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qingxin-dream · 1 year ago

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“The Afterparty”

summary | lyney is the face of fontaine’s entertainment industry, stealing hearts with every flourish of his magic. however, in the night, lyney tends to entertain a different kind of crowd.

warnings | written pre-4.0, ooc lyney, light yandere themes (stalking/manipulation/obsession), a sprinkle of smut (creampie/implied dubcon) [18+, MDNI], brief mention of drugs/alcohol, reader is neutral but wears a dress, lyney uses a little french

genre | yandere, slight smut

word count | 1.6k

pairing | lyney x reader

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It’s no mystery that the Great Magician of Fontaine is a man of many talents. His shows are famous across Teyvat for their grandeur and flare. Beautiful venues draped in red curtains frame the scene before a sea of velvety theater seats, skilled acrobats maneuver themselves among rings suspended in the air. Blazes of fire erupt from the stage dramatically. A master of misdirection, the audience falls for his tricks every time as he effortlessly makes the impossible possible.

Lyney is incredibly perceptive. He knows how to read people, as a showman can read his audience, a small smug smile crinkling the corner of his eyes if you’re paying attention. It’s an art form—the way he flips through the pages of your soul, licking his fingers to reveal the next juicy detail with ease. Rarely ever does anyone truly surprise someone as cynical as him, who has been personally privy to the vile nature of the Fatui.

A life of fame is never kind to anyone. The planning and training for shows is incredibly rigorous. Executing the stunts in front of a live audience is equally thrilling and terrifying. Without fail, the crowd is mesmerized and the show ends in a shower of roses and marriage proposals. Rinse and repeat. Though, this is only what Lyney allows the public to know of him.

It’s after hours, when the theater is empty and the stage is dim, when the mask begins to slip.

Lyney is the lead, the star, and as such he maintains his appearance by rubbing elbows with the elite of Fontaine. You’d never catch him amid the nightlife of the city, no. You wouldn’t believe the sheer grandeur of the dazzling, flamboyant parties thrown every night at the country’s largest mansions.

It was Arlecchino who insisted that he attends these lavish parties, rampant with the city’s darkest vices between drugs, alcohol, and sex. But Lyney is a cynical man, so this much is to be expected of wealthy aristocrats.

It was all a façade, couldn’t they see? It sickened him, how gullible people were and how obsessed they were with status. Not to mention the inevitable hordes of women who threw themselves at him.

Nevertheless, Lyney played the game well and with a bewitching, handsome smile. Eventually he had learned to take pleasure in this little game.

As fate would have it, you let your friend convince you to crash one of these extravagant parties with them. You had heard whispers of what takes place at night behind the golden gates of Fontaine’s richest residences. Why wouldn’t you want to have a taste of the finest wine, dressed in designer, getting lost in the magnificent corridors of a packed mansion of partygoers?

It’s something straight from the movies.

You emerged from the bushes to sneak inside, which wasn’t that difficult surprisingly. You wore your best dress, not knowing what to expect. It was a floor length, silky black dress with a sexy slit that traveled all the way up to your mid-thigh. You had a lovely string of pearls dangling from your pretty neck. A classic choice.

Unfortunately for you, Lyney is a man who is extremely attentive to his surroundings. After all, an illusionist must be a master of his environment as well. The moment he spots you, a mere reflection of something new and fascinating for him to discover, he gravitates to you smoothly.

“Mm, I don’t believe we’ve met,” his voice is an alluring, a well-practiced approach. Before you could even answer, Lyney had already taken note of your little mannerisms and nuances just in these few passing moments. He had already adjusted the figurative mirrors of misdirection in this little trick, assuring your undivided attention.

You glance to your friend, who isn’t there. Oh. You had been cornered without even the opportunity to explore the party.

More of a wallflower type, you found yourself struggling to conjure up a confident answer. You were acutely aware of who this gentleman is, and his egotistical demeanor was already a huge turn off.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know who I am,” he chuckled lightheartedly, yet there was a peculiar undertone hidden beneath. It was hard to place. He kisses your hand. “Lyney, the Great Magician.”

You withdrew your hand, unable to hide the way your eyebrows crinkled together with disinterest. Perhaps you should’ve been more prepared for these guests to be more brazen and unapologetic when they see something—or someone—they want.

Taking no for an answer is not even in the realm of possibility for these people.

The party continued on, gorgeous partygoers dancing and drinking to their heart’s content. All the while, Lyney kept his eyes trained on you. It wasn’t necessarily out of admiration; rather, it was curiosity. Why didn’t you bat your eyelashes at him like a good girl? Bite your lip when he kissed your hand?

He followed you like a ghost, slinking through the crowd tactfully to observe you. You were a rare creature indeed. None of the other women could hold a candle to you. Archons, he felt this unsettling churning in his stomach everyone your glimmering irises met his. His heart would tense instantaneously, threatening to explode within his chest.

You saw through Lyney from the moment he kissed your hand, and he hated it.

Through the night, you both danced this delicate tango around the massive mansion, a palpable tension tethering him to you. He was equally appalled and fascinated by you, never wasting any opportunity to slip in an innocent question or two to learn about you.

“A beautiful lady like you in a place like this… Do you feel lost in Wonderland yet, Alice?” Lyney had persuaded you to follow him to an unoccupied balcony, closing the French doors behind him.

He stalks toward you, his soft lavender irises cool and calculated. In an ashy flourish of embers, a deck of onyx cards materialized in his gloved hands. It had taken all evening, but just enough wine had passed beyond your lips to give Lyney the opportunity to disarm you.

“Not scared of a little fire, are you, love?” His voice was warm and inviting as a hearth, though it held a hint of mischief like that of a crackling inferno. Each mysterious card in his hand is shuffled with a distinct flick.

You were much more susceptible to his charm now more than ever, allowing him to weave glittering silk strands of harmless sweet nothings to entice you. Had you taken a step back, you would’ve seen the web for what it is. The grand reveal was imminent.

“Now, now, don’t fret. I won’t let anything harm you, chérie,” Lyney chuckles lightheartedly, as if he hadn’t been playing and pawing at you like a cat ready to pounce all night.

Your poor little breath hitched at every whisper and touch he gifted you. It started by fatefully picking the Queen of Hearts from his custom deck of cards. You should’ve known better. Maybe you should’ve picked the one next to it. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered.

Lyney’s lilac eyes spark with intrigue at your choice. How fitting. Had you paid any attention to the magician’s sneaky maneuvers, you would have seen that every card in the deck was from the suite of Hearts.

The illusion of choice.

He takes this as an opportunity to step closer, his hands reaching forward. Your chest is beating wildly, begging for relief from how he intoxicates you with just a flutter of his long lashes.

Lyney rests his hands on the marble railing on either side of your hips, drinking in your anticipation, your fear, and your desire. A small, smug smirk pulls at the corner of his pretty lips. He takes the liberty of helping you meet his gaze by bringing his wrist to his mouth, white teeth tugging to remove his glove. Your body feels weightless when he lifts your chin with his bare index finger and thumb.

The Great Magician would argue that he took extreme precautions to ensure the success of this escapade. It was all carefully calculated and orchestrated according to his whim. He had you exactly where he wanted you, blissfully unaware of how deep these exhilarating feelings for you had rooted themselves into his guarded heart.

“Do you feel the magic in my fingertips? Hehe, tonight’s show will be a private event for only for you, mon trésor.”

The night was a blur. Fading in and out of consciousness, one moment you were dancing with him in empty halls and the next you were enveloped in his embrace against a wall. Lyney would pin your hands above your head before pushing you onto the bed, catapulting you into his next breathtaking trick like one of the acrobats in his show.

The silhouettes of your frames were shadowed in the moonlight that bathed the sheets in silver. Lyney skillfully unzipped your dress. Clothes fell to the wayside, vanishing in a flourish of passion. There was no denying it. He had to have you, and you were such a willing participant in his performance.

Of course, the wealthy partygoers were none the wiser, the echoes of pleasure the Great Magician was able to rip from your lungs were easily deafened by the music of their own opulent fantasies.

What is a magician if not an artist who must mark what is rightfully his—painting your womb with a decadent display, a growl escaping his throat.

However, Lyney is a perfectionist. When he catches a glimpse of his seed spilling out of you, he is quick to stuff his slender fingers into your overstimulated hole and seal the masterpiece with a final kiss on your bruised lips.

“Magnifique…” ❤️

thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! my masterlist.

#[opulent dreams].✿#[dreams of delusion].✿#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin yandere #genshin smut #genshin lyney #lyney x reader #yandere lyney #lyney smut

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sqyyadina · 5 months ago

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A JOINT PRAYER.

Pairing: Lorraine Warren X Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Tags: fluff, first kiss, period - typical homophobia.

Summary: You weren't raised to worship any God, but Lorraine Warren is starting to make you believe.

Author’s Note: I'd take a bullet for this woman. This is also on my AO3!

“We’d like to take you to the movies tonight. To thank you.”

Her voice is as honey as her perfectly curled hair, and as Lorraine hands you a porcelain cup of tea, you revel in the way your hands briefly ghost past each other.

Though you’ve worked as a secretary for the Warrens for well over a year now, you can’t help but feel intimidated as you sit on their plush couch, nursing your tea, the smiling couple sitting beside you. Their combined gaze is nearly suffocating, as if you are consumed by a demon of your own and they’re trying to rid you of it.

“Thank me? Whatever for?” You ask gently, head cocked to the side in question while you sip on the chamomile you’ve been offered.

“You’ve been a great help to us as of late.” Ed adds, a protective hand patting his wife’s thigh. You hate to admit it, you do, he’s truly a lovely man, but every time Ed begins to speak, you just wish he was out of the picture entirely. You wish that could have been your thumb rubbing circles into Lorraine’s plaid skirt; your lips pressing a kiss to her forehead wrinkle every time she got too focused on her Bible.

But it wasn’t you.

It was him, and it would always be him. You saw the way they looked at each other, the way he sang to her when he thought they were alone in the office. They were practically destined to be together. It’s cliché to say that it made you sick, but there genuinely were nights in which you felt feverish over the fact that Lorraine Warren would never be yours.

“Oh, you flatter me…” You hum back, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ears. “Really, all I do is organize files… how much of a help can that be?”

You’re much more sheepish than the two sitting across from you, and it shows. Lorraine, ever the investigator, the curious mind, always searching across the face of the person she’s speaking to as if it’s a map into their soul, picks up on your shyness immediately. She always does.

You know that Lorraine has a nurturing spirit, but you rarely expect her comforting gestures. That’s what makes it so special. That’s why it gives you pause when she leans forward to press a warm hand to your knee.

“Please, don’t deprecate yourself.” Her tone is stern, like she truly means to command you into being kinder to yourself, but her voice is so delicate and her smile so warm and inviting that you soften into her minimal touch and nod your head. “Really, you have no idea how having you around has improved our lives.”

You feel your face turn hot at that last sentence, and you fail to maintain eye contact with the older woman any longer. Gently bouncing you heeled foot against the ground, you giggle lightly, and bat a hand as if to dismiss what she’s said.

“You’re too kind…” You hum back, slowly lifting your head again to meet her gaze once again. At this point, you’ve all but forgotten that Ed is even present. “I’m not sure I believe you, but I’d love to go to the movies.”

It’s without pause that Ed claps his hands together and rises to his feet. He says something, quite loud, but you quickly forget what it is. It startles you, to say the least, and you jump back a bit, your tea threatening to slosh onto your blouse. You notice that Lorraine’s hand stays put on your thigh, though, and only leaves once it’s given you a few gentle pats to settle your nerves. She stands as well, always following her husband’s footsteps. You quickly join them, always following Lorraine’s.

“Let’s see something scary!” Ed grins, searching around the room for a newspaper that may have the local theater’s lineup.

“Oh, do you not get enough of a fright out of our daily lives?” Lorraine jokes with that tender laugh of hers, patting her husband on the back and looking at the paper over his shoulder.

“No, I don’t.” Ed replies simply, and plants a kiss on Lorraine’s cheek.

It makes your stomach turn.

“What would you like to see, dear?” You realize that she’s turned her attention back to you. You stumble forward, as if both of your legs had gone numb in the few moments that you had spent sitting on the couch.

You really do hate to agree with Ed, but most of the movies offered sound utterly boring. The thought did cross your mind that watching a horror film would allow you to look to Lorraine for comfort under the guise of fear, which immediately influenced your decision. Sufficed to say, the Warrens’ ghost stories had both satiated your hunger for fright, and completely desensitized you to it, yet you figured you could act scared enough to win a little more of Lorraine’s touch.

Your first few weeks, of course, you had been absolutely terrified of the previously haunted artifacts that your employers always brought home, but with the fervor of their exorcisms and the frequency of their jobs, there isn’t a whole lot that you hadn’t seen nor heard. You had become primarily neutral when it came to horror, but maybe that was because of Lorraine’s calming presence and Ed’s story-telling ability that made the murderous dolls much less terrifying.

“I think I’d like something scary. It is almost Halloween, after all.” You smile to the older woman before pointing to a certain line of text. “This one has the word ‘massacre’ in the title… I don’t believe you can get much scarier than that!”

Ed quickly makes his approval known, and Lorraine playfully rolls her eyes at him before giving his arm a light squeeze.

“I suppose that’s alright.” She hums, her eyes focusing on the page for a second longer. You’ve always known Lorraine to be the bookkeeper of their operation, and suspected she was always the one in charge of appointment dates and important phone numbers. When she rattled off a list of movie times, Ed already having moved to re-read the sports section, your suspicions were proven right.

‘How about eight?” you muse, looking down at your wrinkled dress and chipping nail polish. “It will give me time to change. And fix my hair… and my nails…” You had expected the weather to be bearable this time of year, but you had been burdened by particularly warm weather that caused your hair to frizz uncontrollably. You certainly shouldn’t have chanced long sleeves.

Lorraine, leaving her husband to his muttering about the Yankees, took the half step closer to place her hand on your shoulder. It was shockingly warm, but not at all a warm that you disliked. A comforting warm, that you could enjoy even on a day as sweltering as this one.

“You look beautiful.” She hums, nearly whispering it, as if she doesn’t want anyone else in the world to hear. “As always.” Lorraine adds before disappearing behind your back. She’s picked up your now empty teacup and makes her way to living room door. “We’ll pick you up at seven thirty.” She winks in your direction before exiting the room.

Your knees feel numb, and you try your hardest to wipe the dumb smile off of your face, but it doesn’t disappear, even as you crawl into your car and turn on the radio that just happens to be playing some cheesy love song.

The honking from outside startles you. That’s easy to say; there’s not a lot that doesn’t startle you. You just hadn’t expected them to be so punctual.

You had been sitting in front of your mirror for a little over an hour now, staring at every little detail of your visage to make sure everything was just right, even down to the placement of your beauty marks. It was honestly quite hard to focus, what with Lorraine’s compliment ringing in your ears. You didn’t even need to apply any rouge to your cheeks, they were still so hot.

Now donning a shorter sleeved blouse and a much lighter weight skirt, hair re-curled and nails painted perfectly, you cheerfully snatched your bag and raced out the front door.

Wiggling into the back seat of their fancy new Chevy that Ed couldn’t stop bragging on, you shoot a smile at Lorraine, who returns it through the rearview mirror. You quickly look away after that, yet you can still feel her eyes bore into you. You might just be making that up, but you’re far too scared to glance back up and check.

The drive is primarily quiet, save for Ed’s singing along to the radio, and you even find yourself enjoying his presence for once. He really does sound like Elvis when he tries hard enough.

By the time you arrive at the theater, your heart is racing. Something about sitting in Lorraine’s presence for more than ten minutes at a time causes you a great deal of panic. Despite knowing the woman all this time, you still find her completely enthralling, yet endlessly terrifying.

When she exits the car first to open your door with a playful smile, you feel your pounding heart drop to your stomach. You felt like you were on a date, except your date had brought her husband along. Plus, there’s simply no reality in which said date reciprocates the ways in which you are feeling for her. It’s a very hard pill for you to swallow, but you’ll need to keep reminding yourself that you in fact are not going steady with this woman, but are in fact her employee, and should be furiously professional tonight, no matter what.

It's when you step out of the car that you deeply regret your outfit decision for the second time today. The day had quickly turned to night before you had realized, and the evening’s chill was starting to settle in. You hug yourself tightly as the three of you enter the theater, trying desperately to distract yourself from the cold by figuring out what you’d like to eat.

Your unease must’ve been immediately noticed by the woman that notices absolutely everything that happens around her, because it’s within seconds that you feel a sweater draped over your shoulders. You perk up and whip your head to the side only to catch Lorraine smoothing down your collar.

“I brought an extra, just in case.” She winks at you again, a knowing smirk on her lips. She must’ve picked up on how haphazardly you tend to make decisions, and you appreciated it more than Lorraine could ever know. It wasn’t often that people remembered much about you, so for her to be so prepared for you made your chest swell.

Lorraine sweater is just heavy enough to feel like a hug, and it smells heavenly. Just like her. You don’t want to seem like a weirdo, but you’d be perfectly content to spend the next hour with your nose buried in the soft material, surrounded by the warm vanilla scent of whatever expensive perfume Lorraine wears. Or maybe she just naturally smells that good. You wouldn’t put it past her.

Your attention turns back to the giant menu board as you pull your arms through the sleeves of the sweater, and right away you could feel your brain go silent. It was impossibly difficult for you to decide, especially when there were so many options. That, paired with the steep prices and the very lackluster salary you make as the Warrens’ glorified secretary, make your brain completely stop its functioning for a second. Your worry makes its way into your hands, which fiddle with the sleeves of the sweater that are just an inch too long for your arms.

Lorraine, yet again magically anticipating your every need, places a firm hand on the small of your back, lowering herself to practically purr into your ear.

“Do you need help choosing?” She’s just close enough that her voice, as low as it is, drowns out all of the madness of the bustling theater, and the commotion inside your mind. `

You nod up to her, chewing on your lower lip as the two of you glance over the menu together.

“I can’t decide…” you begin, eyebrows furrowed as you dart over the row of boxes of candy before you. “… between chocolate or popcorn.” You’re getting dangerously close to the front of the line now, and it’s really beginning to wear on your nerves, but Lorraine’s ringed fingers lightly rubbing into your back is calming you tenfold.

The taller woman laughs gently, and you wince a little in fear that she’s making fun of you for having difficulty with something so simple, but you’ve never known Lorraine to be a cruel woman, so the thought is easily dismissed.

“Silly girl.” She says gingerly, giving you a light pat before dropping her hand. “Get both. I’ll make sure Ed pays for it.”

Your cheeks burn once again, and while you yearn for the feeling of her hand to replace itself anywhere on you, you find that Lorraine is already a gift from God and there’s no use praying for any more from the woman.

“Thank you!” you giggle softly, returning the clairvoyant’s playful smile with one of your own as you step forward to the concession counter.

Ed begins rattling off all the things that he wants, and it’s yet again that you remember he’s even there. You figure that if a man as boisterous as Ed Warren can be so easily forgotten in your mind by the likes of his wife, you must truly be under a spell. You shyly give your order when Lorraine ushers you in front of her, hands fiddling with your sleeves again. When you begin to reach for your purse, a hand lightly swats at your own. You really don’t find it necessary for the people that already pay your living wage to give you anymore, and yet you don’t deem it possible that Lorraine will let you pay for anything yourself.

With treats and tickets in hand the three of you make your way into the theater, Ed taking the exact seats that you would have chosen yourself. It’s by a miracle— or rather very careful planning on your behalf— that you’re sitting next to Lorraine, with Ed on her other side. You silently cheer yourself on for what you believe to be such careful maneuvering, because there is just no way in the world that you would spend the next two hours sitting next to someone who will probably talk over the entire movie anyway.

You settle in as the opening credits of the film begin, and right away you feel anxious. Even in a room full of people and the ever so comforting presence of your favorite demonologist by your side, it’s hard not to be scared in a dark room watching a movie about a psycho killer. Your leg begins to bounce nervously as you begin shoveling popcorn in your mouth, anticipating the many scares that are soon to come your way.

And they do come, in multitudes. You’re jumping out of your seat nearly every minute that goes by. The Warrens, as cemented in their occupations as they are, jump a few times as well, which comes as quite the comfort. You had seen them frightened before, when assessing houses for possible spirits, but neither seemed to be as much of a scaredy cat as you.

You’re granted the solace of Lorraine’s hand when she offers it to you about halfway through the movie. It’s after you jump at the sudden sound of a chainsaw revving up, and she must take pity on you, but you don’t care about the implication because you take the hand as quickly as it’s offered. As you’re sitting to her left, you notice that she’s come to the theater with her signature rosary wrapped around her hand. The cool beads do give you a bit of alarm when you first feel them, but then you realize that it only comes as added protection. You’re not sure what the power of the Spirit can do for you in this moment, but you’re very happy that Lorraine is always prepared against whatever dark forces she’s prepared against.

Sitting next to her, hand-in-hand, Lorraine’s gravitational pull is so strong that eventually you find yourself fully leaned against her arm, gripping her hand for dear life. It doesn’t seem to bother her one bit, and if the lights were any brighter, you’d be able to notice a smile planted firmly on her rosy lips.

Just as you feel yourself in a safe position, completely relaxed and feeling entirely safe (or as safe as you can feel during a movie like this), the movie’s third act kicks into gear and you feel your heart start to beat about a million beats a second. You feel a wave of panic wash over you, and it came out of absolutely nowhere. You swallow hard a few times, looking around the theater to keep yourself calm, to remind yourself that there’s not really a chainsaw wielding maniac running around the place, but it doesn’t do much to settle your nerves.

Before you even notice the stinging in your eyes, before you can stop from embarrassing yourself, your cheeks are wet with tears. You swipe at them a few times with your free hand, hoping to not draw too much attention to yourself as you begrudgingly pull yourself from Lorraine’s grasp.

“I… I’ll be right back.” You whisper next to her ear, praying to God that she didn’t notice the crack in your voice.

You can hear her whisper something back, but not well enough to register it, because you’re already out of your seat and rushing to the bathroom.

Standing in front of the mirror, you assess the damage to your makeup.

Your mascara has run down to your neck, and your lips are all smudged from your nervous popcorn eating.

… And you had left your purse, with all of your extra makeup and tissues, beneath your seat.

You felt on the verge of a breakdown, but the very last thing you wanted to do right now was to sit on the floor of this horribly rotten bathroom and cry until your eyes gave out.

You had been staring at yourself in the mirror between broken sobs for God knows how long until you heard someone else enter. Deeply ashamed of your appearance, you turned your back to the door, using a damp towel to try and clean up your makeup.

Then you heard a lock click.

But it was unlike the lock of a stall door.

Then the echoing tap of a pair of kitten heels.

You tense up, too scared of embarrassment to turn around to face whatever movie attendee, or, as you now feared, possible murderer, you were now trapped in this bathroom with.

That’s when you felt the hand press against your back.

“Are you alright?”

That voice was too kind to belong to a murderer.

“Lorraine!” You nearly scream, tossing a hand over your heart to clutch the imaginary pearls that you couldn’t even afford if you tried. “My goodness, you startled me!” You laugh softly, sniffling while you turn to a sink to wash your hands.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” She hums, voice barely above a whisper. She’s standing right behind you now.

You’re awfully embarrassed to find that there are no more paper towels in the bathroom, and you have to wipe your hands on your skirt, but Lorraine doesn’t seem to notice.

No, her attention is solely on your face.

Her hand lifts up to push a wayward curl behind your ear. It lingers there for a moment, smoothing down the rest of your hair. Her other hand sneaks its way around your waist, resting just below your belt.

“I just wanted to check on you.” She flashes you that oh-so very endearing smile in the mirror, and lightly runs her thumb below your eyes, wiping away the last remnants of your tears.

You swallow hard, chancing a glance up to her only to miss the woman’s gaze, as her eyes are now glued to your cheek, then your neck. She’s petting your hair, and each stroke is sending a shiver down your spine.

“Oh no, no… I’m alright…” you manage to mumble out, your voice a mere breathe that hitches when Lorraine’s hands maneuver you to turn to face her.

“Good.” She purrs, leaning in until your foreheads nearly meet. “I wouldn’t want my baby to get too scared.”

Dear God.

You didn’t often take His name in vain, but this felt an appropriate time to do so.

Your heart is beating so hard that you’re worried you may pass out.

She called you her baby. You were hers.

Your body betraying you, you practically melt into the taller woman, your hands finding themselves on her hips, holding onto the material of her skirt for dear life.

Lorraine calculates, as is her way, but only for a moment, before her hand slides down to gently grasp your cheek and pull you closer into her.

You gasp into her, her lips latching onto your own before you can even remind yourself that you were meant to remain professional tonight. It seems you’re well past the concept of professionalism by now.

It takes you a moment, a very brief moment, to soften into her kiss. You’re like putty in her hands, molding into the curve of her chest and pressed so hard against her that you’re sure you’ve become one being.

But you haven’t, and before you know it, she’s pulled away.

It takes everything within you to not whine and fuss at her for being so rude as to pull herself away from you.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” She says rigidly, fixing her hair in the mirror with one hand, the other still latched onto your hip. “But you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to.” She laughs a little, finally turning back to meet your gaze.

“I…” You’re at a loss for words. Never in a million years would you have expected for Lorraine Warren to waltz in and kiss you out of the blue like that. You must have truly racked up your good karma with the Lord, because this was enough to be considered a miracle. “I… I’ve also… wanted to… with you.” You stutter out, brain just barely conscious enough to put together a string of words.

Lorraine laughs her beautiful laugh again, her hand returning to caress your cheek.

You shut your eyes tight, laying all your weight into her hands. A thought crosses your mind – that she very well may be testing you – trying to sniff you out for being a freak – that there very well be someone right outside that door ready to ship you off to the loony bin –

That thought disappears almost immediately once Lorraine leans down to press her lips to yours again, this time much more confidently.

Her hands wander down to your hips once again, and yours are gripping into her skirt so hard that you’re sure you’ve left permanent wrinkles in the fabric. It’s impossible for you to be any closer to her now, and yet she’s still pulling you tighter, lips coaxing small whimpers from your own.

You’ve gone completely lightheaded now, the lack of oxygen making you a bit dizzy on your feet. Luckily, you’re so sustained by Lorraine’s embrace that there’s just no chance of you falling over.

Her hands threaten lower, her kisses become sloppier, her thigh situating itself between your legs so that you can press your weight there and feel a shock through your entire system unlike you’ve ever experienced before. Lorraine’s whispering some string of messy whispers. Maybe a prayer, much like the one you’re reciting in your own head for someone, anyone, to make this moment last until your dying breath.

Your joint prayer comes to a halt when you’re so rudely interrupted by an angry knock on the door. Lorraine quickly pulls away from you and immediately begins wiping her smudged makeup in the mirror.

You’re stuck in space, stood blinking, mouth hanging open, feet unsure of where to take you.

“Go get in a stall.” Lorraine commands, a gentle finger wiping at your tongue to collect all of the saliva that you had produced in the midst of your affair. She flashes you a sickeningly sweet look before turning you around and patting you towards the stall, where you quickly hide, being able to take her command even though you’re sure your brain can’t conjure any other actions.

Lorraine’s heels tap towards the door, and where she exclaims how sorry she is, how silly she must be for locking the door behind her. Her voice is so pure, so normal. You’re shocked that she can find herself so calm after an event that had nearly introduced you to your maker.

When you hear a stall door click shut, you make your escape, checking your appearance in the mirror just in case. You certainly look bewildered, a little frazzled, but nothing you can’t excuse under the guise of a scary movie.

When you return to your seat, Lorraine is sat with her hand in Ed’s, her eyes glued to the screen. You sit reluctantly, reaching for your popcorn.

It’s less than a minute before she has removed her hand from her husband’s and has given it back to you.

You’re smiling much too brightly, and you can tell that your clairvoyant is smiling just the same. You’re too focused on the way that her hand feels in your own to pay any attention to the God-forsaken movie playing in front of you.

#𓏲🎀ꜝֶָ֢ annie's fics ⋆⸜ ‧₊˚#lorraine warren you will ALWAYS be loved by me #lorraine warren #the conjuring #lorraine warren x reader #lorraine warren x you #lorraine warren fanfic #the conjuring fanfic #horror fanfic #wlw fanfic #lesbian x reader #ff fanfic #lesbian fanfic #x reader fanfic #fluff

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winterweary · 1 year ago

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Obey Me Brothers - Most Shameful Kink HC’s

What kinks do the boys keep locked up extra tight?

Sailors Beware…dead dove do not read if you’re going to clutch your pearls thx

Lucifer - Shibaru/Robe Bondage on him

Lucifer is perfectly happy to be all dom all the time, and he loves tying you up. But deep down in his naughtiest dreams he’s burning up at the thought of you standing over him, the silk ropes against his skin, being at the mercy of your small, soft hands…Something about being restrained by someone as fragile and gentle as you keeps him up at night. He’d never suggest it but if you did? Oh, there would be clear signs of his pleasure. He might even let you gag him so all you can hear are his pants and groans as you take your time with him.

Mammon - Pegging

Look. He can explain, okay? Having your hand on the back of his neck, pressing his face into the sheets? Or squeezing his hips as you hold his thighs open and fuck him? Mammon wants to be a sloppy mess only for you, and giving you total command like this will have him cumming more than once. The sight of you strapped up alone is enough to have him panting like a dog.

Speaking of dogs, if you’re a lover who already has a dick? Pet play. Put a collar on him and let him be your good boy. Make sure you praise him lots and he’ll do whatever his master commands.

Leviathan - Choking

Sex between you two already gets plenty kinky between roleplaying and gender play, but what really makes Levi explode is the idea of your warm hands wrapped around his throat squeezing. He wants to be utterly at your mercy, just a dirty toy you’re using to cum, bruising your thighs with his fingers as you ride him. Spit in his mouth and degrade him while choking him and he’ll be seeing stars. The soothing aftercare makes the abuse feel all the better and the peeks in the mirror of the bruises give him thrills all day long.

Satan - Public Sex

Satan is a stickler for rules and takes reputation and decorum seriously…which is why the thought of you getting so worked up you just have to take him in the back of the library makes him burn. Oral in alleys, fucking under your skirt in an almost empty movie theater…Satan hates that he loves it but god does he love it. You almost wouldn’t know, with the effort he makes to resist the temptation, but letting you get him more and more worked up until he can’t help himself any longer is part of the fun.

Asmodeus - Cuckholding

There is very little that doesn’t get Asmo’s fire going, and less that he wouldn’t tell you about. Even this he’s not exactly ashamed of…it’s just a little off brand for him. Of course, he’s not going to be satisfied by watching you get fucked by just anybody. Oh no. Asmo wants to watch you get cock drunk destroyed by at least two demons, if not more. He wants to be able to get a perfect view of every single orgasm they pound out of you, and draping over an armchair, sipping champagne and watching the show is the perfect way to do that. The idea that he’s not allowed to touch you, and you’re not allowed to touch him, makes him even hotter, so plan to spend the next morning reliving every detail with him rutting inside of (or riding) you (in between godly pampering sessions of course).

Beelzebub - Sleep Sex

This is more expected from his twin, and it makes Beel red to talk about, but…sometimes when he gets back to bed after a late night snack, and you’re laying there so warm, and vulnerable, and innocent looking…well, just a few licks can’t hurt right? If you’re already naked it’s even harder to resist hilting his thick cock inside of you, doing his best to move slowly and not let his moans wake you. It’s never long before he can’t help himself however, and you’ve been awoken by mind blowing orgasms more than once, pinned to the bed by his body with his moans in your ear.

Belphagor - Travel vibrators/orgasm denial

Belphie’s maintains he’s not a sadist like some demons he could mention, but he is a brat, and he loves torturing you. He wants to watch you squirming all day, before turning up the heat during a council meeting or one of Lucifer’s lectures. No matter how good you think you get at hiding your arousal, he can always tell, and knows how to keep you just on the cusp of orgasming. He wants you dripping wet and begging by the time he gets you home and finally let’s you cum around his cock. And if you turn the tables and take a turn keeping him riding the edge for too long? You’ll get to hear some of the dirtiest words he knows as he whines and pleads.

#might do dateables if there’s interest lmk #obey me smut #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me mammon #obey me beelzebub #obey me hcs #obey me asmodeus #obey me lucifer #obey me belphegor #blithe hcs

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intimidating-fettuccine · 8 months ago

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I don't know if you still maintain this, but I remember that previously in one of your Sully headcanons you had said that at the beginning of Liu's relationship with Y/N, Sully would be "not very nice" to them.

So, do you think that when he finally falls for the reader and they become a couple, he will feel guilty for what he has said/done in the past?

like he being normal one day and suddenly remembers one of the "unfriendly" things he said to the reader and is like:....oh fuck, Y/N about that day, I'm so fucking sorry-

Oh for sure. Like I don’t think he’d be a huge bully to Y/N when they start dating Liu, but he definitely isn’t a good person. Never holding the door, avoiding them sometimes, picking on them a little bit, teasing them for sure. It’s never enough to make you cry, but it for sure makes you wonder sometimes if you’ll ever grow closer to him.

When you DO manage to grow closer to him over time, Sully feels like shit on the regular. You know how people say that when they’re falling asleep they remember something they did in their past and feel like shit/cringe over it and can’t fall asleep because they’re thinking about it? That’s Sully on a constant basis. Every single time he remembers something he did though, he apologizes to you deeply.

He’ll be like “Oh my god, I’m so so sorry! I’m such a fucking idiot, I’m sorry I didn’t hold the door open for you when we went to the store, and that restaurant, and the movie theater, and when we came home that one day, and the time I took you to the doctor, and-“ he just keeps going, listing every single time he’s done something because he wants to make sure he apologizes for it all. He really actually does feel guilty for it, and he apologizes immensely. Once you start dating Sully he cuts off all of his negative behavior (I mean even probably a few months before things are official between you he knocks it off and starts apologizing), because he wants to treat you very well as his partner.

He pretty much doubles or triples his efforts to be a good partner in an effort to make up for all the negative stuff he did for you. He spoils the fuck out of you, and he treats you like you’re the most incredible person to ever exist, and to him you are. This ended up being kind of a long ramble, but yes, for sure, Sully would feel bad and try his damndest to make it up to you.

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta x reader #slender mansion mayhem #homicidal liu #homicidal liu headcanon #homicidal liu headcanons #homicidal liu x reader

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experimentfae · 10 months ago

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Vox x Fem! Overlord!Reader

Oneshot / angst / fluff

You let out a sigh remembering just a couple days ago that you finally had the guts to tell you’re feeling towards alastor, after knowing each other in life and now afterlife you hoped it would go as you planned but of course it didn’t go that way’

“I’m sorry dear but… I don’t feel the same way but I would love that we stay companions.”Those words kept ringing in your head. Maybe you should have known he would reject you it’s alastor he isn’t exactly the loving type from what you heard.

But you shouldn’t and refused to set yourself back from by your business that you needed to maintain, as a business women you had to make sure it stayed successful as possible.

A knocked interrupted your paperwork “yes?” You asked “boss the Overlord Vox the tv demon wants to meet with you.” This immediately got your full attention “let him in.” Your employee opened the door to let him in.

“(Y/n) was it?.” “Yes and you must be Vox.” He smiled wider “that’s me, I wanted to buy some weapons from you.” that’s wasn’t what surprised after all in this afterlife it’s one of the two things you’re known for but what did surprise you was the way that he was looking at you.

You weren’t a fool you could tell he wanted you but you weren’t ready not yet anyway, trying to get over alastor of course. “Of course we have a large genre of any weapon of your desire, but first I want to see what you’re willing to spend.”

He smirked “gladly.” He then took out a suitcase and opened to reveal a whole jackpot. “Is this enough for you?” You smirked in return “oh very much so, looks like you’ll be my number one customer and on your first visit, impressive.” He smiled wider. You snapped you’re finger and all you’re walls moved to show all you’re weapons that are for sale.

“Nice, but while I’m deciding let’s get some drinks up here and ya know… make some small talk.” You raises your brow “small talk?” He shrugged his shoulders “yeah besides ain’t wrong to know my newest weapon dealer and the owner of my favorite club.”

“Well… I usually like just sticking to business but, I’ll let loose this once of course.” Funny enough that was a lie. This won’t be the only time you two meet. Usually it was at your club, his tv station or at each other homes.

Over time you got over alastor and started to have feelings for Vox but you had a feeling he felt the same. Thankfully he confirmed it himself “(y/n), I have feelings for you.” He seemed nervous, his right foot fidgeting his anticipation.

“I have feeling’s for you too.” you smiled seeing him get excited he then hugged you which made give out a small gasp “I’m so glad you’re not gonna regret this baby.” You chuckled “with the nicknames already then I guess I could use Voxy then.” The response made him blush “I like that but don’t tell anyone else that.” He stated making you laugh in response.

A year as passed and during all that you’re relationship with Vox was getting more serious and you wanted to surprise him with his favorite food, and tickets to a new movie that was playing in the movie theaters.

You walked into Vox’s home with a spare key you got from him, but you heard noises, you walked to you’re bedroom you hesitated, but you needed to know what the hell was going on. as you open the door you’re heart broken into pieces on the sight.

You saw as Valentino was on top of a shirtless Vox seeming to have been in a make out section but Vox noticed you instantly at door. “(Y-y/n) wait h- “what the hell is this!” You screamed feeling your hands tighten on the movie ticket you felt then slowly tear apart but that’s the least of your worries.

“Please (y/n) let me explain.” “Explain?! What? that your cheating on me, you know what I don’t even want to hear it we are threw I refuse to listen to any lame excuse!” You glared at Valentino, he had the audacity to smirk but you didn’t say anything, what could you say that he won? You refuse to admit it so you left throwing the movie tickets and food in the garbage can outside.

You did look back at the Vox’s home only last time and then you went on not giving another glance.

7 years later

It’s been 7 years sense you were gone no trace of you many people made theories but of course all of them were wrong, and with no notice or announcement. you suddenly appeared again this time working with Hazbin hotel including with alastor thankfully you didn’t have feeling’s for him still, you completely move on and still been friends for years and more to come.

You were cleaning around the hotel when alastor asked you to company him to go get food for the hotel since we were running low. You agreed, neither of you not realizing you are being recorded as you both leave the hotel.

Vox’s Pov:

I have been trying to look for (y/n) for so long… seven years it’s funny when I heard alastor was missing I would usually be ecstatic but then I realized that (y/n) also went missing… I think about her a lot.

I looked at a photo I had when we were still together, I know velveet told me to move on but I don’t think I can or ever can. For fuck sake what did alastor do to her or is she… with him I knew she had a thing for him before but I would hope it didn’t come to reality.

As you kept looking for camera any clue, any information hell maybe even another rumor and my prayers where answered but my fears seemed to also come true.

Alastor and (y/n) walking side by side to hell knows where. “No…. No, No, NO, NO!!” I yelled fisting my hands and slamming them across my keyboard very little of if I break my equipment or not. I let out breaths of rage trying to calm down but the more I looked the more I felt envy crawl up on me and especially rage “That OLD FUCK!” I immediately left thinking a plan, I’ll make her see I’m better then he will ever be.

You’re pov:

After grocery shopping with alastor, you were gonna go back to your duties, a door bell interrupt those plans, “oh is it a new demon that want to join the hotel?!” You heard Charlie yell “I don’t know yet let me check.” You replied, you opened the door to see a package that as you’re name on it.

And guessing from the blue decor you knew exactly who it was from “oh no.” You muttered, shit he figured out where you were “it’s a package for me sadly.” you answered Charlie which surprised her. “Then you see her appear from up the stairs to come down to you “really why would that be a bad thing?” “Because it’s from her ex.” Answers alastor from behind you.

Only Charlie jumped in surprise but you were used to him doing that “he’s correct I was hoping I had more time until Vox found me but I was clumsy it’s seems.”

“Oh sorry about that (y/n) I’m sure it will blow over right?” “I hope you’re right.” You threw the gift out not bothering to open it from him but sadly Charlie was oh so wrong. More gifts came, somehow he found your number so countless messages came no matter how many times you blocked him, and whenever you went beside a tv store Vox would always appear trying to start a conversation and trying to reason with you about getting back together.

It was infuriating it almost wanted make you disappear again but you refuse to back down that easily.

You watched the countless messages coming from Vox claiming how he changed and he got better for our relationship to “work” this time. Those were the usual the one that stood out to you though was.

[Fine if you won’t come to me then I’ll come to you.”]

It was the last message he sent this made you freeze in your spot and you looked to see this message was sent 20 minutes ago. for all you knew he was near. “Shit.” You anxiously looked outside not seeing him in sight, you didn’t know if you had the guts to face him at least if you did didn’t want to face him here, You texted him back quickly.

[we need to meet somewhere else we will meet at skullbrew, we can’t meet at the hotel that’s the least you can do]

[of course anything for you baby]

You rolled your eyes seeing his nickname for you, you used to love that nickname but now it’s just brings bittersweet memories. So you headed out making sure, you made it there on time.

As you walked you heard a man’s voice “hey sweetheart were you going.” You looked to see that the man was in fact talking to you “none of your concern.” This made him frown a little “come on baby, don’t be so hard headed you will love what I can offer you.” You ignored what the demon said until you felt his gross hands on your left wrist.

“Don’t act like a bitch.” You tries pulling your arm away but to no avail and like an idiot you forget to bring a weapon for yourself. “What’s the matter cat got your tongue?” This only made you glare at this cheesy remark but suddenly you see a black and blue hand sucker punch the demons face.

“What th- he looked to see Vox and his face immediately paled “shit I my bad I didn’t know she was yours I’ll just see- but he didn’t get to finish as Vox pulled out a gun and shot the demon multiple times. The demon fell to the ground in pain “what the fuck!” “Oh fuck why did you have shoot I was leaving?!?” Vox then smirked “to further the point to never bother her again and tell that to the other creeps around here.”

Vox then turned to you “see I’m better than alastor I came to your rescue.” You glared at him you hate the fact you were still attracted to this basturd. “I could’ve handled it myself.” You looked away slightly blushing this made his smirk turn to a smile “yeah you totally had that but I know you loved it when I came to your rescue.”

You rolled your eyes “whatever let’s just get to this coffee so I you can say whatever you want to say.” He eagerly followed behind you into the coffee shop.

“Let’s make this make this quick and say what you want to say.” You didn’t have the patience for small talk right now. “(Y/n) I…. miss you and I wanted to explain what was really going on seven years ago.” This made you let out a small chuckle “what really happens don’t try to gaslight me.” You growled out. “It’s the truth he… he was… forcing himself on me.” Your eyes widen “what.” “I told him that I was in a relationship with you and told him, that him and me can’t be a thing anymore.”

“You used to date him and he did that I- I just- “yes we did but I broke up with him over Angel and his abuse on me, then I meet you so didn’t go back to him like he expected me to do.” This made your eyes widen in realization.

“Wait please tell me that day was he….” He looked away but answers “yeah he did I… worst part after you left I blamed myself for that.” Now you felt terrible “Vox I… I should have listened I’m so sorry.” You begin tearing up “hey, hey. It’s not your fault you didn’t know and besides I should have cut off contact with him right after our breakup he is toxic as fuck.”

He suddenly grabbed your hand, it’s been so long since your hand as been held in his “(y/n) I want to try and give this relationship another shot. Are you two?” You looked into his eyes this time you really paid attention and saw the genuine love behind his eyes.

“Yes I wanna give this another go.” He became ecstatic he hugged you “you have no idea how much I missed you.” He stated while you returned the hug. “You gave me a couple hints these past three weeks.”

Which both of you laugh “I guess you got a point baby, but I’m better than alastor right?” You let out sigh with a smile “Voxy don’t worry about alastor is completely platonic now and besides he’s aroace.” This immediately made him smile letting out a breath of relief “oh thank satan.”

“It’s cute when you’re jealous.” He smiled “but you are so much more cuter.”

<- Back to MasterList or back to Hazbin Hotel

#hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #vox x reader #hazbin vox #Vox #reader insert #fem reader #Vox x fem reader

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chthonic-cassandra · 3 months ago

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what vampire musicals are there? asking bc of the tag meme you posted a few days(?) ago where you said it was pretty accurate aside from no vampire musicals... i know wildhorn dracula, but what else? (and which are good?)

Thank you for asking a question which allows me to indulge myself by recounting all this. The question of "good," however, is rather fraught, and I ask everyone to remember that these opinions are just my own.

The (probably) first, and the only one to achieve significant success, was Jim Steinman's Tanz der Vampire/Dance of the Vampires, first stage in 1997. Tanz was an adaptation of Roman Polanski's comedic vampire movie The Fearless Vampire Killers, and features "Total Eclipse of the Heart," a song Steinman always intended to be about vampires. Tonally, the musical veers wildly between the broad comedy of the source film and something approaching sincerity and the comedy sections have never really worked for me, but it's certainly the most musically sophisticated of the vampire musicals and at its best, like in the major ballad sung by the lead vampire character about the loves he has killed (here sung by original cast Steve Barton, and here by Drew Sarich, who is in all the major vampire musicals and who we shall have more to say about anon) it's spectacular gothy camp glory.

Tanz was incredibly popular in Austria, where it was first staged, and then throughout Europe and in Japan. However, when it was brought to Broadway it was drastically rewritten, partly at the behest of Michael Crawford, starring in the show and anxious about changes in his body and being compared to his career-making performance in Phantom of the Opera. The comedy was foregrounded and the show was constantly being rewritten, to the point that the actors didn't know how their parts might change performance to performance. I didn't see the Broadway production, but it is accounted by all to be a colossal failure. The show remains popular worldwide to this day, but has not received another major staging in North America.

Next comes the Frank Wildhorn Dracula the Muiscal, which I know you know about, but as it is vital to this narrative I must give some explanation. Wildhorn is a sort of mid-tier musical theater composer, known for melodrama and period pieces. After the popular (though not critical) success of his Jekyll & Hyde musical (1997 on Broadway) he co-wrote Dracula with lyricist Don Black, premiering on Broadway on 2004.

While I maintain that Dracula the Musical has been unjustly maligned by comparison with some other works of musical theater, it is admittedly a mess, and the Broadway production, which was, despite highly publicized special effects, shockingly static, did it no favors. It tries to do far too many things, combining sections of relatively close novel adaptation (Christopher Hampton's book is often quietly strong) with a messily shoehorned Dracula/Mina romance. The score is variable, ranging, even just in Dracula's material, from the rousing "Life After Life" as Dracula welcomes the transformed Lucy, to his cringe-inducing "The Longer I Live". (I still think almost all of the music and lyrics are better than those of Les Miserables but then again I think most things are better than the Les Miserables musical.) The Broadway production had a reasonably strong cast, including Melissa Errico as Mina and Kelli O'Hara as Lucy, but it failed nearly as badly as the American version of Tanz had, if not quite so dramatically.

Wildhorn subsequently brought DtM to Europe, where it enjoyed significantly more success, first in a stripped down modern production in St. Gallen starring Drew Sarich and then in Vienna where the role of Van Helsing was expanded for popular star Uwe Kröger. It's continued to be performed in Europe and Asia, and in some USA community theaters.

Next up was Elton John's Lestat in 2007. One would expect that this musical would have been wonderfully over-the-top glam rock, but somehow Lestat ended up being one of the most staid things I have ever seen. Filled with forgettable music (even if we all do want to see Sam Reid and Jacob Anderson doing "Embrace It". It was further brought down by a lackluster performance of the title character by Hugh Panaro, previously known for his mediocre (sorry Panaro fans!) turn in Phantom. It was enlivened slightly by Carolee Carmello as Gabrielle earning one of the show's only Tony nominations and Drew Sarich (there he is again!) playing a decidedly not book accurate but very entertaining Armand. It also involved a Buddhist monk Marius de Romanus, but I constantly question whether this was a fever dream of mine. Lestat was yet another failure on Broadway and, as far as I can tell, has had no real subsequent afterlife, though I've been wondering if that might change with the IwtV show (and Sam Reid's evident enjoyment of the musical!).

Those are the major vampire musicals, for what they are! But there are also some others which never got even this level of attention, including:

Two dueling French-language Dracula musicals with almost the exact same name, Dracula - L'amour plus fort que la mort and Dracula - Entre l'amour et la mort

A Nosferatu musical which is a strong contender for the worst lyrics I have ever heard but also entertains me

another mysterious Dracula musical made in the UK with songs of wildly varying qualities, but containing the only Mina hero ballad with which I am familiar

There are also edge cases like Bat Boy and Rocky Horror Picture Show, which I would not call vampire musicals but someone else might.

Anyway! Thanks for giving me the opportunity to share some of the truly disproportionate amount of information I have about this topic in my head. I hope this brought some entertainment.

#finalgirlfall #musicals #dracula #vampires #vc reread

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steampunkforever · 2 months ago

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Comparing Joker 2 to movies like Morbius or Madame Web is intellectually insulting. Joker: Folie À Deux is a well crafted, beautiful film made by artists passionate about the story and is nowhere near the cash grab superhero slop that people have been making it out to be. You HAVE to stop equating financial success with whether or not a movie is good. The fact that this movie flopped would be an outright tragedy if it wasn't for the fact that the plot and pacing are solidly mid.

If this were not a DC Superhero property and rather an A24 film you would eat this up. It's an extremely interesting concept, a concept interesting enough to be the film's downfall. Because after the last film who would predict the pivot to a Courtroom drama/musical hybrid tackling the aftermath of the events of the previous film. And if that didn't kill the movie for the fanbase, the central theme of taking responsibility for your actions would.

I liked the first film well enough. If you go back and read my filmpost on it you'll see I was pretty underwhelmed by the film but appreciated it for the work of art that it was. And overall, if not as tight of a film, the sequel maintains the same quality. It's good enough as a sequel. Which is probably one of the worst parts of the movie. It's a solid 2.6 out of 5 film. Average. Good enough.

The key failures of the sequel are that It didn't lean into the musical aspect and a slow plot. I understand that the average superhero fanboy isn't going to be receptive to a Lady Gaga-run musical, but I feel that the film could've gone 20% more theater kid with it and maintained the poise Joker 2 prizes. All the songs were good but none stuck with me the way a proper musical makes songs stick with you.

This is a psychological drama focusing on a man caught up in a mess bigger than he is. It's going to be slow, well thought out, and "boring" in ways I do not mind at all. Even so the pacing needed to be sped up so that it didn't feel like the film was a drag either. Audiences wanted the whole film to be the third act, with costumes and fire and energy, and even with the courtroom scenes broken up by those musical numbers, it comes off as a very dry, introspective movie with not enough plot moving the film forward as an unfortunate side affect.

The introspection itself is, I think, the films moment of self-destruction. Turning the story that the first movie's audience set upon as a sort of incel icon into a movie about not being able to blame the world for your actions is not going to play well with the edgelord fanbase.

The film prophesies its own downfall here: the core theme of the movie, as it puts the first film on trial, is Arthur Fleck having to decide between playing the character of Joker to appease a fanbase that's wrought him into a figurehead he does not condone or owning up to his own actions and facing the music without an insanity defense. And predictably, the fans hate the film for it.

It's a drop dead gorgeous movie. It's a movie that kept me interested, even if it was pretty average quality. The performances, musical and otherwise, are fantastic. Just the cinematography alone puts it head and shoulders over the past decade of Marvel studios productions! To simply rank a film with purpose and passion next to the borderlands movie is a gross miscalculation. This flopped for other reasons.

Once the film hits streaming I know people will do watch parties to see how bad it is, just as they did with Morbius and Madame Web, and I think they'll be surprised at the artistic quality of this one compared to other bad movies. And in 15-20 years when we revisit the movie I think it will be marked as underrated and misunderstood, though I think it's a film that's perfectly understood, just miscategorized.

Yet at the end of the day, for all my strident defense of the film (It's not Morbius! You people don't know what you're talking about!) it's just average. Above average but barely so. And so barely worth the watch, a movie I'd rank as an interesting film, if not wholly a good film.

#joker 2 #joker folie a deux #filmposting #lady gaga #joker

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philosophiums · 7 months ago

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hooooo boy i haven't posted a fic here in a long time but @hinamie's itafushi art fully possessed me so please take this offering as my first ever jjk fic

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Night has set in like a bruise – a dark sky framed and mottled by light pollution, a memory of violence hidden behind a veneer of something almost pretty. There’s evidence of life in the distant city, but nothing close by. Megumi can hear a soft thrum of traffic and the occasional shout or laugh, but the immediate vicinity hosts only crickets and the restlessness of his companion.

Itadori is pacing at the bottom of the staircase Megumi is sitting on, and Megumi watches him closely out of the corner of his eye. It’s nothing new for Itadori to hype himself up before a fight, so Megumi isn’t worried, exactly, but there’s something abnormal in the fierceness of his movements, the rolling of his shoulders, the way his head tilts like he’s trying and failing to have a conversation in his head.

He doesn’t want to mention it. Conversations with Itadori are often marred by the reality of what the finish line looks like – they can’t both make it out alive. They both know it. Itadori likes to pretend he hasn’t grasped the reality of the situation, but Megumi understands the depth of the haunting he carries around when he thinks no one is looking. Which means that when Megumi asks after him, inquires into his wellbeing, Itadori brushes it off with a smile and a laugh. And his smile is as brilliant as the sun, so of course Megumi has to look away to protect himself.

Somewhere in the nearby bushes, several of his rabbit shikigami are maintaining a perimeter around the area, allowing him to relax while still doing everything he can to stay on high alert. Shibuya shouldn’t have turned into such a mess, and maybe it wouldn’t have if more people had been suspicious to the point of paranoia. It’s too late to fix that, too late to take away Itadori’s scars, too late to take back the suicide pact he himself signed, but he can at least look ahead to whatever future awaits them. He can do his best to keep them safe.

“Fushiguro.”

Oh no. Nothing good ever comes from Itadori’s serious voice.

Please.

If I die, you’ll kill me, right?

He blinks and finds himself looking at a stationary Itadori, hands in his pockets and eyes on the building behind Megumi. “What is it?”

“Are there really curses in there? I thought they couldn’t step foot in a church.” Itadori looks genuine when he asks, and it wouldn’t be the first foolish question out of his mouth, but the tone he used to call Megumi’s name just�� doesn’t match with the question. Seriousness followed by off-handed curiosity isn’t exactly Itadori’s style. This isn’t what he had wanted to say, but something made him pivot into an unplanned conversation.

Maybe Megumi has been paying too close attention to him. Maybe Megumi should know better. It’s all doomed anyway – a heat death guaranteed to happen. There’s no point in devoting so much time trying to learn someone’s intricacies when they’re inevitably going to leave, by force or otherwise. He should save himself the heartache. He should have learned his lesson the first time Itadori died.

His arms shake with the phantom weight of Itadori’s body in his arms, limp and lifeless and bloody with that stupid soft smile still on his face even in death with a hole in his chest. His parting words still circle in Megumi’s head sometimes.

Part of him wishes that Itadori had cursed him in the end. Maybe it would have been easier.

“You’re thinking of vampires,” Megumi says. “Or demons. Curses can go anywhere.”

Itadori makes a sound like he’s not really sure he believes Megumi, which is insane because Megumi is not the one who watches movies with vampires and demons in them. At least, he hadn’t before Itadori walked into his life and demanded movie nights at the school and midnight viewings at the theater.

“A church, though?” Itadori continues, insisting. “Aren’t these supposed to be, like, full of positive energy?” He tilts his head up and to the side, and the closest streetlight reflects across his face, highlighting his jaw, catching in his eyes until they glow damn near gold.

Megumi has to look away. His chest hurts if he stares too long at everything he can’t have.

“Just because something is comforting doesn’t mean it can’t be a curse.” As soon as the words leave Megumi’s mouth, he knows he shouldn’t have said them. Even in his peripheral, almost entirely out of his view, he can see Itadori look at him with his expression opening into surprise or something worse.

Fuck. He really can’t allow himself to be so obvious, especially when they’re hours away from stepping through the barrier around the first Tokyo colony and into the Culling Game. They’re about to put their lives on the line again. Now isn’t the time to lose his composure.

Before he can catch himself, his hand is in his pocket, digging out the pack he keeps for what he considers emergencies. There’s a cigarette between his fingers in a matter of seconds, and his lighter is in his other hand a moment later.

Itadori swipes it before he can light up, and Megumi is left with wide eyes and a cigarette dangling limply between his lips as he looks up at the boy suddenly standing over him. He forgets, sometimes, just how fast Itadori is.

“Since when do you smoke?” Itadori asks, all childish curiosity, not an ounce of judgement in his tone. And yet, the stolen lighter feels like judgement – a withholding of something, well… harmful, sure, but it’s not like Megumi isn’t aware that every inhale of nicotine is an inch closer to his death. What does losing a minute or an hour or a day matter when he’s probably not going to reach the age of thirty, anyway?

“Since middle school,” Megumi replies, reaching out to attempt to quickly reclaim his lighter, but all Itadori has to do is lean his torso to the side and it’s out of reach. “Can I have that back, please?”

“Why?” Itadori hasn’t had such a soft look on his face since they dragged themselves kicking and screaming out of the warzone Shibuya turned into.

“Because there’s a cigarette in my mouth and it would be a waste not to smoke it.”

Itadori makes a face, a petulant little pout just this side of sticking his tongue out. It’s cute, and Megumi has to close his eyes for a moment. “I meant why did you start smoking in middle school?”

The sigh that leaves Megumi’s lungs is heavier than he wants it to be. He’s not… good with emotions, and he’s even worse at expressing them. It wasn’t a problem when he was all alone, with the second-years distant due to their classes, and Gojo either a nuisance better avoided or thousands of kilometers away taking care of a curse too powerful for anyone else to handle. But then Itadori, fresh off the loss of his grandfather, sacrificed himself for not only his friends but for Megumi as well. And he has refused to leave, no matter how hard Megumi tried at first to put up his barriers and protect himself.

Because the truth is that Megumi was helpless from the moment Itadori jumped through a window and crash landed on a curse. He is the very definition of someone with an unshakeable character. The fact that they’re here, now, on the backside of a slaughter, newly scarred and traumatized, and Itadori can still smile at him in a way that softens his eyes proves beyond any doubt that he is who he is and that won’t change. And it guts Megumi from the inside out because everyone who has ever touched his life has become poisoned by him.

He takes the cigarette out of his mouth and holds it between his knuckles. “I don’t know. I wanted…” This time when he sighs, it’s softer, and he moves his gaze away out of embarrassment more than anything else. Itadori and Kugisaki already made fun of him for how he acted in middle school, and he doesn’t want to go through it again. “I wanted people to be afraid of me – teachers, students, upperclassmen, underclassmen, it didn’t matter. I wanted to look and be as aggressive as possible so they didn’t mess with me or Tsumiki.”

Itadori snorts, and less than a second later he’s laughing with his head tilted back and his eyes closed. For the moment, he’s unguarded, and Megumi uses the opportunity to stare. In the low amber light, he looks impossibly young, soft around the edges where his scars and personal losses have hardened him. The pink of his hair dims into the gentlest of dawns, and the happy tears that pearl in the corners of his eyes are more stunning than the thin veil of starlight overhead. In a world overflowing with curses, Megumi has never believed in angels, and yet it’s the only word he can conjure that comes even close to describing the boy in front of him.

Megumi knows he’s in love; how could he not be?

“That’s just like you,” Itadori says, breathless, and Megumi suddenly feels like he’s falling even though Itadori is the one suddenly dropping to sit on the stairs beside him.

Itadori is a morning person, even though he’s slow to wake up. He won’t drink coffee unless it’s iced. He never tucks in his shirt tags. When he’s upset, he throws himself into social situations to hide behind other people’s laughter. He carries snacks in his pockets and will offer them to everyone. These are all details that Megumi has collected about Itadori, stashing them away like a crow with shiny objects, hoarding them as the treasures that they are and that he can never truly have.

He had never once considered that Itadori has been observing him just as studiously in return.

Their knees bump, and Megumi knows he should pull away, but he can’t bring himself to. The night isn’t cold, but Itadori’s warmth is a comfort, anyway. Megumi hasn’t had many comforts in his life.

“Give me my lighter back,” he says instead of acknowledging anything else. His chest hurts. His heart is too loud in his ears. Itadori is right there, lips twisted by his scar, eyes flashing with the humor that’s still rolling through him, shaking his shoulders as he looks back at Megumi.

Instead of answering or acquiescing, Itadori leans forward until their shoulders press together, blocking out the ghost of a breeze flowing in from behind them, and rolls his thumb over the spark wheel until a flame catches. His hand and Megumi’s both come up at the same time to cup around the other side, protecting the small flame from the elements, and it’s tender and intimate when Megumi’s fingers brush against the curve of Itadori’s palm.

He pretends not to notice as he puts the cigarette back between his lips and ducks his head. The first drag to catch the paper and tobacco on fire takes a while, and he is so incredibly aware of how close Itadori is, of the protective shell they’ve made with their bodies as they keep this flame going between them. He can’t think about it, can’t acknowledge it, can’t –

As soon as he sees embers, he sits up and leans away, creating a small pocket of space for him to exhale into. But the flame stays lit, Itadori’s thumb still pressed into the fork to keep the gas flowing out.

Megumi smacks his arm without looking at him directly. “You’re wasting the butane.”

Without protest this time, Itadori listens, and the flame dies with a soft click as the fork snaps back into place.

The stillness of the night around them settles again, crickets becoming the dominating sound over the gentle rattling of leaves and the far distant honking of a car horn. The tobacco sizzles as the fire slowly eats through it every time Megumi takes a drag.

Itadori’s unwavering gaze on him feels like a physical weight. There’s a tender smile there, Megumi just knows it, but god damn it he won’t look. This can’t be a this. There’s nothing here but a road that dead ends on a bottomless cliff. No one has forever, despite claiming that they will, but he and Itadori don’t even have years. They could die tomorrow, the moment they step through that barrier. Fuck, the curses in the church behind them could come out and catch them off guard right now, and no one would know where to look for their bodies.

So it doesn’t matter that Itadori sometimes looks at Megumi like he hung the moon. It doesn’t matter that Megumi understands the plight of Icarus when he sees Itadori smile. He is not going to create a situation that is doomed to end early. He is not going to push his feelings into the world just for the universe to stomp them into the dirt. He is not going to let himself muddy the lines on a friendship that is already too good to be true.

He takes a drag in that’s harsher and longer than the last, fast enough that his lips burn from the fire racing too fast through the cigarette towards the filter. He lets it hurt, tells himself he deserves it, and exhales the smoke slowly with his eyes closed.

For a moment, he just sits there, his arm draped across his knee, which is still pressed into Itadori’s knee, and tries to pretend that everything is fine. It’s normal. It’s just a crush. It’ll go away. He would rather die with longing in his heart than risk living long enough to experience a loss that will crush him.

When he brings his hand back up to take another drag, fingers on his wrist stop him in his tracks.

“Fushiguro.”

“Itadori?” He turns his head and opens his eyes in the same movement, wondering if there’s a problem, if all the actions he took to be obsessively vigilant were for naught, if somehow something got the drop on them. “What –”

The press of Itadori’s lips against his own shuts him up fast and leaves his mind spinning and his lungs devoid of air.

What?

Why…?

Itadori makes a noise at the back of his throat – soft, questioning, encouraging – and Megumi forgets every reason he has ever had on why this is a bad idea.

He kisses back.

It’s not a desperate kiss. There isn’t a sudden light switch that flips on and turns them into feral horny teenagers crawling all over each other, desperate to touch in as many places as possible as fast as they can. Three points of contact is all they started with and all they still have. Their knees, digging into each other in a way that almost hurts, but the warmth is so strong that it doesn’t matter. Itadori’s fingertips oh, so gently resting against Megumi’s wrist, not even touching skin. And the tentative slide of their lips as Megumi tilts his head and Itadori seems to crack a smile.

Itadori’s lips are chapped, and Megumi can feel the texture of scar tissue as they blindly search for an angle that feels better than the others. It probably wasn’t meant to be a long kiss when Itadori first leaned in, but Megumi can’t bring himself to pull away even though there’s absolutely nothing physically holding him here. The instinct to jerk back with his hackles up is there, just under his skin, but every exhale of Itadori’s sounds like a blissed-out sigh as it shivers across Megumi’s cheeks, and he finds himself more and more willing to just have this.

Itadori is the one to break the kiss, but he doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against Megumi’s and just breathing into his space. Megumi feels like he just ran five kilometers; it’s impossible to suck enough oxygen into his lungs to stop feeling lightheaded. His cigarette is still between his fingers, slowly burning itself down to the filter, but Megumi has completely forgotten about it.

“What was that for?” Megumi whispers, eyes flicking back and forth looking for clues in the depths of Itadori’s eyes. It’s an accusation, yes. They could have kept pretending. The pain at the end of this is going to be unimaginable. But it’s also a desperate plea.

Don’t pretend it didn’t happen. Don’t apologize. Don’t say you didn’t mean to.

“I don’t know,” Itadori admits, and that crooked smile is back, perching on his mouth in a way that tempts Megumi to kiss it away. “Good luck? Felt like the right time.”

Megumi drops the cigarette by his foot and moves his hand to Itadori’s face, cupping his cheek and the curve of his jaw. He can feel himself shaking with adrenaline and the fear of an unknown dark path laid out in front of them. “You’re an idiot,” he says, but even he can hear the fondness in his voice.

“Mhm, yeah, you’ve said that before.” Itadori’s hand covers Megumi’s, and the shaking subsides. “But you kissed me back, so what does that make you? Reckless?”

“Insane,” Megumi offers, just to hear Itadori laugh. He isn’t expecting the second kiss that follows, but he’s glad for it, anyway.

It’s funny, he thinks, even as he pushes a little closer and sighs into the shape of Itadori’s mouth, that regardless of the church behind him, regardless of the temples he has walked through time and again, regardless of the habits he hasn’t broken of prayers during the new year in exchange for fortune slips that hold no merit to him – despite religion flowing in and around his life, there is no higher power in the universe he believes in as much as he believes in Itadori.

If anyone can defy fate, if anyone can push through to the other side of certain tragedy, it will be Itadori.

Start by saving me, he had said, and this isn’t exactly what Megumi had meant. But his chest is warmer than if he had tipped back some sake, and he certainly feels like he could face down a special grade curse and win right now.

They’re not going to have forever. They may not even have twenty-four hours.

But they have tonight. They have right now.

“You better not die tomorrow,” Megumi warns, just barely breaking away enough to speak.

Dying alone is all but a guarantee for jujutsu sorcerers. One day, one of them is going to leave the other behind, and it’s going to rip the survivor to pieces and scar like a phantom limb. Even without a confession, their feelings have splattered like a hemorrhaging wound onto the staircase between them. No amount of backtracking, of lying, of pushing each other away could mop it up now – they’ve left a stain, and their hands are doomed to always have each other’s blood caked under their fingernails.

“Would be a shitty good luck kiss if I did,” Itadori says before leaning back with a smile as broad as the sky.

Megumi pushes him away with the hand on his cheek, and Itadori’s laugh overtakes the crickets and the wind and the far-off traffic as he pulls himself back into Megumi’s orbit with their fingers tangled together.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #itafushi #jjk fic #itafushi fic #this is going up on AO3 as well probably as soon as i think of a title for it #3.2k of pining and longing and denial and - finally - acceptance #I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING ANYMORE AAAAAAA #just take it i cannot keep staring at it #my fics

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sanriokamabodo · 1 year ago

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Interview with Akaza + Douma (Actor!AU)

A/N: wanted to write this as a full on fic but who am i kidding (not proofread haha..)

“Hi I’m Hakuji Soyama and I've had the honour to play Akaza since the Mugen Train Arc” He gives a brief nod after his introduction. Slinging his right leg over the other, he glances at his counterpart who awkwardly raises his hand.

“...And I play Douma.’’ He states, causing Akaza to erupt into a fit of laughter, the audience and interviewer joining him instantly.

“Well that’s one way to introduce yourself.” Akaza grins, dramatically wiping a tear away from his eye.

“So tell me, what’s it like behind the scenes?"

"I think everyone gets along great, we all have a similar end goal in mind and work hard to achieve that together."

Douma nods before starting. "This is my first big time job and everybody has welcomed me with open arms. The writers even listened to my ideas and we've made some changes together for me to portray him better."

"We've heard rumours about you all doing your own stunts. Is it true?"

Akaza sighs making Douma laugh.

"You know that one scene in the infinity castle where I parkour around like it's nobody's business? That took a week to film, I nearly had to relearn to walk again because I was dangling in the air so much."

"Tch, you're so dramatic." Douma quips.

"You didn't make it any easier for me! You know how ticklish my feet are and you kept taking advantage of it while I was hanging from the ceiling!" He scoffs jokingly. "You guys better appreciate that scene." He laughs, making the audience cheer for the duo.

"How do you guys get ready for a day of shooting? Walk me through the day you started filming the uppermoon meeting."

"Make-up is the first thing we do, during make-up we go over our scenes together."

"Whose make-up takes longest?"

"Hantengu's by a long shot. He's actually really good looking in real life."

"I second that. I think Hakuji's the quickest since he has temporary tattoo's and dyed his hair for the part. He only needs to put in his contacts."

"Muzan's actor is actually really soft-spoken in real life, we had to reshoot the 'Upper Moons' meeting a lot because he would be to gentle with us and we would end up laughing." Akaza chuckles.

"Who do you respect most among the actors?"

"I respect everyone, especially the younger actors! They're super professional. I shot a scene with Ume who plays Daki and she gave me a lot of useful tips."

"The way Rengoku's actor portrays him gave me chills. He did so beautifully! I really respect him!"

"Hakuji came home crying after they filmed Rengoku's death scene." Douma teases.

"It was a long day, alright?"

"Yeah, you guys live together right?"

"We've been best friends since we were like five, so becoming roommates when we both wanted to go to theater school was an easy decision."

"Is your friend a bit like the character he portrays?"

"Absolutely not! When we're not shooting he's cooped up in his room playing video games all day. I don't know how he maintains his figure because all I see him eat is instant ramen. I'm even convinced he's a virgin." He cooes at Douma, pinching his cheek.

"Get off me!" The platinum haired man laughs. "Like you're anything like Akaza, you manwhore."

Akaza shrugs, a sly smirk on his face. "I know a bit of martial arts. That's like my character, I guess."

"The karate workshop we had when we we're eleven? Really, that's your knowledge of martial arts?"

Akaza nods seriously, trying to hold in his laugh.

"Wow, you're really something..."

"We're almost out of time." The interviewer states. "Anything you want to add before we round this interview up?"

"I can't recommend watching Demon Slayer enough! I've never been so proud of a show or movie I've done, this is next level."

"What he said, and hi mum!" Douma says, waving at the camera with a toothy grin.

"Give a round of applause for the one and only Akaza and Douma! Thank you for the interview."

#actor au #not my favourite but ... here! have it #im going to bed im sad LOL #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #anime #kny #demon slayer fluff #douma #akaza headcanons #douma headcanons #akaza #akaza kimetsu no yaiba #douma x reader #akaza x reader

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lu-sn · 1 year ago

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the theerapanyakuls go to barbenheimer

kinn: the oppenheimer message flies straight over his head. the barbie message, unfortunately, is also totally lost on him.

porsche: in the same boat as kinn, mostly because kinn pulls him aside ten minutes into both films so they can make out and [redacted] and also [redacted redacted redacted].

tankhun: forces everyone at gunpoint (literal) to come to barbenheimer. forces everyone at gunpoint to wear themed outfits. screeches and hollers during the whole barbie movie, and immediately places custom orders for all of barbies's outfits and half of ken's outfits. (none of the outfits from the kendom era, though. bleh.) ends up feeling very thoughtful about oppenheimer -- and makes sure nobody notices.

kim: wants to perish. khun had to handcuff him to the theater seat. at least kim managed to stop khun from stuffing him into a bespoke neon pink leather jacket.

chay: is having a great time! very much enjoyed dressing up with khun for the Event Of The Century. is currently very much enjoying watching kim suffer. cheered at all the right moments during barbie. (oddly quiet during oppenheimer.)

pete: kind of tilted about having to dress up, but finds himself genuinely enjoying both movies. empathizes with every character on screen, which is not what khun wanted him to do.

vegas: identifies way too much with oppenheimer in perhaps the worst possible way. barbie puzzles him on a molecular level.

macau: spends the entire time "subtly" (not subtly) filming both movies on his phone. his camerawork is absolute garbage. his thumb is in the frame the whole time. his flash accidentally goes off halfway through. he immediately uploads both bootlegs to utorrent.

pol: the barbie movie was made for pol. he is THE target audience. it changes the trajectory of his entire life.

arm: absently pats a teary-eyed pol on the back throughout the entire barbie movie. is a little too consumed by thoughts of how relatable some of the oppenheimer scientists are.

and last but not least, big and ken: are standing at the back of the theater. they weren't allowed to sit. ken has been stuffed into the "i am kenough" tie-dye sweatshirt and maintains his i've-stepped-in-dogshit face throughout the entire barbie movie. "i don't sound like that," he keeps hissing at big. big is too busy sobbing under his sunglasses to humor him.

(brought to you in conjunction with the legendary @pomslices)

#bonus round: all of this is happening in the theerapanyakul mansion's private movie theater. khun did not let them leave the house #this does not inform or affect macau's bootleg attempts in the slightest #kinnporsche #tankhun theerapanyakul #kimchay #vegaspete #not gonna tag everyone but can't leave out #ken kinnporsche #barbenheimer

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avelera · 1 year ago

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Some slightly more coherent thoughts about Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse (ATSV) now that I've had a little time to process and long to return to the theater to see it again and again and again:

1 ) Go see it. Holy shit, go see it. Re-watch Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (ITSV) before you go if you have the chance but you don't have to, they recap it well enough and I promise anyway, the first thing you're gonna do when you get home after is turn ITSV on and then scream a bunch because it is all so tightly connected from the very beginning.

2 ) ITSV is a masterpiece. ATSV is more of a masterpiece in the same way that 11 is bigger than 10. They took everything in ITSV, which is a perfect 10/10 and made it 11/10 for this film. I shit you not. It cannot be otherwise expressed with words. Everything is just bigger, faster, bolder, more.

Ok, now getting into some of the more spoiler-y thoughts:

3 ) Loved me those themes of connection and loneliness. When you go back to ITSV, you see it's right there from the start. All of the version of Spider-Man are lonely. They are tired. They're isolated and unsupported and they are all suffering. Miles makes their lives better. They make Miles' life better. This becomes such a huge, huge theme in ATSV as Miles literally breaks the canon, he is the ultimate fix-it fanfic character, every Spider-Man he interacts with gets some element of their tragic backstory fixed. Peter B. reunites with MJ and has a child that brings joy back into his life. Gwen gets a friend again. Pavitr doesn't have to watch his girlfriend's father die. They are no longer doomed by the narrative.

4) Another post commented on how tired Peni looks when we finally see her, but she's not the only one. All of the Spider-People in the Spider-Verse look tired and it is, in fact I'd argue, Miguel's fault. He appealed to their sense of martyrdom to put together an organization that helps people and saves the world(s). BUT he made "maintaining the canon" an aspect of this (a wonderful meta commentary on Miles himself, btw, and all the comic book nerds who want to rehash the same story over and over instead of transforming it into something new and hopeful). Because they had all suffered so much, it followed logically for all the Spider-People that all of their parallel universe selves must also suffer.

This is the crab bucket mentality. Miguel dragged all the Spider-People into the crab bucket with him. He taught them learned helplessness. They're all tired and worn down because they have to keep reliving their own trauma by standing by and making sure these awful things that happened to them continue to happen, over and over. It's the mirror too for any marginalized community where the past generation believes the next one must suffer as they did. But it's exhausting for them to see the misery and do nothing. That's why they're all so tired. It makes sense to them that to be Spider-People, the next generation must suffer as they did but they are also, all of them, heroes and so it wears them down to watch this happen over and over. Miles brings back their energy and joy and their hope by refusing to be doomed by the narrative.

It's wonderful fanfic but it's also fantastic storytelling and it works on so many layers of the story, Doylist and Watsonian, all the way down.

5 ) THIS is a tightly knit story. Every. Single. Element. Ties back to the central story, the central themes. Every line either reveals plot, character, setting, or themes. It is so, so tight as a writer I was gaping. In necessary, if brief, moments of exposition they make sure to keep the screen busy and moving. There's no time for boredom. It is literally so fast that even as someone with ADHD I was sometimes overwhelmed as much as riveted. The few scenes that slowed down to simply fast movie pace felt achingly slow as a result and I bet you they were maybe 30 seconds long.

6 ) I AM. SO HYPED. FOR THE ENDING AND THE SEQUEL IT SETS UP? The perfect dark mirror story, not rushed but simply introduced so we can see that the final boss for Miles is himself. Unless they subvert that expectation, which they might! But it is so ominous to see Prowler Miles, it makes so much sense, it is perfect and deep and rich. Literally every time you think, "Maybe they'll rehash old material?" they don't they just keep introducing cool new characters and concepts and themes it's mindblowing.

7 ) They never leave you with one thread. Miles is going to face himself and fight to save his dad from the Spot and fight Miguel, presumably, in the next one. No single line only does one thing. No frame does one thing. And yet everything ties back to the core story of Miles and the Spider-People both on the Watsonian and Doylist level. I want to study every frame under a microscope. It's insane.

8 ) THE ART IT'S JUST. I'm not an artist so I'll leave it at this but THE ART.

9 ) I love Pavitr and Hobie. So much. I gasped when we saw Pavitr's world.

10 ) The Spot's animation was insane just insane and I think he's foreshadowed in the ITSV and it blew my mind on the re-watch.

I need to see it again. I could talk about any single element for hours. But I just can't stop thinking about the mastery embodied in this film. I know a sequel to a superhero movie that's animated will never win Best Picture but I do not exaggerate when I say that in itself might be an indictment of Best Picture. This film deserves Best Picture. It is the best movie I've seen in an unfathomably long time including ITSV.

#spider-man across the spider-verse #atsv spoilers #atsv #itsv #spider-man #spiderverse

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autistic-ben-tennyson · 4 months ago

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Tamaki and Suzume: an underrated parent-child relationship

Been thinking about my favorite movie again. Specifically an aspect of it that I think is a bit underrated. Many fell in love with Souta but I was more invested in Suzume’s relationship with her aunt and it makes me tear up a bit. It feels like a very realistic portrayal of a parent-child relationship and gives an important message about communication. I relate to both characters for different reasons which is why it hit so hard. It’s not idyllic or easy for Tamaki as she was forced into raising her niece after her sister died in the 2011 Earthquake. Soon her life became focused around raising her niece as her boyfriend drifted away and she was forced to start taking better care of herself. All very realistic for someone who has the role of parenthood thrust on them with zero warning which is relatable even for those who didn’t lose their siblings and have to be a surrogate parent to their kids.

Japanese viewers were given a booklet in theaters that revealed a bit more about Tamaki and her life before becoming a mother. She has a bit of an inferiority complex and wanted some time away from her sister who was much more sociable and loved by people. Now she has to raise her niece who is much like her mother. I can relate to that, being a lot more of a loner than my brother. Being depressed and a bit awkward while having to be around excitable and happy people can be grating and bring up feelings of jealousy and it can make you want to get away and start fresh.

Despite all that, Tamaki does her best to be a good mother, playing along with Suzume as a child when she clings to the chair her mother gave her and comforting her after having a meltdown at her birthday party. Suzume would end up comforting her aunt, both unprepared for things to end up like this, but by being emotionally vulnerable and letting their pent up emotions out, things got better. Life seemed normal with them having normal squabbles and bonding moments you’d expect for a family. This continues till the start of the movie when Tamaki is seen making a bento for her niece. Then the conflict starts when Suzume runs away with Souta.

Tamaki doesn’t know why Suzume has run off and is understandably furious over her niece running away with little consideration for her responsibilities. To her, she’s acting like a child again when chasing after that chair she was given. On Suzume’s end, she feels smothered by her aunt demanding she come home and still treating her like a child. Tamaki wants to protect her niece but Suzume wanted to save Souta which she worries her aunt won’t understand.

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This is where Sadaijin and Daijin come in as they’re meant to be a parallel for Tamaki and Suzume. Tamaki and Sadaijin are not malicious but are just following what they have to do. Sadaijin has to make sure Daijin fulfills his duties even if that means smothering and reprimanding him. Tamaki has to work and maintain their house and isn’t happy with Suzume not caring about how hurt she was. Sadaijin uses Suzume’s argument with her aunt in the parking lot to lecture Daijin but he only amplifies Tamaki’s emotions that were already there. Both remind their charges that they have responsibilities they can’t ignore and that their actions are affecting others. Suzume ignored how hurt Tamaki was until she expressed it in a way that wasn’t like herself.

Just like the conversation when Suzume was a child, the argument at the gas station was a dark moment for them. But it also gave her and her aunt an opportunity to be emotionally vulnerable. Suzume suspected her aunt resented having to raise her and how it affected her life. Earlier, when talking to Chika, she admitted to feeling bad about Tamaki’s dating life and how she’s affected it despite her aunt being quite attractive. By admitting her negative feelings, Tamaki did hurt Suzume emotionally but was able to express what she had been bottling up. She is regretful of what she said which is why she breaks down to Serizawa, much to his ice cream’s misfortune.

During the bike ride to the gate to rescue Souta, the two have an another opportunity to talk now that some time has passed. Suzume apologizes to her aunt for the stress she put her through. Tamaki admits that what she said the night before was true but she still loves her daughter and is proud to have raised her, much to Suzume’s relief before teasing her a bit about her crush on Souta. The end montage shows a healthier relationship between the two with Suzume introducing her to the people she met along her journey. This dynamic was always my favorite part of the movie over the romance stuff. I still like it and I do like Souta but the relationship between Suzume and Tamaki was what hit close for me. It fits the movie’s message about how joy can come from grief. The argument at the rest stop caused a lot of grief for both characters but ultimately led to a healthier relationship. It reminds me a bit of Luz and Camila’s dynamic in The Owl House and how communication and being open about their emotions led to a better understanding. I relate to Suzume’s anger at being smothered and feeling like your parents secretly resent you. I don’t have a good relationship with them and I don’t know if I want to keep it but I still feel relief at seeing Suzume and Tamaki resolve their issues. Someone should really write a fanfic about Suzume’s childhood as well as what happened between returning home and reuniting with Souta.

Edit: their relationship is what Luz and Camila’s should have been. Suzume actually gets called out for running away and hurting Tamaki and learns responsibility unlike Luz.

@mdhwrites @polygnosticu

#suzume no tojimari #suzume spoilers #suzume iwato #tamaki iwato #suzume daijin #suzume sadaijin #makoto shinkai #suzume #anime #essay #suzume analysis #Youtube #anime analysis

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stardewremixed · 5 months ago

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Stardew Confessions

This started as a musings post and grew into something much bigger. Sometimes I dream of selecting the resident saloon owner as my bachelor of choice. Yes, I'm running off with Gus. Here are my justifications (in no particular order):

Warning: Spoilers for his personality and heart events.

He has a kind word for everyone.

He is warm, friendly, and welcoming.

He has a deep compassion for his friends and neighbors, as evidenced by how he treats Linus (that scene always warms my heart) and how he wants to "help out" Pam even if his business is hurting.

He is sensitive to your allergies. Enough said.

He is rocking the dad-bod.

He is not a heavy drinker (and this is a welcome relief after Shane). He mentions that he likes a good Stardew Valley vintage from time-to-time. (I prefer a good vino over spirits, anyhow.)

He is "proud" of you if you upgrade Pam's house. (And if he doesn't know it's you, he tells you that person deserves the best).

He cooks for weeks for the Egg Day festival. A man who is dedicated to keeping the Valley well fed is a good man in my book.

The man runs one of the most successful businesses in the Valley. He is the only bar and restaurant in town. Financial stability is practical AND sexy, people!

A man who cooks and mixes a mean cocktail is a catch. He would keep you in good food, good drinks, and coffee.

Mmm... and the man has a special omelet. As a girl who loves her eggs, this is a total perk in my book! (And he makes the best crab cakes too!)

The man also makes his own candy canes! Sweet!

Living above a bar and restaurant would have its perks. (I lived above one in my first apartment - the water pressure was incredible for showers and the rooms were surprisingly spacious). And if you're hit with the 2am munchies, you'd have access to the best snacks.

Since he is on the older side, he is established and has a healthy self-esteem.

He wouldn't play games. He is straightforward and honest.

He has good taste in gifts - definitely higher quality (later game) stuff. Escargot, fish tacos, tropical curry all strike me as things a man with a discerning palate would enjoy. Oranges are a healthy addition. One of his favorites at the movie theater is a cappuccino mousse cake (which sounds absolutely mouthwatering and delicious - and I'd totally learn the recipe for him!)

He sends good gifts in the mail after 1+ hearts. And his note reads: "I made you a little treat this morning at the Saloon. Dig in. Your friend, Gus." (I'll admit the first time I received this letter, I swooned a bit. Maybe I want to be more than friends here, Gus.) He's so thoughtful. 3+ hearts - he says he only shares the salmon dinner recipe with his "good friends." ;)

He kindly employs Emily. (I bet he makes a great boss - a nice blend of fair and understanding.) He knows this is only temporary for her until she gets her clothing business up and running, but he is appreciative of the help.

In his 5-heart event, he basically calls you the "special ingredient" in the secret sauce! *wiggles eyebrows* He has come to view you as a good friend.

And the man gives you a mini jukebox for your home!!! Any man who gives you the "gift of music" has to be a sweetheart.

He's also worried about Pam and wants to maintain a friendship with her (and yes, I'll acknowledge the elephant in the room. I know there are problematic implications of giving her alcohol, but he is running a business and she is responsible for her own choices). He wants others to like him and he respects people's autonomy. Maybe he's a bit too nice at times since he does need to make a living, but I think this contributes to his all-around "good guy" vibes.

TL;DR - I'm convinced Gus could keep you in relative comfort and happiness, that he has a "heart of gold," and he would make an excellent marriage candidate.

#stardew valley gus #sdv gus #is this a mod #this should be a mod #gus should be a bachelor #i'd play the heck outta that mod #sdv headcanon #stardew valley headcanon #stardew remixed #stardew valley #sdv pam #sdv linus #sdv famer #should've been a marriage candidate

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cellarspider · 8 months ago

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26/30 PIE to the face

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We return to a movie that is going to linguistically hurt me again, Prometheus. You get to read a ramble about PIE. You’re welcome.

Content warning for MORE OF ME. I cannot be stopped.

So. Imagine you have found a sleeping alien. You believe that they were on a mission to destroy humanity as a disappointment. What do you do? Not waking them up is certainly an option. But what if you do? You’re going to want to not disappoint them.

One could, for example, study the records still maintained within the alien ship. Learn about their culture. Get more than one guy to learn their language, particularly since this translator you’ve got seems to be a little gung-ho on things like “seeing [his] parents dead.” That’s a bit of a warning sign.

And hey, something horrible happened on this ship, probably right before or right after this alien was put into hibernation. There’s a lot of dead bodies on the ship. Having a trauma counselor or three there would be a good call. People trained in de-escalation, definitely. Give you a chance to talk the alien down, and help them process stuff in what’s hopefully a culturally appropriate manner, given your xenological research before waking them up.

You’ll probably want to make sure to take the “kill humanity” button away from them too, that would be a good idea. And, preferably, not have exploded the head of one of their colleagues.

Am I describing a process that would take years? Yes. It should. This is the most important thing humanity’s ever done.

It’s been two days since the Prometheus landed.

As stated before, my faith in fictional humanity was not high in this scene.

David wakes the Engineer up. Rather than any of the measures I described above, the Engineer is met with David, Weyland, some security guys, Doctor Franenstein the head-exploder, and Shaw.

It took most of the humans a good hour or so to stop looking like death after waking up after a two year nap, and this Engineer’s been under for a thousand times longer. The poor bugger is visibly hung over and feeling sick, almost falling over on Weyland.

Shaw starts demanding David ask where they’re from, what’s in the ship’s cargo, why was it made for humans, all in English as Weyland tries to talk over her. They are speaking a language that only took its modern form 1600 years after the last events on this ship took place. The Engineer has zero clue what anyone’s saying.

The Engineer remains silent, and visibly disturbed by how Wayland orders his security guy to hit Shaw, which just makes the still unintelligible questions louder and less coherent.

And then David starts speaking to them.

There was a short dialog between them filmed, but in the final cut, the Engineer doesn’t speak at all.

The final cut also removes Weyland’s pitch for why he should have immortality–he created life in David. David is something more perfect than human. Therefore Weyland is a god, and gods never die.

This is, as you can imagine, not convincing. It would’ve made Weyland slightly more explicable as a character, but the movie hasn’t even done that for its lead, so of course it doesn’t for Old Man Capitalism.

In the full release, David only says a few sentences. To quote Anil Biltoo, who wrote the translation:

The line that David speaks to the Engineer (which is from a longer sequence that didn’t make the final edit) is as follows: /ida hmanəm aɪ kja namṛtuh zdɛ:taha/…/ghʷɪvah-pjorn-ɪttham sas da:tṛ kredah/ A serviceable translation into English is: ‘This man is here because he does not want to die. He believes you can give him more life’.

This is–okay. In the theater, I did not know precisely what this language was. But I was making a fair imitation of the Engineer's expression in response to this, because I was pretty sure it was PIE.

Proto-Indo-European, that is. A massive swath of world languages are all traceable back to one source, though we have no records of it. Linguistic reconstruction of how they evolved from earlier roots allows us to infer a language that must have existed, and we call that the Proto-Indo-European language. PIE for short. And this is a big ol’ slice of PIE right here.

And I had a whole thing in early drafts of this post. I’d convinced myself over the years that my inexperience with PIE had led me astray in the theater. I’d convinced myself this was a PIE conlang. Meaning, I thought this was a language created for this movie that sounds like a cousin to PIE. That’s still howlingly weird, for reasons I’ll get into. But then I saw this featurette:

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[Video description: A behind the scenes featurette for Prometheus entitled “Language Of The Gods”. It interviews Anil Biltoo on his work for the movie, in which he explains the concept of a proto-language, of PIE in specific, and what he did for the movie.]

It’s PIE. It’s a different reconstruction of PIE than the current standard, but it’s PIE.

And I feel vindicated, because that’s what I heard in the theater. David opened his mouth and out came PIE.

I can actually read a few words in the excerpt. I could hear them in the theater. The word /hmanəm/ is clearly meant to be a root word of “man”, which standard reconstructions indicate is the descendent of PIE *ǵʰmṓ. /Namṛtuh/ is very clearly from PIE *ne-mért, “not-die”, because anything that looks like “mort” in an indo-european language probably has something to do with death. And “/kredah/” is close to PIE *ḱréddʰh₁eti, hence Latin “crēdit”, hence modern italian “créde”, “he believes”.

PIE is just like that, sometimes. Some roots are unrecognizable, others are instantly identifiable. I’ll include my attempt at a gloss (a brief technical explanation of the meaning and grammar) at the end of the post.

The implication is that the Engineers taught their language to humans. That was Proto-Indo-European, which then spread from there. I almost started laughing in the theater at this.

In the real world, we know a few things about where PIE came from. PIE was probably spoken by people north of the Black Sea, at least five thousand years ago. This guy who’s just woken up with a hibernation hangover went to sleep three thousand years after that.

But, y’know what? Fine. Let’s say it’s a liturgical language. David’s done the equivalent of walking up to somebody and speaking to them in church Latin. Weird, but not impossible that it could be understood. Or maybe they’re just so damn long-lived and linguistically conservative that it’s more like talking to somebody in an old-timey news broadcaster voice. Still weird! But comprehensible.

But you know what we can’t possibly link back to PIE? Egyptian, Sumerian, Akkadian, Hawaiian, or the Mayan languages, most of the other ancient cultures the movie says the Engineers definitely contacted. Did all those come from the same ur-language? We don’t know. We can’t know, because our reconstruction methods are ineffective past a certain point. But if they did, then their root language had to have existed before the Bering Strait closed off the Americas from Asia, making any common ancestor at least twice as old as PIE. The movie’s implication is that it was PIE. The language of the gods is PIE. PIEngineer.

Apparently everybody who the Engineers talked to just forgot the language of the gods, save for the linguistic descendants of some nomads on the Black Sea Steppe.

And that’s before we get into the worse implications. We can’t tie East Asian languages back to PIE. Austronesian languages. American languages. African languages. Were these people just not contacted by the Engineers? Did they forget? Did they refuse to listen?

None of these are good answers! None! They’re all bad!

In Anil Biltoo’s defense, he’s an academic linguist, and, to my knowledge, not one who’s a conlanger. Ridley Scott specifically wanted to work in the oldest possible human language, and Biltoo delivered on that, based on modern scholarship. He did not make an alien language that evolved into a human language. If Scott had wanted that, David and Jesse Peterson would probably go feral for the project, but they weren’t asked. What would be the most naturalistic thing to do, if you wanted to get across the idea that humans inherited language from the Engineers?

You make a Proto-Human language. People have tried before, and others have argued their attempts are bullshit. This is one of those times that Wikipedia has a “the neutrality of this article is disputed” flag at the top of the page, because there are nerd fights everywhere on this. We don’t even know if a Proto-Human language ever existed–there could have been multiple independent origins of language–but if you’re writing fiction, sure, Proto-Human exists.

Come up with a vocabulary and grammar that could work for Proto-Human, have David speak it to the Engineer, it sounds alien to everybody, nobody gets to be the special children of the gods, and no linguistics dork in the audience will laugh at you.

They will definitely laugh at what happens next, though.

But the post is not done! Bonus linguistic nerdery below, including a sample of my constructed language and its script.

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Citations for alt-text rambles:

https://moomin.fandom.com/wiki/Stinky

https://www.deviantart.com/pretty--kittie/art/Prometheus-Engineer-407327934

https://www.uni-wuerzburg.de/en/news-and-events/news/detail/news/new-indo-european-language-discovered/

Edit: additional citations!

Movies in 15 Minutes review of Prometheus by @cleolinda, as retrieved from the Internet Archive. Hat tip to @kantama for identifying it!: https://web.archive.org/web/20120726203957/http://m15m.livejournal.com/23209.html

PIEngineer gloss

Alright, for the language nerds in the audience, I’ve put together a potential gloss, entirely based off of PIE roots available on Wiktionary and a shaky understanding of PIE verb construction:

/ida hmanəm aɪ kja namṛtuh zdɛ:taha/…/ghʷɪvah-pjorn-ɪttham sas da:tṛ kredah/ this.[singular neuter??] man.NOM [anaphoric demonstrative].1.NOM.MASC here not-die EMPHATIC/towards.3MASC.PRES(?)…life-many-[resultative or inchoative verb suffix? adjective of possession, accusative singular?] [genitive singular reflexive?] give.[middle 3S] believe.[stative(?) 3S] A more literal translation would therefore be “This man here does not (want to) approach death…he believes he (can be) given more life-having to himself.”

I am not good at figuring out suffix affixation for PIE verbs, so I probably missed or misinterpreted a few in there. I’m not sure how to break down /zdɛ:taha/ in particular, and /sas/ is a bit mysterious to me. Biltoo definitely created his own PIE reconstruction for this. Vowels are all shifted (ex *éy -> /aɪ/), there’s more palatal consonants (*ḱi-Ø -> /kja/, *polh₁-r̥-m -> pjorn), and other sound shifts I’m too scatterbrained to categorize right now.

PIEngineer to Tade Taadži translation

Alright. I previously mentioned that I have a conlang. I have yet to mention that it is distantly related to Prometheus, powered by the spiteful creative energy this movie engendered in me.

So it’s only fair I translate this passage into my language, write it in my script, and give a thorough gloss.

Jàà odormàà, hu sàà id aannãgu … midadjã kii jur kaas ʻus mogeso. /jɐː odoɾmɐː hu sɐː id aːnːãgu/ / … /midadjã kiː juɾ̥ kaːs ʔus mogeso/ This.VOC not-native-person.ALL, death.INST not go.ATTR want.PRES. Forever.NOM give this.ALL 2S.VOC ACC 3S.NEAR.ponder.PRES.3P.FAR.ACC

Translation notes:

I am assuming David is speaking formally, clearly, and respectfully in this translation, even if one of the people he’s being respectful about is Weyland. Both Weyland and the Engineer are thus addressed using the Vocative case when first directly mentioned.

Due to the formality of the speech, formal style glyphs are also used: these require significant planning ahead of time, to identify ligatures, aesthetic considerations, and, ideally, to select a total number of words that works out to a multiple of six, as this is culturally the ideal number for a line of text.

Formal ligatures can cross glyph boundaries, and are read every time you encounter part of them in the left-to-right, top-to-bottom reading order. The most common ligatures are between grammatical markers, as in this text, but can extend to whole glyphs or even individual components of them. If one is feeling particularly artistic, aesthetic ligatures may also be joined between thematically similar glyphs.

Gendered pronouns are not used in this context. Politeness dictates that any third person pronouns be replaced with the equivalent of “this” or “that”, unless given express permission to use more informal terms of address. This is especially true when referring to non-native speakers, as they do not have an equivalent social role to the five (yes, five) genders of Taadži culture.

The word for “non-native person” used to indicate Weyland literally means “thing that has a spirit”.

Following my shaky PIEngineer gloss, I tweaked the verb in the first sentence: “to die” would normally be “hur hybà” (lit. “to stand at death”), but this has been changed to “hu iddà”, “go to death”, indicating that Weyland fears even getting near the idea.

The word for “forever”, “midadjã”, is derived from the word for 6^6, or 46,656. Tade Taadži uses a base six number system, because I felt like taking Jan Misali up on his heximal advocacy.

The normal word order for the language is SVO, but in dependent clauses it becomes OVS, just to make things harder for everyone, including me, who muttered “ah fuck” when I had to check my notes to remember where to put an allative and vocative in there. It’s after the verb, apparently.

The language has verbal person marking in some contexts, and I deliberately bent the second sentence into a more poetic mode so that I could show it off while retaining formal speech, referring to Weyland’s belief as if it’s a person. The glyphs ligate the person marker to the tense marker, Both to save space and for aesthetic purposes.

I had no word for “believe” when I started writing this sentence, so I grabbed a verb already associated with thinking during unmoving meditation to stand in for it, to get across the idea that “this is something he has thought about a lot”.

It’s a shame David’s being polite, because while I didn’t have a word for “believe”, I do have a word for “to believe despite evidence to the contrary”.

Bonus citations:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Daemon_(computing)

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#Prometheus 2012 #Prometheus (2012)#LANGUAGE TIME LANGUAGE TIME #also an abundance of Engineer screenshots #because I have a type and it is “hairless inhuman and affronted by the rudeness of their alarm clock”#also “doomed by the narrative” because no one in movies save for Guillermo del Toro agrees with me

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