#its about....... the Juxtaposition. its about..... the Contrast

[heavenpierceher]

just played portal 2 for the first time yes somehow ive never played it before. reposting my thoughts as i played here:

I fucking hate wheatley. Little white cuck ball

As i understand it wheatley turns out to be like Secretly Evil later or whatever but like he’s so blatantly passive aggressive and casually shitty to you that i don’t see how anyone didn’t go okay fuck this guy immediately. Like he’s clearly acting as a sort of arm of aperture itself which constantly bombards you with like jokingly ableist/eugenicist/classist/misogynistic shit

like the juxtaposition of him being a huge asshole because he thinks you have brain damage and the announcer being like ‘ok if you’re old or stupid go back to your Primitive Tribe so we can have Good Subjects for Progress’ is 110% deliberate

also him assuming the person who killed glados was male LMAO

I want glados so bad

Some arasaka tower shit is happening to me

My psionic warriors find me art of chell dribbling and dunking wheatley like a basketball

Glados wants me so bad

my coworker losing his mindddddd 😂 😂 😂

I’m finding these puzzles easier than portal 1 but like in a good way. more intuitive

Also this has almost certainly been said before at length but god valve is so so so good at environmental design

HL is really good too obviously but it really shines in portal where they get to play with contrasts

the really harsh visual contrast between all of portal and the escape stages and the fact that you can see hints of it before it happens. chefs kiss

Single biggest visual improvement: the scary fucked up water that kills you

Yeah I do wish id played this earlier LMAO

glados hums me beautiful songs

I’m imagining that literally none of this is landing for chell like she doesn’t care. and/or glados is just making shit up and so chell also doesn’t care

wheres the dev thing where they were like ‘chell doesn’t talk because she’s just fucking pissed’

She's literally obsessed with me

Genuinely why does anyone like wheatley I'm gonna crush this little shit like a soda can

Guy accuses a woman who has literally never spoken to him or responded to a thing hes said of being bossy

At least the ways in which cave johnson sucks are really funny

i was talking about how wheatley is kind of a stand-in for aperture as an entity and i think cj is a continuation of that. like the above screenshot lines up as being an evolution of cj’s distaste for the ‘lab boys’ and ‘bean counters’; a top-down disdain for the people actually making ‘progress’ possible and keeping things running

me when i have 60 dollars

Valve in particular has a way of making its social commentary so pointed and over the top that its funniness almost but not quite overshadows the point it’s making. In a good way let me be clear

Like it’s so ridiculous you almost forget it’s criticizing/interrogating real phenomena that it’s honestly not depicting that absurdly because everything is very very intentional

i like the idea of chell being like. essentially an ordinary uninvolved person as much as she can be just thematically. glados is petty in the way that humans are petty, she chooses insults that are like… low-hanging fruit because of the environment she was cultivated in, so i think it’s both funnier and more thematically resonant if chell is like. Not even a little bit emotionally affected by glados fucking with her she’s just like Get me out of hereeeeee

A lot of people’s theories about this game seem to rely on glados being truthful which is fucking hilarious

woman who is making shit up to fuck with you: I am making shit up to fuck with you gamers: goly FUCK theory #CONFIRMED?????????????

aw hell no not the aperture science ejaculation gel

Wheatley can you quit jacking off over mic. Genuinely discusses me I hope he explodes

I do not want him to experience pleasure in any form much less as a result of my actions

The fucked up turretcubes are very cute though. Like hermitcrabs

Oh hey it’s the part where he kills me

this is a really good visual gag

Genuinely how does anyone admit to wanting to fuck wheatley how is that not an incredibly embarrassing thing to admit to

how sexist the adventure sphere is was funny and again it is not common for me to say that. valve just knows what they're doing

She’s holding my hand…

Rent free in her fucking head

Rent. Free.

Literally obsessed with me.

I don’t think it’s supposed to do this but it’s on a black screen with no options and has been for like five minutes and i sat there for the entire five minutes like ‘wow this is so poignant…’

Anyway yeah that kicked ass

[fishofthewoods]

yknow while I'm baldursgateposting I've had another thought. There's a lot to be said about the dynamic between The Dark Urge & Astarion but one level that i haven't seen many people talk about is the juxtaposition between "Guy that can't get away from the gods' influence no matter how hard they try" and "Guy that can't get his prayers answered no matter how many gods he prays to"

[sandflakedraws]

in other news it absolutely tickles me that hickory's speaking voice is low, but he sings tenor, and floyd's speaking voice is light, but he sings baritone.

thoroughly tickled by this

[yonpote]

dan and phil are so appealing because they are the pinnacle of gap moe. in this essay i

[theheightofdishonor]

when I mean quit traumatising me with thoughts about a volleyball manga, I meant it. What am I supposed to do with the knowledge that Hinata knew his weakness from the start and seeking individual growth (greed being a positive thing) doesn’t make him any less of a team player? Or that their extreme love for volleyball is what isolated them until they found each other? (or how entirely besotted Kageyama was with Hinata right from the start lmao) But really, reading your posts give me a greater appreciation for the manga and I didn’t even know that was possible! Thank you for your analysis, although I will be suing for psychic damage every time I see your posts in my feed because I end up thinking about them too much. I really like that you love Haikyuu so much, that love is contagious and you make me like it more.

Dunno, personally I find it fun to inflict my brain rot on others. The joy of suffering together or whatnot.

As for what to do with it, you can always just spin all that around your head for eternity and spit it out in various ways the way I've been doing for like 2-4 years now. Or use it to extrapolate even more insane heartbreaking headcanons and aus. They're both fun!

(Re: kageyama being besotted for hinata, that reminds me I have a post somewhere about kageyamas canon three step journey of falling in love with hinata but idk where it is. If I have time to find it I'll repost it for you because it's a good post (they make me want to chew on glass))

Im glad that I make you love hq more because honestly, there's few things better than being able to share your love of something with someone else and when you can bond with other people over that shared interest. It's sooo delightful. And like personally, interacting and having conversations and talking at people makes me like it and think about it more. It's also the way that i flesh out my thoughts. Whenever I post something especially long on here, it usually because I talked about it recently to or at someone.

Feel free to sue me for psychic damage, I find the idea utterly delightful but also you're really to blame because your asks make my day and make me want to write more about hq and kagehina

[secriden]

Just going to cry again (see: my previous post about the parallels between the storage room scene and the abandoned factory scene) about parallels and juxtapositions in the store room scene vs the one in Styles bedroom:

Both these scenes have such a tone of desperation and are characterised by an overflowing of emotions, but in drastically opposite directions.

(Note, some of what I say in this post directly relates to concepts and themes I talked about here, so it may not wholly make sense without that context.)

The scene in the storeroom is filled with frustrated desire. Fadel kisses Style because he wants Style's body and also wants to take his frustrations at Style out on his body. He doesn't need to look Style in the eye (and in fact very intentionally only does so only in small snatches) because this isn't about a connection as much as it is about a release. Fadel's kisses come fast, hard, and are intended to bruise more than to adore.

But episode 5's scene is filled with much more quiet and tender sort of desire. Style is kissing Fadel so much more slowly and purposefully. He keeps looking back at Fadel, checking in to see how he feels and whether Fadel is enjoying it. Everything Style wanted in Episode 3, he now gives to Fadel here, pours the secrets of his knowing and choosing Fadel anyway into the way he presses his lips onto Fadel's skin. His kisses linger, they carry a weight but are not gentle, and contain meaning that Fadel's kisses couldn't in Episode 3 because in all honesty they were relative strangers back then.

There's also the way there's such a ferocity and carelessness in the way Fadel starts the encounter in episode 3 that is juxtaposed beautifully by the slow, tender, almost hesitant way Style slides his lips onto Fadel's. Both of them are in such different headspaces, between these episodes and its especially evident in the way they care so much more about the other person's comfort and how intentionally they showed that to the audience.

There's hunger present in both scenes but what this hunger is focused on is so drastically different. In the storeroom, they're both mainly focused on a physical release; its primal and visceral but lacked emotional resonance. Fadel gives Style what he knows Style wants (that hint of danger, with the hand on his neck), but its not because he really cares about what Style wants on anything more than a physical level. In Style's bedroom, however, Fadel is drunk (intentionally and by his own design) and desperate to open himself up to Style on an emotional level. Meanwhile, Style wants that desperately too, but knows that Fadel shouldn't because of his own terrible secret. So this kiss is what they both will allow themselves - an honesty and a hunger for this deeper connection they can only share in act but not in words.

In the storeroom, Style wants Fadel to want more than his body but knows (or thinks) he can't push for it yet, so he remains passive, lets Fadel do whatever he wants, lets him turn and shove and place Style how he wants because at this point, this is all Fadel will give him. Here, Style is passive in spite of what he wants. But in the bedroom, Fadel is passive because it's what he wants; he wants to let Style do whatever he desires to and with Fadel's body. He wants to lay himself as bare as he possibly can, which is only physical, and so he does.

And because the encounter in Episode 3 lacked that emotional connection, the focus is merely their respective releases. There's a sense of two people trying to find pleasure and 'finish' while remaining emotionally disconnected despite actively having sex with each other. Because in some ways, they didn't really need each other in that moment to get there (there's actually a lot of truth in what Fadel says about it being easier to just jerk off alone). In sharp contrast, the scene in Episode 5 isn't focused on the destination but on the journey. Style is taking his time and Fadel is letting him - Style is choosing to worship Fadel's body, with his fingers, with his lips, to respond to his vulnerability with gentleness and tenderness and adoration. The goal has stopped being about finding a release, it's about allowing both these men to revel in the giving and receiving of pleasure.

The point of these scenes is to show to us the ways in which Fadel and Style have grown to care for and, dare I say it, love each other in ways that are so purposefully portrayed by showing the nature of their physical connection. Because the ways in which these scenes are the same and yet so wholly different showcases how their touches are now no longer merely tied to their senses any longer, but also to their hearts as well.

[sy-on-boy]

These "non main plot" related arcs do hit me in the chest. The anti-war sentiment is conveyed poignantly and consistently throughout the series. I think it is important to dedicate chapters to one of the key messages of SxF. The stark juxtaposition between the (mostly) wholesome and funny daily lives of the Forgers and the suffering the adults experienced in the past. These chapters serve to shows us the history we (and characters) shouldn't repeat. It adds to why we and the characters should be invested in the lofty mission of "world peace", because war / conflict is a horror that affects everyone and permeates through basically the entire cast. From our leads to side characters like Millie. Yes, the tone of SxF is generally cheerful, but it sobers up appropriately to remind us of the traumas these characters have experienced, and yet kindness persists in a post-war world (or inter-war period).

Regarding the theme of education and its affect on the young, I liked how Endo showed Eden during wartime in contrast to the period of relative peace we've always seen at Eden (with underlying tensions, of course). Staff and students receiving unfortunate news about their family and having to continue with their day. Hiding in shelters. Henry trying to teach young kids who sleep in his lessons. Martha's despair over her dreams being shattered by the war and her resolve to protect. Henry and Martha aren't kids anymore, but they're still young, fresh graduates from a privileged school who jump into society (and are forced to participate in the war). It gives us a haunting vision of what life could be, and makes us appreciate that Anya and the kids don't have to deal with this at the moment.

[conchcronch]

Kinktober 2024: Day 9

WC: 3195

Summary: You've discussed it, you've planned it, set your boundaries, now it's time for Sanji to watch the main event.

Zoro’s calloused hands felt so different in contrast to Sanji’s. The pads of the cook’s fingers were soft, his nails cut short enough as to not leave crescents along your skin when over excited. But Zoro’s were the opposite. Where Sanji was soft, Zoro was ruff, almost gritty with callouse. Where Sanji was gentle, Zoro was anything but. The way his hands gripped at the fat of your hips as he manhandled you against the wall, your back hitting the wall with enough force to knock the air from your lungs. His kiss was all teeth and tongue, nipping at your lips with a hand on the back of your head controlling your every movement. 

You couldn’t deny how much you were enjoying this juxtaposition, the moans streaming from your obstructed mouth was all the proof Zoro needed of that. Although, just to be sure, the hand that had been on the back of your head slid its way down your body, before roughly forcing its way into your leggings. “Fuck you’re so wet.” He spoke directly into your mouth, the words coming out as a growl. His teeth pulled your bottom lip before he moved his lips from yours, allowing the moan you tried to swallow to slip out as he pressed his fingers deeper “You know who I bet would love to see how wet I got you?” All you could do was whine, a cocky smile across his lips that were wet with your saliva ”Cook.” He pulled his face away from you, looking over his shoulder as he shoved his fingers further into you moving them around to gather as much of you as he could between pulling them out. He held his hand up as he displayed the way your fluid webbed between his fingers, shining wetly in what little light there was in the room. “You see how wet I got your woman?” 

“Don’t be me-“ You were cut off by him shoving his slick covered digits into your mouth, muffling any further protests you had. 

“Mmm yeah baby, suck on those fingers like you’re gonna’ suck on my cock.” He started to pull them out from between your lips before thrusting them back in. His eyes glued to the way you greedily sucked on his fingers, your tongue lapping along his knuckles the way he knew you’d run it along the underside of his cock. Every time he pulled them out, thrusting them back into your mouth he fed off the quiet mm that managed to slip out from around his fingers. 

”We had an agreement.” Your boyfriend’s voice was much more level than you expected. The smell of his nicotine filled the small bedroom from where he sat in an armchair next to the bed, his body obscured by the swordsman’s who groaned as though he forgot the other man was in the room.

“Yeah yeah, like she won’t be begging for more.” Zoro’s gaze didn’t leave yours as you sucked greedily at his fingers. “Isn’t that right, baby girl.” You nodded as he slowly pulled his fingers from your lips, dragging them along your chin until he could roughly grope your still covered breast. “You ready for me to fuck you in front of your stupid dart brow?” He didn’t wait for you to confirm, you three had talked about it beforehand, he knew you wanted it, saw the way you had clenched your thighs when you met the day before to discuss it.  

He pulled you from the wall, shoving you towards the bed of which you fell back into. He stood over you, looking over your form, eyes scanning over you for long enough you began to squirm. You hazarded a look at the man next to the bed, his leg was perched atop his knee, cigarette between his lips, his hand gripping his calf tightly. His blazer was folded carefully over the back of his chair, his sleeves rolled up to just above his elbows. You knew that if he moved his legs you could see his cock straining through his slacks, but he was determined to ignore it until Zoro had left. 

Your attention was dragged back to the green haired man as he grabbed the waist of your leggings and yanked them down your legs and tossing them on the floor. The look in his eyes reminded you of a tiger that had just nabbed a wild boar and was getting ready to take its first bite. “Shirt off.” He demanded as he pulled his own shirt off, followed by him unzipping his pants. You could just barely see green hairs peaking out from under his pants before he pulled his cock out, stroking it slowly as he watched you pull your shirt over your head. “Such an obedient girl” You tried to close your legs, to give your cunt some kind of pleasure, but he was quick to grab your leg, pulling you to the edge of the bed. 

He stepped into you, still holding onto your calf as he rubbed the head of his cock against your slit. You raised your hips, enjoying the way his bulbous head slid between your folds, pausing for a second to smack it against your clit. It wasn’t until you felt him press into you, the sting of stretch forced a sharp intake of breath as you propped yourself up on your elbows “Wha-wait it’s, it’s too b-big“ You sputtered out, the look of confusion evident on the swordsman’s face, but he paused nevertheless. 

”You can’t just f- god you’re so stupid.” Sanji’s brow twitched in irritation, trying to keep his voice even as he rubbed a hand over his face. “No wonder you can’t get a woman.” 

“Who says I want a woman, seems like I’m doing a pretty good job with your’s.” Zoro turned to lock eyes with the man behind him, his head still stretched your hole as they argued. 

“You’re such a moron, you have to stretch her out.” He heavily sighed, falling back against his chair as his eyes fell back on you, his brows knit together in concern, but when you nodded, silently reassuring him you saw him relax again.

He stepped back, letting go of your leg and leaving you dangling over the side of the bed with him still between your legs. He slowly lowered himself down onto his knees, on hand still on his cock, lazily stroking it as he pushed his middle finger into your hole with ease. Quickly adding a second one, the sound of his hand smacking against your slick folds seemed almost deafening in the quiet room, but when you felt his warm breath against your cunt a long moan fell from your lips. His mouth was on you before Sanji had a chance to protest. You could feel him groan against you, working a third finger into your as he mouthed at your clit, his eyes closed as he enjoyed your taste. 

“My love.” You hummed at Sanji, moving your head to look at him, your eyes heavy and a constant flow of breathy ah’s coming from your open mouth. “How does his mouth feel?” 

“So good, ‘ji.” You could feel Zoro groan against you, clearly not liking that you’re being distracted from all his hard work.

”At least he can use his big mouth for something.” You watched as Sanji blew a perfect smoke ring in the opposite direction. “And his fingers, what’s he doing with them?” 

“He-he keeps c-curving them up and fuck it feels so-o good.” He hummed, and you didn’t know it but for a brief second the cook and swordsman lock eyes before you can feel Zoro smirk against your cunt. 

“She tastes real good, cook. Better than anything you’ve made.” Sanji sighed, knowing he was right. ”Wanna’ taste?” He asked, tongue flicking against your clit and fingers fucking into you with abandon. Sanji stayed quiet, knowing he had no intention of participating with a brute like him, he would get his fill of you afterwards. As he pushed in a fourth finger, which was a bit wider than his cock, you were so far gone you didn’t even feel the low ebb of stretch. His tongue lapping at your clit, getting under your hood and abusing the raw nerve endings almost to the point of discomfort but you knew you were going to be tossed over the edge and into the waves of your climax. 

Your body arched, your thighs clenching around his head as you grabbed his short hair, holding him against your cunt. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you, slowly becoming less and less until you were just a whining mess of overstimulation, whimpering in hopes the swordsman would pull away from your pulsing clit. Which he eventually did, wiping his face on the back of his arm as he pulled his fingers from your cunt. If you hadn’t been so out of it, you would have questioned why he stood up and walked towards Sanji, but all you could do in that moment was silently follow him as he cleared the distance between him and the chair. “Open.” Sanji furrowed his brows, looking like he was about to say something but when he opened his mouth to speak, Zoro pushed two fingers into his mouth. “Tastes good, don’t she?” In your current state you were completely incapable of stopping the long drawn out moan at the sight of these two men sharing a strangely erotic moment as you laid out naked on the bed watching them, slowly beginning to understand why Sanji had been so interested in watching the two of you. Both their heads turned to you, clearly surprised by your reaction. Zoro smirked and Sanji’s face flushed a bright red, moving his head to silently urge Zoro to pull his fingers out from his mouth. 

“Come on baby girl, bring your ass this way so we can give Curly a front row seat.” He grabbed your leg, pulling you around the curve of the bed so Sanji could get a clear view of your slick cunt. He tugged your leg, bringing you right to the edge of the bed again, stroking his cock slowly although it clearly hadn’t softened in the least. He rubbed his tip along your folds, smacking it against your clit like he had before and watched how you squirmed, hips bucking to try to guide his cock to your entrance. “Someone’s needy.” You couldn’t help but nod as he slowly pushed into you. 

There was no way in hell you could have handled his girth had he not prepped you, even after all that, the sting of his thickness was still apparent. But as he leaned over you, he watched your expression, pausing when you scrunched your nose and then resuming slowly when you relaxed. “Taking me so well.” His jaw was tight, his exhales coming out through his nose as you felt the tip of his cock kiss your cervix. He leaned back, standing up and guiding your legs up to his shoulders, pausing to press a kiss to your right ankle. “See how well she’s taking me, Curls? Gonna stretch her out nice and good for you.” You were watching Sanji as Zoro began slowly thrusting in and out of you. 

“Sanji” your voice was breathy and you reached a hand out to him, even though you knew he wouldn’t take it, having made it very clear he had no intention of crossing the threshold of the bed until Zoro had left. 

“Yes my love” 

You opened your mouth to say something to your partner, but Zoro made sure to thrust particularly hard into you so all that came out was a startled moan. 

“Hey, pay attention to me, not him.” When you met his gaze again he hummed “yeah that’s it baby girl, keep those pretty eyes on me.” His thrusts were speeding up, and when he leaned over you, forcing your knees to your chest in a mating press you began seeing stars. His head was pressed into your shoulder, a slew of animalistic groans were pressed into your skin as his hips began to lose their rhythm. “Cook” his voice was uneven, you could even call it a little breathy as he called to the man watching the whole encounter. “You’re gonna’ have to tell me where to cum, cuz I’m gettin’ close” he had to speak up to be heard over you, moaning every time his cock head bullies your cervix. 

“I thought you could last longer than this.” You could hear how smug Sanji was.

“She’s squeezing me like crazy I-I won’t last!” 

“Where do you want to cum?” 

“F-fuck you, just tell me!” His hips were beginning to stutter, pausing for a bit longer when he was fully inside of you each time. “Can’t fuckin’ think right now.” His teeth were clenched as he pressed his head into your chest, his forehead sticky with sweat and his breath hot on your skin. His thrusts were so hard that you were steadily pushed back onto the bed, forcing him to kneel on the mattress, curving his body over you. 

“I think you can hold out longer then this.” The tone Sanji used a tone you instantly recognized, even in your sex fogged state. It was the tone he used on the very rare occasions he wanted to tease you. You felt Zoro groan more then you heard it, his arms moved from holding your legs that were pressed between your torsos to supporting his weight on either side of your head. 

“I’m always quite partial to finishing inside her,” You wanted to see his expression, see how he was managing to somehow keep his cool demeanor, cigarette held lazily between his index and middle finger, his head cocked to the side as he watched how uneven Zoro’s thrusts were becoming. “But that’s just for me,” He couldn’t stop the small laugh when Zoro swore into your skin, catching the fat of your breast between his front teeth “You could always cum on her stomach, but I bet she’d prefer it on her face,” he paused for a second, the long moan that slipped out from between Zoro’s teeth was like music to his ears. He was enjoying this so much more then he ever expected, something about getting to poke at his crewmate while watching you being fucked harder then he could find it in himself to do, it was turning him on more then he wanted to admit. “Knowing you, you’d probably get it in her hair.” 

“Cook” The three of you all knew that was a moan, a long drawn out moan from the swordsman. It caught Sanji entirely off guard, the throb of his cock making his hand cover his mouth to stifle the moan. Even in your cock drunk state, you thought it was the hottest thing to ever leave the green haired man’s mouth, but you swore to yourself that you’d never mention it.

“Fine, cum on her pretty pussy, but don’t ever say I don’t do anything nice for you.” He tried to sound disinterested, but when Zoro sat up straight you were finally able to see the blonde’s face. His grip on his cigarette was so tight, that he had crunched what little of the butt remained, his cheeks were pink and his eyes were glued to the last full thrust Zoro did before pulling out of your cunt and cumming almost instantly. The combination of your body clenching around nothing and the feeling of warm cum coating your folds felt like nothing you've experienced before. Zoro’s whole body tensed, his stomach clenching as he dug his nails into the fat of your thighs. 

“S-Sanji” The ache in your cunt was all you could think about. Your clit was ebbing as you clenched around nothing, the coolness of his drying cum was making your already sensitive body whine. 

“Yes my princess,”

”Can he make me cum one more time, please?” He finally forced his gaze away from your cum covered cunt, his mouth practically watering “I’m so close, all I would need is him to press his fin- Oh my f- yes-s” before Sanji could answer, your sentence was turned into a slew of moans as you felt Zoro’s thumb move in firm but slow circles around your clit. You used the leverage you had from his shoulders to buck your hips up in a silent plea for more. 

“Think she deserves another one, Cook?” Zoro’s voice is gravelly, exactly how he sounds after a long nap. 

“She was very well behaved.” As if Sanji ever doubted you. “Give her one last one before you go.” 

Zoro’s thumb maintained the same speed while putting more pressure on your bud. “Come on baby girl, give me one more.” He pressed slow kisses to the inside of your knee while using his free hand to hold onto your calf. You nodded, your eyes squeezed closed as you tried to speak, tried to tell him how close you were. “Your cunt is all sticky, all covered in my cum.” He was dragged his lips over your leg, nipping occasionally. “Is your cook gonna clean it up for you?” Both you and Sanji seemed to moan simultaneously. “Come on princess, don’t make him wait all night.” His use of your favorite of Sanji’s nicknames for you was what threw you over the edge for the second, and surely not the last time that night. He kept his thumb pressed on your clit until you fell limp against the bed, eyes open but not seeing. 

You could feel him slowly guide your legs off his shoulders, leaning over you to press a kiss to your temple as your brain slowly rebooted itself. 

“This better not be the last time you let me join, Curls.” You blinked a few times, gaze drawn to the two men in front of you. Zoro, lazily stroking his half hard cock as he stood next to Sanji, who was trying desperately not to stare at the swordsman’s crotch. 

“We’ll see.” Sanji stood up, his hand coming up to knot of his tie, working it loose. 

“Seemed like you enjoyed it” Zoro said in a cocky tone, nodding towards the very apparent tent in Sanji’s slacks. 

“At least I don’t finish as quickly as you do.” He retorted proudly. 

“Guess only round two will tell.” He said with a shrug as he shoved himself back into his sweat pants, pulling his shirt over his head. He paused for a second, as though he was going to say something else but thought better of it. Opening the door enough to slip out before closing it behind him. 

By the time you looked away from the door and back to Sanji, he was on his knees, his hands on your hips pulling you to the edge of the bed, his tongue immediately lapping at the drying cum that coated your folds. You knew you would be in for a long night.

[choerypetal]

Envy and Passion (Pt. 2) / Coriolanus Snow.

summary : this moving forward, the romantic affair of Coriolanus and you began to blossomed ever seen its first meet. with a envy for lust and power, snow is relcontless to make you officially his. with a gesture not so normal, and to perhaps have your father finally accept the two love bird's relationship.

read part one first!! : part one

english isn't my first language, so i excuse for small typo or error mistakes. ps : please don't copy my work or use it without proper credit! thank you.

Your involvement with Coriolanus Snow persisted, concealed from your father who remained oblivious to the situation. Fortunately, Snow chose to invest a significant amount of time with you in the laboratory. This arrangement included the opportunity to assist him directly under the guidance of Dr. Gaul herself. Surprisingly, it never posed a challenge for either of you. Whenever Snow felt a desire or yearned to intertwine his warm fingers with your cold skin, he didn't hesitate to express it openly, especially when you pleaded with him to do so. 

"Speak it aloud." He would insist, his piercing blue eyes fixed on the stark contrast of your dark pupils. He found this juxtaposition oddly unsettling yet captivating, especially as you exuded confidence despite the complete reversal of your family's name. Which contrasted oddly well, when you presented yourself before Snow, adopting a submissive demeanor, he ensured not to overlook it. "Say that you desire me." He commanded, and in that instant, his voice deepened. The soft gaze that he had employed earlier to pause shifted into something more intense, with his eyebrows furrowing, expressing a mix of dignity, pride, and a hunger solely for you.

Every time Snow expressed his feelings and unwavering commitment, a warmth would spread across your cheeks. "I desire you, Snow." You confessed, feeling palpitations resonating throughout your entire body, experiencing emotions previously unfamiliar to you. Despite your father's strict measures to ensure you remained free from romantic entanglements, the fear of him discovering your involvement with Snow loomed over you. Uttering Snow's name could potentially lead to punishment for both of you. However, in the present moment, neither of you cared about the potential consequences, dismissing any concerns about possible repercussions.  

Upon your confession and Snow's acceptance of your words, he reveled in the opportunity to explore every inch of your skin visible to his eyes alone. Your gentle touch on his blouse, revealing a glimpse of his chest, was met with amusement as you feigned clumsiness, as if he hadn't witnessed it before. Chuckling at your playful act, he remarked. "You know, if you were eager to see me shirtless, you could have asked from the very beginning." Despite the confidence instilled by your father, your shyness intrigued Snow. It fascinated him to witness a strong, independent woman like yourself, who, despite her confidence, found herself pleading at his mercy. And he wasn't complaining one bit. 

"All I want is to wait for the perfect moment." Was your simple declaration. Yet, Snow, with his deceptive and unconvincing response to your second confession, couldn't help but see through the charade. He knew all too well that it wasn’t just a matter of time. This realization felt somewhat absurd to him, considering that from the very start of your love affair, it was you who ensured that your skin was exposed. This time around, despite the temptation to witness another captivating display, he found himself yearning for you to admire him, to experience the same emotions he felt whenever your eyes met his. “How about we change a little bit?” 

"Change?" Your brows furrowed this time, a mix of confusion, anticipation, and eagerness, curious about what Snow had in store. After all, Snow was known for his penchant for surprises. It wasn't a coincidence that both of you were selected as Dr. Gaul's personally chosen students for her mentoring. Dr. Gaul was well aware of your relationship, and if it served to prolong the Hunger Games, she had a keen understanding of how to maintain loyalty between you and Snow. Whether the connection was romantic or not mattered little to her; as long as the two of you were working and following orders, Dr. Gaul was pleased. 

Snow reached for your fingers, and as they entwined with his, he motioned for you to sit on his lap. You complied effortlessly, well aware that whenever Snow needed a break from paperwork while maintaining focus, a call for you to be on his lap was a common occurrence. It served as a distraction, allowing him to immerse himself in the scent of your presence. Despite his internal struggle to control his obsession and resist the urge to engage in more intimate activities right there on his desk, the desire to hear your submissive murmurings and witness your eyes fixated on him alone was always tempting. However, today presented a deviation from the norm. As you settled onto his lap, his back comfortably resting against the chair, his fingers intertwined with yours, prompting to unbutton his blouse, you could only utter. "Oh..." In disbelief at his prompt actions. 

"Oops, I guess a few buttons slipped," Snow playfully admitted, revealing the subtle nature of his game. While he made it seem like his own oversight, the fact that your fingers remained intertwined with his suggested that he was not entirely innocent. It conveyed that, even if he were eager to take the blame, you were not hesitant to make his chest slightly visible. However, for Snow, it wasn't merely about a brief glimpse of his chest. He intended to shed everything – from blouse to coat – without hesitation, relishing the opportunity to hear the gasps and disapproval echoing from your own father.

A blush tinted your features, the same blush that had adorned your face during the reaping ceremony. It was a blush Snow relished, a sign that he was gaining complete control over you. Without hesitation, he took it upon himself to unbutton his entire blouse with a single hand. "It's getting a little hot, isn't it?" He casually remarked, using it as an excuse and subtly suggesting you might want to do the same if it pleased you. However, you resisted the urge to swiftly follow suit, observing as Snow confidently removed both his blouse and coat in one fluid motion. As you could’ve sworn to feel your teeth sinking the bottom of your lip. The tension between the two of you became apparent now. He wanted you. And you wanted him. 

Before he proceeded, his fingers gently disentangled from yours, trailing along your thighs as your short skirt revealed more skin, much to his satisfaction. He couldn't resist brushing it against your lips, a desire he had been suppressing since he first laid eyes on you that morning. With genuine affection, he admired the skirt he loved so much, especially paired with the Academy's uniform blouse you had deliberately made a little looser this time. He took notice when he observed your cleavage being more pronounced that very same day. 

"You can't fathom how much I've yearned to taste you. Don't pretend to be innocent, Princess. It's our little game, you know." Our Little Game. He declared, and the words echoed in your mind. However, in the midst of numerous affairs and the expression of feelings, the certainty of whether he genuinely meant it, whether his love for you was real, or if uttering your name was merely a distraction to maintain his sanity, became increasingly elusive. "Then, demonstrate your love for me.” You challenged. Without a moment's hesitation, your words caught him off guard, almost offended. "After everything I've done for you?" He countered.

You felt his lips brushed against yours, temptation of not wanting to kiss you on the spot. While you challenged him such deal, he became almost too offended by your question. Was it even obvious? Snow became a little persistent, and with his piercing blue eyes never leaving it’s gaze now his eyes began darker. Darker as his gaze became aware of his need for you. A need of you becoming his officially. And today, it was one of the few occasions he could at least do. “I will.” 

His fingers delicately cradled your face, exhibiting a hunger to explore and savor every inch of your skin exclusively reserved for him. Starting with your lips, he pressed his plump lips against yours, reveling in the intoxicating taste of your cherry balm that drove him to the brink of insanity. This obsession was so profound that whenever he encountered a blossoming Cherry Tree, it inevitably reminded him of you. Not stopping there, he proceeded to confidently grip your backside, causing your loose skirt to flutter up. The chill from the brisk lab air made you flinch in response to the sudden exposure.  

"Mine. Mine." His voice grew rougher, a tone that required a certain adaptation on your part. Your head tilted backward as you felt his lips trail down the crook of your neck, an area he longed to adorn with endless pampering and marks that, at least, could be concealed. Today, however, he made sure they were visible, intended to stoke the fires of your father's entire disdain. "Mine until the break of dawn." He declared, feeling the friction between cloth and underwear intensify, causing his arousal to surge. Snow could no longer contain himself when your soft fingers journeyed from his immaculate chest to the zipper of his pants. In a mere second, as you unzipped them, you teasingly grasped his now fully erect member and gently stroked it, bringing him undeniable pleasure. 

"If you truly mean it." You approached him with a hint of seduction, taking control of the situation. In this game of chess, Snow had anticipated that one day the tables would turn, and today seemed to be that day. "Make love to me like you've never done before. Make me moan until the sounds echo through the entire lab, risking the chance of getting caught." To Snow's surprise, he tilted his head upon hearing your bold words, realizing that the desire you expressed mirrored his own. This opportunity was rare, the only time both of you could be together. If it wasn't for your father's protection; you would feel ashamed if he were to catch a glimpse of the two of you right now. Yet, love has a way of blinding reason. 

“And make your father know, to who you belong to. Princess.” He lingered with a loving and lust of wanted to fuck you. This time although he enjoyed a quickie, he wanted to make it an experience for you, whether it was sloppy or messy. It did not mattered for the both of you, as long as Snow showed and declared his entire love for you. It was all it mattered. 

After the surprisingly enjoyable encounter, you suddenly realized the time and the fact that you had completely forgotten about a meeting with Dr. Gaul and your father regarding the Hunger Games. You began to panic. "Shit, I'm going to be late!" You exclaimed, and Snow found it oddly cute, especially since you rarely used such language in public. "Don't forget this." Even though Snow was well aware of what he was doing, you hastily grabbed anything resembling a uniform. As long as you had your skirt back on, along with the coat and blouse, it should be enough to avoid arousing suspicion. Thankfully, with your hair strategically covering the hickeys, you managed to arrive late to the meeting, running at full speed without raising any eyebrows.

Upon finally arriving, you seized the chance to catch your breath, fortunate that your father and everyone else attending the meeting were engrossed in Dr. Gaul's presentation. However, upon laying eyes on you, she couldn't help but voice concern about your uniform. "Y/N, my dear. What is this monstrosity?" Swiftly, your father's gaze shifted to you, taking note of the alteration in your uniform. The blouse, that delicately hugging your curves, now appeared slightly larger, evident in your fingers poking through its sleeves. It became glaringly obvious that it wasn't yours but Snow's. You found yourself in a deeper mess. Vaguely recalling seeing Snow casually blending his blouse with yours before leaving, you realized it was another way for him to mark you as his own—a subtle yet effective gesture, particularly if it meant provoking your father into a boiling rage. 

"And where might Snow be? He was supposed to be invited to this meeting as well," Dr. Gaul expressed her suspicion. Although you attempted to ignore your father's disapproving gaze, well aware of his concerns and mentoring about his feelings regarding Snow, you were preoccupied by Snow's unexpected actions. You weren't certain if he was indeed coming or intentionally delaying his arrival to avoid raising suspicion, only to later excuse himself for being late and have Dr. Gaul overlook his absence. “I didn’t know Snow was invited for today’s meeting…” Was all you could say, which wasn’t entirely false. 

Dismissing her concern for Snow, she accepted your response. Despite being already aware of the possible relationship between the two of you, she simply smiled at you and suggested you join the audience. As you took a seat next to your father, he noticed your arrival. Quite annoyed at least. “Next time, try to cover the marks in your neck. For the love of god, Y/N.” Shit, your father had spot Snow’s hickeys. If it wasn’t to make it worse even noticed the slight change in your cheeks as it was still showing a flushed and pink shade from the climax you had encountered prior with Snow. Instead to not disrupt any further you obliged and apologize like the good daughter you were meant to be. “It will never happen again, I promise.” But did you? 

As anticipated, Snow arrived late. Fortunately, he had the foresight to bring an extra blouse, fully intending to have you wear one of his. The expression on your father's face when he noticed the unconventional attire was exactly what Snow had anticipated. Doing his best to catch his breath after rushing to the meeting, he excused himself, saying, "Sorry, I am late." Dr. Gaul acknowledged his presence and gestured for him to sit next to you. A proud smile adorned Snow's face as he witnessed the exact expression he had expected from your father.

“Loving the uniform, sweetheart.” He casually said, whispering to your ear this time before quickly gaining his attention back to him but also making sure that you were aware of his meschibiosu little guess. 

"Shut up, Snow." He hoped to hear from you as you were about to speak up. Instead, it was your father's voice that uttered those words upon realizing that it wasn't, in fact, your uniform all this time but Snow's. Anticipating a response from you after your father's remark, Snow waited, but instead, Casca continued. "Just be a little more secretive next time." 

To your surprise, you glanced over at your father, intending to defend yourself. However, a mere gaze from him conveyed the unspoken message that if you attempted to object, he would ensure an end to the relationship. Despite his unwillingness to witness his daughter's unhappiness due to her father's unwarranted bias against the Snow family, he held on to the hope that, at the very least, Coriolanus Snow wasn't akin to his own father. Or... was your father not entirely wrong?

"We will." 

Snow's voice lingered in the crook of your neck, indicating his satisfaction with your father's newfound approval of the relationship. Finally, he felt unburdened, no longer afraid to proudly show the world that you were his and his alone.

[andersonsprincess]

Clarisse La Rue - Training

characters - clarisse , demigod!reader (fem in mind but i think it could be read as gn)

contents - mild swearing, probably ooc, luke mentioned, no god/goddess parent mentioned just not hermes or ares, confession

word count - 460

a/n - kinda awkward tbh, lots of yapping towards the end 😭, this took me a while bc i couldn't figure out an ending

it was an incredibly hot summers day. most campers were in the shade or hiding from the blistering heat in their cabins, but of course you and clarisse were in the forest practicing techniques. that's something she loved about you. you're willing to spar with her any given time.

the two of you had been at it for about an hour and a half. the sounds of metal clashing rang through the forest and your ears.

clarisse's movements were swift and sharp as they always were. confidence and strength behind every swing. and she was always so careful when sparring with you. her intentions were to teach you not hurt you. a stark contrast from her spars with other campers.

"you surrendering, sweetheart?" the way she said it was so condescending.

you were on the ground panting, your sword in her hand as well as hers.

"as if."

you grab your dagger out of its sheath oh your hip and attack her head on.

the dagger stuns her for a second allowing you to-

"nice try, princess."

she knocks you back down, her foot resting comfortably on your stomach.

"but i am impressed. where'd you learn that from? i didn't teach you that..."

she lifts her foot and you sit you sit up.

"i was," you sigh. "i was asking luke for tips in sword fighting."

a look of confusion flashes on her face.

"castellan? why him? you have me."

you smirk at her. "jealous, clarisse?"

she laughs at you. "me? jealous of castellan? you've lost your mind princess."

"that's not a no."

"i am not sharing you with luke."

"i'm not yours."

"not yet."

that caught you off guard.

"what-"

"i'll be damned if i lose you to luke castellan."

your face heats up at that. "what are you saying?"

she rolls her eyes and groans. "i'm saying i...like you. idiot."

she continues. "you're pretty, smart, funny, talented-"

"oh incredibly so."

she rolls her eyes and hits you playfully. "this is serious, dumbass."

"i know, i know. i like you too clair."

her cheeks darken slightly. "quit calling me that!"

"you know you like it!"

the two of you laugh for a while. then she turns her head and looks at you deeply. her deep brown eyes staring in to yours. you slowly creep your hand towards hers and intertwine her fingers with yours. the look in her eyes, a beautiful juxtaposition to her behavior in battle. she looks at you lovesick. that girl would kill anyone for you. it was strangely flattering, others would call you crazy. the girl with nothing but pride and destruction in her eyes when fighting, looks at you with nothing but pure adoration.

you are going to be the death of each other.

[rhysstrongforksfagswag]

I need to scream about the brilliant thematic juxtaposition between hbomberguy’s “ROBLOX_OOF.mp3” and Kevin Perjurer/Defunctland’s “Disney Channel’s Theme: A History Mystery”, which came out within 3 days of each other in November 2022 and both concern artistic credit and legacy. Here they are linked for those who haven’t watched one or both:

While both are very different stylistically (with hbomberguy maintaining his signature edge of unhinged video essayist humor while Defunctland is produced in a more traditional documentary style), they are both very well made with a strong narrative through-line— something I consider to be very important in a good documentary. They also have strikingly similar subject matter, but very different “protagonists”, so to speak.

Tommy Tallarico, the center of hbomberguy’s doc, is a well-known and successful video game composer who, over the course of the video, is revealed to be a grifter and seemingly compulsive liar. Perjurer’s doc, by contrast, spends most of its runtime trying to uncover the composer behind Disney Channel’s well known auditory channel theme; eventually this is revealed to be Alex Lasarenko, a composer who wrote a lot of music for brands and sadly passed away in 2020 without much fame to his name. While Lasarenko was obviously unable to be interviewed for the documentary, Perjurer manages to get into contact with many of his collaborators and they have nothing but nice things to say about him. Contrast this with Tallarico, who is far more successful than Lasarenko, but is also a total dick who takes credit for the work of those who work under him (among many many other issues).

To me, the idea at the center of these docs is artistic legacy. When you die, what will you be remembered for? What art that you have created is inherently connected to you as a person? And, does it matter if those who personally know you actually like you as long as your art is loved? Is it better to be famous and despised or unknown and beloved? They also both have commentary to make on media preservation, with Perjurer’s doc being made possible through the tireless work of online archivists who catalog tv bumpers and interstitial content, while hbomberguy’s doc shows how Tallarico actively seeks to rewrite history in service of his own fame.

Basically, I love YouTube documentaries and there were a ton of great ones made in 2022.

[monkishes]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⸻ ✧˚ · . 𝓻esidue 𓈒 𓈒 03

summary: After witnessing a murder, you expect to be killed on the spot. Instead the killer demands for shelter in your home. The only way out of the clutches of death, is to let him stay. Fear and uncertainty ripped within your body, but you had to comply. That was the only way to live.

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2558

extra: find more on ao3 @monkishes, wp @joyfuii

warnings: death, murder,

01, 02, 03, 04 masterlist

You found yourself standing in front of the small kitchen counter, hands trembling as you stared down at the scattered contents of your fridge. There wasn't much: a carton of eggs, some wilted vegetables, a block of tofu that might've been well past its prime, and a half-finished jar of kimchi. You glanced at the killer, who had made himself comfortable on your sofa. He sat with one arm draped across the backrest, his legs spread in a relaxed posture, eyes fixed on you with unsettling patience. He had the air of someone who could wait for hours, watching you squirm, feeding off your fear.

The sight of him lounging in your living room like he owned the place made your stomach twist. You were acutely aware of how surreal and terrifying this situation was, how fragile your life had become. You needed to focus, to keep it together, at least long enough to buy yourself more time.

You grabbed the carton of eggs and set it on the counter, pulling a frying pan from the cabinet. Your fingers fumbled with the stove controls as you turned on the heat, trying to steady your breathing. Everything felt wrong—every movement, every sound, every thought. The normalcy of cooking felt like a grotesque contrast to the horror lurking in the background. How was this even real? A killer had walked into your home, washed his hands of blood in your bathroom, and now expected you to cook for him.

Just keep moving, you told yourself. Don't think about it too much. He's not killing you yet, so just keep him calm.

You cracked the eggs into the pan, the sizzle of oil offering a brief distraction from the weight of his gaze. But it didn't last. You could still feel him watching you, silently assessing. A shiver ran down your spine, and you tried not to think about how close he had come to ending your life mere minutes ago.

"What's taking so long?" His voice broke the fragile silence, a lazy drawl that sent a chill through you. "I thought I told you to hurry."

You swallowed hard and tried to keep your voice steady as you replied, "It's almost ready." Your throat felt tight, the words barely making it out.

He didn't respond, but the weight of his presence loomed over you, making the simple act of cooking feel like a test of survival. You stirred the eggs in the pan, adding a dash of salt with trembling fingers. Every clink of the utensils, every hiss of the stovetop, felt amplified in the oppressive quiet of your small apartment.

You risked a glance at him over your shoulder. His expression hadn't changed much—he still looked as if he was enjoying this strange game, his dark eyes half-lidded, lips curving slightly at the corners. He looked too relaxed for someone who had just committed murder. The juxtaposition was unnerving.

When the eggs were done, you slid them onto a plate and hesitated for a moment before placing it on the small table in front of him. You stayed standing, unsure of what to do next. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to run, to escape this nightmare, but you knew better. There was nowhere to go. He had your phone, your wallet, and most importantly, your life in his hands.

"Sit," he commanded, his voice soft but with a weight that left no room for defiance.

You did as he said, sitting across from him at the table. Your hands rested on your lap, gripping the fabric of your pants so tightly that your knuckles turned white. You watched as he picked up the fork and slowly began to eat, taking deliberate bites as if savoring the moment. It was unsettling, the way he chewed so calmly, as if this was just another meal and not some twisted prelude to God knows what.

The minutes dragged on, each one feeling like a small eternity. The sound of his fork scraping against the plate filled the room, and you found yourself hyper-focusing on it, anything to drown out the swirling thoughts of fear in your head. But the silence was suffocating, and eventually, he looked up at you again, that unnerving smile playing at his lips.

"You don't seem like the type who cooks often," he remarked, leaning back in his chair. He tilted his head, studying you like a puzzle he was trying to solve.

You forced yourself to answer, even though your voice was barely above a whisper. "I... I don't. Not usually."

He chuckled, a sound that sent a tremor of unease through you. "I can tell. But it's not bad."

You weren't sure how to respond to that, so you said nothing, your gaze dropping to the table in front of you. Your heart was still pounding in your chest, and your body felt tense, like a coiled spring ready to snap. You just wanted this to end, wanted him to leave so you could curl up somewhere and try to forget that this ever happened.

But something told you it wasn't going to be that easy.

He finished the food, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before standing up and stretching as if this were just a casual evening. Then, without warning, he crossed the room and grabbed your arm, pulling you to your feet. The sudden contact made you flinch, your pulse spiking in panic.

"I think it's time we talked about something more important," he said, his voice dropping an octave. His fingers tightened around your wrist, and you winced at the pressure, instinctively trying to pull away, but he held you in place, his grip unyielding.

"W-What do you want?" you stammered, your voice barely audible over the rush of blood pounding in your ears.

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he dragged you across the room, pulling you into the small hallway leading to your bedroom. You stumbled behind him, your legs weak and shaky as dread settled deep in your gut. Every step toward the closed door felt like a march toward something terrible.

When he reached the door, he pushed it open and shoved you inside, his grip on your wrist finally loosening as you stumbled into the familiar space. He followed, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The sound of the latch sent a jolt of terror through you, and you spun around to face him, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst.

He stood by the door, watching you with an intensity that made your skin crawl. His eyes were sharp, calculating, like a predator sizing up its prey. You took an involuntary step back, your back pressing up against the edge of your bed.

"I need to make sure you understand something," he said, his voice soft but laced with menace. He took a step forward, and your breath hitched in your throat. "I don't like loose ends. People who talk too much... they're liabilities."

You shook your head quickly, your pulse racing. "I won't say anything. I swear."

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, the room seemed to close in around you. "It's easy to say that now," he murmured, taking another step closer, "but how do I know you'll keep that promise?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Your mind was a whirlwind of fear and confusion. What was he getting at? What did he want from you?

He reached out, his hand brushing against your cheek. The touch was light, almost gentle, but it sent a wave of revulsion through you. "You're going to be a good little secret-keeper, aren't you?" His voice was low, dangerous, his eyes locking onto yours. "Because if you're not... I'll come back, and next time, it won't just be to visit."

You nodded frantically, your body trembling. "I-I will. I promise."

He studied you for a long, agonizing moment, as if weighing your words. Then, finally, he let out a soft hum of satisfaction and took a step back, releasing you from the crushing weight of his presence.

"Good," he said simply. "Then I guess this is goodbye... for now."

With that, he turned and walked out of your room, leaving you standing there, breathless and shaken. The sound of the front door opening and closing moments later felt surreal, as if it were part of some distant dream.

For a long time, you just stood there, staring at the empty doorway, your legs too weak to support you any longer. When you finally collapsed onto the bed, the tears you had been holding back spilled over, silent sobs wracking your body as the reality of what had just happened crashed down on you.

You were alive. But for how long?

You didn't know if this nightmare was over—or if it had only just begun.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared down at the door, unmoving and completely alert. A couple minutes ago, when the killer was beside you, you felt no fear. For some reason now that he'd left your home, you felt yourself growing more and more terrified by the second. You feared that he was waiting with his knife behind your door, waiting for you to make one wrong move and come in to kill you like he killed that poor, old man.

At that thought, you suddenly remembered the gruesome and grotesque scene that you'd witnessed earlier. The whole reason why you were in this predicament. What did he even do to deserve that?

Questions filled your mind as you struggled to find the right answers for them. Your head began to pound as all the thoughts of the events that had just occurred replayed over and over in your head.

Finally, you broke out of your trance, forcing yourself to look away from the door and went to the kitchen to grab yourself some water.

Your hands trembled violently as you filled the glass with water, the cool liquid slipping over the rim and onto the counter as you struggled to steady yourself. You took a shaky sip, but it did nothing to quell the suffocating tightness in your chest. Your heart was hammering too hard, your mind racing with thoughts you couldn't control.

He could still be there. He could be right outside the door.

The idea rooted itself in your mind, growing stronger with each passing second. What if he hadn't left? What if he was waiting, just out of sight, ready to pounce the second you let your guard down?

You couldn't take it anymore. You needed to hear a familiar voice—someone to pull you out of this spiral. Your fingers fumbled as you grabbed your phone, barely able to unlock it. Jennie's name flashed on the screen as you hit her contact, your breathing unsteady while the phone rang.

She picked up quickly. "Hey, Y/N! What's up?" she chirped, her voice so normal and light, completely unaware of the chaos tearing through you.

For a moment, you couldn't speak. The words you had practiced in your head disappeared, leaving you with only the thudding of your heartbeat in your ears. How could you explain this? How could you possibly tell her that you'd seen a man die, that there was a murderer who might still be lurking just feet away? It sounded too insane to even say out loud.

"Y/N?" Jennie's voice crackled through the speaker again, this time more concerned. "Hello? You there?"

"I—" You swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself. "Yeah, I'm here."

"You okay? You sound... off. Is something wrong?"

Your gaze flicked toward the door, the fear constricting your chest even more tightly. You could still picture him in your mind: the killer's cold stare, the flash of the blade, the blood. All of it came rushing back, making it harder to breathe. You wanted to tell Jennie everything, but every time you tried to form the words, they caught in your throat.

What would she even think? Would she believe you?

"Y/N?" Jennie's voice pulled you back, her concern deepening. "What's going on? You're scaring me a little."

You opened your mouth, hesitated, and then closed it again. What if saying it out loud made it all feel too real? You didn't want this to be real. Maybe if you kept it to yourself, it would somehow disappear, like a bad dream you could forget.

"I..." You took a shaky breath, forcing the words out, but the truth still wouldn't come. "It's nothing. I'm just... I don't know. I've had a really long day."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Are you sure?" Jennie's voice softened, but you could tell she wasn't convinced. "You sound really freaked out."

Your pulse quickened, the panic bubbling up again. You squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your free hand to your forehead as if that could stop the racing thoughts. "Yeah, I swear," you lied, your voice wavering. "I've just been stressed out lately... work's been a lot. I didn't get much sleep last night."

There was another pause, longer this time. You could almost hear Jennie trying to figure out if she believed you. You hated lying to her, but you couldn't bring yourself to explain the truth. It was too terrifying to say out loud.

"You sound like you're scared," she said gently, her tone probing, like she was waiting for you to crack. "If something's wrong, you can tell me, Y/N."

Your throat tightened as the urge to tell her everything flared up again, but you forced it down. The words hovered on the tip of your tongue, just waiting to spill out, but you couldn't do it. If you told her, then she'd worry. And then... what if it was all in your head? What if this killer wasn't waiting for you at all?

"I'm fine," you said quickly, forcing a small laugh, though it sounded hollow in your ears. "Really, it's just been one of those days. I'm overthinking everything."

Jennie didn't sound convinced. "Alright," she said slowly, her doubt clear. "But if you need anything, you call me, okay? Even if it's just to talk."

"Yeah, I will," you lied again, hating yourself for it. "Thanks, Jennie."

You ended the call, the silence in your apartment crashing down around you. Your phone felt cold in your hand, useless now that the conversation was over. You stood there, frozen, the same sense of dread creeping back into your mind like a dark fog.

Then—

Knock, knock, knock.

The sudden, harsh banging echoed through the apartment like a gunshot. You jumped, nearly dropping your phone, your pulse spiking as the sound reverberated in your chest. Your body went rigid, and your eyes darted to the door. The knock came again, harder this time, more impatient.

Your stomach twisted violently. Was it him? Had he come back? The image of the killer flashed through your mind again—his cold, emotionless eyes, the blood dripping from his knife—and your breath caught in your throat.

You took a small step back, staring at the door, paralyzed by fear.

[vellichor74]

Arcane - S.2 Ep.2 Opening

Something that I’ve always admired about Arcane is its ability to tap into the most heartbreaking concepts, and portray them in a breathtaking way that puts across the stark reality of such concepts, yet blends in the beauty of visual symbolism, dialogue, and emotional complexity.

The opening scene of S.2, Ep.2 is a brilliant example of heartbreak and grief, with Jinx’s farewell to Silco cutting deeply to the core of her character. Her words, especially, “Except this time, you aren’t here to put it all back together, because someone put all those holes in you,” carry a devastating emotional weight. What makes this line so heart-wrenchingly haunting is its childlike simplicity, masking the violent nature of Silco’s death behind a tone of innocence.

The phrasing feels almost as though a child were trying to make sense of something incomprehensible, softening the horror of death by turning it into something more clear and manageable. “Put it all back together” evokes the imagery of broken toys, where fixing things can be an act of reassurance and love. Silco was the one who used to ‘put her back together’ when her mind fractured, acting as both a caretaker and the very creator of her evolving identity. Now, the reversal is straight-up cruel; she quite frankly cannot repair him, and the finality of “all those holes in you” is heartbreakingly literal, yet phrased as if a child were describing a once revered doll, lost by damage.

This childlike lens shines a tragic contrast with the reality of Jinx’s world. It’s a brutal, unforgiving place that has stolen her innocence time and time again, yet in this moment, the words suggest a yearning to escape the harshness. This juxtaposition mirrors her core struggle - wavering between a fractured, older psyche, and the lost, uncertain child she once was.

Visually, the scene is amplified with its soft, muted underwater setting, a place where her words like bubbles seem to float, untethered by logic or chronology. It’s as if she’s clinging to the last remnants of her childhood: words, images, and a desperate belief that things can be undone, even when they can’t. In the water, time itself seems irrelevant, just as it does in grief.

This quote also ties directly to Silco’s role in her life. Despite his manipulations, he became a parental figure who accepted her for all her chaos. Her phrasing suggests she still sees him in this light, not as the dangerous and cunning underlord of Zaun, but as a steady, almost mythical presence who was always there to catch her when she fell. This childlike portrayal of Silco’s death renders it even more tragic. She simplifies the trauma into something she can understand and endure; a defense mechanism as fragile and devastating as Powder’s remaining sense of self.

I just love how this moment captures so much of what makes Arcane unforgettable. It is raw and poetic, balancing emotional complexity with a delicate touch of innocence that both humanises Jinx and deepens the tragedy of her world. I swear this kind of portrayal is so rarely done well, and oh my goodness when it is..

[samasmith23]

How Goro Akechi effectively serves as a dark foil to the Phantom Thieves' brand of rehabilitative justice

So... I understand that Goro Akechi is a pretty divisive character within the Persona 5 fanbase (especially his pre-Royal incarnation), but I have to admit that I honestly found his backstory and role as a sinister foil to the Phantom Thieves to be legitimately intriguing. Elements which are revealed during his boss fight in the game’s “Cruiser of Pride” arc!

When the Phantom Thieves infiltrate the Meta-Verse to confront the Shadow of the corrupt ultra-nationalist politician, Masayoshi Shido, who’s palace takes the form of a gigantic yacht sailing through the ruins of a sunken Japan, they are suddenly confronted by Akechi in the ship’s engine room. Having just betrayed the team during the previous arc, Akechi is revealed to not only be the true culprit behind the mysterious wave of mental shutdowns & psychotic breakdowns (which included the deaths of two Phantom Thieves’ member’s parents, Futaba Sakura’s mother Wakaba Isshiki & Haru Okumura’s father Kunikazu Okumura respectively…) that have occurred throughout the game’s narrative as part of Shido’s conspiracy to get elected as Prime Minister, but that he is also Shido’s illegitimate child. Essentially, Akechi was the product of a dubious affair between Shido and a sex worker whom the former later discarded when he discovered that she was pregnant, driving her to depression and suicide shortly after Akechi's birth. Akechi spent his entire childhood being passed around as a “problem child” between various foster homes (highlighting Japan’s problems with how the country treats its orphaned children) before later being granted the power of a "wildcard" persona-user, as well as knowledge about the existence of the Meta-Verse by the false god of control, Yaldabaoth.

While Akechi was a societal outcast similar to the members of the Phantom Thieves, he took the wrong message from his experiences. Akechi misguidedly believes that the only way to truly oppose the status quo that looked down upon him is to not only become a part of it (i.e. caring only about his good grades & celebrity status) but to destroy everything that he hates by reducing himself to Shido's right-hand assassin in the Meta-Verse, perpetuating mental shutdowns & psychotic breakdowns on Shido’s political enemies simply to get some semblance of recognition & validation from his abusive father before exacting revenge on him (whilst exploiting his "ace-detective" celebrity status to "solve" the crimes that he himself committed).

Essentially, once Shido finally became prime minister Akechi planned to whisper the truth about being the former’s illegitimate child, telling Shido that he was only able to get where he was due to the son he abandoned and labeled as a potential “political scandal” before murdering him.

Despite Akechi and the Phantom Thieves' mutual dislike of Shido, the former is so fixated on vengeance that he does not care about the innocent lives he ruins and destroys in the crossfire to satisfy his own personal bloodlust. Instead of legitimately trying to reform society like the Phantom Thieves do, Akechi becomes a pawn of the very same systemic corruption that was responsible for his initial suffering. Akechi cares only about his own hatred & jealousy instead of empathizing with others who were also victimized by society’s ills. This contrast is visually reflected through the juxtaposition between Akechi and the Phantom Thieves’ leader, Joker, when they confront each other in the engine room of Shido’s yacht. While Joker is portrayed as standing strong alongside his teammates & friends, Akechi stands alone in the opposite end of the room, confused & angry. While there is a part of Akechi that regrets his horrible actions and even recognizes the potential for him & Joker to be friends due to their similar backgrounds, he's too far gone into his obsessive vendetta against Shido that he refuses to turn back and now desires to kill the Phantom Thieves in a misguided attempt to ease his internal conflict.

During the boss fight with Akechi in Shido's Palace, the detective prince repeatedly dismisses the Phantom Thieves' efforts to appeal to his common senses, believing that concepts like friendship and teamwork are foolish "cliched bullish*t... in this eat or be eaten world."

While this attitude of Akechi's might seem unrealistically cartoonish on the surface, it actually makes sense when considering his background of being unfairly labeled as a "throw-away child" by Japan's foster care institutions. YouTuber LadyVirgilia goes into far greater detail about this in her excellent The Truth About Goro Akechi analysis video. There, she states that an overwhelming number of Japanese orphans are incapable of being legally adopted due to impoverished parents voluntarily relinquishing them from their care while still maintaining legal guardianship over them. Additionally, LadyVirgilia discusses how violent hierarchical power structures often form among the children within these foster homes, with younger orphans sadly being subject to bullying & abuse by their older peers.

While these facts are not explicitly stated about Akechi's backstory within P5 Royal itself, they can easily be heavily inferred due to the game's heavy emphasis on exploring themes related to Japanese sociocultural issues. It’s implied that the institutional failings of Japan's foster care system (combined with Shido's abandonment of his son while he was still in the womb), ultimately contributed to the development of Akechi's warped perception of the rest of the world. Due to being dismissed as a "throw-away child" and being forced to grow up in an institution that is unfortunately subject to high rates of systemic abuse & neglect, Akechi spent his entire life feeling unwanted & loved. Ideals such as friendship & companionship became foreign and unrealistic concepts to him due to having experienced nothing but society's cold & uncaring apathy.

Essentially, Akechi became deeply jealous & hateful toward the rest of the world, misguidedly compelling him to want to prove his superiority over the rest of society by manufacturing his status as "the celebrity ace-detective and honors student who ultimately brought down Shido." But when Akechi encounters the Phantom Thieves and befriends their leader Joker, he begins to experience his first genuine bond of companionship. Despite developing a legitimate appreciation towards Joker, Akechi is simultaneously confused & unable to fully process these newfound feelings. Akechi becomes envious of Joker's ability to rise above his similar status as a societal outcast by befriending & protecting others like himself. Consequently, Akechi projects his own failings & inability to legitimately rise above his tragic upbringing beyond his false celebrity status onto Joker & the Phantom Thieves, cruely dismissing them as "the trash of society" and blaming them for interfering with his revenge plot against Shido. This empty & hollow existence that Akechi chooses to live is further reflected by the sole two personas that he utilizes during his boss fight: Robin Hood, who represents Akechi's false celebrity & justice-abiding gentleman facade, and Loki, who embodies Akechi’s true personality as a deceitful trickster & psychotic murderer.

I personally couldn’t help but find all of these elements to be rather interesting & insightful about Akechi’s role as an antagonist/rival to the Phantom Thieves. It honestly highlights the tragic nature of Akechi's situation, since while he had the potential to utilize his deductive knowledge & skills as a "wildcard" Persona-user similar to Joker, he instead allowed himself to be consumed by his own hatred & madness.

The parallels between Akechi & Joker are further evident through the latter also being a victim of Shido’s abuse. Specifically, the corrupt politician wrongfully sued Joker for “assault” when he tried to stop Shido from drunkenly forcing himself upon a woman. In contrast to Akechi however, Joker is motivated by his negative experiences to fight against the unjust status quo that figures like Shido represent to prevent similar abuses of power from ever occurring again to others. Additionally, we also see dualistic parallels between Akechi and other members of the Phantom Thieves, such as Makoto Nijima who similarly previously upheld the misconception that “good grades and following orders are all that truly matters to be a worthwhile member of society.” Whereas Makoto outgrows this mentality by instead choosing to utilize her status as student council president to help her suffering peers rather than for her own academic career, Akechi conversely exploits his intellect as an “ace-detective” to perpetuate societal injustices for his self-centered vendetta against Shido.

In essence, if the Phantom Thieves embody the potential benefits of rehabilitative justice then Goro Akechi embodies the dangers of retributive justice (aka, revenge). To reference two of my favorite movies, Batman Begins and Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, not only is there a strong difference between justice and revenge (one is about altruistic harmony whereas the other is about personal satisfaction), but the most surefire way to victory is by fighting to protect what you love rather than fighting to destroy what you hate...

The distinction between justice & revenge is made abundantly clear at the end of Akechi's storyline in the baseline game (i.e. before the Royal exclusive Third Semester new content), where following his defeat at the hands of the Phantom Thieves Akechi is suddenly approached by a cognitive duplicate of himself that dwells within Shido's palace. In addition to the Cognitive Akechi emphasizing the futility of Akechi's quest for acknowledgment & vengeance against Shido by revealing that the latter always intended to dispose of his right-hand assassin once he was elected prime minister, the cognitive duplicate also reveals the true depths of Shido's depravity when he states that he only ever viewed Akechi as a puppet to fulfill his own ambitions. While it is true that Akechi was so obsessed with revenge that he allowed himself to become a pawn of the corrupt status quo, it is exceptionally cruel to learn that this is how Shido has always viewed his own son (which is further punctuated by Shido later revealing to the Phantom Thieves that he secretly always suspected that Akechi was his illegitimate child due to how much he reminded him of his mother). It is this revelation in particular that allows the Phantom Thieves to better empathize with Akechi's tragic upbringing & circumstances. Even though they still seek to hold Akechi accountable for the murders that he committed at Shido's behest, the Phantom Thieves simultaneously recognize that in a sense, Akechi was also a victim of both Shido's cruelty and the systemic injustices of larger Japanese society.

This effectively culminates in the bittersweet resolution to Akechi's storyline in the base Persona 5 game. When the Cognitive Akechi duplicate offers his real-world counterpart one last chance to "redeem" himself in Shido's eyes by killing the Phantom Thieves in his stead, Akechi for the first time in his life decides to be his own person instead of being defined by the labels Shido and society had imposed upon him since birth. Choosing to no longer be a puppet of Shido's corrupt machinations, Akechi rejects his cognitive duplicate's hollow offer by instead turning his gun on the duplicate and his Shadow minions before sealing the engine room's watertight doors between himself and the Phantom Thieves. At the very end, Akechi was finally able to acknowledge that his desire for false appreciation from both his abusive father and larger society was ultimately worthless. Akechi ultimately sacrifices himself to allow the Phantom Thieves to escape, recognizing their true justice while entrusting them to do what he was incapable of by holding Shido accountable for his crimes & reforming society.

From a certain point of view, one could argue that the Phantom Thieves indirectly inspired a change of heart in Akechi by proving to him the validity of their sense of justice.

Overall, while I was initially indifferent towards Goro Akechi at the start of my playthrough of Persona 5 (and even outright skeptical & suspicious of his motives given his vocal opposition to the Phantom Thieves), by the time I got to his boss battle in Shido's palace I ended gained a deeper understanding and appreciation for what the developers at Atlus were attempting to convey with his character. Akechi effectively functions as both a cautionary tale about the dangers of allowing oneself to be consumed with thoughts of revenge, as well as a dark parallel to the Phantom Thieves who seek to legitimately reform society for altruistic rather than self-centered reasons. It was these elements that ultimately elevated Akechi into becoming one of my personal favorite members of P5's cast (right behind Makoto, Futaba & Ann...) from both a narrative and character writing perspective (especially with the Royal edition's overhauled confidant line for Akechi, which better fleshes out the latter's rivalry with Joker, and the player now has to progress manually instead of it being automatic)! And I am definitely curious to see how Royal's exclusive "Third Semester" content further fleshes out Akechi's character since I'm aware that he plays a major role in the new story content.

[valtsv]

im curious about your thoughts, would you talk a little about the theme of gender in the terror? i just enjoy your perspective!

okay i can't promise you the properly formatted essay with footnotes and citations i would love to write given the time and energy, but sure, i'd love to. because the theme of gender is central to the terror, particularly regarding the victorian ideal of masculinity, as a part of the greater overarching narrative theme of social constructions and structures being stripped away, and what and who remains after (crozier even explicitly remarks to fitzjames at the beginning of episode 7 that the remains of their civilization which they're clinging to for a sense of comfort and stability will begin to 'fall and drop away' as they travel further). we see this not just in the case of fitzjames, whose national identity and sense of selfhood we're given some insight into through the lens of gender, both with the iconic dress scene and his subsequent choice to dress as britannia, the feminine symbol of british imperial power, for carnivale - a juxtaposition which emphasizes the contrast between his private and public personas, and between the moment of vulnerability and honest self-expression in the scene where he holds up the dress and smiles at his reflection, and the ironic mask he dons for carnivale as a shield to conceal his doubts and insecurities, and any 'shameful' desires he might have - but also, for example, in the case of collins, who in the same episode seeks out goodsir, whose emotional availability and honesty have earned him the derision of his crewmates in the forms of scornful looks and derogatory comments denouncing his mannerisms as 'womanish' and thus shameful, but which only become increasingly necessary and shared amongst more of the men as they're forced to rely more and more on one another for support, and societal expectations of how they should conduct themselves become increasingly irrelevant, their fragility exposed and found wanting. collins is rebuffed and reprimanded by dr. stanley in episode 6, who dismisses his emotional distress, but in the following episode with goodsir he's encouraged to confide in him and, upon doing so, breaks down in tears and shares a desperate hug with him in full view of their camp; actions which would have been confined to privacy if they were allowed to be expressed at all earlier on. everywhere, cracks are beginning to show in this ideal construct of masculinity that the men were once expected and so proud to uphold.

silna's presence also highlights the themes of gender, and how they intersect with race and ethnicity; she is almost exclusively referred to as a 'girl' by the men of the expedition despite clearly being both a grown women and far more competent at surviving in the arctic than they are. the empire and its subjects' unwillingness to accept that someone who is both a native to the region and a woman could be more knowledgeable and better equipped than they are to deal with the situation leads them to assert their perceived superiority through how they address and refer to her, using the infantilizing language of 'girl', which although i believe the use of was more common in victorian england than it was today, nonetheless carries these implications, particularly when it's almost exclusively the only term they use to describe her. even those men who are more open to accepting the need to rely on the knowledge and support of the indigenous peoples of the region in order to survive there, such as crozier, don't begin to realize this until it's already too late. we also see the weaponization of femininity as a badge of shame of weakness with, as aforementioned, goodsir, and with hickey when he says to gibson that he "was such a good wife to me all these months" in order to get under his skin after gibson declares their relationship to be over.

we also see this victorian ideal of masculinity physically begin to 'fall away' as the men's bodies and minds deteriorate due to the extreme conditions they find themselves in. as sickness and despair set in, the men are no longer physically able to uphold this construction they've been told their whole lives it is vitally important that they strive to maintain in all their undertakings, further compounding the horror of their experience, but also liberating them. hickey again takes advantage of this, too, demonstrating his intelligence and quick, pragmatic thinking when he castrates irving's corpse after murdering him in order to threaten the remaining shreds of the men's masculinity and inflame them into rash, reactive action. and fitzjames comes full circle in his own gender-influenced narrative when he confesses his long-carried shame to crozier, finally unburdening himself of the idea of 'james fitzjames' that he built on the foundations of that masculine ideal the society he lived in values so highly and as a result is able to let himself lean on a fellow man for support and shed tears for the first time (that we see onscreen at least), and when he asks crozier to euthanize him to help him out of his suffering in his final moments - both poison and suicide have traditionally earned a reputation as means used by 'women and cowards' to escape the brutal reality of death, but they allow fitzjames to die with as much dignity and the least amount of suffering as the at that point truly desperate circumstances allow, and far more than the more ideally masculine, imperial british glory he once aspired to of death in combat or without any medical assistance to ease his passing would have.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Eyeless Jack and his s/o that likes sweets and kawaii things. 🌸🎀🍰🧁🍭

eyeless jack x reader who likes cute and sweet things

WOOOO another eyeless jack request! yipee! notes: reader is gn, established relationship cws: mentions of canon typical violence, stalking

a very funny juxtaposition of style between the two of you because hes more... well dark and simple whereas you tend to dress in cuter clothing, bonus points if its pastel

as well as the contrast in interests

but that doesnt stop the two of you from being together

he listens and indulges you if you see a cute animal or flower when youre out on your weekly walks in the woods, if its a plant he might let you keep it!

hes more apprehensive about wild animals, though... his interest in medicine and the related topics made him hyper aware of disease

on the occasion he sees something you might like while invading the homes of the people he intends to... harvest... he might find himself nabbing it to give to you

does he feel a little bad about it? oh yes! esp with my entire thing that he doesnt enjoy the way he currently exists and stealing just feels like an extra gut punch- but he also feels bad about not being able to spoil you...

thats an entirely different post, though

solution: he starts snatching from stores, most likely

very rarely lets you dress him up in something cute but if you ask nicely he will let you do it

hes most receptive to matching couple stuff, by the way

even though hes not personally into what you enjoy hes not going to sit there and silently cringe or internally think badly of you, hes not like that

hes not the best baker nor does he have many materials at home given his diet, but when he comes to visit you at your place he offers to make you something!

following a recipe is easy to him, order comes naturally to him and it feels... nice and domestic