#i will never get over the ova

[goldenloverss]

She/her transgirl bret hart.. will be praying at her alter 2nite

[no1ryomafan]

Another giant robo related meme because I have brain rot even though I’m not rushing back to watch the last ep-if only because I have to finish new with my irls tomorrow and don’t wanna be burnt out bc this happened before-but I really wonder and fear for how many more “wtf is even happening” mechas there are and if each gets progressively more confusing.

[avicecaro]

see. okay. this is true about chairs. and while i personally think “adult human female, female meaning of the sex which produces ova” is a very clear and comprehensive definition, not everyone agrees. and, for the sake of argument, that’s fine! but that’s not how the law works. lawmaking bodies agonize over the precise definitions of terms to ensure that the law does what they’re hoping it will do, and is not easily misused. that’s their job.

in ireland, the bread that fast food restaurants use is legally considered cake because of the sugar content. cake is regulated differently than bread. do you and i need to argue the finer points of cake and bread? how sweet do you think something has to be so we can consider it cake? does it matter? not really. but it does when you’re trying to tax staple foods and non-staple foods differently.

there have been multiple court cases in the US determining if a taco is a sandwich (as of May 2024, it is, as per the superior court of indiana, fun fact). is a taco a sandwich? i don’t know! i don’t really think so. if someone said “hey i made sandwiches” and gave me a taco, i’d be confused. and anyway, does it matter? not really. but it does when i’m trying to determine if a taco restaurant can open in a space that won’t allow sandwich shops.

is a barbershop different than a hair salon? i think so. i go to a hair salon, my brother goes to a barbershop, if we switched our appointments we’d both be unhappy. it matters for the sake of communication, but is it a super important distinction? not really. but what if i signed a non-compete agreement with the barbershop i work at that said i wouldn’t work at any nearby barbershop for six months after terminating my contract? can i work at a hair salon? now it matters.

if i needed fifty chairs for an event, and the company i contracted with sent fifty horses, or fifty tables, they could argue “but it’s something with four legs that a person can sit on!” and they’d be correct. but i would know i’d been given something different than what i asked for, and i would expect the chair supplier to know that, too. so if i want to demand a refund/return/exchange on the basis that i’ve received the wrong product, do i have a claim?

so, okay, you feel we can’t define the term “woman” perfectly. or maybe we can define it, as in we know what we’re trying to talk about, but we don’t have a good term for it. wouldn’t be the first time it happened! but if we are creating a legal category, it does in fact need to have parameters. meaningful parameters.

if i want to give some speeches promoting radical gender acceptance, i could probably get away with never outright defining the word woman. but what if i want men who kill women to have their crimes classified as hate crimes? i need to have a meaningfully defined category of what a woman is and what makes one different from a man. mexico requires that congressional candidates be split 50-50 between men and women to enforce gender parity. “woman” has to be a meaningfully defined category, or else … well, you’ll end up with the same problem they keep having to deal with.

if we want protections or resources for women, “women” have to be a meaningful legal category. if it is a category anyone can opt into, then it is a category that includes anyone, which is not a meaningful category when it is meant to include only half of people. also women aren’t chairs.

[likes-words-and-shrimp]

I love Lloyd who is such an emotional character and shows those emotions without shame. Aspects that would be considered weak in typical strong male characters in media are presented as such an integral part of him-such as him crying for Colette and feeling fear and devastation over what she's going through, while Colette herself is taught to stem down her own emotions and fears. But Lloyd experiences them for her and it shows just how important that is to one's own humanity. He is still a hot-headed boy but he also shows such gentleness with Colette and is not closed off from his emotions or is stoic (like Kratos) or covers them up with a mask and acts sarcastic about such feelings (like Zelos). He is so genuine in how he acts! Lloyd Irving is so good.

More late night thoughts but the reason I focus on and like Lloyd so much is because he’s a very un-stereotypical male character. He wants to talk over fighting, he’s an open book with his feelings, isn’t afraid to cry and is very physically affectionate. It’s so refreshing especially in a time where we were stifled with toxic masculinity. He’s just come to represent everything I want more male characters to be.

[fancyfeathers]

God I just had the funniest idea after watching the tea party ova of Moriarty the Patriot…

Just picture their darlings there because they all are a part of the household now.

William’s darling, the shy little thing she is, is just clinging onto William’s arm or near his side the entire time. Half of the ladies present are glaring at her because she is a little street rat who took William’s heart before anyone else could have a chance that they didn’t even have in the first place. The other half of the ladies present are smitten with the adorable little wife of the mathematics professor, like the way a little girl would coo over their baby sibling or new doll that their parents bought them, they offer William to take her off of his hands for a day or perhaps a week, telling her how adorable she would look with a trip to her family’s country home and makeover, perhaps a new wardrobe and- While the ladies ramble on, she is just looking at William with pleading eyes to get her out of there.

Meanwhile Albert’s darling, who was born into nobility is taking the opportunity to visit with some of her old friends who are present, slipping away from Albert to fend for himself with all the ladies present. Many of those ladies she speaks to are the same ladies who have swept William’s darling away to fixate on her, and they are just talking to Albert’s darling while playing with her curls like did she do her hair? Oh she did, well isn’t that just adorable- oh and the earring and necklace she is wearing was a gift from Albert’s darling? Well isn’t that just the sweetest.

Louis’ darling has the most merciful fate because she gets to help her husband and the temporary staff in the kitchen away from all the commotion of the party, though if she does end up nicking herself once with a knife even once Louis will bandage it and send her upstairs so she can read or something, but chances are she will snag Von Herder’s darling from the basement where they are keeping watch over the things the others don’t want found and she will take her upstairs to read with her and people watch from the window.

Then there is Bonde’s and Moran’s darling who get to help out with the party, and by get to help it means they have to help due to all the pleading from each of their partners. The both of them stick close together, gossiping and making notes about the rich ladies at the party and asking each other what the other gets from the other’s partner in order to agree to do this and let’s just saw the answers they give one another they would have to hope none of the guests at the party overhear…

But of course by the end of the party those promises are put on hold due to everyone’s exhaustion. Bonde has his darling cuddled up next to him, his arms pulling the blanket around them both. Moran practically has to carry his darling up to bed because she is ready to fall asleep at any moment and run out the cramps in her legs from her heels. Louis’ darling cleans up the kitchen for him as the temporary staff is dismissed and her husband gets ready for bed. Von Herder’s darling has to pull him out of the basement so the two of them can go to sleep cause if she didn’t he would be down there all night. Albert and his darling go up to bed early and split a bottle of wine between the two of them before they pass out from exhaustion. William helps his darling get undressed and ready for bed and she quickly tells him as they settle into bed how she never wants to do that again and he fully agrees.

[centrally-unplanned]

California Crisis: Gun Salvo

I watched the 1986 OVA California Crisis, and it was really good! This anime, if you have heard of it all (which is unlikely), is famous for two things. One is its look:

Which in anime form did not exist before, and has not existed since. When you research “California Crisis” in English the source everyone pulls from is this essay by longtime industry man Fred Patten, and he describes it as “the over-solarized art style most commonly associated with the commercial artist Patrick Nagel, who was very ‘in’ at the time.” I believe him on that being an influence - he worked with the creators after all - and my primary documents from said creators are quite limited; but those that I have never mention him. They certainly were aiming for Americana - but what is causing this unique look is the use of thick, black outlines on the inner shading of the characters (something Nagel doesn’t really do), which producer Yoshikazu Tochihira mentions as a common technique used on vehicles in anime at the time. Given how heavily cars and ‘copters feature in this, I think the look was also sort of its own idea to create stylistic cohesion between the key parts.

I am not going to say it always works - on our main girl Marcia it is sketch, those eyes man:

But for our boy Noera it comes out a lot nicer:

He has less demand to be “typical anime”; bishoujo can’t blend here but surfer bum absolutely can.

You get used to it over time though, and it excels at capturing the idealized West Coast aesthetic. In particular, by being “not anime” it really helps you feel like it is somewhere else than Japan. The OVA is filled with long panning shots of detailed Los Angeles streets and beaches, named restaurants and garbled English menu items aplenty. Our friend Fred Patton - who isn’t a fan - comments that “Animation fans at the time said, only half-humorously, that it looked like the main purpose of the video was for a handful of Japanese animators to come to California and take a road trip from San Diego to Los Angeles for location shots.” But that never happened - this was made on a shoestring budget, and according to the same source as before no such site visit occurred. Instead, reference material was gathered by “searching bookstores, travel agencies, libraries, and even the American Cultural Center”, and it was a lot of work to get the details even half-right from that. Stop spreading lies, Fred Patton! Wait until you get my strongly worded comment on your blog, I don’t care if you passed away 6 years ago (RIP an absolute legend), get your facts straight!

Aided in this sense of immersion is the OVA's second source of notoriety: the absolutely banging city pop soundtrack by pop star Miho Fujiwara. The OP, Streets Are Hot, lives up to the name, straight fire:

And while not as peak, the rest of the OST doesn’t disappoint. Anime Youtuber STEVEM has a video on California Crisis that digs into the music side, as the history of city pop is absolutely his jam; for me I will just comment that it is a little lost now how western city pop was in Japan. Today it is of course “peak Japan” after its 2010’s retro internet boom, but if you listen to pop music from 1970’s Japan you still hear a lot of blending of western musical sensibilities and more traditional Japanese vocal stylings and instrumentation. City pop was one of the earlier genres to fully shed the past and embrace synth instrumentation and modern vocal approaches. And the aesthetic often pulled specifically from California - these are not album covers that scream Tokyo:

All of this is to say that this OVA is not only of its time, but it also embodies its time - a paean to the California Dream of the 80’s Tokyo youth:

Fucking vibes, man, for this alone the OVA really hits for me. Though of course, for all the Americana it is still an anime:

(Which by the way, Marcia rides a motorcycle on the highway and is clearly like 17, so Noera's rejection of an offer of sex here is more linguistic evidence for the bifurcated meaning of the word “lolicon” to refer to both actual prepubescent eroticization but also any preference for “youth” over “maturity” in typologies of femininity, intersecting with the bishoujo boom of th- okay okay, put the gun down, I’ll move on, geez…)

Sadly for California Crisis, its contemporary audience disagreed quite strongly with this being a symbol of the era; it was a huge flop. The OVA was the flagship project of a new anime venture by producer Hiromasa Shibazaki called Hiro Media Associates, and that shoestring budget was some very thin string. Shibazaki was launching his own anime+ magazine at the time, Globian (as seen in the links above), which was used to advertise their works - but towards that goal California Crisis only ever produced a single promotional image, which you see utilized everywhere it is mentioned:

So it just didn’t have the resources behind it to draw in a crowd. And the crowd it did draw in, best I can tell, wasn’t enthused; the art style was off-putting, the plot itself is a bit of a meandering mess, the long panning shots are ~vibes~ yes but also ~budget~ and obviously so, and the ending is a bit of a vague question mark. It was supposedly going to have a sequel, but Hiro Media, and Globian alongside it, closed shop soon after it was released, leaving audiences feeling that it was unfinished.

I won’t begrudge anyone their taste, or pretend it is not a very uneven work. However, I want to redeem the OVA’s core narrative from its reputation; I think it is honestly great, and it absolutely does not need a sequel. So let’s get into the plot - this is a story of a 20-something bar hand Noera, who runs into motorcycle-riding teen Marcia alongside a quasi-sentient UFO orb that just crash landed on earth. It beckons telepathically to be taken to Death Valley, a call which Noera resists but Marcia commits to heart-and-soul. Along the way the military, the CIA, the Soviets, every deep state boogeyman you can think of, all try to stop them, car chases and gunfire akimbo. Our duo bond, eventually they succeed, and the alien gives off a Kubrickian abstract flash of light and then vanishes - roll credits.

Ignore all the details, the mechanics, the CIA, all that shit. Puzzling and unsatisfying when you are watching it as a 17 year old, sure, but you are smarter now, you can separate the wheat from the chaff. Instead, why does Marcia want to follow a random alien orb into Death Valley?

Hilarious levels of on-the-nose buzzword dropping, oh sure. But behind that? Marcia is a teen, looking for meaning. She watches TV, reads books, dreams of being a hero, a protagonist, and this is it - the call of adventure! She is being offered the slot of main character and she isn’t going to turn it down. She literally name-drops Close Encounters of the Third Kind as part of her motivation, she is story-brained. When you first hear this line, you are like Noera, you eye roll it. But on reflection there is nothing more American than being the center of the universe - it truly is the American Dream.

But Marcia is not the main character of this story - the singular promotional image is lying to you. Noera is as well, and he has wisdom she doesn’t. Noera lives in the city fringe on a low wage service job, driving a beat-up Chrysler he presumably maintains himself. A blue collar man of habit, a himbo before it was hip. He follows Marcia to protect her, he casually rejects her post-car-chase adrenaline-rush-induced sexual advances. And, while they are escaping the military by hiding in a bar, he runs into an old high school friend Jack - who happens to be one of those military agents!

We have been seeing this guy the whole OVA, running the entire alien hunt operation. Top of the class, super genius, going places. Noera is unphased, and he and Jack reminisce about gags and girls from the old days. Noera congratulates his friend for “getting out” of his hometown, as it were, and then plot-duty calls, Jack’s real life calls, and he has to leave. As he does, Noera calls out to him, “Come visit me!":

And Jack leaves without saying anything:

Because it isn’t highschool anymore, right? This guy is in the Big Leagues, he isn’t gonna schlep out to some podunk bar in Long Beach because a dude he used to help do his geometry homework offers him a dri-

Oh, nevermind! Because none of that shit matters, right? We are all just dudes, let’s share a beer.

Marcia stares unaware through the entire scene by the way:

This is Noera’s “culminating moment” for his story, and she doesn’t track it.

Chasey chasey fighty fighty Death Valley journey and Marcia delivers the orb, she wins, with Noera’s help she saves the alien. And so it pulses out a sparkly rainbow, something that could maybe be interpreted as a thank you, and then leaves - giving them absolutely nothing to show for their efforts. Marcia is left on a panning shot, shocked and disappointed, holding a now broken piece of useless glass. She was never the main character of anything. She just ran an errand.

This is such good American Dream commentary! It ends the way all stories about the American Dream end - with it being a sham. Because it is. It’s all narrative, all marketing, all the outside trappings of something disconnected from the inner reality. Since this isn’t a midcentury novel but an anime OVA, the trappings of success aren’t a detached suburban home and 2.5 kids - it's being the hero of an action adventure epic. But fiction is fiction no matter the genre. Marcia doesn’t get that yet - but Noera already did before the VHS tape began to play. And Marcia’s budding realization is paralleled with Noera's own showcase of the socio-economic dilemmas that more typically define the genre - success doesn’t change who you are or what you need.

Once you step back from the sci fi spycraft stuff - which admittedly trails off - and see the themes, the ending is perfect, a sequel would totally ruin this. This is the best 80’s anime OVA commentary on the American Dream done through an otaku lens around. Definitely beats all the others in that category, for sure. Totally.

Anyway if you wanna fight me about my hot take meet me at the Waffen SS bar in 1980’s LA where I will be getting the shit kicked out of me for yelling my center-left political opinions while tipsily standing on the bartop:

All that research and I still have no explanation for this shot.

[pikahlua]

I think the moments where Bakugo, Shoto, Inasa, and Camie touched the hearts of the children during the Remedial Course arc were far better than Ochako's project. Ochako's interaction with the children felt off-putting to me. But Bakugo and the others truly connected with the kids beautiful. What do you think about this project? I can’t help but get reminded of the Remedial Arc, and it makes me frustrated. Don’t you think it’s similar?

I don't really have the energy to dedicate to picking apart 431. It's rushed and full of fluff and barely even cares about the context of the story that led up to it. The content reflects the same level of care as an anime-only OVA. It's not shocking that anything in the 430 chapters that came before it are more meaningful and deep and impactful than its 431 corollary.

And for anyone who's going "Wah wah wah you just hate the ship," I don't really care about the ship. I predicted a bajillion years ago it would end like this and I have consistently stated over and over again I just don't want an epilogue where they're grown up because I hate how these things always destroy the fantasy. I never wanted to see them as adults, not even in 430. It's NOT the best way to end a story and more often than not serves to contradict everything in the story that came before it, AND LO AND BEHOLD THAT'S WHAT WE GOT. And I think it's very conspicuous and telling how Horikoshi chose NOT to serialize this chapter in Weekly Shounen Jump and wrote a disclaimer about his mind-frame when writing it.

Anime/manga endings almost always suck. That's my personal feeling that is probably rooted in my upbringing and culture, but it's how I've always felt. I'm used to it by now. I could probably number the satisfying anime endings I know on one hand.

So yeah, of fucking course the Remedial Arc was better. It was better written by a long-shot. Even the final third of MHA was better written than this nothingburger, and I think Horikoshi knows it. It doesn't deserve the attention everyone is giving it. In fact, I'm cynical enough to suspect it was crafted in a way to piss people off just to get people talking about MHA like this again. I hate that most of all. It's ruined a perfectly wonderful story for so many people, and I am forced to watch from the sidelines in horror as people let this crap usurp their feelings about everything that came before. I'd rather stop feeding into that.

[auclairedetoru]

Alrightyy, hii :3

May I request Levi with a reader who basically grew up around him? Like they were a child when Erwin found them and basically dropped them to Levi's care when he was busy. They have no home or parents and they have been a subject of experiments because of an ability connected to their blood (in my story it's healing but can be anything)

Reader is a 17 yro Survey Corp member but higher up than Eren and the other cadets since they started earlier.

(I'm very sorry if this is way too specific, I'm lowkey just requesting this for oc story purposes <33)

So sorry this is late, life happens lol 😭

tried my best to interpret it as close to your vision as possible. I've never written a reader/oc with powerful abilities, but it was fun to imagine it all and put it into words. I hope you like it 🤍

WARNING!! Spoilers to Levi's story in the OVA.

Levi never thought he'd take someone under his wing after what happened to Furlan and Isabel. He might not have expressed it but constantly losing people he cares about hurts him a lot, that's why he refuses to form any kind of relationship with anyone, too afraid they'll end up dead as well.

But now thanks to Erwin he's stuck with this grumpy kid who is in a very rough shape and whose frown gets deeper every time he looks at them. He was told that they had some sort of powers and that he's the perfect candidate for training them. Levi scoffed when he heard that but eventually agreed to do it.

He was instructed to take them into a random office and get them to talk about what happened to them wherever Erwin found them and then explain what the plan for them is. Time is very precious to Levi though and he has a lot of work he still hasn't finished so he's hoping he'll be done with them in a matter of minutes and send them on their way.

“What's your name again?”

Yeah, he remembers their name, it was the first thing Erwin told him about them, but he had to get them to talk somehow.

They glare at him and look away, their arms tightly crossed across their chest to show that they do not like being here and whatever it is he has planned. Levi sighs with a roll of his eyes. He doesn't like to deal with adults, let alone a kid who probably just became a teen and is starting to develop that shitty teenagers attitude.

“The longer you take to answer the longer you have to sit in this room with me and we both don't want that. So I'll ask again, what's your name?”

That got them to answer him with a mumble of their name. It's nothing major, but it's a step closer to making progress with them and ending this meeting quickly. Levi's not liking being stuck in this situation either and he wants to get it over and done with as fast as possible. He can already feel a headache creeping up on him at the thought of the mountain of paperwork waiting for him in his office. He could've gone through half of them by now.

“Where did you come from?”

“I don't know,” they shrug their shoulders, still refusing to look at him. He raises an eyebrow, where on earth did Erwin find this one? In the underground again? He hopes not. He doesn't want a constant reminder of that god awfully place.

“What do you mean you don't know?”

The kid huffs in frustration, “All I remember is being in the lab, is this what you wanted to know? Can I go now?”

A lab? What lab? He looks down at the paper Erwin gave him with information about them. It only mentions their name, age, physical description, and possible history. There's no mention of a lab or anything similar.

“What were you doing in the lab?”

They scoff and roll their eyes, “I don't know, they wanted to extract my healing abilities or something like that. I might not know how to read and write, but I do know that it's not possible. They wouldn't listen to me, though.”

Levi quickly writes down everything they said to report it back to Erwin, he has a feeling this has nothing to do with the underground, but a more bigger problem.

“what do your healing abilities do exactly?”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“Guess we'll be spending the night here, then.”

Levi doesn't spare them a glance as they throw their head back and groan. He's starting to understand why Erwin brought them here instead of taking them anywhere else. The survey corps could benefit greatly from their abilities, especially during expeditions. Training them will be the hard part, they're very stubborn, but he already has a plan on how to tackle that.

“my blood can heal injuries quickly, the worse the wound is the more blood is needed, but more like a few drops, not a lot. Those greedy bastards at the labs forgot I needed it to survive and got mad when I got sick from them extracting from me every single day without feeding me properly.” the kid scoffs as they remember those stupid blurry faces of the "doctors" yelling at them for passing out. It's not like they could control how their body reacted to literal torture.

“Humans can be very shitty,” Levi mumbles and looks back up at them after he finishes writing down all that they said, “that's why your first training lessons will be in hand to hand combat, you'll also be attending classes to learn how to write and read.”

Their face morphs into a shocked expression, their eyes following him frantically as he stands up and collects his papers, “what? No! I don't want to do all that, I want to leave!”

Levi stares down at them, his expression neutral yet intimidating making them gulp slightly, “you have two choices, either wake up bright and early tomorrow to start your training, or leave and try to fend for yourself, however don't expect those shitty doctors not to find you again.”

Safe to say those last words scared them more than he intended because they immediately get up and follow him wherever he's planning on taking them, as long as they don't go back to those scary experiments and tests.

A couple of years later...

“Captain! There you are!”

Levi turns slightly to look at the smiling 17 year old. A lot of changes have happened in the last few years. Y/n is now a different person than the one he first met. They're a lot more relaxed, a lot more happy. They tell him that it's because of their "very awesome and strong captain" but Levi thinks it's their determination to change that got them to where they are now.

“you're done with training for the day?” he asks them as they walk side by side.

“yep!”, they nod their head, “but Hange told me they need me for the experiments they're gonna do with Eren later today, just in case something goes wrong.”

Levi nods and looks ahead, “make sure four eyes doesn't go crazy with the experiments, the more they go overboard the more they'll use your blood and their stupid brain won't remind them that you're not a never ending fountain of healing.”

The young soldier nods, “will do. Plus, I need to take care of myself for the expedition next month, a lot of people rely on me during those.”

There's a moment of silence between them as they walk inside the building. Their relationship has developed into one where they could both stay silent for hours without it getting awkward or uncomfortable, and they both quite like that. Y/n did turn out to be the talkative type, like they're making up for the years they were practically mute, but they mostly rambled with the other soldiers they befriended, with him however, just his presence made them happy.

“Captain ?”

Levi hums to let them know he's listening.

“If Furlan and Isabel were still... Alive, would I get along with them?”

He pauses and looks over at them. He only talked about those two once, and it happened years ago to help them open up and continue training. He didn't think they'd still remember that talk or ask him about them.

“Maybe with Isabel. You're both a pain in my ass and love animals.”

Y/n nods and continues walking. They want to know more about Levi's past, about his life in the underground, about how he got to his position as a captain at the survey corps. They want to ask the people who knew him before them but at the same time they want to hear it coming from the source itself.

He is actually a huge inspiration for them and they look up to him a lot. He is very skillful and smart and they hoped to become like him one day, maybe not humanity's strongest soldier, but something close to that. Levi isn't just a mentor to them, but something much closer. According to their friends who have families, older brothers protect their younger siblings and teach them how to defend themselves, and that's exactly what the captain does to them, so in their heart he is their older brother.

Y/n bites the bottom of their lips as they look over at him nervously. Levi can sense their stare and he can tell they want to ask something else but are too nervous to do so. He sighs as the slowly approaches his office, “spill it out already, brat.”

“I didn't say anything!”

“But I know you want to say something,” he glances at them from the corner of his eyes, “so hurry up, my time is precious.”

Y/n looks down at their shoes to avoid looking at his intimidating eyes, what they're about to request is something very simple, but they're afraid he'd say no.

“...can I nap in your office?”

Levi scoffs. This habit started years ago and it's one of the things that made him gain their trust. They would nap on the uncomfortable sofa he has in his office while he gets work done. He should've never let them do it in the first place but it all happened by accident and now it became a regular occurrence. He planned on stopping it as soon as it started but then Erwin told him to do it and suddenly he didn't feel like doing it anymore.

He has that in common with y/n, being told to do something they were already planning on doing makes them not want to do it anymore. Now that he thinks about it, Hange and Erwin have mentioned on several occasions that spending so much time with him has turned y/n into a mini version of him. Apparently they have the same stare, same speech, same techniques, they even drink tea the same way he does. He never paid attention to those details, but maybe they were right.

“will that get you to leave me alone and not talk my head off?”

Seeing how they excitedly nodded, Levi sighs and opens the door to let them in. They run straight to the sofa where a pillow and blanket are already waiting for them, just like last time, and the time before that.

He would never admit this, not even to himself, but if you look deep down in his heart, you'd find y/n sleeping on a much more comfortable sofa, in a place where they're protected from any harm, whether it's humans or titans. He cares about them at a level he never felt before. Is this how it feels to care about family? Maybe. He never cared about Kenny like this, but it feels close to how he feels about his mother.

Sometimes he likes to imagine what life would be like if titans didn't exist and he never experienced any traumatic events that turned him into the person he is today. It's not always the same thing, but in every version, y/n is standing next to him, being the annoying brat they are, and he couldn't have them any other way.

Levi doesn't believe in religion, yet each day he prays and hopes that nothing will harm them or take them away from him as it has with others he once cared about. Losing them would be his last straw, it would be the last stab to his heart that kills him.

He looks over at their sleeping form from his seat behind his desk, and in that moment he promises to protect them with all his might, even if it hurts others in the process.

[geekgirles]

Yumalia's Reunion

Back on my Yumalia brainrot, I can't get over all the layers and depths of their brief interaction in episode 11.

The moment Yugo is done defying his mother and forced to watch her leave, for she had long made her choice, Amalia doesn't hesitate to reach out to him and hold his hand, which Yugo immediately squeezes right back. Even with the threat of imminent war for her people's safety, Amalia's first instinct is to go to Yugo and offer whatever comfort she can, and he just lets her because if there's someone who can ground him, it's Amalia.

That's exactly what she did at the end of season 3. Not only did she tell Oropo he would never be Yugo because Yugo would never willingly or knowingly sacrifice anyone for his cause (even during his fight with Ad during the OVAs he always thought his brother would eventually come back), but she unknowingly dissuaded the fears and insecurities that'd been plaguing him throughout the entire season, both regarding his past actions and his own relationship with her. Because even after all they'd been through and his insecurities hurting Amalia deeply, she still chose him, and she still reaffirmed her love for him in such a way it would allow for their interactions in season 4 to be that much more openly affectionate and less restrained.

But not only that, back then she was also there to ground him when Oropo's passing and his absorbing of the Eliotropes overwhelmed him, helping him see all the good despite what they had lost.

And she is doing that yet again when they finally reunite.

But there is so much more going on here. So many emotions running deep between them.

Look at Yugo's expression, that mixture of surprise and awe etched onto his face. I feel like this is the moment where it truly clicks for him just how much he's changed and all the possibilities his new body entails, especially for their relationship. And Amalia is just happy, happy that he is alive and happy that he can finally see and feel like the great king and warrior she always knew was already there.

For the first time since he's met her, Yugo doesn't have to look up to meet his love's eyes, and you can clearly see how the mere thought takes him aback. But I believe there's so much more to it, so many things left unsaid.

He's looking at her like she's finally within reach, and not only because now they're closer in height. Yugo had to spent the last few years of his life watching how the love of his life grew into the most beautiful flower in Sadida's garden, into a queen, while he remained stuck in his child-like body, with only a title for show despite he too being royalty.

It's all in his eyes!

He isn't just looking at Amalia. He is staring at her like a dying man stares at his salvation, like someone who's been wandering in the dessert for ages looks at an oasis. And it's not just because they might finally have a shot, but because she is there and she is real.

Despite Yugo's unrelenting optimism and will, upon being captured by the Nécromes, a part of him had probably been forced to accept he would never see Amalia again, either because he would remain the last of his days as their prisoner, or because she would too fall soon.

Given his predicament, thanks to Oropo and Qilby's intervention, Yugo was most likely running on adrenaline when he noticed the portal in the Sadida forest and what it would mean for Amalia. His mind was set on protecting her, not on the fact that they would be reunited after such a horrible ordeal. And I don't think it really sunk in that he would see her again until she touched him, until she literally became tangible and attainable.

But she is real, and she is with him, they are together again. Only this time, they might actually get to be together.

Look at such level of intimacy! Such tenderness mixed with the underlying unbriddled passion they feel for one another! Yugo might have been shown being okay with revealing his wings to his friends, but he always took the hood off himself; but not with Amalia. With her he trusts her enough to let her do the honours and all he can do is melt under her touch.

Seeing Amalia again after being held prisoner in the Nécroworld and forcibly aged has allowed Yugo to fall in love with her all over again and, more importantly, to finally allow himself to love her with his whole being in return. No more holding back, no more second thoughts, no more take-backs. No more denying themselves what they have been desperately yearning for.

He loves Amalia and she loves him. And he's going to hold onto her for as long as they both live.

And I am so not normal about them.

[eyesxxyou]

Not anon since I actually wanna see this in my notifications if you do this requestlmao:

HOBIE WITH A VIRGIN READER, But:

Plot twist, reader is vulgar, she wears semi-skimpy clothing, always making stupid (yet creative) sex jokes like ‘that’s what she said’ etc, Make-out champ and stuff but in reality she just does whatever and it works for Hobie when it was a wild guess. Like- sexually experienced she definitely isn’t yet always acts confident

Knocking out 2 requests in one

{★} .. hobie brown x black!plus size!reader

rating. m

word count. 2.3k

synopsis. hobie never expected you to be a virgin and he's totally okay with that but you are not.

or

you and hobie mutually masterbate

🍓・．warnings❕no p in v sex, mutual masturbation, unprotected sex not advised, clothed sex, fingering, praise, cum on pussy, pussy job, Hobie as a dick piercing, mentions of religion and blasphemy, aftercare

If you had told Hobie you of all people were a virgin before the two of you had started dating, he would have thought you were pulling his leg. You? You in your skimpy clothes that deliciously left nothing to the imagination? You and the well-developed curves you loved to show off? You and your teasing innuendos? No way in hell you were a virgin, but alas, here you were after making out with him for the past 10 minutes, stalling really because you— in a crop top so small he could see the beginnings of your full breasts and low-rise jeans that showed off your waist beads partially hidden under the pudge of your stomach— had no idea what the hell to do beyond that.

Not that Hobie believed in the concept of “virginity”. He simply believed that people either have had sex before or they haven’t and either way, one does not make the more pure or better than the other. But still, you never had sex? With the confidence you had in your body— confidence well deserved— he assumed that you had left a long line of broken hearts in your sexy stride.

“Well, is this sometin’ you wanna do? I don’ want you to feel like you gotta do anytin’ wit’ me.” Communication was important in moments like these. If he was going to be your first sexual experience, he wanted to make a good impression, didn’t want to leave you scarred and traumatized.

You signed a little, your confident demeanor melting away just a little while you spoke. “I just don’t think I’m ready to go all the way, ya know? I’m sorry if you wanted mor—”

“Don’t be sorry, luv. Never be sorry ova tha’. We don’t gotta do anytin’,” Hobie assured you with a slight caress to your thick thigh the size of his literal head. There was something almost commercial about the difference in your sizes and body types. No one would expect someone so tall and lanky to be with a person so short and chubby but anyone who dared to comment on it could expect get their head bashed in by Hobie’s guitar.

“NO, no, I want to do something, just not that yet. I’m still a little…unsure about it but you think we can try something else?” You asked, hopeful that he’d be down for something a little more unconventional, but you knew Hobie preferred unconventional to anything else. “Of course, wha’cha thinkin’?” He siddled up next to you, his lips caressing the round of your cheek while his hand grasped the fat of your ass. All of this, so much of your to love and worship. He wanted to leave a mark on every piece of flesh he could get his hands on, lavish over every part no revealed to the world, parts few and far between but all the more sacred because of it.

You gently scratched at the nape of his neck while his hands roamed tenderly across you body, careful not to make you uncomfortable and fully prepared to pull away at any sign that you weren’t feeling it anymore. “Let's masturbate in front of each other.”

“You’ve been tinkin’ ‘bout this fo a while, then?” It came too fast from your lips to be anything you thought of on the spot. You slapped him on the shoulder but did not deny his claim because you have. It would be a lie to say you haven’t been thinking of him sitting in one of his many bean bag chairs with his legs spread apart, his hand stroking the length of his cock while he watched you use your fingers to stretch out your unused pussy. You thought about what he’d look like when he came. What the consistency of his cum looked like, what it tasted like. Did he shudder when he came, did he whine a little, did he moan and groan, you needed to know.

“Please Hobie, I really wanna try it.” You pulled back to give him your infamous puppy eyes, hoping that might be what convinces him. If only you knew he’d do absolutely anything you asked him to because his worship of you bordered on the lines of blasphemy. “Of course, luv.”

WIth one last kiss, the two of you parted completely, Hobie getting up to go sit on a chair across from his bed where he left you. A bit anxious, you began to fumble with the button to your your spared jeans in a some rush to get them off like you were going to miss some deadline.

“Come’ere.” Hobie motioned you over with his fingers and without a second to hesitate, you obeyed, walking over to him with a wrinkle in your jeans at your embarrassing attempt to get them off. He reached up, his eyes locking in with yours while his long, slender fingers skillfully doing what your chubby, stout ones could not. His hands traced the curve of your hip as he placed a soft kiss against the pudge of your belly. “Take’em off slow fa me. Gimme a show, luv.” WIth that, he removed his hands from your body and leaned back in the chair to enjoy the performance he prompted you to put on.

Pretending to be sexy was something you absolutely could do. You stepped back a bit, trailing your hands up and down the length of your torso to caress the curves of your body. Hobie let out something of a sigh as you slipped your thumbs into the waist of your pants and the band of your thong to pull them down simultaneously.

You turned around to face away from him, working your pants down your hips and your legs in a seductive manner before taking them all the way to the floor and flashing just a peek of that little pussy of yours at him as you stepped out of your clothes and kicked them to the side. And by the time you turned back around, Hobie already had his cock out, half-hard in his hand as he stroked his twitching length.

It was pretty, long, veiny, chocolate brown in color with a slightly lighter tip leaking dribbles of precum over his knuckles. He had a piercing through the head of it, a Prince Albert. You wanted to kiss it, have it in your mouth, slave over it, suck it like it was your favorite flavor of lolli. Anything Hobie-flavored was your favorite.

You moved back, maintaining eye contact with your boyfriend as the back of your knees his the edge of the bed and you fell onto it, now making eye contact with the thick monster he had between his legs. The sight of it made your pussy quiver at the thought of it being closer, being inside of you one day, fucking the daylights out of you.

"Go ahead, spread those legs fa me, baby. I wanna see tha' pretty pussy of ya's." Hobie sighed out, his cock now to its full length. If he were to let it go, it would rest well to his belly button. He stoked a little harder, anticipating the sight of your cunt on display for him to enjoy and him alone. There was an odd sort of perverted satisfaction he got knowing that you’d never had a sexual experience with anyone else other than him. No one in the entire world got to see this beautiful sight as your propped your feet up on the bed and spread them to reveal your sacred little hole, glistening and wet with arousal leaking out of it.

You used one hand to place behind you so you could hold yourself up while the other was used to rub your fingers in the mess your pussy made of itself, spreading the slick to your clit where you put most of your focus. Hobie hummed from across the room, a soft, wet fapping sound emanating from him as he fucked his hand a little harder, using his precum as lube to slick his path while he pretended it was in fact your sticky juices coating his cock.

You bit your bottom lip, watching with hooded eyes the way he fucked his own hand like he wanted to fuck you, nice and evenly paced but ultimately desperate for release. In some feeble attempt to imitate what his length might feel like stirring up your guts, you slipped a finger into your inexperienced hole, that being the most you could ever manage to fit. But it left you severely disappointed as you knew one of your tiny fingers could never even imagine imitating the length and girth of that pretty cock of his.

You thumb at your clit to the pace that his hand rubbed his cock, his own thumb stroking his sensitive head each time it got the chance to. “Hobie~” You whined for him as your head fell back and your eyes closed, the pleasure of it all so overwhelming. But Hobie snapped at you between breathless groans. “Keep ya eyes on me, baby. I wanna see ya eyes.” So you opened them and looked at him, his hand fucking himself even harder now, his hips bucking uncontrollably from pleasure.

You could only imagine what the sight for him looked like, a finger in your pussy with your thumb on your clit, fingers wet down to the knuckle, lips wet from your tongue. Open and desperate for him as your back arched and your pussy trembled. “Please–” You begged of him. “I want your cum on my cunt. Please…Hobie.” You didn’t just want it, you needed it. You needed to feel the essence of him coating your pussy you wanted your fingers to play in in, to slip your messy fingers into your mouth and taste him.

“You wan’ me to cum on ya pussy, dirty girl?” Hobie began to sit up, ready to give you just what you asked for. You whimpered, nodding in desperation, watching him make his way over and push you back onto the bed. He pulled your hand away from your core and tapped the tip of his weeping cock against your clit, letting out a few wet smacks at the contact before he grabbed the thickest part of your thighs and forced them up to your chest. “‘m gonna give ya jus’ what’cha wan’.” His voice was dark, feral. His piercing glistened with precum as he stroked his cock between your swollen, wet pussy lips.

Everytime he pulled back, his tip positioned itself right at your entrance, always threatening to push itself inside and give you all you were looking for. But it never did. It just stroked yoru hole a bit before gliding over it, his cock rubbing your pussy and clit until you were crying out his name like it was the only thing you could remember to say.

Each stroke of his cock left you more sensitive than the last, each rub of your clit sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body. An orgasm just on the horizon threatened to crash over you and destroy you much like a tsunami. It built itself in the pit of your stomach, your legs trembling and flexing in an attempt to close themselves and cast him out to avoid the unfamiliar feeling but Hobie forced them open without a care. “Open, keep’em open fa me.”

“Hobie, please, I can’t!”

“Yes you can, luv. I’m almost there.” He thrust against your pussy so hard his balls began to slap against your ass. “You wan’ my cum on ya pussy, righ’? You wan’ me to defile you, make ya all dirty fo me?” You nodded vigorously. You wanted that more than anything else in the world right now.

“Then take this dick.” Something about those words sent you over the edge. The tsunami crashed over you and seized your body like a demon. Your back arched off of the bed, muscles spasming and thrashing with an orgasm of an intensity you’ve never felt before. “Hobie!” You cried out his name, pussy spasming as you came. Hobie kept stroking, kept fucking, kept pleasing despite your calls, his breathy moans all you can hear as he nears his own orgasm.

And when it comes, so does he. His hips still and his cock twitches as he releases all over the face of your cunt. He coats your clit, your lips, your hole and paints them in milky white before spreading it about with his cock. “Goood girl.” He cooed at you in praise, slapping his cock in the mess he’s made of you. He claimed you as his, his for life. He owned this pretty pussy. It belonged to him. “Why does this pussy belong to?”

“You, Hobie, you.” You whimpered as he slapped his dick a little more against your pussy, sending jolts of overstimulating pleasure through your body until your toes curled.

“Tha’s righ’, don’ forget i’.” He bent over between your legs and kissed you, sliding his tongue into your mouth as his hand grabbed a fistful of your breasts. His cock was soft now, but it if kept stroking against your pussy, it would quickly be otherwise so he better stop while he’s ahead. “You did so good, luv. So good to me, so good fa me.” He bit your bottom lip as you hummed breathlessly into his mouth. “Lemme get you cleaned up.”

Hobie stood up and tucked himself away before going to the bathroom to grab a washcloth. You heard the water running for a little, some shuffling in the bathroom before Hobie came back with the washcloth damp. He parted your legs a little more and used the cloth to watch you, apologizing with a soft kiss to your knee and you jolted and whined when he went over your clit. And once he’s done he tosses the cloth into the dirty clothes and climbs into bed with you to hold you, whispering soft praises into you ear so you don’t feel used or taken advantage of.

“I love you.” He whispered as you were just on the cusp of slumber and took no offense when you snored softly as a response.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I know it's probably never going to happen because the TWST Anime is focusing on the Manga/light novel version of them instead of the game version, but do you think the anime will have OVAs of the Side Characters events?

Like an OVA beach bonus episode because of the Lost in the Book with Stitch if that makes sense?

[Referencing this news!]

I don’t think we can say for sure one way or another right now. Of course, I’d personally love it if we got vignettes and/or story events animated (the first anniversary PV proved it could be gorgeous 😩), but at this time there is too little information to tell.

I don’t want to say “yes” or “it’s highly likely” because then we might get our hopes up over nothing. I don’t want to say “no” or “probably not” either, because I think it’s fine to speculate or imagine what could be. Not only that, but I think there would have to be some kind of padding for the anime, as there could be periods of content drought for fans of later dorms (whose characters don’t get to show up or do much early on), so as to maintain interest or hype. I don’t know if that would mean full-on OVAs (especially since some events don’t have a lot of story to them if you cut out the sightseeing), but it could mean something smaller, like cameos or anime-exclusive bonus scenes or short adaptations or mentions of vignettes.

[no1ryomafan]

Ranting in my server how much it saddens me mechas impact on Japan is unknown in the states even now because most people don’t know of the old shows that brought up the genre especially when the take of “Evangelion is a deconstruction of mecha” is still a take I’ve unironically heard in this year-from one of my fucking irls no less-because I learn more and more how crucial this genre was to Japan-

but than I turn around and ago “yeah I watched maybe 4 mechas and don’t have the desire to really watch more even if there’s some I should probably get too” and I wonder if this makes me come off as a worse “umh actuahlly” person or this is showing how awful my commitment skills to anything as of late have been given there’s NON mecha anime I still need to watch.

[flowerandblood]

The Void of the Sky

[ canon • Ettore x doctor's assistant • female ]

[ warnings: dubcon, sex content, smut, angst, domination kink, aggressive behavior, rape attempts, violence, swearing, unprotected sex, description of wounds ]

[ description: Ettore decides to take part in a space experiment from which he guesses he will never return. Already on the ship, his attention is drawn to a young girl who turns out to be the assistant of the fucked-up doctor Dibs. Obsession, self-destructive behavior, verbal and physical aggression, sexual tension. ]

Author's note: This is my first story with Ettore, which was inspired by a request, it was supposed to be just a oneshot. This was very strange and disturbing to write, let me know if you would like further parts describing the story of this couple!

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He already knew this when he sat in this fucking ship, when he saw her in front of him – her tired, terrified gaze, her resignation, her fear. She looked at him as if believing that no matter what he had done in the past he understood her and what she was experiencing, that they were going through what was about to happen to them together.

What they were doomed to.

They glanced at each other all the way to the space station from which they were to fly away never to return. He watched her wordlessly – her long lashes, her pleasantly rounded cheeks, her plump, puffy lips glistening in the disturbing blue light.

He thought, looking boredly around the ship at the other female faces, that if he had to choose which one he would fuck first, he would choose her.

She was pretty, her figure girlish, she seemed fragile to him – he decided that he would easily squash her to the mattress or the floor, one or two punches of his fist on that soft face and she would let him do to her whatever he wanted.

He knew that, like him, all the crew members selected for the mission were criminals sentenced to life imprisonment and he wondered what such an inconspicuous person could have done.

Perhaps she was not as vulnerable as she seemed to him at first glance.

He grinned involuntarily at the thought, deciding that he needed to find out.

How much force he would have to put in to get her to finally stop resisting him, whether he would have to hit her face with his fist until she lost consciousness, making her look like a squashed tomato, or whether it would be enough for him to choke her a little, ordering her to shut up the fuck.

He sighed quietly, tilting his head back, feeling a pleasant pulsing in his cock at the thought, recognising that sooner or later he would put his plan into action.

He was patient.

As it turned out, she wasn't a regular crew member, but an assistant to Dr Dibs, that dumb whore playing God, who on top of that announced that there was a complete prohibition on sexual intercourse on the spaceship.

He would come into their office to give his sperm just to look at her; while Dr Dibs was sitting over the microscope, apparently selecting the most fertile ova, she was writing something, obviously taking notes, always looking at him when he came in – he would grin involuntarily, wondering if she had heard the smack of his hand against his balls while he was jerking off.

As he left, handing Dibs the vessel, he always looked at her, but she no longer bestowed a single glance on him, frustrating him.

"I want my treat." He growled in her direction, wishing she would bestow at least one fucking look on him and not act like a spoiled little bitch, but it was Dibs who would give him the pill, which he would immediately put in his mouth, not taking his eyes off her as he left.

He knew she sensed what he wanted to do to her and was prepared for it.

It was a simple, animal, primal need.

He could satisfy it with anyone or by himself, but he always came back to her anyway.

To his displeasure, it turned out that her position for some reason came with additional privileges, such as a separate cabin in which she slept.

She did not have to clean or tend the garden, her duties being limited to taking notes, treating wounds and overseeing the energy system of the entire spaceship.

She was the opposite of Dr Dibs and her cool sociopathy – he knew that on several occasions she had helped the female part of the crew to get rid of the unwanted effect of her experiment.

Once, while wiping the floor on his knees, he witnessed Dibs slap her, apparently realizing that she was acting behind her back.

"Who the fuck do you think you are? Don't you ever do that again. Do you understand? Your job is to make reports." She hissed, digging her finger into her chest – she snorted under her breath, staring at her with pity and moved ahead.

"You will never become a mother." She said calmly, walking past him, throwing him one intense look before disappearing behind the door of her cabin.

He watched her like a predator, her routine, her habits – he knew exactly her schedule, hours and days of the week when she replaced Dibs in her duties.

One day, knowing that she would be alone and the rest of the crew were busy with their tasks, he left the garden and headed for her office, deciding that this was the day.

He stood in the doorway without making a sound, simply looking at her, her back turned to him, bent over some pills which she was obviously sorting.

He approached her silently, his large hand muffling the scream of surprise that broke from her throat – he cursed loudly as she, with a swift, sure movement, stabbed his arm with a scalpel which she apparently had hidden in the pocket of her medical apron.

He let her go, enraged, pulling the blade out of his arm with a hiss and slapped her across the face with all his might. She fell to the ground as if stunned and stupefied – with a brutal movement he flipped her onto her back and crushed her with his body, trying to slide down his trousers.

"− don't you fuckin' dare −" He growled, grabbing her quickly by the wrist in which she held another scalpel. He snatched it forcibly from between her fingers and threw it far to the floor with a clang of steel, his hands quickly searched her pockets for other sharp objects – he grinned under his breath as he felt a razor blade under his fingertips.

"− I see you've prepared well, hm? − like to struggle a bit first? −" He asked with some kind of amusement while she drew in the air loudly and slammed him on the head with her forehead using all her strength – he growled with rage and punched her in the face with his fist, clenching his fingers on her cheeks, a big red bruise under her eye.

She didn't scream or lash out, she just looked at him, breathing hard, trying to push him away – he wondered how there was so much fucking strength and will to fight in such a small petite being.

"− Ettore, for fuck's sake − use the box −" She growled angrily, feeling him rub his swollen erection between her thighs, an impatient, loud sigh of pleasure escaped his lips.

"− I prefer your cunt − tight and warm −" He gasped as he grabbed the material of her panties with an aggressive, sure motion of his fingers, ripping them off in one violent stroke – she surprised him when she lifted herself up and bit his cheek as hard as if she wanted to bite off a big piece of his skin.

"− FUCK − FUCK − LET GO, YOU FUCKIN' WHORE! −" He groaned hitting her on the head with his open palm – he heard a scream behind him a moment later, Dibs and Monte ran into the office, dragging him away.

She was lying on her back breathing heavily, looking at him and shook her head disapprovingly, as if he was a small disobedient child, her lips red with his blood.

"− let him go, Monte −" She said softly, adjusting the material of her skirt, Dr Dibs helped her up and looked at him tightening her lips, her brow furrowed in disapproval.

"− fucking animal − you're prohibited from using the box for five days −" Dibs ordered, and he snarled under his breath, pulling himself out of Monte's grasp and left, calling her a stupid old cunt under his breath, rubbing his sore cheek.

Small wounds in the shape of her teeth remained on his face for the next few days, making him realize that the matter would not be as easy as he thought.

She was unpredictable.

Just like him.

He would annoy and provoke Monte and Tcherny to get into a fight with them only to have them beat the crap out of him, and he would end up at her door with cut lips, bruises and other injuries that she was obliged to take care of.

She did this, but she always strapped him to the doctor's chair first, tightening special black belts around his wrists, attached to the whole structure at the sides of his body so that he couldn't touch her.

His manhood throbbed greedily in his trousers as she leaned over him, her face calm and focused, sad, her hand holding cotton swabs soaked in antiseptic liquid to gently wash his swollen, sore wounds.

She never used latex gloves, as if she was thus allowing him at least a little intimacy, the touch of her naked body.

He pressed his cheek to her palm, closing his eyes, and she froze for a moment, letting him feel the warmth and softness of her skin – she smelled of soap, her fingers long and delicate, made only for admiration, not defence.

He sighed when she stroked his cheek with her thumb, not opening his eyes – he could feel her looking at him, her warm breath enveloping his face.

"You have to stop." She said quietly, but her soft fingers didn't stop brushing his face. They ran over it like a map, touching his mouth, nose, cheeks, eyebrows, jaw so gently and tenderly that he just fell asleep – he thought he felt her warm, moist lips pressed against his forehead for a moment.

When he woke up, he was already unstrapped, there was no one in the office.

Eventually he began to come to her for no reason, circling around the doctor's office pretending with curiosity to look at what stood on the shelves and in the cabinets – he saw out of the corner of his eye that there were always a few scalpels lying next to her on the desk, just in case.

"You shouldn't be here." She sighed, bent over her notes as usual. He hummed under his breath, glancing at one of the containers filled with pills – he shook it, and they clattered loudly inside.

"You don't take part in these fucked-up experiments of Dibs. You don't use the box. Why?" He asked casually, putting his hands in the pockets of his red trousers, turning and heading towards the gynaecology chair, looking at it intrigued.

"I prefer the touch of my own hand. It's soft and warm." She replied calmly, writing something down quickly.

He glanced at her over his shoulder, wondering whether or not she would have had time to grab a scalpel in her hand if he had stepped behind her and knocked her over along with the chair.

"What about the touch of someone else's hand? Hm?" He grunted, heading towards her, but she stood up; he stopped seeing that her hand immediately reached for the blade and clamped down on it confidently, her breasts rising and falling in accelerated breath.

"No." She said warningly.

"I think about it every day, you know? About what I would do to you, how wet your pussy would be for me. Cuz I know you're wet now. Always lookin' at me with those big fuckin' puppy eyes." He muttered, making another attempt, walking forward with a slow, lazy step, her hand holding the blade raised.

"Put it the fuck down. We'll do it either your way or my way. No third option. Take of your panties. C'mon." He encouraged her with a nod, not pulling his hand out of his trousers, his swollen, throbbing cock clearly outlined against the material of his pants.

She stared at him in disbelief, breathing loudly – he bit his bottom lip seeing that she lowered her hand slowly, her gaze scared and distrustful, full of doubt.

"We'll do it my way." She mumbled quietly.

"Fine." He replied indifferently, feeling that he was completely hard, waiting for her move.

He watched as she flicked sheets of paper off her desk with her free hand, sitting down on it, still holding the scalpel in her other hand.

"Come." She said softly, spreading her thighs wide – he approached her, without asking pulling her shoes off her feet, sliding the material of her underwear off her thighs, his movements confident and swift.

He stood in front of her, with a nimble flick of his fingers releasing his swollen, throbbing erection from under his trousers and drew her to him, putting his arm around her waist – she placed her hand on his chest, her lips parted slightly, her gaze hazy and dark, her body trembling in his embrace.

"− don't be brutal − take it slow −" She muttered in a shaky voice, and he only snorted under his breath with a grin, recognising that he had waited so long for this that he could actually enjoy the moment, feeling that he wouldn't last long anyway.

He grasped his manhood in his hand giving it a few sure, quick squeezes and guided its pink, thick head against her entrance, glistening from her wetness in the red light.

They both sighed as he began to push into her, doing so at an agonising pace from which they both closed their eyes, her fleshy insides hot and tight, pulsing all around him, sucking him inside.

"− ah − yes −" She whispered and he licked his lips, forcing her to fit it all in with deep, slow thrust of his fat cock, his large palms digging into the pleasantly soft skin of her plump buttocks as she mewled from exertion.

"− fuck −" She mumbled, obviously surprised by his size and how shocking the sensation was after such a long period of sexual abstinence, his manhood all sticky with her moisture.

She put her arms around his neck as he slid out of her slowly almost all the way, only to sink again into her warm walls with a calm, unhurried motion of his hips, both of them watching as his swollen length spread her wide open.

"− fuckin' knew it − just look at it − such a perfect little pussy −" He purred out delighted with the sensation, never having done it this way before in his life, his cock twitched all over with pleasure deep inside her, making him know he wouldn't last long.

Although he could just take what he wanted, he liked what he felt, the heat and tension wonderfully filling his lower abdomen each time the thrust of his hips forced him inside her warm, pulsing core again.

He pressed his forehead against hers when he heard her first shy moans, running his lips over hers, puffy, moist and soft, not giving her full kisses, speeding up suddenly, their naked bodies smacking against each other with loud, sticky splats.

"− oh God −" She whimpered, stroking his neck and cheeks. She burshed his lips tentatively, looking up at him with dreamy eyes as his cock slammed deep into her delicate body again and again – he grabbed her by the hair with one hand, tilting her head back with a brutal movement of his arm.

"− when you need to fuck, you will come to me − if I catch you touching yourself, you'll suck my cock until you start chokin' on my cum, that's how many times I'm going to come down your throat − got it? −" He exhaled in between sure, deep, aggressive thrusts, his cock rooting into her faster and faster with loud slaps of his naked thighs against her buttocks, barely slipping out of her – he felt her clench hard on him at his words, giving him a wonderful squeeze from which he groaned low.

"− y-yes −" She mumbled, responding to his thrusts by bucking her hips out towards him – he snorted, smirking spitefully, somehow impressed by her devotion, his thighs all sticky from her moisture.

"− that's my girl − fuck, 'm close −" He gasped in delight, pounding into her like mad, the tips of his fingers digging into her hot, firm buttocks.

"− n-no, not inside me! −" She mewled out but he closed her mouth with his, forcing his tongue deep into her throat, muffling her moans, clamping his hands firmly on her ass so she couldn't escape him, cumming with a loud sigh of relief, his warm semen spilling deep inside her.

She cried out in rage and slapped his shoulder, clenching her eyes shut, coming hard on his cock. He felt convulsions run through her whole body, her walls began to clench against him and suck him inside – he kept pounding into her for a while with sloppy, messy thrusts of his hips.

He pushed her closer to him with a brutal gesture, embracing her around the waist, his other hand holding her hair so that her puffy, sweet lips didn't pull away from his, kissing her lazily for a while longer, continuing to rock inside her with the lewd click of their shared moisture.

He pressed his forehead against hers, breathing hard, looking at her with curiosity and satisfaction, thinking that perhaps they would find common ground after all.

"− see you tomorrow − and no fuckin' touching −"

_____

General Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@triscy @re-per @diiickbrainn @queenofshinigamis @eponaartemisa @zaldritzosrose @writerloversjm @lauzy87 @targaryenrealnessdarling @briefcollectivepersona @ginarely-blog @lcecgg

[leiascully]

what about… a short msr bathtub fic, but only if you feel like it.

It got a little out of hand, so have 1300 words of bathtub fic. TW: infertility mention/IVF arc.

She answers the door wearing a robe. He steps in quietly and she locks the door behind him. She looks soft and small despite the bulk of the terrycloth, her bare feet silent on the floor. She takes his hand without speaking and leads him across her apartment.

The bathroom is full of steam; it swirls out when she opens the door. She draws him in. With the door shut, it’s as if they’re sealed away in another world. Water thunders into the tub, capped with a thick layer of quivering bubbles. He can see particles of mist in the air. Sounds seem muffled. She turns away, lets the robe slip off her shoulders. He turns his back hastily, but he can see a sliver of her side in the mirror: pale skin, a compact curve from rib to hip, an arc of lurid ink. He closes his eyes and unbuttons his shirt.

She called him earlier, an exchange of mostly breath. It wasn’t out of character; they’d both picked up the phone before just to know the other one was on the other end. At last, she said, “Please come over”, and the smallness of the request broke something in him. She should have known he’d do anything for her. He’d been to Antarctica and the graveyard and the IVF clinic for her, sat in filthy rooms and sterile ones, waiting for news.

Now he stands in her bathroom undressing. He can hear the taps creak off and the water swirl as she gets into the tub. There is an air of unreality to it: the steam, the heavy scent of bergamot, the unaccustomed glimpses of skin. He’s seen her naked before, but those moments were dictated by circumstance. This is her choice.

He toes off his shoes, folds his shirt and his jeans over them, drops his socks and his boxers on the top of the pile. When he turns, she’s tucked herself into the end of the tub, sitting with her knees drawn up. He climbs into the other end, hands braced on the sides. The water rises according to the principles of Archimedes, brimming toward her knees. Their toes touch in the center of the tub. He loops his arms around his bent knees, holding himself together, giving her space.

They sit like that in silence, quarantined at their separate ends. Together but not. She lets out a long shaky breath.

The water is hot enough to prickle at his skin. Scully is already flushed, tendrils of hair curling around her face. He’s trying not to look, he swears he’s trying not to look, but he’s always been transfixed by her.

“I’m tired,” she says at last.

“I know.” He studies her, keeping his eyes above her neck.

“I wanted….” Her voice breaks. She swallows. “Mulder, I really wanted it to work.”

“I know.” He rests his hand on the side of the tub, there if she’s ready to reach for it. She tangles her fingers with his.

“Did you?” Her eyes search his face. This is the moment, he understands. This is what could make or break them, after everything they’ve endured. Total honesty or nothing.

“Yeah,” he says, nearly choking on the word. “Yeah, I did.” He closes his eyes against the swell of emotion that makes his chest ache. A child. With her. He wanted that. He wanted it so badly he never allowed himself to know how much it meant until it wasn’t plausible anymore. He wondered about it from the moment he found her ova, wanted it badly from the first time he saw her with Emily.

In a way, he’s ashamed he feels this way. It’s such a cliché, to want to see her bear his child. It feels old-fashioned, even chauvinistic. There’s something primal about how territorial he felt about her during the IVF process. He felt larger, heavier, sensitive to her relative delicacy. He prowled at her side, showing his eyeteeth to Skinner, sensitive to any attempt to invade their pride of two.

He had some secret knowledge of her then, despite the fact they’d never made love. His seed inside her made her his woman. He hates that he enjoyed the thought: she belongs to herself first. But a baby would be a shared responsibility, immutable in a way their assignment to the X-Files isn’t. It would change both of their lives irreversibly. It would link them forever. He wants it so badly he can’t breathe.

The water ripples. He opens his eyes. She’s kneeling now in front of him, a supplicant. She puts her hands on his knees, her hot palms cupped over his skin. Scully has touched him everywhere, maybe, but not here.

“Will you kiss me?” she asks, and his heart breaks all over again.

“Anything,” he says, the way he should have years ago, the way he should have months ago when she first asked him. “Scully, I’d give you anything.”

He’d been terrified then. He’s terrified now. They have been standing on a precipice for so long, their backs to the abyss. The road has been steep and rocky; at times they’ve had to blaze their own trail. There are higher peaks, perhaps, higher truths, but they’re weary of climbing to the pinnacle to find more mountains beyond. He thinks that a paradise might await, if only they can take a leap of faith. She’s the only thing he has faith in, these days.

He leans forward, takes her face in his hands, studies her. Her eyes gleam. She’s got that little crease between her brows that bespeaks great internal turmoil. She studies his face.

“Scully,” he says tenderly. He strokes her hair back. His fingertips find her jaw and gently draw her forward. She leans closer, her weight supported on her hands on his splayed knees. He angles to meet her halfway. His lips brush hers. A butterfly’s wing, the lightest breathless touch.

The world shifts. In his heart, a hurricane forms.

How could he have been afraid of this? How could he not have been?

He can count the number of times they’ve kissed on one hand before tonight and not even use all his fingers. It’s magic every time. This time, it transforms them. The leaden tension that’s hung heavy between them since Diana’s return is transmuted into gold, pure and soft and shining. Her mouth opens in sudden hunger, asking urgent questions, and he answers, pulling her close.

It all feels like a dream. Their hands slide smoothly over slick skin, leaving trails of bubbles. He stretches out his legs and it seems she floats into his lap. Everything is easy. Everything is simple. He touches her breasts, her hips. She balances herself with a hand on his chest as she sinks onto him. They draw pleasure out of each other with lips and fingers, with hot breath and sweet words. She rests her forehead against his as she comes and pants against his mouth. The water sloshes as his body shudders under hers.

They towel each other off, after, moving slowly and gently. Scully’s towels are warm and soft as a Downy commercial, or maybe it’s just that everything feels like a miracle. Her mattress yields to their combined weight as comfortably as if they’ve slept together every night for years. Her bare skin against his is heaven. She exceeds his expectations, always. He knew she would. Still, this kind of solace seemed unimaginable. Fictional. They had written themselves out of happy endings. Now here it is, some blissful twist to their story. He can give up his holy quest: the Grail is in his arms.

“One more round,” he says. It’s a question and a promise. His fingers are splayed over her belly. He tries to ignore the softness of her, tries not to imagine a fecund swell instead. His imagination has always run wild.

“I’ve exhausted my resources,” she says in a small distant voice.

“I sold my father’s house,” he tells her. “Let me do this for you.”

“For me?” she asks.

His heart swells. He pulls her closer, nuzzling into her hair. “For us.”

“For us,” she whispers. She clutches his hands to her breast.

“I love you,” he says, and the once-bitter words are honey on his tongue.

[kots-kots]

AU where Jotaro stops N'Doul from commit die and he joins the Crusaders. I think he'd fit better than Hol Horse, as much as I like that concept too. He's honourable and really intelligent, and he went out of his way to spare Iggy so he really isn't as evil as he says he is. Plus, there's a lot of potential for character growth where he goes from serving and fearing Dio for the barest minimum of being nice to him, to being treated as a friend and equal by the Crusaders and realising he deserves better.

I also think he'd get along well with the Crusaders, especially Jotaro. Kakyoin would be extremely salty at first but he'd warm up to him eventually with their similar backgrounds. Joseph constantly makes Daredevil references N'Doul absolutely does not get, but he'd be welcoming. Polnareff probably accepts him easily too. Avdol might be suspicious for a while but he'd be happy to have a friend who shares his native tongue.

A little off-topic but I could see him befriending Wamuu too.

I love him so much. I have a list of headcanons I made for him, he's such a fascinating character.

(Also if you have not seen the OVA version of the fight between Jotaro and N'Doul I really recommend it!)

interesting.. i never would’ve considered n’doul to join the crusaders but I see the potential

I feel like if wamuu were to meet him they’d bond over the utilization of their different strengths and stuff like dat >_<

also!!! I rlly need to watch the ova oh my goodness the animation looks so GOOD

[kerubimcrepin]

Wakfu OVA - Book 3, Dragon Mountain [PART 1]

Amalia he is handing you all out the Twelvian equivalent of six nuclear devices.

Amalia: [asks Joris]

Kerubim: [replies instead of Joris]

Second most batshit thing he's doing after the whole "speaking over him in private" thing. He's so evil dad energy.

Joris having to do the thing most of us know as "mom stooop she already got it."

AND after Keke stops talking he starts answering the question she asked him himself.

Once again, what seems like a normal interaction to most, is a goldmine to me.

Literally the funniest possible thing a guy who keeps losing Dofus, and had to stop being Ebony's guardian due to "interpersonal issues with the dragon", can say.

I never mentioned this previously, but one really cool detail is that even though he probably can't use them, the Dofus do react to Joris's touch — thanks to his dragonized nature.

Since the OVAs came out before the movie, this drove a lot of people a little bit crazy.

Big fan of Atch and Keke standing silently and looking vaguely worried about things.

I'M INSANE.

OF COURSE KERUBIM CREPIN WOULD REACT TO THIS. HE'S DAD.

I can read into things soooo well. I can read into them so easily. It comes like breathing to me.

[puts on tinfoil hat] Yes Kerubim wants to come back home together with Atcham and Joris, but also, Kerubim is seen pushing Joris towards his responsibilities, so I wonder if he feels a sense of guilt for the person Joris has become (guy who will die if he isn't saving the world).

lL;sdf;epor21301;;;; aksdkmaljwijahcfaw j

Anyway, I'm liking the fact that Kerubim and Atcham decided not to come with. Letting Joris have fun (type 3 fun, to be exact) with his friends <3 without making him feel weird by hovering around.

I have thought for years what Joris allowing Yugo to risk the end of the world for Tristepin might mean for his character. It doesn't feel out of character, far from it, — though it would be just as in-character if he was (softly) against this.

I think it's just one of Joris's many multitudes. He has very strong ("strong") morals, until people he cares about are involved.

Besides that, as someone who was alive before Ogrest's Chaos, I do think he'd love for the flooding of the world to stop, which might also be a factor in him not resisting the Brotherhood of Tofu's dangerous decisions here.

Just like OVA 2 was win after win after win after win for Crepinjurgenites, I think this OVA is kind of a big win for Adamai and Yugo fans.

Anyway the way Joris and Ruel are watching this happen is so fucking funny I can't. They really said 😬 and 😐

Joris hesitates before joining in.... because he's not a part of their friend group (but he wishes he were)

Personally, I think he joined in after seeing Otomai do so. It felt less awkward/presumptious. We don't see him lay his hand on Ruel — it cuts away to Otomai before that happens, which makes me consider this possibility.

OVA 3 makes me wish for an alternate season 3 that doesn't suck ass and actually handles Adamai's arc well. My suffering is so real and poignant.

THAT'S WHAT I WAS TALKING ABOUT. HE WAS SILENTLY STANDING THERE THINKING "Adamai is right though..." and doing NOTHING. Because he's sick in the head.

GET SCARED.

When I first watched the OVAs, I thought that these were all his past lives, and not the fucking Eliotropes. I wish life was kinder 😔

Joris "50 traumagenic psychological disorders" Jurgen ready to attack things at the drop of a hat like a wild animal.

Cutie-patootie shielding his eyes and groaning all pissed off at Yugo for doing whatever scary shit he just did.

Staring at Otomai.

While Otomai is staring at him.

He replies to her as if his own reaction to this wasn't O_O

Ngl I feel like having Grougalorasalar (the #coguette #female manipulator dragon), Dardondakal (??? the cringe warcrime dragon), and Goultard's Gay Lover Doomed By The Narrative inside your head would give anyone brainrot that leads them to cause an apocalypse to happen.

AND there are three other guys in there. And all six of them are eating holes into his brain.

Your honor, Ogrest just had a silly little time and we should forgive him for it.

[clears throat and approaches the mic] Ogrest and Otomai are good but. What if another father-son duo also had a scene where the son threatens to hurt his father if he doesn't leave him alone. Wouldn't it be cool. Haha. There are tons of father-son duos in this franchise! Tumblr user @jorisjurgen, also known as @kerubimcrepin, is not pointing at any pair of characters in particular — I just think a son should threaten to kill his father at least once more in this franchise.