#like how the fuck do you make this comparison
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
patterson-gimlin · 2 days ago
Text
Holy fuck how are you this dense. What did you list that went unaddressed? Where have I said “that’s how it is”? For pointing out a fact?
You keep getting hung up on the most random shit. I have already said I don’t think these things affect the plot of the story, but just reference the culture of the original story. The only adaption you listed that’s actually Disney is OUAT, and at least she actually fucking looks like Snow White. Even that is not a good comparison since that show is set in modern times and has a completely different plot than the original. Snow White (2025) is going to be Disney’s first film adaptation of the character since 1937. That’s the only Snow White media that’s relevant to this discussion. Quit getting sidetracked.
Seeing as Wakanda is a fictional place and isn’t based on any sole African country they literally could be white and nothing would change. But that just enrages you doesn’t it? If you’re going to argue that any race can play any character as long as it doesn’t affect the plot you have to cede on this one. Black Panther being white would not affect the plot. They can make live action Incredibles, Big Hero 6, and Lilo & Stitch and make Frozone, Wasabi, and Cobra all white, since the story isn’t about race, right? That’s what you believe?
My problem is that they do this shit on purpose to pander to retards like you to try to mask the fact that the movie is going to suck.
The whole point of the original post is to point out the hypocrisy of race swapping. If Snow White can be not white, why can’t POC characters be made white, so long as it doesn’t affect the plot?
Why not just let Snow White be white? Disney has a diverse lineup of princesses. They can sometimes churn out a decent new film. Why not cast Zegler as a Colombian princess? Why not create a story based in that cultures folklore? Why take another culture and plaster someone else into it?
Tumblr media
281 notes · View notes
grimaldiapologist · 2 days ago
Text
Tumblr media
#(other thought: do you think Cara really realized whats happening?) via @sherryholmes
Lads, we're about to find out what the text post limit for Tumblr is, because this is the longest post I've ever made here. Unfortunately it's also a post I've been procrastinating on for days, and turns out, for a good reason. Every part of this was awful. Trigger warning for literally everything but mostly for child abuse and exploration of chronic trauma.
In regards to Caracalla's mental state in this scene and forwards, there's at least three different perspectives that come into play at once, and of the main two (trauma/dissociation and the complications from his syphilis) neither is inherently more important than the next. Both of his issues affect each other as well as the way he perceives his reality, and to get to how much he's really keeping up with things at the end here evidently required half a day's worth of analysis into the whole of the timeline for this scene, but also Caracalla's past from - and I wish I was kidding - birth onwards. But to start someplace that makes sense, we'll go back just a bit from this scene: specifically, to the night before any of this takes place.
While it's obvious that Caracalla's mental state is taking a turn for the worse throughout the film, it's after the discovery of Acacius's plot that he starts looking really rough. The same can be said for Geta, who, dealing with his own issues in the aftermath, has rather suddenly stopped being a singular, solid, reliable foundation for Caracalla to ground upon. In general, Geta's attention (trust, affection) has been steadily turning for Macrinus, who is offering him everything that Caracalla can't: guidance, someone to lean on, a sort of a fatherly affection that he's been missing his whole life.
In the aftermath of Acacius's execution, each of the twins is looking for something from the other that isn't available: Caracalla for Geta's usual ability to reason them out of any trouble and come up with solutions for their safety, Geta for Caracalla to show one inkling of responsibility to help him or at the very least stop attacking him when he already knows he fucked up and it scares him, and with some of Macrinus's gentle guidance, their stressed-out bickering turns to... a very modest, but still significant, physical assault when Geta - aiming to silence Dondus with a splash of water - spills it over his brother instead. As I wrote earlier, this breaks things between them. And this right here is significantly destabilising for Caracalla in specific.
As others have already pointed out, Caracalla's reaction to his brother's outburst (it was you, Geta, not him) is primarily dissociative. He freezes first: the freeze reaction is part of the fight/flight/freeze/fawn quad of primitive reactions to a perceived threat, where when faced with danger to one's immediate physical safety, a person "freezes" in place to minimise the attention they draw to themselves. This reaction is most commonly portrayed and observed in animals, as in people, depictions tend to focus on fight/flight the most. "Deer in the headlights" is a typical metaphor used to refer to a freeze state: that shocked stillness in a person who doesn't know what to do. But a freeze response doesn't inherently express fear: it can be very quiet, and very empty.
Tumblr media
The freeze response is inherently a dissociative state. Because the mind perceives the situation inescapable, the person becomes still and silent in the hopes of becoming invisible. On the surface this doesn't make sense in a survival state, because doing this in a situation where you're very much not going to blend into your environment will likely only expose you to more harm than in any way protect you from it - but to understand it, it's important to note that this is the primary response to immediate physical danger found in children.
In comparison to an adult, who has other means of defending themselves, a child will in most cases be incapable of direct self-defense (fight) and they will be too slow to escape danger (flight), so their best bet is to stay very still and hope somebody else intervenes (freeze). A child who is not saved but is then attacked may enter a further dissociative state, where, if they cannot save their physical self, then they can at least save their mental self - they will lock up, and "go somewhere else" in their heads. This is relevant for context, for understanding what the hell this boy is thinking in general, but for now,
what Caracalla does in this situation is just to the left of that. He leaves the room at Macrinus's suggestion, who's read his state quite accurately: he suggests, in a very paternal way, that maybe Caracalla should take Dondus and go look after him someplace else. Go calm each other down. Re-establish safety. This would be great advice coming from literally anybody but Macrinus, because the appropriate response to a freeze/dissociative state is grounding, but, alas, it is Macrinus who says that.
Macrinus, who instead of being a nice person and telling Geta next to do the same and then go fix what he broke, uses this opportunity to go fan the flames. I hate this man, have I mentioned this anywhere before? I hate him so much for what he does to these two.
(I'm keeping myself grounded by looking for illustrations here, and I need you all to know that my screenshot folders have over 4 000 pictures in them. 98% of these pictures are just of Geta and Caracalla with some left Marcus Acacius on the side for spice. I'm normal. Anyway,)
Upon leaving the room, Macrinus easily locates Caracalla again: in a logical continuum in terms of tracking his mental state, he's found here hiding under a table. In essence, after a brief burst of the flight response, he's just moved elsewhere to freeze again.
Tumblr media
At this point, and every single point from this moment forwards at the very least, Caracalla's clearly exhibiting another trauma response: regression. While not exclusive to trauma per se, regression involves a person's mental state returning to an approximation of a younger state, a state where that person has previously experienced a similar lack of control in their circumstances, but where they may also have experienced safety and care from their caretakers.
Going by what script!Geta says to him not too long after this scene, it seems reasonable to assume that what Caracalla is doing here is what he's done before to escape his father's explosive rages and violence:
Tumblr media
He's... a very small guy. He's likely been a very small child, too. He says to Macrinus that Geta has always had it out for him - even in the womb, Geta tried to cut/grip his umbilicus so that he couldn't breathe, presumably to be the only surviving twin. Now, there's a lot that Caracalla's saying in this scene that needs to be taken with a grain of salt, but he's almost certainly relating here a "memory" that he has about what someone else has told him, or what he's otherwise heard. He probably did have a difficult birth, he probably did experience asphyxiation, and this may have been Geta's "fault" somehow - twin births are significantly more dangerous than solo births. We won't know what exactly happened, but umbilical cords and babies throughout history have not mixed well; hell, I was born significantly after the year 180 AD surrounded by much better medical care, and still the most likely singular cause for my learning disability is that I thought hanging myself by that thing in the womb was a great concept.
Asphyxiation injury in babies can cause poor growth, along with - as indicated above - lifelong disability and difficulty with development that results from brain damage, and I think this seemingly throwaway line is here specifically to tell us why Caracalla is so small and sickly, why he is so vulnerable, and, to a degree, also why Geta is so protective of him. He's never thrived, he's always been smaller and weaker, and
their father hated that. Their father, in general, seems to have despised his sons, but by Geta's description, he went for Caracalla first. Geta got in the way, took the beatings, protected his weaker brother from the violence. The only thing a small child in that situation can do is hide, and Caracalla here, under the table, is doing that again. He remembers that danger, and he remembers that hiding under the table meant a semblance of security and shelter against the danger. He remembers that, when he was hiding, there was someone there to protect him.
There was an excellent post on this by someone in the tags that I will link here pronto if anybody can find it for me, where the poster theorises that Geta's outburst, which is so reminiscent of their father's, has essentially put Caracalla in a PTSD flashback. With the regression, this seems more than plausible: he seems to have recognised his father in his brother's actions just as much as Geta himself must have recognised them, and they are both, in this moment, dealing with what that means - or not dealing, because they're both hiding, one in a curtain and the other under a table. It's interesting to me that this mixing of their past, their father's violence, never leaves Caracalla's mind after this time. He feels haunted by the man and his own actions to some degree in his mind become determined by his father's will, his father's hatred of his brother, which he's had to witness so many times in his childhood.
Now, diverting for a second from the trauma reactions and returning to Caracalla's stories to Macrinus, we can also see the effects of his neurosyphilis here. Which is a condition that's been fun to research because any information on it now is so clouded by mandatory patient direction telling me to go to the doctor and take antibiotics, which, honey, I'm sure Caracalla would have loved to do that, sincerely, but it wasn't an option, so what we get is this:
Tumblr media
When Caracalla tells Macrinus about his memories from the womb, Macrinus asks him, "you remember that, do you?" and Caracalla says to him, "certainly; one cannot forget."
This confirms to Macrinus as much as the audience that Caracalla's experiencing delusional thinking, and, being the utter turdbag that he is, Macrinus knows exactly the kind of an opportunity this gives him. When a person is experiencing delusions, it's recommended to neither a) play into them nor b) try to directly contest them, as both ways of confrontation tend to root the delusion deeper into a person's thinking. Macrinus takes route a) like that diverting car meme, and starts telling Caracalla more absolute nonsense that he thinks will hit up nicely with whatever he's already experiencing, and based on all of this evidence, with how he's playing Geta like a father and treating Caracalla like a mother, he knows where his vulnerabilities are. He knows how to turn him against Geta - or at least he thinks that he does, because it doesn't quite work, not all of the way, anyway. But he gives it a good old fucking attempt and I despise him for that. Alas,
now we get to the ugly climax of his manipulation of these two traumatised young men whose lives, safety and futures are breaking down all around them, and who both desperately needed guidance and reassurance from someone who cared about them. He's told Caracalla that Geta intends to betray him, so go ahead and do what you must - you've always wanted to be something on your own, but he's always stood in the way, and by the way, he hates you, too. He says that he loves you, but he doesn't, he lies. You know what to do.
Fortunately however Geta knows his brother, and unlike Macrinus would like Caracalla to think, Geta does love him. No matter how annoying he is, no matter how much he gets in the way, no matter how difficult it is to be an emperor and a carer to a sick brother - Geta loves him. And that's enough, though, before we get to that point,
Tumblr media Tumblr media
... mandatory reminder that Caracalla really gets off on blood? Like really gets off on it? This is also another excellent example of his regressed state: he cuts Geta, and this excites him. So much. He's probably never felt this powerful in his life: he did that. He did that. After basking in that feeling for a moment, still smiling like a little gremlin, Caracalla goes for Geta wholesale. He seems to be treating this is as some kind of a game, shifting between two states, one of whom is deeply hurt and driven by Macrinus's lies, and the other is just... being a boy, playwrestling with his brother because for the first time ever, he feels like he's got a winning edge.
In terms of Geta's ongoing Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day however, having his hand slashed gods know how deep shows us that something like this doesn't even make him flinch. After receiving the injury he just stands there, looking at his hand, looking at Caracalla, showing the exact degree of the beatings he's been taking his whole life. This, too, is dissociative, and stems from their childhood dynamics: Caracalla knows how to hide both in his head and as a first response to overwhelming danger, and Geta knows how to block out his emotions as well as physical pain, even significant, major pain, like a deep gash in his hand. He ignores the whole thing, the injury and his own personal hurt and fear, like these factors don't exist, because he has to protect Caracalla first.
Nothing Geta does in this scene is for himself. He's afraid, yes, but he's afraid for Caracalla more. And if that doesn't break your heart then I don't know. Good for you. I can't watch this scene again. And he literally dies holding Caracalla's face with his injured hand, looking him in the eye, because he loves him, and that's it for Geta.
In this godforsaken fucking piece of cinematic history, when Macrinus takes Caracalla's hand and butchers Geta with it, Caracalla is - understandably and visibly enough - back to freeze/dissociation again.
Tumblr media
And I think some of that might be Geta's doing, in a sense: in order to break Caracalla out of their shared PTSD flashback which he started, unintentionally, by momentarily being the worst of himself to the one person who relied on him the most, Geta's now recounted the exact abuse, the exact circumstances, of Caracalla's memories back to him. He's done this to fix the narrative: I protected you. I love you. Our father hurt us. Doing so, he's put the pieces back together for Caracalla: Geta is not their father, Geta's his brother, and he protects him and loves him. He has always protected him.
So, now that Caracalla can recognise Geta for who and what he is: who takes his hand, then, and directs the blade? Is it not Macrinus, the man who has in all senses become a father to them? Does Caracalla's father then not hold his hand to punish Geta for getting in the way, again, like he always does?
The question was, do you think Cara really realized whats happening?
And after this essay of utter pain and suffering, I hate to say it, but yes, he does absolutely realise what's happening, but he is just as incapable of incorporating any of this into his reality, into any reasonable narrative that isn't controlled by the ghosts of his past. For Geta's death specifically, though, yes. He does realise it. Very much. He looks Geta directly in the eye while he dies, and every bit of his expression screams "I'm losing you and there's nothing I can do to stop it from happening."
Tumblr media
His body might be in a freeze state again - limp, controlled first by Geta himself, then taken over by Macrinus - but he sees what's happening. He knows what's happening. The way he goes from this:
Tumblr media
to this:
Tumblr media
tells you that he knows. He knows.
And to wrap this horrific fucking thing up all nice and good before I print it out just to chuck it in a fire, I'm including the bit of the scene at the Senate that evidently we didn't need to see in the film:
Tumblr media
This is Caracalla, trying desperately to make sense of his reality, the things that were done with his body against his will, his unspeakable and indescribable loss, and the lies that Macrinus has told him all over it.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go have a nice day in some other place where none of this happened and Macrinus never existed at all. As a fellow survivor of childhood abuse at the hands of a parent, fuck you, Macrinus. Fuck you for what you did to them. You're the single worst kind of a person on earth and if you were real I would eat your entrails for lunch.
This has been a post, good timezone.
74 notes · View notes
moodymisty · 1 day ago
Text
𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝕺𝖓𝖑𝖞 𝕸𝖊 (𝕮𝖍𝖔𝖔𝖘𝖊 𝕽𝖆𝖑𝖐𝖆𝖓)
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Part 4 of 5 - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Choose Ralkan, Choose Lev soon
  Author's Note: When I said you'll get to have your cake and eat it too, I meant it. Time for a 1 part choose your husband adventure, enjoy. Here's Ralkan's path, Lev's will be up soon. Enjoy getting your big salamander schlonging ;3
Summary: A Night Lord becomes interested in you while you stand under the eyes of your Salamander guardian, and you find yourself stuck between two titans.
Relationships:Yandere Salamander/Fem!Reader/Yandere Night Lord
Warnings: NSFW, Somewhat detailed mentions of gore and violence but not super graphic, Mentions of sex being kind of painful, You fuck missionary and that's filthy disgusting, Yandere, Size differences, Very toxic suffocating relationship(s), Some knight/princess dynamics, Demeaning language, Both these guys have hero complexes, Violence, Blood and bruises
Word Count: 3340
Tumblr media
Backed into the corner with fear running through your veins like fuel, you instinctively look to your guardian.
Ralkan's entire body is stiff, his face loosing the softness that you're familiar with. He's stoic and emotionless, eyes darting around the small room. He's trying to best navigate the scenario, eyes locking with yours for the shortest of moments.
There's a coldness behind them- With this part of his mind brought to the forefront you can see his emotions have been tuned down, and you're an asset to be protected.
Lev has a similar level of hostility and coldness to him, but he hides it behind a facade of casualness. As if he's attempting to wavier the Salamander, raising his shoulders and seeming wider and stronger than he might actually be.
Lev is significantly sized in comparison to the other Night Lords you've glimpsed, but compares not to the size of a mature Salamander like Ralkan, who has a not insignificant of height on him.
"You aren't going to try and fight me with her in the room, are you? And risk her getting crushed in the mayhem?"
Lev's smile is insincere and filled with teeth, his voice coated in a teasing tone to it that rings totally hollow.
He unsettles you.
No matter his acts before, Ralkan was right that it was more than likely all a ruse to let him in without your guardian knowing. To sow your distrust of him and keep the one man capable of keeping you from him out of the way.
You were more than likely just an entertaining plaything; Being bat around in the paws of a cat. That separating you two was just part of the game, like Ralkan had told you all along.
There's something so deeply wrong with him that he makes you nauseous. The scent of rotten flesh stuck in the grooves of his armor is nothing compared to the way he looks at you with nothing but black behind his eyes, unable to tell what he's thinking about doing to you.
But no matter how much you want to no longer have his interest, to apologize to Ralkan and beg him to take you in his arms again, you know that Lev will still pull up a significant fight for the elder Salamander.
You don't want him to get hurt, even if it's in his nature; The very thing he was created for. It's an instinctive worry. Anything Lev would do wouldn't be just a nick either, the Night Lord is more than capable of doing significant damage.
The room is a bomb about to blow, and you know one of them isn't making it out alive if they begin to fight.
“Both of you, just-“
Lev suddenly makes a move for you as you speak, as if you directly called out to him. Before he can do anything Ralkan rushes him, in an attempt to sucker punch the Night Lord. He can't punch any part of him that isn't covered by armor as he approaches from behind, and so switches to grabbing his left pauldron and throwing him against the opposite wall of you to try and open him up for something that will do damage. It pulls Lev away from you either, and you fearfully attempt to meld with the wall and keep out of the way.
The two transhuman men begin to trade real blows, The Night Lord avoiding a punch thrown by the Salamander with far more deftness than you would ever think possible in such massive armor. Ralkan was quite quick in his armor the few times you saw him grapple in the training rings, but the Night Lord has a decent level of speed over him as the smaller and lighter of the two. Ceramite clanks into ceramite with dull, ringing thuds as Ralkan grapples the Night Lord and throws him from the room, firmly placing him in between you and Lev as well as widening the distance- pushed out the door and into the hall. The two continue fighting there and you rush out after them, as serfs started to gather and gawk at either end of the hall.
Salamanders and Night Lords had been fighting aboard the ship since the ladder's arrival, but most had been very small spats or merely verbal altercations. No one had yet to see a full brawl between two astartes, with the intent to maim and kill.
Some Salamander neophytes come and hear the commotion. They both know they stand no chance getting between two full grown Astartes, and don’t engage. One of them even reaches for you, a face you vaguely recognize from one of the times you followed Ralkan to the training rings. His hand grabs your bicep, attempting to tug you back.
“Lady Remembrancer get back!”
He yells at you, before turning to his fellow. His hand is still somewhat loosely around your arm. You pull at it and watch as Lev punches Ralkan directly in the face, and you see blood splatter down the bow of his upper lip. It doesn't slow the Salamander down, but the sight of him being visibly hurt makes your throat close and stomach turn in nauseating twists.
The speed at which they fight makes seeing who is winning this difficult, you can barely tell if any of them are actually hurt beyond very superficial armor damage.
"Let go!"
Your demand goes completely unheard by the neophyte holding you back, as he turns to his companion and yells.
“Get Captain Ralkan!”
His fellow, slightly smaller in stature, points to Ralkan and hisses back before you have a chance to point out who exactly is fighting the Night Lord.
“That is Captain Ralkan!” 
You all turn your heads at the sound of a chainsword- who’s you don’t know- letting out a waking rip. The neophytes settle to search for any brother superior they can find, even Vulkan himself if they must, as Ralkan throws Lev further down the hall. 
They’re out of sight, a cold rush of fear like ice water dunked on your runs through your veins.
“You need to stay back, it isn’t-“
You try to wrench yourself from his grip, and make no progress at first. But he he isn't a full Astartes yet, and lacks the strength to hold against your manic twisting and clawing at his hand. You manage to free your arm just as you hear the sound of a chainsword making contact with and then digging through ceramite.
“Ralkan!”
Rushing down the hall screaming his name, you hear more armor plates clanging against each other. A chainsword is hideously scraping against metal, and you barrel past the corner of the hall. You can hear the chain of it chutter and catch as flesh clogs it's mechanics, before the wielder lets go of the throttle and it lets out a panting, steaming exhaust as it slows.
When you turn the corner you see Ralkan on one knee, a massive pool of astartes blood coagulating near him. His chainsword is just finally slowing to a full stop, thick blood dripping from the teeth.
It has to be Lev's- but the Night Lord has vanished.
With him gone you rush forward, slowing when Ralkan looks up at you. Blood dribbles down his lips and chin, and you can see from how his lips are just barely parted in a pant that he has blood inside his mouth as well.
His eyes look to you and almost through you- cold and dark- before letting of his chainsword and walking towards you. His boots slam heavily against the ground, clearly a bit worn from the fight. Lev’s blood coats his gauntlets, staining your skin with red as he kneels in front of your and cups your jaw with both massive hands.
“Thank the Emperor that you are safe.”
His hands hold your face tight, loving expression contrasted by the blood splatters of both is own and the blood of someone whom you assumed he caused grevious bodily harm to smeared across his face.
“Every moment I was filled with regret for letting you ever leave my sight. I failed my duty letting him get so close.”
Your hands grip the collar of his chestplate, feeling the splatters of blood on it and the coolness of the ceramite. It's a sticky, uncomfortable feeling, but you don't fully think on it in the heat of the moment.
"Are you ok?"
You say, looking at him for wounds. His face is swollen slightly on one side like he's going to bruise, but other than the blood that was once rushing down from his nose, he seems mostly unharmed. At your worried inquiry he laughs at you, face beginning to return to that softness you're familiar with.
You'll still remember this coldness however; The look in his eyes during the few moments you saw them during his fight with Lev was frighteningly similar to the Night Lord's.
"You were almost stolen away by an astartes and used as a plaything, and you ask if I am well?" Ralkan leans in, and puts his forehead to yours.
"I am truly lucky to have you."
Safe in his arms and with him alive in front of you, the racing of your heart finally begins to slow down. Most of the serfs have already scattered, and the neophytes had run off to fetch a superior. You presume Ralkan will have to explain what happened to one of his fellow, but you imagine with behavior of the Night Lords, he won't be getting in very much trouble.
"Let us go to the apothecary. I want to make sure you are unharmed. Him having any amount of time with you alone has me worried for you. I want to be sure you are well."
He rises to his feet, swiping up his chainsword, before taking your hand in his gauntlet and bringing you along with him as he walks; Blood still smeared across his face the entire way.
Tumblr media
-Three Terran months later -  
Tumblr media
"Ralkan?"
You gently call his name, watching as he turns to you. He's doing maintenance on something you can't quite see, his body obscuring most of it as well as the sleep derived blurriness in your eyes.
"Yes? Do you need something?"
You rise up in his cot- your cot as well, since recently. All of your things have been consolidated into Ralkan's quarters, bringing a sense of liveliness to the room that it had originally lacked.
It's a bit more cramped in here, but Ralkan doesn't seem to mind.
“Isn’t my time here coming to an end once we return to Terra?”
Ralkan makes a noise. Putting down what you now can see is his bolter, he walks over to you and sits on the edge of his cot. His hand rests on the outline of your upper thigh overtop of the blankets.
"I spoke with my battle brothers, and we agreed upon keeping the remembrancers aboard the ship permanently, rather than for this single deployment. With their agreement of course. So you're departure is not mandatory."
So you can stay; Provided that you want to. You don't entirely know why you think saying no would be an option, however.
After all, why would you leave? You've never been safer than you are here, with two or sometimes thee meals a day when Ralkan can manage it, and a Salamander who has dedicated himself to your wellbeing.
More than just your wellbeing as well. His hand rests intimately at the apex of your thigh and the look he gives you is soft- one meant for the private air between two lovers.
You haven't considered leaving, but for some reason this entire line of thought is churning your stomach in a way you can't explain. That hesitancy is caught by Ralkan however, who's expression changes to one that's more questioning, as his brown eyes rake over your face.
"Why?" He questions, his hand still weighting heavy on your leg. "Are you considering wanting to leave?"
Something in his expression changes yet again. You quickly shake your head.
"No no, I was only wondering."
He smiles, one of his braids sliding over his shoulder to frame his face.
"Good. I don't know how I could be without you. I will do anything to make sure every need of yours is met while we are on the Flamewrought."
Ralkan has spoiled you since the first days you met him, and he's only gotten worse so since he dragged you into his heart. The food he gifts you is the best he can muster, and you can tell you've grown a bit softer. A few hours of extra sleep is nice as well, though sometimes you begin to feel guilty about staying in his quarters for so long, sleeping his training hours away.
You brought it up once and he told you he didn't mind, and encouraged you to do so. That you could should stay in his quarters as long as you want, and keep yourself happy and healthy for him.
Leaning down towards you he presses his lips to your own, easily pushing you gradually until your back hits the bed. Ralkan's massive body covers your own, and your heart already starts to beat a bit faster.
You taste him on your lips as they part for him, his slightly larger mouth awkwardly moving against yours. He's still a bit unfamiliar with the concept, but as with astartes he lacks the embarrassment of unfamiliarity; Learning quickly from you and your noises of enjoyment or discomfort.
You remember the first time you both were together, as it had started the same way; With him leaning forward and pushing you down onto the bed with a kiss.
"You," He hesitated for a moment, as if almost unsure. "You will tell me if I am too rough with you, yes?"
He watched as you silently nodded, your body laid out underneath him like the metal string of a beautiful hand crafted necklace.
"Good. I don't want to ever hurt you." His lips brushed over yours as he spoke, the overwhelming heat that his body made warming you up exponentially.
"I am new to this, I will admit. Show me how best to please you."
Though even if he didn't want to hurt you, he still had.
Your ribs and hips had bruises, your muscles ached like you'd ran miles. Ralkan is a massive man, and didn't quite understand how slow he truly needed to be. How to manage his strength for such a delicate dance. Your cunt still ached with a painful throbbing the day after, even if in the moment, it had been more pleasurable that you could've ever dreamed of it being.
His lips pulling away from yours he still hovers close, heavy chest pressed against yours and pinning you to the bed. His lips ghost over yours and you can feel his hot breath fan over your face, arms wrapping around his neck.
"I'm assuming I'll still have to call you Captain Ralkan around your brothers, correct?"
Ralkan loves the use of formality, to be your captain. In a way however, it sometimes almost feels demeaning; Like he wants to hear you're lesser and need him.
“Good girl, good girl,”
He says, as he slowly forced his way inside of you. You grimaced and writhed, as your body struggled to let him in. Even with as wet as you were, with how much you ached for him and wanted him, your muscles still wanted to push his inhumanly large size out. Even the pop of his cockhead past your entrance had been painful, you'd let out a painful hiss that made Ralkan freeze.
You could see the unfathomable amount of restraint that it had taken him. His hips were tense and you could hear the sound of the cot straining under his grip as he squeezed the life from it.
"Are you alright?"
You nodded to him in response, letting out the breath you'd been holding as you grew used to this amount of stretch. You desperately attempted to let your body relax, and just allow him in.
"Yes, it's just, it's just so tight,"
He pushed deeper, your nails digging into his shoulders. It was only an ache until the last bit- the thick base of his cock forced you even wider and caused you to gasp and kick one of your legs.
His hand rubbed your waist, his lips brushing across your face in almost kisses as he whispered endearing and encouraging words to you.
“Relax, I’m almost there.”
He was slow, you could hear the small hiss he let out as your cunt clenched around him so incredibly tight and tested his patience. Your thighs had to be spread out with an aching stretch to accommodate his hips, feet dangling in the air uselessly.
Your body wasn't meant for someone of his size. He wasn't meant for you. It wasn't natural, but he was going to slowly force it inch by inch.
With one more slow advance his hips finally pressed against the back of your thighs, and he was fully seated inside of you. You could feel the weight of his balls against your ass, and the huff of hot air over your face as he leaned his hips into you with less restraint now that he was fully inside. His deep voice in your ear made you shiver, braids tickling your face.
"Good girl, that was it. You took all of me. You're so small, but I knew you could."
It almost felt like you couldn't breath, with big he was; How deep he could push himself inside of you. When he moved it was like the head of his cock was bumping against your lungs and knocking the wind out of them, pelvis aching with the massive intrusion. The feeling faded as he started to thrust in and out of you, the slap of skin on skin drowning out your whimpers. His cock reached deeper than anything had ever been inside of you, and the ache in your lower stomach began to fade and turn into a pleasurable fullness instead.
When he came inside of you it was an even more intense feeling; The amount he left inside of you was unfathomable and dripped from your stretched hole when he pulled himself from you, though he hadn't left you empty for long after.
You loved Ralkan, you never doubted wanting him like this. The love he made with you was wonderful but you could always feel after the scars and bruises he left behind, like he was slowly remaking you for just himself.
You'd joked about that once. About his size. He'd just smiled, kissing you on the nose and said to stop saying such silly things. You were already made for him.
Ralkan now pulls his lips away from you, and you can see the shine of your own spit against them.
"Don't go thinking such things. You don't need to go a single place that isn't here."
He gifts another kiss to your forehead, his body caging your feeling a bit more suffocating that perhaps you might like, but not enough to say something.
"I must meet with my fellow captains. I will be back as soon as I can. Rest a bit more, I will bring food back for you."
He moves to get up from the cot, but not before adjusting the blanket that had gotten ruffled a bit in his affection for you.
"Can you get me some water also?" You ask him, feeling a bit of dryness in your throat. He smiles.
"Of course, my love."
He gives you a glance goodbye before leaving his quarters to meet with his fellow high ranking astartes, and as you lay your head back sideways on the pillow to curl up and nap, you hear the distinctive sound of the door locking behind him.
88 notes · View notes
aquaglow · 1 day ago
Text
confidence guide for awkward girls 💫
Tumblr media Tumblr media
LEARN TO SHUT UP. this is the first advice because it is probably the most important one, but the one that took me the longest to comprehend and master. girl, literally just shutting the fuck up does wonders. most of the times I was embarrassed out of my mind was coz I said something completely avoidable, only because I believed that being quiet was either rude or more awkward than whatever I rambled at that moment. bzzt, WRONG! being quiet means first of all being non-reactive, which gives you time to really reflect on what's being said and whether or not it even requires a response, and guess what; like 80% of the time, it does not. you are allowed to not respond, nod along, go "hmm" or "oh!" and leave it at that.
LEARN TO "FAKE" SMILE. this may seem controversial but it helps me so much. I've always been accused of looking mean, bitchy or just too serious, especially since I started to shut the fuck up (see previous item). and I am guilty as charged: I do have a RBF and when I am focused my eyebrow goes ò_o and I look judgemental and almost evil, and when I tried to balance it out by being funny or witty, it just came off even more awkward. the solution? I've started practicing a fake smile in front of the mirror when I was about 13 years old until I got the muscle memory of it so perfectly that now it's my response to nearly everything that I don't want/can't respond to. throwing an easy smile into a conversation will make you seem relaxed and in control even if you're bubbling anxious inside, and people will feel more at ease with you. also: learn to be generous with compliments, and try to make them your auto-response as well!
STOP COMPARING YOURSELF. comparison is the mark of insecurity and envy, and it's one of the ugliest and most useless habits you can have. yes, useless: what benefit do you get from comparing your face and body and circumstances to somebody else's? and please don't pretend you're getting "inspiration" from them. listen, you are your own lane. you are your entire universe. there is no other life to be lived, no other body to embody. this is it. these are the cards you were dealt with. the longer you try to peak into somebody else's cards, the longer you'll be ignoring yourself and neglecting your game. abandon ideas such as comparison, imitation or judgement towards others. confidence starts and ends with focusing on yourself.
LEARN TO CUT PEOPLE OFF. accumulating people in your life like they're pokémon is gonna be your downfall, because it's obvious not everyone can stay. imagine if a growing tree held onto all its leaves and branches, even the ones in obvious decay, how ugly and weak that tree would be, how much energy those dying parts would steal from the new ones in need of flourishing. it's the same with relationships. when someone disrespects you, hurts you, or simply doesn't align with you anymore, and you find excuses to keep this person around, what you're doing is betraying yourself, and how are you gonna have confidence in someone who betrays you? learn to cut people off or to simply let them go, and watch yourself become lighter and brighter.
QUIT BEING A BITCH. something people don't seem to understand is that the rude, conceited, mean girl persona is always revealed to be a small, petty and insecure rat on the inside. I've wasted years of potential connections trying to emulate the Blair Waldorf-y, Regina George-y vibes, trying to balance out my awkwardness with what I thought was their fierceness, because I was missing the whole point that their confident selves were lies. no girl or woman who is confident in herself spends any amount of time being a bitch, scheming to take people down, mind everyone else's business to make sure she stays on top. true confident people are kind even in the face of rudeness, they glow in shadows; their strength lies in tenderness. the sooner you give this mean girl show up, the better.
ABANDON YOUR NEED FOR APPROVAL AND COMPREHENSION FROM OTHERS. seeking approval is a very obvious trap but seeking comprehension is also dangerous, because the second people start doubting or questioning you – which is always going to happen when you decide to make a change of habits, traits, lifestyle etc – and you decide to explain yourself, you're accepting the premise that what you're doing is incomprehensible. if you're truly sure of yourself, there will be no need to assure others of yourself. if your peers or strangers don't understand it, so what? that's their enigma to sort out. respond to yourself and yourself only. if you understand and approve yourself, that's all you need, period. live for your damn self.
GOOD LUCK, LITTLE STARS 💫
125 notes · View notes
heauxsdoeuvres · 3 days ago
Text
stir my heart back to life || carmen berzatto
Tumblr media
summary: of all the places he'd find you again, he didn't think it'd be during where he had once asked you out for real.
words: 1.2k ish
themes: yearning, longing, established relationship & break-up, sort of emotional infidelity? (if claire has zero haters i'm dead)
––––––––
Carmen thinks his mind is playing tricks on him.
Out of all the probabilities in the world– what are the chances that he’s standing in the same bodega with his ex-girlfriend that he used to live with right next to him?  
It’d been a long time since he’d last seen you, since…breaking your heart into a million pieces, as well as his own.
Though, as always, he’d never admit that he was hurting. 
He was still working on that. 
Carmen feels a little frozen, trying not to stare at you like the first time he watched you make a croque-en-bouche at 11 Madison Park.
The ice cream container in his hands is melting, but it’s sealed and he doesn’t really care all that much. The cold ice cream feels like nothing in comparison to the warmth that washes over him at the sight of you.
In that moment, he watches you choose a frozen pizza from, hoping it's not pineapple and ham. He's relieved when you don't.
It means you're still the same as he remembers you, somehow.
Relieved that in some way, you hadn’t changed at all.
His brain, a touch uncruel in that moment– rewinds back to the moment when you first met each other at a pizza shop on the corner of Prince & Elizabeth.
You had just gotten out of work and so did he, starving and running on adrenaline fumes. The pizza place was the only place that was open.
There were only two slices left– one of plain pie left along with one that had pineapple on it. Both of you wanted the last plain slice, and when he suggested you’d have the one with pineapple, he had to laugh when he shocked you to righteous indignation. 
The two of you ended up sharing the plain slice (well, he let you have most of it while he had a cigarette for dinner), sitting with each other on a bench at the park nearby. 
Now, after the explosion of your failed relationship, you didn’t look all that different to him.
It was like you had been preserved in time somehow, if only a little tired and a little older, more mature. Your hair is a little longer, freckles are the same as he remembered them. He used to say they were constellations, making a wish each time he kissed them.
Your eyes were tired, bags a little more apparent with the eyeliner you hadn’t entirely managed to get all the way off.  He remembers how he’d always have to take your makeup off for you when you accidentally fell asleep with it on.
Carmen doesn’t hear himself calling your name, but you’re looking at him now as you go to walk away. Just as surprised and caught off guard as him. 
“H-hey..” 
“Hey!” 
Your eyes scan over Carmen, golden curly hair as unruly as it ever was, with a five o’clock shadow on his jaw line that you’re sure he kept putting off shaving. His eyes, as blue as ever, have lines around them, not doubt from all the sleepless nights from his job. 
Or his self sabotage.
Carmen nods to the box of frozen pizza in your basket, “Hope that’s not pineapple on pizza.” 
God, Carmen feels so fucking stupid. What kind of shit was that? 
“God, no.” You chuckle, secretly picking at the skin of the cuticle on your thumb, “You know I never would.” 
Yeah, I know. He thinks to himself. 
“You’re still wearing the jacket I gave you.” You point out with your chin, lips pursing slightly. 
Carmen looks at himself and laughs a bit. “Yeah I uh..it’s pretty comfortable. Does the job, y’know. Can’t be bothered putting allathat other shit on.” 
Yeah, you knew.
You’d often have to half heartedly scold him for not putting a hat on whenever he left the place and it was cold as hell outside. You’d not let him leave until the coat was on his shoulders, and a kiss on his lips to bring him back home. 
“What’re you doing in Chicago?” You both ask, interrupting each other awkwardly.
There’s that awkward pause, fragile as caramel simmering just before the boiling over point, before you laugh nervously and gesture for him to go first. 
“What’re you doin' back home?” Carmen asks again, a fragile curiosity peeking through. 
You shift on your feet, adjusting the basket in your hands. “I um..I kind of just ended up here, after Copenhagen. You?” 
“I live here. Y’know, the restaurant.” 
He sees the way your eyes go a little wide at the mention of the restaurant, “Right, yeah. How’s that going? Finally opened the place yet?” 
“Not yet.” He says, shifting the semi melted ice cream container into his other hand, eyes focused on you, “We uh..we actually closed down The Beef. Shit was a fuckin’ tragedy.” 
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry.” 
“Nah, it’s fine.”
There’s a pause, and Carmen feels like it shouldn’t feel as awkward as it fucking does because he’s spoken to you so many god damn times before.
Only this time the circumstances are far more hilariously fucked up than he’d imagined.
“We got a loan, and uh, it’s enough for the remodel, but we’re gonna have to open the new place and make a fuck ton more to pay it back.” 
“The Bear?” 
“Yeah, yeah..The Bear. You remembered.” Carmen smiles, mostly because he gets so excited talking about a long time achievement; but also because of course you’d remember something so important to him. 
That was something he loves…loved…still loves about you. 
“Congrats then.” You say with such natural warmth, Carmen had no choice but to believe you. 
The end of the short lived conversation is near, and it strikes a little cruel anxiousness in Carmen’s heart. Somehow, you’ve ended up in each other’s orbit – as if the sun was suddenly back in his life, and the possibility of never seeing you again makes his throat constrict, makes him wanna heave until he has no more to give. 
He coughs, mentally racing to find the words. It was like a motor that was slow to start, the way his mouth finally caught up to  his brain, and vice versa. 
“You should come to the soft opening.” He says so quickly you almost don’t understand him, “We’re aimin' for uh- for some time in May. If you can, or uh if you wanna, that is.” 
For the first time you see each other, you smile, and it makes Carmen’s heart melt like the way it did when he saw how you smiled when he made chocolate lava cake for you after sleeping together for the first time.
He didn't even like chocolate all that much, but he was inspired by the way you breathed life into him.
Carmen then remembers how much he misses everything about you. The fact that Claire was waiting for him at his place completely escaped him.
“I’ll be happy to go, Carmen.” You say, with that lilt in the way you say his name that makes Carmen’s heart race a little. 
“Great.” 
“Great.” 
For a million little reasons you don’t want to think about, you can’t seem to pull yourself away from Carmen despite knowing that it’s well past a reasonable time to be home. 
Even from where you stand, you can feel the pull. And you’d be a liar if you said that it didn’t make you want to rush into his arms and forget everything about the nightmare that was breaking up with him. 
“Here, lemme give you my number,”
As he takes out his phone, and realizing how that sounds, “So I can tell you where it is, and maybe we can..catch up? We don’t gotta hang out or anything if you don’t wanna but I uh..it would be nice to talk.” 
A part of Carmen hates the way the consideration, the moment of doubt washes over your eyes.
“Yeah, sure.” You respond softly after a moment of looking at his face, switching phones to add him to your contact list, and handing him back his phone as he gave you back yours. “I gotta go, but I’ll see you around?” 
Once again, Carmen doesn't hear himself speak, but his lips moved since you turned your back to walk away.
It's the only thing he can do - watching you go. Only this time, part of him hopes you’ll come back to him. 
© heauxsdoeuvres 2025
61 notes · View notes
melina-mellow · 2 days ago
Text
Natlan review time!
Finished the Natlan AQ and Idk how to explain it but Natlan is the only nation where I grew an attachment to the nation itself rather than any one particular character in general.
One thing I liked about this nation is that despite the fact that like Fontaine, a plan to save the nation was already in place before the Traveler arrived there, however, unlike Fontaine, it didn't make the Traveler's presence feel like a passerby or a member of the audience.
It felt like their decisions and their contributions mattered. That the praise they received by the characters and npcs in Natlan was actually earned rather than glazing the MC just to make players feel important.
I think a consequence of Natlan being so late into the game (second last to Snezhnaya) is that they needed to shove as many answers about Teyvat and start tying all the plot points together to set up the endgame, which lead to not enough time spent on the main cast of characters.
The key theme of "No one fights alone" actually feels like it means something, and they actually live up to that and you get to see the contributions of the other characters, and not just the playable ones in your final fight with the abyss. Makes your victory feel earned.
I feel like people comparing it to Fontaine shouldn't really be doing it. It's not a fair comparison cause Natlan isn't going for the same thing as Fontaine did. They're two different stories, if they just did rehash of Fontaine it'd just be boring.
Natlan didn't reach the emotional highs that Fontaine did, but that's fine because not every nation needs to be an emotional sobfest. It's okay, to have a happy/hopeful ending sometimes.
(Although ngl Capitano's sacrifice got me a little teary eyes. MY GOAT!)
At the end of the day Natlan was about humanity coming together to fight against impossible odds and finding hope to continue fighting for a better tomorrow. Which they succeeded in conveying.
People will call the "power for friendship" thing corny, but imo y'all are just miserable and bitter. Cause fuck what all of you say, cause humans coming together to support each to defeat an godlike entity is hype as hell!
Truly the shounen arc of Genshin Impact.
Overall Natlan's AQs gets a solid 9.5/10 from me.
59 notes · View notes
genderqueerdykes · 17 hours ago
Note
Book anon brought up is literally called Trans/Rad/Fem and it claims to be essays on "transfeminism" but the entire basis is how r@dical feminism helped build feminsim, including transfeminism - thus transfeminism couldn't exist without radf3minism, and tries to argue the two types of feminism are actually very similar and should support each other. Just a snippet of the summary: "This series of essays aims to reconstruct and reintroduce the r@dical feminist framework that its misbegotten inheritors seem determined to forget and in doing so boldly makes the claim that transfeminism, far from being antagonistic to r@dical feminism, is in fact its direct descendant. It shows how a comprehensive social theory of transsexual oppression flows almost naturally from r@dical feminist precepts and dares to declare that a materialist, r@dical transfeminism is the way forward to seize the foundations of patriarchy at the root." The author has a bunch of free writing on her site, and it's interesting because she seriously uses the term transemasculation and argues that trans men do face specific oppression for being trans men, but then she's got this incredibly bizarre essay on how trans men aren't allowed to relate to Stone Butch Blues even though she personally knows a lot who do. Her stuff also really only pays lipservice to but is notably absent of anyone outside the binary, which is interesting because she also considers herself 'third sexed'. And she parrots these ideas about "degendering" and "regendering" throughout all her essays that just don't seem to /quite/ line up with the broader social definitions of these terms. I don't know, it's like someone who infiltrates 'the enemy' to try and take them down from the inside and doesn't realize they're slowly being converted. Also, she's actually on tumblr (head's up). Here's her own explanation of her book: https://taliabhattwrites.tumblr.com/post/769862585675825152/im-sorry-if-youve-answered-this-or-if-it-should And for some comparison here's genderkoolaid's reaction to the book summary (with full summary included): https://genderkoolaid.tumblr.com/post/771666069645623296/question-have-you-heard-about-the-book
"but then she's got this incredibly bizarre essay on how trans men aren't allowed to relate to Stone Butch Blues,"
does. does she know that Leslie Feinberg was literally a polygender lesbian who identified partially as a trans man. does she know that Leslie lived as a trans man for many years before accepting being multigender. does she know. anything about what she's talking about. like yes, Jess in the book was written to challenge the idea of what a woman "should be". and rightfully so. that part of Leslie's identity needed to be discussed. Leslie's other genders do not overwrite the fact that ze was a transsexual woman. i want that to be clear!
but it doesn't change the fact that transmasculine people are still gonna relate to this experience whether or not they identify as women. also what about transmasculine women...? that right there is enough to tell me this person has no idea what the fuck they're talking about. Stone Butch Blues was quite literally written by someone who was partially a trans man. like you cannot erase the fact that Leslie literally called hirself "polygendered". that was the term ze used for hirself. Leslie was a trans man as well as a transsexual woman. get fucked, talia. you don't know what the fuck you're talking about. even if the character of Jess wasn't a trans man, it doesn't erase the fact that Leslie was. Jess is just a character based off of Leslie.
wow that's actual bullshit. thank you so much for letting me know about this, i had no clue. i don't read books unless i'm looking into a specific topic so i'll be sure to steer clear of that. this shit is sad. rad feminism has never and will never help anyone. rad feminism is about hating women. it's about seeing women as weaker and inferior to men. it's about thinking that women can never hurt anyone else because they can't hold power in society ever. rad feminism is about painting women as pathetic dainty little creatures who could never hurt a fly, that women are so stupid that they can't think for themselves and are always being taken advantage of no matter what, and it's also about how women can only look and act certain ways or else they're not women.
trans rad feminism hurts trans women. if you're a transradfem:
radfems fucking hate you and want you to die. snap out of it. this will not make them like you. this will not make them see you as a woman. they are happy you are spreading their propaganda, but they want you dead and see you as predatory men invading women's spaces. wake. the fuck. up. all you're doing is participating in trans/misogyny and the faster you realize it, the better off you'll be.
31 notes · View notes
passionatelyxlust · 14 hours ago
Text
Focusing on Isabel's plan and stealing away Azriel temporarily dulled his emotions a little because any other distractions like the knowledge Lust made the difficult decision running with only his Prince at his side would have caused the slightest hesitation. Lust didn't have the time to think about how much he missed Gluttony, but the aching pit remained pulsing like a beacon that called out for his brother. "Of course I can hear you." The demon mumbled, confusion spreading along his facial features and in his vocal tone. Why would he not hear Gluttony? Does a dream world include the law prohibiting the one visiting another's dream from interacting with the person themselves if they weren't as experienced as a witch like Azriel? Whatever the reason for his surprise, Lust knew it involved what he witnessed in the mansion's chaotic arrangement. The demon gave his brother one final squeeze, even considering cracking another weak joke that Gluttony's hug was nearly squeezing the air out of his lungs, but his first joke didn't quite land the way he thought it would have in the past. Lust watched Azriel disappear, feeling his comforting presence through their bond before returning his attention on Gluttony. "Might be better that way not crossing paths with him. The guy's a dick sometimes and I say so with love." He and Azriel would receive the scoop on Kai's current residence soon enough when they returned home once the war has died down. For now, the silent pause breaking between the brothers gave Lust the moment absorbing the state of his sibling. Even in dream form, Gluttony appeared completely drained of the spark that made him who he was. The man Lust knew as well as himself. He could feel the sadness, the frustration, and the fatal-blowing anger emitted from him shared across the connection they carried. Three little words from Gluttony's mouth all but confirmed what Lust already knew. "I feared as much. It's always the King." Lust glanced between them, reaching out his hands to gently grip the other's closed fists, almost shocked he was now the person keeping his best friend calm. "He's not just making this personal, Gluts, he is slashing wounds and pressing down hard with his fucking finger." He could imagine who else the King has gone after, their punishments, but the severity of his brothers' damage paled in comparison to Gluttony. His voice and his souls, presumably including Josephine's, stolen and in the hands of a madman. "He did what?" Lust ground out with bubbling fury underneath his inflection. He mourned with his sibling, for him, and if anything can cause the demon wanting their King dead...it was this. The fucker can come after his more tempestuous of Princes, threaten to steal Azriel's life, but he does not shatter his brother and believe he can escape without consequences. "Gluttony, I'm coming home to you. I don't care if it places my life in danger, Az and I are returning. You needed me before and I shouldn't have abandoned you, what he did is my doing." His hands stretched forward and clutched Gluttony's shoulders, "I can't leave you to face this alone, Gluts. We're doing this together as we've always done."
Watching the two interact, he couldn't help but draw a parallel between him and his brother. Azriel always regarded him and Kai on the same level when protecting their sister, and they were. However, Kai protected him the most– and it often left Kai taking the penalties for both of them while Az tended to get off scot-free. He wasn't naive to think that the repressed anger wasn't just because of the coven's choices but because he took more onto his shoulders than he should have. A shuddered breath left Gluttony's lips, eyes widening, his voice quiet as he whispered, "you can hear me." Gluttony was so used to speaking in his mind, in his dreams, that he wondered if he was going insane or if he would be punished in his dreams, too, and forever be unheard. The Prince made no hesitation in wrapping his arms around Lust tightly like he would slip through his fingers and leave him on his own to crumble under the pressure. He knew how much he missed his brother, missed him with every fiber of his being, but seeing Lust again drove home the open chasm in his chest that couldn't be filled other than with the presence of his brother. His safety net and his other half. When Lust explained how he was there, Gluttony's brown eyes flicked to Azriel, mouthing a small 'thank you'. In response, the witch nodded, his gaze moving from between the two brothers huddling together before phasing out. Lust would feel Az never left, but they didn't need an outsider spectating. Gluttony's gaze moved back to Lust, a frown deepening on his face at the prospect of telling him what had happened that not even Lust's joke could make him tilt his lips upwards. He didn't know who he was anymore. Anytime the Prince looked in the mirror, the person looking back became more and more of a stranger. "I forgot he was there; we don't cross paths," Gluttony responded after a time before lapsing into silence, a silence that he was so accustomed to in his waking life that it seemed to carry over to his dreams now. It was better that he and Kai didn't cross paths, and while he was fine with the witch before, Gluttony wouldn't be able to handle him now; the Prince was finding out that there wasn't much he could handle anymore. He didn't know how to put into words what happened without breaking down when he realized... it'd be the first time he said it aloud what he'd endured at the hands of their King. Every other time he'd talked about it, he'd written it out... able to dissociate from the words like he was reading about someone else in a story, yet saying it out loud drove home that it was him. Broken, useless. "The King happened," he finally bit out, eyes dropping to his hands as they closed shakily into fists, "I guess he decided to clean house and I was first, figures since I snapped at him. I'm not the only one either; he's going through all of us." Gluttony's lips trembled as his eyes lifted once more to look into Lust's bright ones, shaking his head sadly. "He took everything from me, Lust. Took all of my damn souls," his voice cracked, causing Gluttony to press the heels of his palms into his eyes, but he couldn't stop the slow leaking of tears escaping through the cracks. "He took my voice. I scream and scream, and nothing comes out."
71 notes · View notes
asherthehimbo · 3 days ago
Text
Burning in the Darkness
synopsis: The confrontation of love isn't always pretty, it's not always accepted either, live can hurt, it can burn hotter than any flame in Tartarus, Kai knows this well. or, a short story on how Felix and Kai came to be
word count: 3.2K
pairing: Lee Felix x Male Oc! (Kai)
notes! : HAPPY BIRTHDAY @kaisworlds I LOVE YOU SO MUCH OMW ID DIE FOR YOU I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS, EVERYONE GO SAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO HIM YAYAYAYAYAYA. Based on this Yunho fic! Here are characters parents!
Tumblr media
It was a mistake, fuck it was such a mistake but god did he wish it wasnt. The pain, the searing heat of Felix’s touch is now forever engraved in Kai’s memory. There are tiny burn marks littering his skin, ones that could be mistaken for hickeys if not for the the pain on his flesh whenever he moves, his bones ache as fatigue consumes him. His eyes are still closed, trying to will away the rising sun and its offspring that lay next to him.
He’s scared, and that's a foreign feeling, at least in this sense. He’s developed his fathers lack of emotion overtime, the darkness being a part of his soul and not just something he could control, he’s scared to open his eyes because he doesn’t know what he'll see. He told his sister, he fucking told her he didn’t want to come to the party the kids where having at Felix’s dorm, he knew his mind wasn’t in the right space, that he’d end up doing something he couldn’t take back. He shouldn’t have listened to his sister, she just sounded so happy at the chance to actually hangout because Erin was out of town and he didn't have the heart to deny her.
Last night everything felt so right, the music was blaring, the alcohol left that delicious burn in the back of his throat after every shot, everyone was laughing and he had lost the reason he was worried in the first place, that is until a tipsy Felix sat next to him. God did he look good, blond locks growing out, now almost reaching his shoulders, glittered eyes and dark freckles on his cheeks, he looked absolutely delicious and Kai found himself wishing to taste Felix. He wanted the blond man’s taste to be the burning in the back of his throat, not the alcohol that now seemed tasteless in comparison to the flavor of Felix’s lips he’s concocted in his mind. 
He shouldn’t have, he knew he shouldn't have, he’s been to many parties, he's got a tolerance and he knows he can’t blame his next actions on the alcohol. It was just, he came to a point where he couldn’t resist Felix anymore, not when he was looking up at him with those big eyes, with the pout that made him seem so fucking kissable. The rest was a haze but Kai can remember every detail of Felix’s body beneath his, he doesn’t remember how it started, he just remembers Felix’s lips against his, he remembers ignoring the burning of the blond’s touch, rather liking the pain of the searing scratches on his back.
He lay in a bed he knows isn’t his own, feels the heat radiating off Felix in waves, he sighs for a moment, the sun’s starting to come up and if he’s caught here once Helios turns up to greet his son he’d turn to ash simply due to that fact that he isn’t meant to meet the sun, not ever, he is darkness after all. He opens his eyes, staring at the ceiling before turning his head and the image that greets him makes his heart sink to his stomach. Felix’s roots are black, the roots of his hair are black. The blond seems duller, not the bright newly bleached it was last night, it’s faded out and his roots are fucking black. 
He sits up, he can’t stay here, he’s hurting Felix, corrupting him. There’s a voice in his mind screaming to stay, to turn Felix to darkness, to rid him from the son and keep him in Kai’s shadow forever, he doesn’t listen to it. He tries to be as quiet as possible, but his own pounding headache and burning wounds make that effort fruitless. When he’s pulled his shirt that reeks of smoke- god does he need a cigarette right now- over his head he sees Felix staring at him, eyes wide and head tilted as he sits up. Fuck
“What are you doing? Where are you going?” Felix’s voice is still groggy from sleep as he rubs his eyes, it’s cute but Kai’s mind is a mess of voices and he can’t focus on that, he doesn’t want to answer, but his mouth speaks faster than his mind in the way it always does. “Home, last night was a mistake, i'm going home and sleeping it off” he says, voice monotone and the perfect parallel of his fathers which he hated as a child. He won't be going home, and he definitely won't be sleeping, his thoughts running too fast for that, but he needs to get out of here, he’s panicked and he hates being panicked. “What?” Felix asks, suddenly awake as he sits up fully, his voice cracks and Kai knows he just tore out Felix’s heart but he can’t fucking stop.
He has a tendency to hurt those around him, he doesn’t want to but his instincts perceive any unwanted feelings as danger and his mind will do anything to get him away from it, especially say things he doesn't mean, things he wishes would never have been uttered from his lips. “I said last night was a mistake, and I'm going home” He turns, he can’t look at Felix anymore, his eyes hurt, he doesn’t know if it's the tears he’s pushing back or the faint glow around the blond, but he needs out.  His feet carry him, but the fire that encompasses his wrist pulls him back as Felix stands before him, body littered with bruises that were brought on by pleasure, eye’s brimming with tears that look golden in the rising sun, as if his words made the demigod cry ichor. Such a holy substance, Kai thinks, he is undeserving of it. “What do you mean by mistake? I laid my heart bare for you and-” Felix is pleading, trying to convince himself that this is just a bad dream, that years of pining wasn’t for nothing, that last night, the night he’s dreamed of, it wasn’t for nothing.
Kai rips his wrist from Felix's hold, not because he wants to but because it burns, he’d imagine the flames of tartarus wouldn’t hurt as much as Felix's touch currently does. A demigod's power is heightened by emotion but Kai has repressed his own for so long that compared to the light before him, the light of his life, that he is weak. He can still feel last night's touches flaming against his skin, happy that he’s wearing something to cover the marks. Felix doesn’t need to know what he does to Kai, he won’t be able to live with that guilt and Kai knows that. “It was a mistake. We were both drunk and horny and that's all it was”  
A tear falls from Felix’s eye, it hits the ground with a sizzle, burning through the wood, he doesn’t notice, but Kai does. “You don’t mean that” his voice is wavering, eyes brimming with more tears and the room seems impossibly hotter. Kai doesn’t respond, he’s good at lying, but not good enough to say he does and show Felix he means it. He watches in silence as more tears fall from Felix’s face into the ground, burning through the wood like a cigarette bud to paper. “I hate you” Felix says, “You don’t” Kai responds immediately. 
“I hate that I don’t” Felix knows Kai’s right, but it hurts, it feels like a sword pierced his heart, the tears that fall from his eyes feel like their burning his own skin (because they are Felix, you’re hurting yourself), he can’t deny Kai’s words but he wishes he could. The room is filled with silence again, wishes that come from both of the demigods' hearts floating in the air yet not reaching the other, reality pulling them back. Miscommunication is a fucked trope, one Felix never liked, a shame he’s caught trapped in it now. Falling in love with a man who would die before telling Felix the truth, that he loves him, that he’s willing to die if it means Felix could touch him. But he doesn’t because he knows Felix would die before hurting him, and somehow in Kai’s twisted, dark veiled mind, pushing away the person who sees the good in him, pushing away Felix is his best option. He turns again and walks out the door, strangely missing the burn of Felix’s wrist on his skin as he walks.
It’s weird, he does not want to burn, yet he yearns for the pain when he doesn’t. His mind hates it, but his heart needs it to continue pumping in his chest, his soul can not stay whole without it. But ruining what’s good has always been something Kai’s done, he’s learned that from his father, creating a veil of darkness over his life is what he’s used to, Felix makes him wish he wasn’t.
Tumblr media
“You” the door to Kai’s room slams open as his sister stands in the doorway, her finger pointed at him as she's hunched over and panting heavily as if she'd ran here, she supports herself on her knees as the finger that was previously pointing at him is now held up in a ‘give me a minute’ motion. 
“Me?” Kai asks from where he lays on his bed, cigarette in hand as he stares up at his ceiling, it's dark in his room, his curtains drawn and blocking out the setting sun, only light from his lamp. He sighs after a moment, sitting up and flicking some of his cigarettes ash into the ashtray he's holding as he looks at his sister. He knows why she's here, knows that out of the thousands of missed calls and messages on his phone she's at least half of them, but the device is left forgotten on the floor in a corner of his room and he doesn't have the willpower to get it. 
“You! How could you be so stupid I mean you-” Kyu already starts her ranting as she walks into the room, but stops once she sees the state of her brother, her former discontent now turning into worry as she stares at him, her open mouth closing as she seems to contemplate her next words. “You look like a fucking mess” she sighs, walking over and grabbing the cigarette from his lips, putting it out as she takes the ashtray from his hands and placing it on his desk ignoring his whining. 
“Come one I rarely smoke, you could've let me atleast finish it” he says and she simply gives him a look in response, he flops back onto his bed, “I'm guessing you talked to Felix?” his words are cautionary, almost as if he's afraid to say them. She repeats his sentence in a mocking tone, “of course I talked to Felix because the sun was fucking beaming so hard today I could barely walk outside- and when I did go to his room everythings burnt to ashes and his hair is fucking black and he's crying ichor and-” her ranting is cut of as Kai whips his head to her, “his hair was black?”
She stops her pacing as she looks at him, “yeah? he didn't seem like he realised till I pointed it out but I thought that was your doing?” she looks at his face now, the redness of his eyes, the split in his lips from how he's bitten them. He smells like sweat and cigarettes, like he always did when he was upset. He'd found his way of coping, even if that was ignoring everything in favor of working out till he couldn't anymore and then ruining his lungs, but he was coping nonetheless. 
“No when I left him only his roots were darker not his- fuck” Kai’s hands reach for his head, covering his face. Kyu sighs before she sits next to him, “tell me what happened, because right now I only know what Felix told me and that is not a good thing” she looks down at her brother sympathetically and he hates it. 
“We slept together” Kai shrugs, acting as if his words don't hold the weight that they do. “Kai, we both know it's more than that” the knowing tone of her voice reaches his ears and as much as he loves his sister he just wants to tell her to shut up. “I told him it was a mistake” he finally lets out with a sigh. There's silence, and he doesn't look at his sister's face, he can't, knowing her face will only reflect the disappointment he feels in himself. 
“why? I mean why- you've loved that boy since you met him why would you-” Kyu doesn't understand, she can never understand. Felix isn't made for him, he's made to hurt him. “His roots were black” Kai cuts her off, “what?” She looks confused, not understanding why a problem that could be fixed by a simple dye job is the reason for the sudden animosity between the two. 
“Kyu, I kissed him and gods if it wasn't the best thing i'd ever experienced -  He was everything i'd ever wanted and it felt almost sinful to touch him but I did because I just couldn't not anymore, he told me he loved me and for a moment, for a second I let myself believe that maybe even the darkest of Chthonic’s could have the light of love, but then I woke up.  I woke up and the roots of his hair were black, I'd corrupted him simply by touching him. I felt so ashamed, because I knew better, I should've known better and then when he touched me it burned. I mean sure he was always a little warm, and when it happened during sex I just thought he lost control of his powers but he tried to reach out to be and his touch burned and I just-” Kai takes a breath, not choking back a sob, he doesn't cry, has long since forgone the action, but sometimes he wishes he would, thinks it would be easier to let out his emotions that way. 
“Our powers react to our emotions, they act up in defense of us, he burned me, he was scared of me” Kai admits, he hates the words that roll off his tongue, like venom that he desperately needs to spit out before it infiltrates his veins and overtakes his mortal body. “Was he scared of you, or was he scared that you would leave?” Kyu asks after a moment of silence, when she'd taken in her brother's words, Kai’s mind stops. 
“He was scared” is all he says, like he's confirming the situation to himself, “I can't - I can't have him being scared because of me” he finishes, no matter why, he doesn't want to mix any negative feelings with Felix's positive ones, he would rather drown himself in the river styx. 
“Kai,“ his sister sighs, as if she's talking to a child her voice is gentle, yet not demeaning, it still doesn't make him feel better, “I promise you he wasn't scared of you, I know what being scared of someone you love looks like- and the Felix I saw before I came here was a mess of a man filled with loss. If he was scared of losing you- then that isn't a bad thing. Being scared to lose someone is what it is to be in love, you're scared and yet you still dive in anyway, because you'll be with them. Kai from what I saw, Felix isn't better off without you, not in the way you think he is.“
Kai lets her words sink in each sentence sitting heavier on his chest, “you want me to talk to him” Kai doesn't ask, his words are a statement, he knows his sister, and while she would never push him she was very persistent. Kai stands up, already accepting the fact that he needs to fix his mistake of calling what happened a mistake, but she stops him. “Don't go no, It's dark out, go in the morning, when the sun is bright, meet him in his domain, an olive branch of sorts. Show him you're willing to be vulnerable, it'll mean a lot more” she stands up, pushing him back softly as she moves to the door, only bidding him a smile goodbye as he nods in response, she knows she needs to leave, to let him
think about what he wants to say, what he needs to say. 
Tumblr media
It's strange, he's not even in Felix's room and yet he can feel the heat radiating from it, the wood of the door charred, doorknob melted off, all he has to do is push, one simple push and he'll be able to see Felix. Such a simple action feels so difficult, his arm heavy as if lifting it up to open the door would be the most fatigue-inducing task he'd ever complete. 
There are no sounds coming from Felix's room, he didn't expect that, he'd expected screaming, crying even just heavy breathing and yet it's completely silent. The silence of the room is louder than his own heartbeat. His body leads when his mind is dull, walking through the door, it's second nature for his body, instinct to walk into Felix's room. Many nights spent laughing and talking with him, yet in his heart he knows it's different, that nothing will ever be the same despite the outcome of what will happen when he is in this room.
His eyes land on Felix, he's the only solid in the room, sitting atop a once white bed, his clothes burned, bedding black and ashfilled, gold tear tracks running down his face, eyes open and dead, unblinking and staring past Kai, through him. The room is dark, burned down despite the sun shining into it.  Kai mistakes the man before him for a child of the dead, he is unmoving, unblinking, no breath from his bleeding lips, no more tears from his golden rimmed eyes, his hair as dark as Kai’s own shadow. This isn't Felix, not the one he knows, not the one he fell in love with. 
Kai hears the whispers of Minho and I.N behind him, they're worried, rightfully so, but they shouldn't see Felix like this, no one should. Kai doesn't  want others to see what he's done to his light, lest they take it away from him forever. 
He closes the door, a newly formed resolve steeled in his blackened heart, he'll love Felix, even if he needs to burn, because he'd rather die in Felix's flames, than watch him succumb to his own. No one knows what was said that morning, what happened that day, it's a secret, a moment in time shared only between the two, a moment not even seen nor heard by the sun, one just for them. 
No one else was in the room where it happened, but that's a good thing, for the forced solitude of darkness and light brought forth a new beginning for the pair, one rocky, one painful and filled with heartache, but a beautiful path nonetheless. 
Tumblr media
Stray kids masterlist | navigation
Taglist: @seongsangssbitch @leezanetheofficial @idkwhatto-namethis
25 notes · View notes
Note
oh! whats the most expensive/gaudy/over-the-top ocean liner you know of? :3
Hooooooooooo boy. My long time followers should know what time it is. Unpopular opinion time!
Among this small community of ocean liner needs that I call home, I feel as though I stand alone with this opinion, but...
Tumblr media
I REALLY don't like the Normandie. On the outside, she looks fat and weird, it looks like a huge chunk of her stem is missing, the artifical sheer is unflattering, and the funnels look too chunky. I just don't get the appeal. But then there's her interiors.
Now, don't get me wrong, I can kinda understand the appeal here. It would be foolish of me to try and claim that this is not beautiful.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
BUT. Jesus christ it looks like a god damn art museum. Ocean liners are meant to be COMFORTABLE. They're meant to feel like a HOTEL. You're spending at least 4 days aboard, so the accommodations and decor are EXTREMELY important to the passenger experience. Despite how beautiful these interiors are, they just don't fill that role. Everything is covered in marble and stone and metal. Rooms are tall and thin, which makes them extremely imposing (and also a fire Hazzard, cough cough). Like, if I was aboard I'd be too afraid to get close to the walls. It's like, is it beautiful? Yes? I mean, there's no accounting for taste, but you do you I guess. Do I wanna fucken SLEEP THERE for 4 days? Fuck no. It feels more like a cathedral than a hotel. Normandie leaned VERY hard into the new (at the time) art deco movement. Perhaps too hard. And most, if not all of my sentiments were echoed by passengers at the time. Extravagance so overindulgent feels suffocating. "It's just too much". Oh, also, in an era where liners were ditching their 3 class segregation in favor of 2 classes that were much closer to each other in terms accomodations, Normandie had fucking four. FOUR. AND A MANDATORY DRESS CODE TOO. THIS IS A SHIP NOT A BUSINESS MEETING. Anyway, if you're richer than those disgusting middle class people, but not as rich as the richest people on earth, the Normandie is for you I guess. For comparison, the Queen Mary, which entered service just a year after Normandie, had a much more restrained take on art deco. Still gorgeous, but not overindulgent. Her interiors put masterful artistry on display without sacrificing that warm, welcoming, and inviting atmosphere that an ocean liner should have. I'd include pictures, but I'm already at the 10 picture limit. I might reblog this post with some more pictures. Anyway, Normandie burned down in 1942 because the French line can't help themselves and exclusively make ocean liners that double as tinder boxes.
So yeah, the Normandie is easily the most flagrant display of gaudy overindulgent wealth I've ever seen. Not a fan honestly. Thank you so much for the ask!
18 notes · View notes
thetimelordbatgirl · 2 years ago
Text
Not a Wanda stan trying to compare her actions in Multiverse of Madness to Miles in Across the Spiderverse, acting like we shouldn’t hate Wanda just cause we support Miles. 
Tumblr media
5 notes · View notes
lotus-pear · 4 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
charm stat at debonair ‼️‼️
4K notes · View notes
foreverfearlessred · 5 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
oohhhh when I tell you I’m about to do something that puts me on the international news. James Vowles shut the fuck up challenge when. I hope your shitty excel spreadsheet gets corrupted x
65 notes · View notes
tangledinink · 1 year ago
Note
new gemini update was so good as always but I can't stop thinking:
big mama: there's nothing wrong with my sons
splinter: you fucked up two perfectly good kids is what you did. look at blue. he's got an eating disorder
wwhhhattttt? nooo, don't be silly. leo doesn't have an eating disorder.
leo and donnie have eating disorders--
167 notes · View notes
ratatatastic · 2 months ago
Note
I'm new here and the Tkashirt reminded me of a question I have: *Is* Cats social media particularly fun and unhinged? Because I love it but I don't know how unusual it is for the NHL today
i am quite literally the worst person to ask these things considering i dont perceive other teams consciously and i have them all blocked on all socials for my own sanity because i am a hater deep down to my bones so quite honestly-
the best i can do is
Tumblr media
15 notes · View notes
andromeda3116 · 1 year ago
Text
people actually went on about how game of thrones made it socially acceptable to be a fantasy nerd, as though the lord of the rings movies hadn't been released less than a decade earlier and left far greater cultural ripples and i am just
got may have made the adults feel better about liking fantasy, but lotr got into the kids' heads when they (we) were just young and impressionable enough to be absolutely transported and emotionally rewritten by don't you leave him, samwise gamgee and my brother, my captain, my king and and rohan will answer
lotr was rewriting entire generations' brain chemistry long before asoiaf and so obviously it's not fair to compare any post-lotr fantasy novel to it, and each book series was trying to do different things within their own spheres and so that also is not a fair comparison, but in terms of the cultural impact of the adaptations that came out within a decade of each other, saying that it was game of thrones that made fantasy mainstream is baffling
game of thrones could only run because the lord of the rings movies laid the path, and i will die on this hill
#lotr#lord of the rings#lord of the rings movies#i started this post because ''may it be'' came up on my playlist but now i think i'm going to start my nth rewatch of the trilogy#there is a lot to discuss about it re: comparison to the books but it's like...#for all the changes they made - good and bad and neutral - everyone involved in making the films *loved* the source material#they all *wanted* to do justice to it and believed in it and it shows#i think of some posts i've seen about how frustrating this modern push towards tongue-in-cheek irony over sincerity#so afraid to be corny or cheesy that you have to tack a joke onto every real emotional moment#like no fuck that#give me sam hauling frodo onto his shoulders saying ''i can't carry it for you but i can carry you''#give me aragorn gently kissing boromir's forehead as he dies#give me merry and pippin throwing themselves at the uruk hai to distract them from frodo#give me theoden's grand speeches and gandalf's pained expression when frodo says he'll carry the ring#tbh i think that sincerity is a large part of *why* it has such staying power even now#because it is a story you are meant to get deeply emotionally invested in and not hold yourself a little ironically apart from#it isn't meant to sell merch it's meant to bring you to middle-earth and capture your heart and make you believe that the war can be won#with love and loyalty and hope and fellowship and fidelity and integrity and just... just refusing to give in to despair#it is earnest. it is unafraid to be melodramatic or corny because it believes in the story it's telling.#and so it imprinted onto a whole generation growing up right at the cusp of a barrage of apocalypses#anyway. i have Feelings about these movies and their impact and how that mirrors and enhances the books' own impact
133 notes · View notes