway, sure I know it was not thru Luis but it’s SO UNFAIR he died and she got what she needed.

I stand by what I say about Luis that THEY CERTAINLY GAVE HIM A PHENOMENAL BACKGROUND FOR A SIDE CHARACTER. Idk his death was that more gratifying but also painful—that’s another essay I can write about

I’m not a writer so my ideas are really flat. But part of RE4s charm was its simplicity and stellar gameplay.

[sunaluvs]

[ 3:43 AM ] — L "RYUZAKI" LAWLIET

he’s trying to be quiet.

L’s movements are careful as he shuts the bedroom door, his footsteps soft when making their way to your bed. you wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t already been hyper aware of your surroundings.

the faint padding of his feet stop when they reach your side of the bed. your eyes remain closed, your breathing deliberately slow and steady. the shift of fabric tells you he’s moving, but his feet remain in place. it’s utterly silent beyond the beating of your heart and the breaths you exhale.

he calls out your name. whispers, really, but it’s strikingly loud in the late night’s serenity.

you don’t respond, opting to try and continue feigning sleep.

“i know you’re awake.”

well, there goes that plan.

you slide one eye open, unfazed at the sudden closeness that greets you. his face is mere inches from yours, just shy of touching your nose, and you’re mildly surprised you can’t feel his breathing fan across your features.

“yes?” your voice comes out with a slight rasp.

he’s silent for a moment. for once, his eyes aren’t their usual size of wide round plates, and the permanently analytical glint in them is dimmer in the wake of your vulnerable state.

you’ve come to learn that L is always thinking. scrutinizing, learning, adapting. his mind is in a perpetual state of taking in all the information around him, new and old; reviewing, understanding, and filing them away into the deep crevices of his mind. it’s in his nature, just as intrinsic to him as your lungs expanding for a breath or your heart pumping blood through your veins.

(once, you asked him if he’s ever consciously had a moment of quiet, of his thoughts being as blank as a fresh canvas. he hadn’t answered for a long time, and you almost thought you were being ignored.

almost an hour later, his answer came simply, “yes.”

you couldn’t stop yourself from asking him what it’d been like.

a beat had passed, and then, “it was the most terrified i’d ever been.”)

even now, tainted with what can nearly be called exhaustion, you can feel it in the set of his gaze and the lines etched around his eyes, can see in the near imperceptible purse of his lips that he’s thinking of what to do; if his next words should be said.

he blinks once, and it's clear to you that he's settled on something.

"would you be opposed to having me sleep next to you?"

his voice is as monotonous as it usually is, but there's a certain tone of care underlying the syllables. you open both eyes fully when you realize that his toes are curling into the carpet underneath him in what you think may be apprehension.

it's almost juvenile in a way, and you barely prevent the corners of your lips from turning up.

you give it a few minutes, though you'd already made up your mind the moment he'd finished his words, before giving him a solid shake of your head.

his lips part subtly, and your gaze automatically drops down to them. he doesn't give you a chance to dwell on the sight, however, because then he's standing up and cautiously making his way to the other side of the bed.

he pauses for a bit upon reaching the mattress. you decide to help him out a little, turning around and pulling back the covers to showcase the empty space beside you.

slowly and carefully, he crawls onto the soft bedding. it's obvious to you when he rearranges himself into a curled position with his back facing you, a loose mimicry of how he normally sits in chairs, that he's not used to this—to being freely offered a spot in someone else's private space, to being wanted in such close quarters.

it paints a faint curve to your lips, and the desire to help him familiarize this feeling sparks something raw in the cavity of your chest.

you shift closer to his body, sliding the covers back over him to preserve the heat emanating from his form (you'd been pleasantly surprised when you first found out just how warm he can run).

you adjust your grip, hand curling into the fabric of his shirt, and pull him even closer to your body. your legs tangle under the sheets, and you can feel the muscles in his back and stomach shift with every breath he takes. resting your chin just above his head, a content sigh leaves you when his hair brushes softly against your face. it smells impeccably clean like it always does, and you tilt your nose further downwards to inhale the fresh scent of soap and water.

his shoulders are tense when you make contact, your chest pressed against the solid lines of his back. your movements are nearly delicate when you bring your arm over him, wrapping it securely around his torso. his legs curl in the slightest bit tighter at your hold, like he's barely stopping himself from using them to trap your arms around his waist.

L doesn't say a word, but the gradual relaxation of his body into your gentle hold speaks enough for you. his breathing is even, and you can just about feel his heart beating through your points of contact.

this silence is fragile, vulnerable, and you think this might be the acme of what intimacy is. you've seen it before, glimpsed pieces of this religion in the moments when he'd hand feed you a sweet and delicately thumb away at the corners of your mouth; when he'd gaze transfixed into your eyes as you purposely busied yourself to allow him this moment of undisturbed reverence; when he'd quietly wrap a hand around your wrist in the presence of others, a thumb tenderly massaging your pulse point to communicate with you in a hidden language only your skin can understand.

they're tacit confessions, uttered without a word solely for your senses to decipher, and this—this request to be near you at his most unguarded, defenseless, is the loudest he's ever conveyed them. this desire to have you witness the barest version of himself feels more sacred than the words of an old god.

you've already offered your heart on the altar of his hands and murmured your own prayers of fervent devotion; you suppose this was his way of answering your calls.

a check back out of your thoughts reveals that his breathing has slowed within the safety of your grasp, his body melding perfectly along the lines of your own. you slide your eyes shut, and exhale into the soft crown of his head; you swear you could find divinity in moments like these.

[thisismehappy]

I need, for when they finally have their *conversation* for it to be long single takes. Few edits. Id prefer a bottle episode. Stuck somewhere. No choice but to talk it out. In the words of Abed from Community "They're wall-to-wall facial expression and emotional nuance"

Basically I want a play.

Do i want the script to have an outline and have M and C improv the rest? Also probably.

Sorry! I think this got buried in my notifications! I don't get very many asks and I just saw this in my inbox which I never usually look at.

This was a lot so I figured out how to add a cut. See below. 

Generally, I'm not a *huge* fan of bottle episodes. Pragmatically speaking, bottle episodes serve a purpose in the TV industry as a low-budget episode because they only need to use one set for the whole episode and there are no location shots and relatively few actors and probably no extras. That puts a huge amount of pressure on the writing and the actors and it is, as you say, more of a play format which makes sense given everything I just mentioned. Most of the time they feel, to me, like the writers and production team are trying to *do* something in a way that as an audience member I don't actually want to be aware of. Like maybe they're swimming beyond their depth. It feels forced, is what I'm saying. Forced and itchy and uncomfortable and I find myself checking the time every 2 minutes waiting for it to end. So I almost never hope for a bottle episode.

BUT I have really liked Mariska's bottle episodes on SVU. I'm thinking specifically of Something Happened, Part 33, The Year We All Fell Down, and 911. None of which were perfect bottle episodes, as I recall, because they did have some movements to other sets and some location shooting and things like that. But any 43-minute show that has Mariska on my screen for 40 of those minutes is fine by me. And she tends to do really well with them. I get the feeling she enjoys the challenge and so she puts a lot of herself into them. She won a freaking Emmy for 911 after all. I also think if it was an EO episode, she would be so beyond focused on making it perfect bc this has been her dream really since day one imo. (There's a clip floating around if Chris giving an interview in season one and Mariska runs up and hugs him and says, "He's playing a detective that's in love with his partner," or something along those lines.) And I think Chris would be great at it too. So all that to say, I do think the actors are up to the challenge.

I worry about the writing a bit though. While I understand where you're coming from, I'm not sure I'd agree about them just ad-libbing it bc to me this is something that needs to be pretty carefully thought out with a clear understanding of the implications of the words and a pretty specific memory of the past events they're discussing and the actors are great, but they've been part of this for 24 years and aren't going to remember everything. Someone needs to go back and reference old episodes. If a bottle episode happens, I want that script to be *crackling* with subtext. I want to hear Elliot apologize for not being there and Olivia say, "I know you can't spend your life looking over your shoulder to make sure I'm okay." I want them sharing a drink. I want her to have to blink a light at him to show she's okay. I want him to ask if anyone's taking care of her. And I want him to cradle her in his arms like he did in fault and spooked. I don't expect all (or realistically any) of that too happen, but I think a carefully, beautifully written script would do this moment the most justice. Idk if the writers are up to that or not, but they've been showing us things this season that (mostly) give reason to hope.

The actual plot of a bottle episode is where I get tied up though. SVU is a police procedural above all else and every other bottle episode they've ever done has been related to solving the mystery of a case. An interrogation, a hostage situation, a mystery girl on a phone, and argument in a court house waiting room. These are what we've seen before and what we would expect to see from a show like SVU. An EO bottle episode is uncharted territory. Is there a case that's going to be taking up half the plot? I cannot imagine them really talking unless they were alone so that rules out most of what we've seen before. (Although, Olivia having to interrogate Elliot for a crime while half the department stands on the other side of the window does sound *delicious*.)

A court house argument could work, with the aspects of the case hitting *all* the wrong buttons for them, but it's been done before. Some kind of escape room type scenario could be really fun and interesting. Where they're trapped somewhere and need to solve a mystery to get out. That could be on point and very them, but unless it feels like life-and-death, idk if there would be enough of a driving force to get them where they need to be emotionally.

If I were going to write a fic about it, it would be a situation where they were maybe chasing a suspect or investigating a location and no one really knows exactly where they are and they get hurt and trapped somewhere. Personal preference, I would have her more hurt than him. I want it to be kinda enclosed so maybe it's triggering her claustrophobia (which she has if it's my fic). I want him to need to pull some of her clothes off to help with her injuries and find her scars from William Lewis. I want her to ask him to take Noah if she dies. I want him to be in serious pain from his own injuries but feral to save her. Maybe in the end, his recovery time is worse bc he does something stupid to get them out. I think the fear of death and of missing their chance to be together might be what it takes to make it finally happen. These two are very stubborn. If they were just trapped in a room together with no other problems idk if they'd get there. (Maybe, he's pretty motivated now, so that would help. But idk if he's going to push her too hard if she's really fighting him in it.)

Also, they're gonna kiss if it's my fic, and imo, their grievously-injured bodies are about the only thing I think would keep them from going all the way the first time they kiss. And I don't mind that either, but the idea of them finally being together, but having to wait 6-8 weeks to get medically cleared for sex sounds really fun. The first day in the hospital is very *serious* but the second day features them both trying to check out AMA and him hobbling his way into her room and making out with her in a hospital bed. They're going to get busted multiple times by different people. And yes, realistically they should be traumatized, but things worked out in the end and they've got the world's best security blankets. And I think even Liv's shrink would tell her to go for it.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Angelic.

Pairing: Yandere!Diavolo/Reader.

Word Count: 3.8k. 

Synopsis: You like being an angel. You’re proud of it, of your wings, of your faith, of all you’ve done to earn your place in the Celestial Realm. Diavolo doesn't mind your current state, of course not, he loves every part of you. He just thinks some modifications may need to be made, before he can love you properly.

TW: Violence, Kidnapping, Prolonged Imprisonment, Non-Consensual Touching, Blood, Possessive Mindsets, Slight Dehumanization, and Mentions of Non-Con.

Michael used to say only the bravest angels earned their wings.

It was part of the reason they were so rare, after the Celestial War, after Lucifer and his brothers took their wings and distorted them into leathery, spiked, perverted evidence of their new, tainted loyalties. You didn’t have to be the toughest angel, but you had to be devoted, you had to be dedicated beyond a shadow of a doubt, and you had to be brave enough to put that dedication on display. You were just a messenger, a servant to much more deserving candidates, but you still had a pair sprouting from your shoulder blades, just heavy enough to give you a reason to straighten your back, whenever you started to lose faith in your divinity. You’d earned them, and you were proud. You’d managed to keep them, and you had no plans to give them up.

Only the bravest angels had wings. That meant you were a brave angel.

It meant you could be brave enough to survive Diavolo, as long as you had your wings.

They were warm, too, forming a soft, white shell around your upper body, helping you to block out that unignorable chill that came hand in hand with the Devildom. It’d been a temporary discomfort in the past, something you could brush aside whenever you were asked to carry a letter to the Demon Lord’s castle or invited as a make-shift ambassador in the absence of a proper representative, but after days trapped in the domain, your shining sun replaced with layers of stone and rock, there was little you could do to escape it, and Diavolo seemed hesitant to offer his aid. His kindness had stopped at a silk gown, black and thin and just teetering on the edge of purposefully sheer, the fabric fine enough to slip through his fingers as he toyed with the hem, perched on the edge of your bed, edging closer despite your obvious attempts to melt into the headboard.

He said you’d have your own space, your own room, that he wanted you to feel comfortable enough to welcome him in willingly, when you were ready. He said he would give you time.

Obviously, he’d been lying, and you weren’t quite why you’d ever bothered to believe him.

The silence was tense. There’d been a greeting when he came in, a gesture of good will you hadn’t returned, but if Diavolo was bothered, it didn’t stop him from smiling, a simper tugging at the corner of his lips as he glanced towards you, attempting to catch your eye while you glared at the sheets. That didn’t stop him from speaking, though, attempting to clear the air and only making the atmosphere more poluted, as a result. “I take it you don’t care for my hospitality.”

His tone was light, jovial. Less of an attempt to coax you into a comfortable lull and more of a genuine fondness, regardless of whether or not the object of his affection returned the sentiment. “I don’t want to…” You wanted to go home. You wanted him to undo whatever spell he’d cast on the door and the windows and all the other exits that wouldn’t open, no matter of how many times you slammed yourself against them. You wanted him to let you go, but he wouldn’t. He’d already done enough to prove that, just by coming to you so happily. “I just don’t like it here.”

He dropped your gown, humming as he let his touch drift to your thigh, instead. You only pulled your legs closer, your wings tightening around you, attempting to provide another layer of reassurance. It was a futile pursuit, but still, you could appreciate the effort. “You’re cold?” There wasn’t a point in trying to avoid conversation, so you didn’t try, just nodding as he scanned over you. His skin was warm against yours, but unpleasantly so. Like taking a step too close to an open hearth and letting the heat become searing, rather than soothing. “It gets easier, with time. Angels usually have a difficult time adapting, but you’ll get used to it. And if you don’t…” He paused, his grin growing just a bit wider. “There are plenty of ways to speed up the process.”

Right. You’d almost forgotten. It wasn’t enough for him to just have you. It wasn’t enough for him to just keep you trapped here, against your will and so far from your natural element.

He needed to make you a monster, too. Something just as demonic and just as disgusting as he was.

You were thankful your face was hidden. He wouldn’t have taken it kindly, if he caught the way you grimaced at his suggestion. “I mean, I don’t like it here, Diavolo. It’s not just the cold. I don’t like being underground. I don’t like not being able to leave.” He wasn’t an oblivious man. He knew what he’d done, he knew how you felt about it, but for whatever reason, he refused to acknowledge your rejection. You couldn’t expect him to be kind, but you could expect him to be reasonable. “I don’t want to be a demon, or a fallen angel, or whatever you plan to turn me into. I’m just… I’m not supposed to be.”

“That’s one of the wonderful parts of having power, isn’t it?” It was a chuckle, a breath of a laugh. “I can help you change. With my assistance, you could be something greater than what you are, now. You could be a ranking demon, a name known and feared in—”

“Your servant.” You didn’t bother letting him finish. He was touching you, and you wished he wasn’t. The sooner this ended, the sooner he might stop. “I'll be your servant. Just as I’m Michael’s servant, now.”

Diavolo didn’t bother trying to deny it. “You'll my lover, as well. Isn’t that worth losing a few feathers?”

“I’m sorry, I just…” You didn’t want to be his lover, or his servant, or any role he had to offer. You wanted to be a messenger. You wanted to live a life you could be proud of, you wanted to feel the sunlight on your wings, and you didn’t want to give that up for the first crazed prince to take an interest in you. You didn’t want to give up your wings. Not to him, and certainly not for a prize so undesirable.

Your head lulled to the side, and for the first time since your arrival, you let yourself smile as you spoke.

“I like being an angel.”

~

Michael used to say only the most faithful angels earned their wings.

Only the most faithful, only the most trusting, only the least likely to be led astray by awful rumors and mortal temptations, by all the urges that’d drove so many of your brothers and sisters to abandoning the Celestial Realm entirely, trading it in for more forgiving terrains. You trusted Michael. You trusted every cherub, every seraph, every throne, every angel. Before, you’d trusted them to guide you, to correct you when you were in the wrong, and now, you trusted them to save you, to come for you, to do something to bring you home and as far from Diavolo as you could possibly be. You trusted them. You trusted them with your life, let alone your freedom.

And, you trusted that Michael had a good reason to wait so long to rescue you, too.

You were starting to lose track of how much time had passed, since you’d been abducted. It felt like two weeks, maybe three, but with Diavolo’s sporadic schedule and no sun to dim or brighten, you really didn’t have a way to be sure. His paperwork didn’t help, sprawled across his desk, all messily written notes and correspondences too personal to need dates or signatures. You looked regardless, doing what you could to search through the mess from your awkward position on his knee, your wings folded stiffly against your back. It had to be here. You knew it’d be here, you just had to—

On the corner of his desk, a letter with its envelope still sitting on top of it. A letter you didn’t remember delivering.

A letter with Michael’s insignia pressed into its torn surface. The insignia you’d dedicated your life to. The insignia you’d continue to dedicate your life to, as soon as you got away from Diavolo.

It would’ve been better to stay quiet. It would’ve been better not to say anything at all. It would’ve been smarter, but your mouth was already opening, your lips already moving, and before you could stop yourself, the question you’d been dying to ask was already spilling out. “Does he know?”

Diavolo hesitated, the constant scrawling of his quill going silent. Even then, he took a moment to answer, his tone suddenly much more patronizing than it had any right to be, for such a simple question. “Darling,” He started, his hand falling to your hip, rubbing circles idly into your side. “Michael’s a smart man. I’m sure he’s realized where you are, by now.”

“I know.” Michael had to know. You couldn’t take a step out of line without earning a lecture for your ‘disobedience’, most days. “But, you’re lying to him, aren’t you?” It was more of a hopeful thought than an accusation. Something you just wished he’d be kind enough to tell you, rather than honest enough to disregard. “He doesn’t think I’m… He doesn’t think I’m here like this, right?”

There was a pause, and his hand stopped moving. 

This time, he didn’t try not to laugh.

It was an awful feeling, his chest pressing against your back, just the hint of his weight forcing you to slouch as his lips ghosted over the dip of your shoulder, warm breath fanning over your skin at every chuckle, every wistful sigh, every painful word you couldn’t beg him not to say, not without losing your dignity, too. “What do I have to lie about?” You shuddered as he kissed you, the gesture fleeting, but no less repulsive. If Diavolo noticed, he didn’t seem to mind. “I’m taking care of you. You’re housed and fed and looked after, and you could be entertained, if I trusted you to wander out of my sight. He’s aware of my feelings for you, and if he asked, I’d be happy to tell him all about my stubborn little dove and spoiled you’ve become, with me.”

‘If he asked’. You were used to the way he talked about you – like a pet, like something to be adored and cooed over and cared for, but you’d be lying if you said something didn’t crack inside of your chest at that, at the implication that Michael hadn’t asked, not yet. It could’ve been a tactic, a strategy to guide Diavolo into a false sense of security. It could’ve been part of one of the many ‘greater plans’ your superior had always been so endeared by.

That, or he just didn’t care. It wasn’t like you were the only messenger in the Celestial Realm.

Diavolo must’ve caught your worried frown, the half-hearted, distracted glare you couldn’t seem to completely suppress. His next kiss lasted longer than his first, lingering against the nape of your neck. Temptation, poorly guised under the pretense of comfort. “Angels are fickle creatures, Michael especially. You’re dear to me, you know that, but I can’t say everyone is quite as emotional.”  He gave you time to respond, but you didn’t take the opportunity. You didn’t have anything to say, not when he got like this. “It might be a little less painful if you—”

“I like being an angel,” You snapped. It didn’t have anything to do with Michael, or his approval, or whether or not he cared that you were stuck in the same frozen, sunless hell he’d sent you to, trapped by the same devil he’d insisted that you see day in and day out despite your complaints, despite the lasting touches and the prolonged visits and that awful, possessive glint in Diavolo’s eye, when he looked at you. You didn’t care about Michael, not when it came to this. Not when you already knew what you were. “I’m an angel. I’ll always be an angel. I’ve never wanted to be anything else.”

It was the truth, but Diavolo only sighed, your wings straining not to lash out as he pulled you closer. Straining not to protect you, however necessary their service was beginning to seem.

“We’ll see.”

~

Michael used to say only the strongest angels earned their wings.

Strong in will, strong in mind, strong, whether or not you had any place on a battlefield. Out of all Michael’s compliments, it was the rarest, saved for soldiers and generals and magicians of the highest order, communicated in sparse bits of praise you felt lucky just to overhear. Maybe if you’d ever gotten your second pair, he would’ve said it to you, too. Maybe if you’d ever sought to be more than a messenger, he would’ve thought you were worthy of it. Maybe, if you escaped on your own, he’d smile and place a hand on your shoulder and celebrate your strength, your wings, your perseverance, you.

Maybe, if you escaped soon enough, you’d still want him to.

In your defense, it’d taken you a month just to get this close to the outside world, just to be able to see the Devildom beyond the walls of Diavolo’s castle, albeit still restrained to a balcony. It was brighter than you expected, the landscape below glowing with floating lanterns and glinting streetlights, ancient estates and modern stores standing side by side, a testament to the contained chaos of Diavolo’s domain. It was beautiful, even if you must’ve seen it a hundred times before. It was breathtaking, if only because it wasn’t the same stone and mortar, the same bedrooms and offices and grand ballrooms too empty not to come off as uncanny. You haven’t even asked for it, not unprompted.

It was a gift. It was a reward for your good behavior, not unlike your wings.

You pushed the thought out of your mind as soon as Diavolo’s armed wrapped around your waist. You’d wanted your wings. You’d worked for them. You’d never wanted this.

Still, you didn’t push him away. You wanted more time to take it in, another minute of feeling that humidity against your skin, another second of breathing fresh air. As long as you got that, you could ignore his unnatural body-heat, the feeling of his lips against the side of your neck, trailing towards your jaw while you bit back your usual complaints. That was his reward, for being such a considerate captor. He got to touch you, actually touch you, and for once, you had a good reason not to fight back.

Your wings had never liked to listen to logic, though. Despite your grit teeth, your white-knuckle grip on the low guard-rail, your right wing still plastered itself to your side, wrapping around you protectively while its twin hovered behind Diavolo, at your side, caught between the urge to push itself between you and a perceived threat and your commands to relax, fall back, do something that didn’t make your shoulders ache and your spine cramp every time you shifted. Fortunately, Diavolo seemed unfazed, only bothering to brush your wing away when it bumped against his back, reacting to every nip to your jaw, every brush of pointed fangs against your jugular.

He barely pulled away to speak, his voice coming out muffled. “I’m starting to think you don’t trust me.”

“I can’t really control them,” You mumbled, your grip growing impossibly tighter around the guard rail. Diavolo was pulling you closer, now, his hold not quite crushing, but still as suffocating as it’d ever been. “I… I think I’m just nervous. They start to get fidgety when I’m on-edge, y’know?”

There was a laugh, a peck the corner of your lips. You couldn’t stop yourself from flinching back. It wasn’t the most intimate thing he’d tried, it wasn’t even the most invasive, but the fact that he felt comfortable trying at all wasn’t a good sign. “Are you still scared of me, my love?” It was a question, but he didn’t give you time to answer, only tugging you towards him, his knee slipping between your legs as you were forced to face him, abandoning your railing and your only source of stability, in the process. “I think I’ve been kind, and you must see that I’m being patient. I’ve trying to be gentle with you, despite how cold you’ve been, since I took you in.”

A hand dropped to your thigh, and your vision tinged black around the edges. He must’ve been able to feel your pulse racing, but he didn’t seem disturbed by your sudden anxiety. “Only because I haven’t given you permission to be anything but gentle, yet.”

Something sparked in his eyes, a dark sort of fire. “I don’t need your permission for everything, you know.”

For once, you and your wings were in agreement.

It helped that he wasn’t expecting it. You’d always been passive when it came to action, too timid to fight back in any meaningful way, so when you lashed out, when you wedged a strong wing between his body and yours and shoved, he was caught off-guard, letting you go out of instinct alone. You didn’t bother trying to subdue him. He was a head taller than you and twice as strong, but you were faster, you were frenzied, and whatever he might’ve expected, it couldn’t have been what you did next. In the space between one second and another, you were on top of the railing, struggling to keep your balance as your wings stretched to their full length for the first time in weeks. You felt a hollow throb, a pang of discomfort, but you weren’t deterred. You needed to get out of here. You needed to fly. You couldn’t leave his kingdom, but as long as you left him, you’d be alright. You wanted to fly. You had to fly.

But, as soon as you’d jumped, a fist wrapped around your ankle, and you were thrown back onto the balcony before your wings could do so much as flap.

It hurt. More than anything, it hurt, from the new crack in your ribcage to the spot where something shattered in the arch of your left wing. You curled into yourself instinctively, a faltering whimper turning into a broken scream as Diavolo’s foot caught the bend of your fractured wing, still fluttering pathetically in an attempt to aid you. “I’m trying to be nice,” He snarled, but he didn’t sound angry. He sounded disappointed, exasperated, tired of you and your refusal and how little he seemed to respect either. There was an airy, exhausted chuckle on his part, then a ragged sob on yours. “Would it really be so awful to be with me? Have I really done something monstrous enough to deserve this?”

Yes. It was, he had, yes. That’s what you wanted to say, what you meant to, but your tongue refused to form the words. “I d-don’t—” You slurred, instead, only to be cut short by your own hitched cry. “I… I like being an angel, I don’t wanna— I can’t—”

“I know.”

His heel pressed into your wing, blood seeped from matted feathers, and something hot and agonizing shot from your injury to your brain. Like lightening. Like liquid mercury. Like fire.

You didn’t even have a chance to close your eyes before the world went dark around you.

~

You used to say you’d rather lose your head than your wings.

It was one of those stupid, short-sighted things people liked to say when they were feeling bold, when they were safe, when they’d just gotten something new and shiny and hadn’t grown tired of showing it off. Sometimes it was an arm, some days your legs, and when you were feeling particularly brave, you’d say your heart, despite how useless your wings would probably be without something so vital. It might’ve been different if you were ever actually up against a threat that wanted to take one or the other, but it still would’ve been your choice. That was what you were stuck on, really. You thought you’d get to choose.

But, you hadn’t.

Diavolo must’ve grown tired of letting you make the wrong decision, all while he tried to be so helpful.

You felt hollow when you woke up, lying on a bed you’d never seen before. Lighter than you should’ve been, sliced open and carved out, missing something necessary and warm and filling. Your throat felt dry, your eyes stung, and when you tried to roll onto your side, when you tried to move at all, it felt like every tissue, every tendon, every cell in your body was trying to tear itself apart. The pain was all-consuming, and it only seemed to get worse as you shrunk into yourself, your arms wrapping around your sides and your wings following—

Oh.

It was kind of funny, how long it’d taken you to notice.

You didn’t have to look. You kept your eyes shut, a cracked sob slipping past your lips as you tried desperately to move your wings, to lift them, to flap them, to do something beyond digging your nails into the sheets and cursing, panting, waiting for anything. The pain dimmed, numbing into something distant, something unimportant as you tried to push yourself up, but a strong hand clamped around your shoulder before you could make any progress, not forcing you to lay down, but urging you to, not giving you another choice. 

That seemed to be a trend, lately.

You tried to thrash. You tried to struggle, but Diavolo just clicked his tongue, the mild sound of disapproval serving as your only warning before he sat up, an arm soon thread underneath the small of your back and the bend of your knees, lifting you into his lap without the option to pull away. “Please, try not to move.” As always, he was gentle, hushing your weak protests before you could think to vocalize them. “Your wounds are still healing. It’d only be more painful if you tore your stitches, and the mess—”

“What—What did you do—” You were stuttering, stumbling over your words, but it didn’t matter. You were desperate, and you needed to do something. “I can’t… Why can’t I feel my wings?”

There was a slight pause, the smallest hesitation. You swear, you could feel his smile burning into you, as he started to speak. “You said you wanted to be angel, my love.” It was a crime, how soft his voice was, how tenderly he held you. A captor masquerading as a caretaker. A demon as a doting lover. “But, I couldn’t have you trying to fly away. Consider this a compromise, an alternative to keeping my little songbird locked in a cage.”

You might’ve preferred a cage. A cell, a prison, a chain around your ankle, anything over the strange dissonance that came with having half of yourself ripped away and discarded. But, Diavolo hadn’t given you the choice. Michael hadn’t saved you, and now, after you’d been damaged so severely, you doubted he ever would.

You liked being an angel. You really, really liked being an angel. You’d never wanted to be anything else.

You just weren’t sure if you could be an angel, without your wings.

[freakygirlie]

Hi. Itk here. Believe me, don't, doesn't matter. Thought I'd drop (after you summoned ha) by given the chaos and try to enlighten the ones who choose to believe me, as much as I'm capable of.

The first thing I wanna say is: stop trying to figure out their relationship. You most likely never will. Fans are stuck on both extremes, when the actuality of it is far more in the middle (perhaps even up or down and all around ha). It's complex and strange and not at all "normal" (as normal as they could be, anyways).

It's not as simple as "oh they're just a closeted couple who engage in bearding and have kids and behind closed doors they're just a regular, old married couple and a big, happy rainbow family".

Doesn't sound like itk info, believe me, I get that but observing the fandom I'd say it almost is because most fans simply hang on extreme simplistic ideas of what their relationship is.

Second thing I'd like to say and unfortunately seems like it's not at all obvious but: do not believe anything they share publicly. Not saying they're lying compulsively, but they are public figures and they have a lot at stake to just casually drop the actual truth of any given situation.

Just don't. The same salt you have regarding itks, have towards them. It'd do you some good...Believe me. Unless you are involved in the entertainment or political life, you cannot even begin to fathom what it's really like, the level of manipulation, falsehood and well, overall deviation of it. It's quite disturbing tbh. So just always take whatever's said and shown with a good amount of salt. With public people hardly anything is accidental or casual.

I think the most prominent question now is...Why? Why would they do something like that? Regardless if you have the ingenuity to believe the little scene they made or not...Still, the question lingers.

With my level of "in the knowness" I cannot for sure say the real reason, yet from the pieces I've collected so far, seems to be a multiple gain scheme. It was a high risk, they were well aware, and it paid out in the way they were expecting, minus small bumps here and there. But overall it seemed to have worked in their favor. How in the hell, one would ask?

Believe me, I used my best sneaky capabilities to find out exactly why but they were smart enough to keep this one locked tight, minus a few loose lips. And from those all I've heard was that "whatever the purpose was, it worked out".

As weird as it may sound to the innocent mind, it's actually not at all, given that even leaked nudes are not at all leaked or accidental, and those tend to (at least in the past) get immense amount of backlash. It's not the first time famous folks fake a fight, surely won't be the last.

A lot goes into public image, it's not black and white as "well but it looked bad on Jensen", "it looked bad on the prequel", etc. You'd be surprised as how little this truly matters given the level of manipulation they are able to pull on the public. And well, even with them...It happens all the time. Both made mistakes far worse than just "not telling my bestie about my new project" and fans would eventually let that go and put them back on the pedestal.

So just remember, always: not in the industry? then don't judge anything because you simply do not understand how it works.

Another piece of itk information I can give besides "this was planned and it worked" is: they are fine. From what I've heard they are not fighting over it or going through anything more dramatic than what they usually have been going through ever since they met haha.

So just sit back and chill out. Breathe, read fanfiction and remember that we will never truly get answers, because even what comes out of their mouths are most of the time carefully thought out and directed to have a specific meaning and effect (why do you think Jared mumbles and rambles so much?).

Another interesting piece of itk: you know how they always say they never fight? Even though that sounds insanely hard to believe even if they were just friends because who knows someone for that long and is constantly together and never fights? Unlikely, right? Yes, as obvious as that was. But unfortunately a lot of you seem to believe that, given the level of shock you had for this little twitter feud (as fake as it was). Yeah. They fight. A lot.

They fight as much as individuals in their situation would. Like I said, not at all what most people absentmindedly seem to think it is. They go through a lot. Way more than anyone who isn't in a similar situation would understand. It's messy, although they try their best to make it simpler in the ways they can.

On top of being in a very complex situation, they both have strong personalities and one of them is quite hard to "pin down". So altercations happen a lot, but they know how to deal, and they are exceptionally good at making sure that doesn't interfere in their work (oh well, at least not any work that doesn't benefit from intense emotional exchanges, anyways 😉...chemistry isn't something random, you know? haha).

I find it quite...interesting (to put it nicely) that a lot of hats easily believe they are a couple that lies constantly about almost every aspect of their lives, yet, they cannot believe they would fake a social media narrative. It makes no sense whatsoever.

It'd do you all good to be a little less tendentious and look at them as, you know...Humans? They are not what they seem to be, just as you guys also take in different versions of yourselves in different situations, they do too. And don't be so hopelessly naive to actually believe they see fans as "hashtag family". This is their work. And as grateful as they are for supporters, they certainly do not consider them family. To the point of never lying and trusting you with their life.

I'm sure they love their fans, but come on, saying they would never lie because that's mean to fans is just beyond naive. They've been doing it all along and oh, another interesting info? They don't think they're doing anything wrong.

Yeah, sounds weird, you'd think they'd feel guilty. But again, unless you were media trained, you'd never get it.

From years now if there's one consistent info I've gotten was this: they don't feel obligated to tell you anything. They believe they are doing "what they are supposed to do, the right thing for everyone involved".

So. Yeah. And hell, they are right about not being obligated to say anything about anything, I guess.

Well, I hope that was helpful or at least entertaining. It's hard to share info without accidentally making it obvious who I am for the lurkers (sure you guys were well aware that they lurk around the fandom). But it's safe because as long as I don't provide evidence, I'm fine. Just walking a thin line between sharing and not sharing something too specific that would be easy fir them to know who has that info and although they can't do anything against itks, they can manage to cut us off somehow and I enjoy having access lol, so that'd be a bummer.

Anyways, take itks and J2 themselves with a ton of salt haha! You are lovely, btw, you seem very kind and I enjoy your blog very much! much love!

itk anon everything you said was <333 and i agree with like almost all of it. very nice analysis and ask thank you ! i don't always believe everything j2 put out but the whole stunt being a false narrative just seems wrong so idk what to make of it. regardless i myself can sometimes get carried away in my star-struck love of j2. and i am a tinhat so well :) and now they look to be really good and taking a break from here was well worth it <3

''You are lovely, btw, you seem very kind and I enjoy your blog very much! much love!'' i love u so much hope u have a great day !

[blackstarising]

i was reading emily vanderwerff's piece on man city in vox this morning and this quote in particular jumped out to me

(I want to note here as an aside that Sharon is played by a Black actress, and there’s a long, unfortunate history of movies and TV shows using Black characters as sounding boards for white characters’ problems. Sharon is a nuanced character, and Niles plays her brilliantly. Still, it’s not like Ted Lasso is subverting this trope in any way, at least not to date.)

and she's right! the Black Therapist Trope is basically like a 2020s revamp of the mammy: the black (usually female but not always) character who exists completely in the service of the white lead, to shoulder their burdens and further their emotional development without any development of their own.

(western fandom is so used to seeing black characters in this role that even when they're not put in that position by the narrative, even when they're proven to be extremely capable and have a rich backstory, fandom tends to relegate them to that role regardless: i.e., sam wilson, an air force paratrooper, avenger, and now the new incarnation of captain america being reduced to a therapist for bucky barnes or steve rogers, or james "rhodey" rhodes, a colonel in the air force, a prominent disabled character, also an avenger, and MIT graduate being reduced to tony stark's sidekick. i could go on.)

but this season and especially man city have given us a comprehensive look at dr. sharon fieldstone that actualizes her and gives her a richness beyond shouldering the burdens of the white people around her and it's actually been really refreshing to see. i have to give credit to the writing staff, but especially to sarah niles for her graceful and nuanced portrayal of this character. below are some key ways that sharon has been given depth.

sharon establishes boundaries and the narrative keeps boundaries for her. usually when we see her doing her work, she's in the office during working hours. when the lads ask her out for drinks, she gives in, but adds her own limits. when it comes to ted, the lines are a little more blurred, but the boundaries are still there. when we see him in her office at the end of episode 6, he just says "i want to make an appointment", but their first session isn't until the next episode. when he lashes out because of his own anxiety, she calls him out on it and makes it clear that, quite frankly, she's more than allowed to be compensated for her work (which is important, because the labor of black women is chronically undervalued) and care about it at the same time. in episode 8, we do see her communicate with ted outside of her working hours, but it's initiated by her. when ted calls her at the end of the episode and opens up to her, it's because sharon signaled her availability when she opened up about her own trauma to meet him halfway.

sharon is trying to take care of her own mental health. sharon has her own therapist! this is important because it destroys the image of her invincibility. she's a person with her own faults and struggles and has the wherewithall and self awareness to take care of them, even if it means being called out on flaws (like how she uses her intelligence as a defense mechanism).

sharon is clearly struggling with her own demons and the narrative doesn't shame her for it. i can't get over how well constructed the scenes in sharon's apartment are. the bottles of alcohol on the counter that she tries to dance around (and it's an interesting parallel with ted, as many fans have begun to pick up that his relationship with alcohol is also concerning). the books lying around about dealing with mid-life. hell, the fact that we don't see her with many people outside of afc richmond, either platonically or romantically may indicate that she's dealing with loneliness and not happy about it (especially considering that no one else was there to pick her up from her concussion at the hospital except ted and he was the first person she thought call in her concussed state).

sharon doesn't just have to be a superwoman whose strength is expensed for others but she's been given the space as messy as flawed as her white counterparts and, even though it's a long time coming representation-wise, it can't be overlooked.

[k-llama-llama]

Bloodbath

Stray Kids AU: 9th member

Tori x Stray Kids 

A mishap during their second Kingdom performance causes some complications.

A/N: Please check out my PATREON (patreon.com/kllamallama) for exclusive posts you can’t get anywhere else, as well as lots of other cool benefits!

Requests are OPEN and your feedback is still greatly appreciated!

Masterlist and other Follow Me links in bio!

“If someone comes at me with a giant magnet, it’s game over.” Tori chuckled.

Chan rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who said you wanted to be sparkly.”

“Yeah, sparkly. Not add ten pounds in jewelry.”

They were moments away from their second performance on Kingdom, and Tori was still trying to get used to her outfit. They had rehearsed in their outfits earlier, but Tori had had a bunch of jewelry added right before filming started. Now, in addition to her nose ring and multitudes of earrings, she also had a bunch of rings and a chain around her waist.

“You look pretty, Noona.” Jeongin offered.

“Thanks.” She shook her hands out, trying to get used to the weight on her hands. “Are we about ready?”

“Just a few more minutes.” Someone replied.

Tori bounced on her heels for a few more minutes, before taking her place for the start of Side Effects.

The performances for Kingdom were fun because they could move around and really interact with the camera. Without Hyunjin there, they were working harder to make sure that their choreographies would be good not only for the viewers, but for the professional panel of judges.

Side Effects started off without a hitch, and Tori moved into place for her first solo shot. They’d rehearsed this section of the choreography what felt like a hundred times, but when she dragged her hands up her stomach like she’d been practicing, she felt her hand snag on her new jewelry.

She didn’t let the panic show on her face. The next move required her to swipe a hand across her face in time with Felix, and it was a point move.

So without thinking, Tori ripped her hand free and continued with the dance. As she moved her hand across her face, she felt a warm liquid coat her skin. When the camera moved away for a moment, she looked down, but couldn’t make out anything beyond a dark stain spreading down her white sleeve.

She’d cut herself, she realized. She didn’t have time to check how badly, but from what she could see in the dim light, it wasn’t good. There was no pain, but she doubted she’d be able to feel any of it over her pounding heartbeat.

There would be time to deal with this later. Right now, she had a performance to finish.

As they struck their ending poses, Tori breathed heavily, forcing herself to appear composed for the camera. A light went off signaling the switch from the performance cameras to the show cameras, and they all stood up as the lights turned on.

“Tori.” Chan grabbed her elbow. “Are you alright?”

Adrenaline still pounding in her ears, Tori just shook her head. “We can deal with this when we’re back in the room.”

“You’re bleeding on the floor.” He hissed, worry clear in his voice. “Where did you cut yourself?”

He started to lead her off stage, following the others to their dressing room.

“My hand.” She whispered. “It doesn’t hurt.”

“It will.”

Tori let herself look down at her hand. Chan was keeping it elevated with his grip on her elbow, but it was a lot more gruesome than she’d thought. Her sleeve was stained bright red and sticking to her skin. Now that she focused on it, she could feel a twinge on the outside of her hand, but she couldn’t see the cut.

“Is it bad?” She asked quietly.

“We’ll just get a medic to look at it.” Chan reassured. “Jeongin, run ahead!”

Tori wanted to shout at the maknae to come back. There were still cameras on them and they had to walk right by the other groups’ rooms. Having him run by in a panic would only draw attention to the issue. She could already envision how this would look on TV, with her arm blurred out and the group in a panic.

The world tilted sideways.

“Minho!” Chan snapped, catching Tori against his side.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” She repeated as Minho looped his arm around her waist.

“You really don’t look fine.” Minho helped Chan walk her forward.

“I’m getting blood on you.” She mumbled.

“It’s fine, Tor.” Chan promised. “I think you’re in shock.”

 “That seems likely.” She agreed. She didn’t feel ill, but there was a growing pain in her hand and the world seemed to be  bit fuzzy around the edges.

“That was amazing guys!” San’s voice exclaimed as they moved by.

“Thanks, we gotta go.” Felix said quickly. Clearly all of the boys were aware of her injury, and anxious to get her into the dressing room where she could be looked after.

“Tori, that bit with the blood was so cool! You should – “ Seonghwa appeared in her line of vision, leaning out of doorway. “Woah, what’s wrong?”

“It wasn’t a blood bit, and we’ve got to go.” Chan shouldered past them, and together he and Minho lowered her onto a chair in the dressing room.

“That was rude.” Tori scolded.

“You were getting blood everywhere.” Minho kept his hand on her shoulder. “We didn’t really have time to chat.”

One of the medical staff appeared in front of them, and Tori turned her attention to the woman. A towel was spread out on the ground, and then she started pouring water on Tori’s hand to try and get a better look at the wound.

When it was finally visible, Tori thought she might be sick.

“That’s disgusting.” Changbin recoiled.

“How did you keep dancing?” Seungmin exclaimed.

“Adrenaline, I guess.” Tori turned her face away from the jagged cut on her hand. “How bad is it?”

“Stitches, for sure.” The staff member gave her a sympathetic smile. “We’ll wrap it up and take you to the hospital.”

Tori caught her reflection in the mirror. She had blood smeared across her forehead and down her cheek, and she looked a few shades paler than was normal. “I look like a murder victim.”

“Here.” Jisung perched himself on the dressing table counter, a wet wipe in hand. “I’ve got it.”

Tori tried not to wince as the staff member wrapped her hand, letting Jisung clean all of the blood off her face.

“Your clothes still look gruesome.” He noted.

“I wasn’t a fan of the all-white anyways.” Tori sighed, turning to Chan. “Are they going to have to tell everyone?”

“I think they already are. You’re going to be absent for the rest of filming today.” He smoothed back her hair, before grimacing. “You have blood in your hair.”

“Gross.” Tori sighed. “Did I at least look cool during the performance?”

“Apparently you looked like a badass. But now everyone is freaking out because they’re mopping your blood off of the floor.”

“I hope it doesn’t delay filming too much.” Tori’s eyes widened.

“It’ll be fine, Tor. Just worry about yourself.” Minho smiled.

“On the bright side, I think a certain someone is very worried about you.” Felix looked back from where he was leaning out the door.

“A certain someone?” Chan asked.

Tori flushed. “Shut up, Felix.”

“What’s he talking about?” Chan looked down at her.

“Nothing.” She shook her head quickly. “He just knows I hate being the center of attention.”

“You picked the wrong job then.” Jisung hauled her to her feet.

“Let’s get you to the hospital.” The medical staff, grabbed her elbow. She didn’t feel dizzy anymore, but she knew that they had to be careful.

“Have fun filming.” She waved weakly with her good hand, not even glancing at the ball of gauze that was her other hand.

“We won’t have too much fun, Noona.” Jeongin promised.

She gave them a weak smile, following the staff out of the room.

The hallway was mostly deserted, except for the door of Ateez’s dressing room. Seonghwa was standing there, arms crossed and arguing with their manager.

“Tori!” He exclaimed when he saw her. “Are you okay?”

She pointed at her bandaged hand. “Off to get stitches.”

“Seriously?” He gasped. “You cut yourself that badly?”

“Looks that way.” She nodded. “On my jewelry during the performance.”

“Well…” He shook his head, looking for the right words. “This is probably weird to say because you’re hurt, but it looked freaking awesome during the performance.”

“That’s something at least.” She smiled. “I need to go get my hand put back together, but I’ll talk to you later?”

“For sure.” He grinned. “I hope you guys win.”

“I hope you guys win too.” She teased.

[sunrisefairy]

i’m sorry the way u did my last request was SO GOOD i just had to ask for another. could you do one with charlie weasley as a care of magical creatures prof and he finally gets with the professor he’s been flirting with? you write spicy fics so well i cant even

omg stop, ur making me blush. I had fun with this one! 

NSFW 18+ below the cut

You told yourself no boys this year, no distractions, you vowed that this year you’d focus on your career; Dumbledore had given you a position at Hogwarts and you were ecstatic and determined to make him proud. You didn’t think it would be too hard, to have a year free of boys, the male professors at Hogwarts weren’t exactly eye candy. That was until you met the new care of magical creature’s professor, damn that Charlie Weasley.

He was handsome, no argument about it, his rugged good looks and charming, sweet personality had your panties dripping whenever he was in close proximity (even the mere thought of his strong arms and those long fingers had your core throbbing) not that you would ever tell him that.

Charlie Weasley seem to make it his mission to make you flustered, within the first 10 minutes of your initial introduction he told you how breath taking your eyes were and how gorgeous his name sounded when it fell from your lips. You obviously blushed at this and brushed the comments under the rug, assuming he was just being cheeky and kind and didn’t mean anything by it. However, Charlie made very clear he found you attractive and having to endure months of his shameless flirting was proving to be very difficult to ignore the sexual tension between the two of you.

You stared down at the pile of forgotten essays on your desk, your mind was elsewhere, and you couldn’t seem find the concentration to focus on grading them right now. Your brain was preoccupied but a certain gorgeous redheaded wizard. You imagined his rough fingers and how they would feel against your skin, unbuttoning your blouse slowly and teasing your nipples, would he be soft and gentle and caress your breasts or would he prefer to be rough and pinch and tug at your skin? You bit your lip at the thought, arousal already pooling in your panties. It had been too long since you last had sex and you were beginning to grow frustrated and desperate for it.

“Thinking about me again, love?” you’re snapped from your thoughts and immediately clench your thighs at the sight before you. Charlie was leaning against the door frame of your classroom, his arms cross in front of him causing his muscles to strain against his shirt.

You smirk, “how I manage to get anything done when you plague my thoughts 24/7 is beyond me.”

Charlie chuckles at this assuming you’re joking and enters the room, approaching you at your desk. You take this time to rack your eyes over his body, his shirt stretching deliciously over his torso, the top few buttons undone allowing you to scan his neck and collar bone. Merlin how you wish you could sink your teeth into his creamy skin-

You cough to shake yourself of this thought, no boys, no distractions.

“What can I do for you Professor?” you muse, straightening up the long-forgotten essays.

If Charlie noticed you hungrily scanning his body moments before, he doesn’t comment on it. “Oh nothing really, was walking around and had the strong urge to come visit my favourite professor.”

You blush before he continues, “Snape was busy though so thought you were the next best thing.” He’s smirking at you now and you scoff rolling your eyes.

“Ha-ha,” you say sarcastically, “well as you can see, I’m insanely busy grading these essays so can’t say it would be much fun if you stayed.” You pick up an essay from the pile and furrow your eyebrows hoping it looks like you’re deep in thought when really you’ve re-read the same sentence 3 times, still not comprehending what it says.

“I can think of ways we can have fun,” Charlie’s low voice sounds from right next to your ear. How did he get there so fast? “none of which involve boring essays.”

You gulp and turn your head. He’s leaning over your shoulder, invading your personal space, one of his powerful arms is braced against the dark wood of your desk. You can feel Charlie’s soft breath fanning your face and you shudder. You can’t think of anything to say right now, Charlie’s rich scent is swarming your senses and any thoughts that do manage to form inside our brain are not appropriate to say out loud.

Charlie’s eyes glance down at your lips, your tongue darting out to wet them instinctively, he’s unsure if you are aware of the effect you have on him. Such a simple innocent move of licking your lips has Charlie growing hard. He leans closer to you, wanting you to give him the go ahead to continue, as you part your lips Charlie’s certain you’re about to tell him to kiss you.

“The doors open,” you squeak, suddenly very aware of this compromising position and not really eager on an unsuspecting student waltzing past and seeing this scene. You know you should ask Charlie to leave, you have essays to grade and a ‘no boys, no distractions’ rule to follow but Charlie is so close you can almost taste him.

He grins smugly, pointing his wand at your classroom door which slams shut and you can hear the lock click, he whispers a silencing charm too which has your heart beating faster in your chest. Are you really about to do this? Charlie looks down at you waiting for your next move. It feels like eternity before you make your decision, is it the right one, you’re not sure but you’ve dreamt about Charlie’s lips for too long to turn them down now.

In a flash, you connect your lips together, it’s rushed and messy but neither of you seem to mind. You can feel Charlie’s hands all over your body, he’s unbuttoning your shirt and squeezing your hips and arse and pulling you closer and palming your tits and it’s heaven. His lips find their home against your neck and you gasp as his nips and sucks at your skin. Somehow, you’ve change positions and Charlie has you pressed hard against your desk and you can feel his cock hardening in his pants.

“Fuck, want you so bad darling,” he growls into your ear. You tug roughly at his hair forcing his eyes to meet yours. His are dark with desire and you have to force yourself not to come right then and there.

“Then have me,” you respond.

The both of you waste no time, very aware of the fact that you don’t have the luxury of taking your time right now. You’re pulling off each other’s clothes and clawing at skin and leaving scratches and love bites and groaning and whining. Charlie hoists you onto your desk, pushing aside any papers and quills in his way. He wishes he had more time because the desire to kiss along every inch of your beautiful body and explore every freckle or birthmark or scar you have, is so strong. But he just prays you’ll give him another opportunity to do just that, because right now he needs to be inside of you.

Charlie is standing in between your open legs as he takes his fingers and runs them along your slick folds. “Fuck baby, so wet for me huh?”

The sarcastic comment disappears from your mouth as Charlie pushes 2 of his long slender fingers inside your heat, you moan at the sensation. He quickly begins scissoring his fingers set on stretching you out as fast as he could. “F-fuck, Charlie. Feels so good.”

“Wait till you get my cock darling. I’ll have you screaming,” he teases.

You kiss his lips before responding cockily, “go on then.”

Charlie removes his fingers and you whine at the emptiness, “shh darling, I’ll feel you up soon enough. You want that? Want me to fill you up with my cock?”

You’re nodding desperately, “yes please Charlie, please need your cock so bad.”

He grins widely at you, “as you wish.” The both of you groan as he lines up his cock and pushes inside of you. None of your fantasies would have prepared you to how amazing it feels to have Charlie’s cock stretching you out like this. You wrap your legs around his waist as his starts to rock his hips into yours.

Charlie begins to snap his hips faster and faster finding a deliciously rough pace, you’re grateful for the silencing charm he casted because you wouldn’t be able to contain the moans otherwise.

“Holy fuck Charlie,” you whine against his lips letting yourself run your fingers all over his sweaty naked body before they find their home on his hard shoulders.

The groan that rolls out of Charlie’s mouth is borderline pornographic, “I know sweetheart, I know.”

Charlie can feel himself growing closer and closer to his climax and he’d be daft if he lets himself finish before you. Charlie reaches in between the both of you and his thumb connects with your clit, forcing a loud moan to erupt deep from your throat. Charlie starts rubbing tight circles against that bundle of nerves while nipping and sucking at the soft skin on your neck. He can feel you clenching tightly around him.

“S-so close,” you gasp as that familiar tightening sensation pools in your belly.

“Come for me darling, I got you,” Charlie responds, his free hand holding you firming against him as you come undone. His name dripping from your lips like a sweet poem. It only takes a few more thrusts until he’s groaning into your neck and releasing deep inside you, his load painting your walls. The two of you are panting heavily as you try and catch your breath. You chuckle quietly to yourself, enjoying the sensation of Charlie’s now soft cock still inside of you. So much for no boys no distractions.

~~~~~~~

imma start adding my taglist to blurbs too, so if you would like to be added/taken off just send me an ask (if your name is crossed out i couldnt tag you)

@hufflepuff5972 @inglourious-imagines @horrorxweasley @anxiousblanketqueen @dracoswhore007 @georgeweasleyswhre @pandaxnienke

[hologramcowboy]

Before I get into it, I just want to say I hope you had a relaxing holiday and I’m happy to see you back! Sorry this is a bit of a long one, I had more to say than I thought.

I get that everybody loves Jensen and want to view his social media as a glimpse into his private life. He’ll always be the leading man in our minds, deserving of any role he wants. But we’re not doing the hiring. What people don’t understand is that Hollywood is a business, and you have to play the game. And that game extends beyond booking jobs. A big part of the game is keeping yourself on the public’s mind when you’re not working, as well as networking. The only people thinking about Jensen right now are Supernatural fans, and as more time goes on since the shows ending the number of fans following his career is dwindling. Soon, only the super ‘fans’ will be left and as we’ve all seen they’re a bit unhinged. There are a few ways to stay in the public eye as an actor/musician in between projects. Paparazzi photos and tabloid appearances, talk shows and podcasts, and social media.

There is some truth to Jensen being a private person, he’s never liked playing the paparazzi game. The only period of time he did was from when he and Danneel announced they were getting married to around the time they moved to Texas. I imagine the paparazzi pictures were to try and help Danneel’s career as well as proving that they were married since their marriage read as a sham from the beginning. He could start hiring paparazzi to take photos of him/his family now, but it would read as extremely inauthentic given he’s not living in California or hanging out in New York anymore. Paparazzi is not hanging out in Texas and Colorado. And the occasional fan photo or spotting isn’t the same thing, if you’re not a part of the Supernatural fandom those pictures don’t reach you. He could get himself back into tabloid news, and I do think he tried. A picture of Danneel painting ended up in the ‘Celebrities, They’re Just Like Us!’ section of Us Weekly at the beginning of quarantine. We always say a big part of his problem is including Danneel in his brand, and this is a great example. He can’t promote himself through family fluff pieces, because him and Danneel don’t come across as a genuine family unit/couple. The only way he’ll make it back into the news cycle is if we return to the era of his marriage being gossiped about (he and Danneel definitely don’t want that, especially since they’re trying to sell producer power couple) or if Chaos Machine Productions starts picking up projects (we haven’t heard from them since June, and no hints of when we’ll hear from them again).

I’m actually really surprised that he hasn’t been on any podcasts (that I’m aware of anyway) following the end of Supernatural. At his tier of fame, they’re a lot more accessible to him than a talk show slot or a local morning news appearance like Jared has been doing. I think he could really shine on a podcast, the environment being a little more intimate than live TV tends to help people come out of their shells. In regards to appearing on talk shows, that’s a bit unlikely to happen for Jensen for a few reasons. The major one being talk shows appearances are usually for promoting projects, and as far as we know Jensen has nothing lined up. And when The Boys finally leaves post production and is ready to be promoted, Jensen is unlikely to be doing any promotion work because his not one of the main characters. Sure, celebrities occasionally appear on talk shows when they have nothing going on (think the Jonas Brothers recent appearance on Jimmy Fallon) but Jensen’s not a household name so that’s unlikely to happen. He could get a spot due to connections like every comedian that appears of Seth Meyers, but the only connection he has to the world of talk shows is Ryan Secrest. Secrest is a a businessman first and foremost, and he’s already tried to give Jensen a chance twice. His two appearances on Live with Kelly and Ryan are actually painful to watch. Which brings me to my next point, Jensen does terribly on talk shows. His charm does not come through at all, and his typical grumpy guy with a heart of gold persona does not translate well to the talk show format. He tries to come across as a family man, but it’s painfully obvious that he used to spend 9 months out of the year away from his family. He sacrifices time he could be using to talk about his work trying to convince an audience whose attention he has yet to capture that they should care about him based on his personal life rather than his career.

And now we’re on social media, a topic that has been so highly debated on your blog these past few days I’m sure you’re sick of it lol. I’ll try not to beat a dead horse. Jensen has to play the social media game even if he doesn’t want to. He is not famous enough to get away with being private. He is hurting himself on the social media front in a few ways. The first is being absent from social media for long stretches of time. No one is saying he needs to be tweeting and posting on Instagram everyday, but he (or a social media manager) should be posting something at least once every one to two weeks. His feed doesn’t have to be impersonal and curated, but it has to be better than it is now. Currently it’s all Dean + Supernatural, family content and him being eccentric. He should be posting behind the scenes pictures of him working at FBBC or Chaos Machine Productions, pictures of him with his famous friends in order to get the attention of their audiences, and the occasional family content for the ‘look I’m a regular person just like you!’ factor. Family content where all of the children are present and smiling, and he doesn’t look like he’s about to cut off his own foot to escape. He wants Danneel to be a part of his brand so bad? Fine, but first make her likable and presentable. No one is going to buy the power couple image if you a) barely look like you like each other and b) have nothing to show for the power part. Jensen and his role on Supernatural can only carry them so far. Danneel brings nothing to the table. She has no fans of her own, her most notable role was a guest role a decade ago on OTH, and she hasn’t even been able to break into the world of being a social media personality/influencer. They haven’t proven that they can run a successful production company, and their time to do so is running out.

We all love Jensen, we want him to continue to work in the industry and succeed. For that to happen, it’s obvious that some things need to change. And for everyone screaming that he deserves a break after 15 long hard years on Supernatural, you’re not wrong. But unfortunately, you don’t get to take a break in Hollywood unless you’re prepared for that break to turn into full blown retirement.

Anon, I love you! ❤️❤️❤️ Thank you for taking the time to express things so beautifully and in such a grounded way.

You don't know how refreshing it is to know some people actually support and value him without turning him into a cult like object. Thank you for this valuable, beautiful, beautiful post. ❤️

[iamnotparticularlyproud]

PPB Square: Possessive Behavior | @peterparkerbingo​

word count: 1.7k rating: explicit warnings: rough s_x, degrading and possessive language, org_sm denial ao3 link: https://bit.ly/36dxXWh

“Do you have any idea how it felt, sweetheart? When I had to watch that piece of shit put his hands on you, and you fucking smiled like you do for me?”

Peter can barely listen, let alone respond. Although the gala just happened, the memory of letting that overly flirty businessman touch him a bit too much is so distant, it feels like a lifetime ago. All that matters now is the feeling of Tony drilling him into the mattress, pushing deeper than Peter ever thought possible.

“I had to pretend like I didn’t care, but I was seeing red, baby.” Tony continues, his breath fanning over Peter’s nape, “Had to keep talking to all those nobodies, when all I wanted was to show that asshole only I touch you like that.” His fingers dig into Peter’s hips, punctuating his point, “Isn’t that right?”

When Peter only gives a choking gasp at the combination of it all - Tony’s claiming words, his bruising grip, his unrelenting pace - Tony abruptly stops, mid-thrust.

“N-No, please,” Peter heaves, because it’s too good to stop, Tony needs to -

“Oh, now you talk?” Tony condescends, and when Peter just wriggles in response, shifting his hips back and forth in a mindless attempt to get that intoxicating feeling back, Tony adds, “Where was this enthusiasm when I asked you a question?”

Peter has to concentrate to recall it, and then to find the wherewithal to answer. When he finally accomplishes both, he responds, high and breathless, “Y-You, only you c-can touch me like that.”

Peter’s still pretty out of it, but he swears Tony growls before he counters, “Then why did you let him touch you?”

It’s still so hard to think - all Peter wants is the mind-numbing cacophony of sensations back - so instead of trying to find another answer, he begs, “I don’t - don’t know, ‘m sorry, jus’ please keep going,”

One of Tony’s hands comes up to Peter’s jaw, pulling his head up from it’s place against the sheets to meet Tony’s burning gaze. The angle is awkward, but Peter doesn’t even consider the strain as their eyes meet; the intensity of it all and the rawness in his stare surprises Peter, and a whine catches in his throat.

“I jus’ - “ Peter cuts himself off, trying to overcome the sudden wave of embarrassment, “I-I wanted to see what you would do.”

The searing look in Tony’s eyes turns incredulous. Tony moves his hand from Peter’s jaw to his hair and pulls hard, so much harder than he’s ever pulled before, and he starts thrusting into him again, still so rough but edging on frantic, now. Peter falls back into the bed, unable to hold himself up against the onslaught.

“What the fuck did you think I would do, sweetheart?” Tony’s angry tone is undercut by the breathless edge to his voice, “You know I don’t like sharing my toys.”

Being referred to as a toy - as Tony’s toy - sends a sharp spear of pleasure through Peter, and his cock leaks precome where it’s pressed between him and the bed. He can barely understand his own muttered words as he tries, “M-Mr. Sta-”

Tony cuts him off swiftly, pulling his hair again and saying, “No, none of that shit. I’m not fucking around. What the fuck did you think would happen, Peter?”

Peter can’t respond, because it’s all too intense in the best way possible. The slick slide of Tony’s cock in and out of him, hitting his prostate head on with each push forward while his own dick rubs against the soft sheets, is about to take Peter over the edge, and he can’t find the voice to warn Tony, only to moan wantonly -

But he knows, anyway. Tony uses his grip on Peter to pull them both upward, effectively sitting Peter onto his lap while leaning on his calves, then squeezes his hand around the base of Peter’s cock. It pulls him from the precipice and rips a mangled groan of frustration from his lips as he jolts in Tony’s embrace.

“No, precious. You’ve gotta answer me, first.”

Peter feels tears prickling in the corner of his eyes as he drops his head back onto Tony’s shoulder, face somehow burning hotter, “I ca-can’t remem - “

Tony doesn’t let him finish the question, saying into his neck as he gives sharp, short thrusts into Peter, “Did you think I’d roll over and let you pull that shit?”

Tony doesn’t even sound like he believes it as he says it, and Peter would laugh at the mere suggestion, but he’s too busy trying to push back onto Tony’s cock, to get him as deep as before. He only manages to shake his head, just a bit.

Tony hums, exaggerated, then continues, “Maybe you wanted me to get jealous? Did you act like a cheap whore to get a rise out of me, huh?”

The shame that courses through Peter from the words is piercing, but thrilling. He nods, hoping it’s enough for Tony to keep going, but he does Peter one better; he moves his hands to under Peter’s thighs and uses the leverage to lift him and drop him back onto his cock.

“Then I’ll treat you like a cheap whore, baby boy.” Tony promises, and Peter only has time to shiver before Tony’s moving him up and down like he weighs nothing, forcing his dick so, so deep into Peter, he wonders if it makes a bulge in his stomach.

Tony completely ignores his cock as Peter writhes on top of him, and when he tries to wrap a hand around his aching dick, Tony catches his wrist and pulls his arm behind his back, holding it there for just a moment before dropping his grasp and trusting Peter to keep it there.

“Nuh-uh,” he teases, “whores come hands free.”

Though Peter tries to blink them away, the tears fall, now. He’s so hard it aches, and it’s beyond any frustration he’s felt before. It makes Peter appreciate the toe-curling pleasure he gets from his cock hitting his prostate even more, and he starts rolling his hips in time with Tony’s.

“Fuck,” Tony groans, “you feel so goddamn good, my own little slut.”

Peter can only choke out a wet gasp in response. He’s lost in the pleasure of it all as they move together, Tony’s large, sturdy hands on his hips the only thing grounding Peter. 

Tony pauses while he’s buried balls deep in Peter to grind into his prostate, keeping the pressure intense and relentless, and Peter knows it’s just moments, but it feels like hours before he’s coming with a strangled sob.

Although Tony stops aiming for Peter’s oversensitive bunch of nerves, he doesn’t let up his momentum, and Peter doesn’t have the energy to do anything but fall limp against his chest. He’s only distantly aware of Tony’s thrusts becoming more and more frenzied.

“You’re mine, angel,” Tony rumbles, “all fuckin’ mine.”

Peter tries to agree, but he can’t get it to come out, so he settles for a desperate, pitiful cry. All the sensations - Tony’s tight grip on his thighs and his warm body pressed against him, Peter’s burning lungs, his too sensitive hole filled to the brim - leave him convulsing, needing more and less simultaneously, and it has more tears spilling down his cheeks. Tony is lost in his own haze of pleasure above him, ignoring Peter’s quiet hiccups and squirming, as he keeps bouncing Peter on his cock.

Then, before Peter can realize what’s happening, Tony pushes him back into the mattress, wrapping his arms around Peter’s torso to pull his back to his chest. Tony drives greedy, aborted thrusts into him, and Peter barely musters the strength to bring his hands up to hold onto Tony’s arms, otherwise laying boneless below him.

With a deep, guttural moan, Tony comes inside of him, his hips jerking in uncontrolled, hectic movements. Peter whimpers as Tony’s pulsating cock nudges his prostate, making his dick twitch valiantly, despite Peter knowing he’s too exhausted for a round two.

When Tony starts to pull away, Peter has a difficult time letting him; his hold on Tony’s arms are tight, tighter than he thought he could hold right now, and he leans back into Tony as he tries to separate them. Tony wins the struggle, though, and as he eases his flaccid cock out of him, Peter can’t help but give another soft cry.

Peter’s hardly aware of Tony’s gentle shushing as he turns him over with accommodating touches and soothing murmurs of affection. He feels Tony reach across the bed, and then he’s easing Peter’s legs open and lifting him up carefully to clean the mess between them.

Peter whines as Tony grazes over his sensitive rim with a cursory wipe. He thinks he hears Tony speak, but it’s too far away for him to listen. Tony leans back, away from Peter, taking his comforting presence and heat with him. Peter feels the shifting of the bed as Tony gets off, leaving him alone in the expansive bed and soiled sheets.

Time is just a vague notion as Peter waits for Tony to come back, but he does eventually. If Peter had the energy, he’s sure he would’ve sobbed with relief - the return of Tony’s hands against him is grounding, and he’s suddenly filled with a desperate need to speak.

“’m sorry,” Peter mumbles, remembering the fierce look in Tony’s eyes when he admit why he let the stranger at the gala touch him too personally.

Above him, Tony sighs. “No, baby. I should’ve -- ” but he pauses before he finishes the thought, continuing instead with, “We’ll talk about it later, okay?”

Peter nods weakly, then starts as a warm, damp cloth touches the skin of his inner thighs. Tony uses his free hand to stroke a line along his side as he cleans the remaining moisture, and Peter’s chest tightens with his overwhelming love for the man.

“Y-You’re -- ” and it’s Peter’s turn to cut himself off, swallowing hard and turns his eyes to the side, because although he needs to know, he feels too vulnerable asking it, “you’re mine, too... right?”

Tony doesn’t say anything for several moments. Peter’s heart falls a bit, but then he looks up to meet his gaze. It’s soft, a bit melancholy, even, and filled with so much fondness, Peter doesn’t know what to do with it.

“For as long as you’ll have me, angel.”

[straycinameticuniverse]

The weight/pig/Walrus Jokes.

Everyone is entitled to their own opinions on this matter and I am very entitled to ignore and discard any that I don’t agree with, that being said:

For the longest time the group members have been passing around jokes about Changbin’s appearance and weight and comparing him to either a pig or walrus. I for one never found the jokes funny and lots of stays pointed out how “unfunny” these were, the jokes continued and eventually fans started making similar jokes directed at Changbin and judging from his reactions when the said jokes were mentioned, it was clear that he wasn’t a big fan, eventually he stated that he does not like the nickname walrus…and would appreciate it if fans do not put that on banners at concerts and if they did, he would just ignore. People still didn’t take this seriously and continued and every so often, a weight joke is passed, directed at the same man who shifts and smiles awkwardly each time. I have always had a very clear line between idols and myself and I do not ever try to guess what they are feeling/thinking. In this case it is somewhat different because his dislike is evident and the members themselves stated how he doesn’t like the joke, so I guess that says everything. A lot of stays claim that we cannot understand the relationship and bond they share and therefore it’s wrong of us to want them to stop with these insensitive jokes, whilst this comment is harmless and seemingly aimed at keeping peace, I think it lacks the understanding of the situation as a whole. Stays who find this problematic are not asking them to apologise for laughing at their friend.

We would appreciate it if they understood just how harmful and mean the “jokes can be”

When I first started high school, I was very slim and tall and when I joined hockey my friends would come to my games and scream the most ridiculous and rude comments about my appearance, comparing me to various things, objects and even animals and even though I would smile and laugh it off, it played a huge role in how I felt about myself because I always felt like maybe I should eat more, maybe I should cover up, maybe I should stop playing hockey altogether, and I never realised until later.

The idea behind humour aimed at your appearance is that you look unappealing, displeasing/ridiculous etc, and because you’re so ‘unacceptable’ it’s within our rights to make every joke under the sun about you, which is wild if you ask me…I cannot understand why you guys think this is normal, they don’t call him a walrus or pig because they think he’s pink and likes to swim! You all know that, and these jokes go way beyond just Changbin, they have such a large fan base growing every single day and you know what?!? There’s people who hear those jokes and think “damn I look a little like that…do I also look like a walrus/pig?! Is that what other people think of me?!” And so many other thoughts. I don’t think I have to explain how these things can really mess with you and in-still very harmful and unhealthy behaviours.

You people bashed Kim for talking about how she lost weight, talking about how harmful it is but you refuse to see how harmful it is to be the butt of a joke based on your appearance in front of thousands of people cheering and screaming at your expense?!?

I promise you, these jokes have looong term effects, just because you’ve never experienced it doesn’t mean we are all in the same boat, if anything I am happy for you but keep in mind there’s millions of people absorbing the content each day.

Accepting that this is wrong doesn’t mean you’re interfering in their relationship, it simply means that you’re looking out for yourself and everyone around you. So please spread and let other people know what’s up.

P:S if you have bbl please take the opportunity to send them messages on there to make them aware.