#the lack of engagement is rough lmao

[not-your-babyy13]

thank you for keeping the fexi fandom alive 🥲❤️ times are so tough now but you are a real one

that’s sweet but no thanks are necessary. I’m just happy people are still interacting with me and my fics. 😭 this hiatus is rough, contemplated ghosting a few times at this point, but somehow the ideas keep coming, lmao

[seokshinedk]

Gonna be yet another Week..

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— mon cœur s’ouvre à ta voix

SUMMARY : aka. part II of mattel. finally, in the privacy of your home, you find the willpower to make the afternoon all about dean (as you’d originally hoped) when he tries to distract you from your plans. 

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), 0.5 mL of angst, pure filth mostly, fluffy as well tho, edging, switches all around, body appreciation as subtext lmao, fingering, overstimulation, unprotected piv (I’m scared of germs, you should be too), rough sex, biting, scratching?, oral (m. receiving), begging, squirting, idk hot and sweaty and wet sex honestly cause why the heck not?! 

WORD COUNT : 5.0k

A/N :  the title is from a muse song. this fills the biting square for my @jacklesversebingo card. Inspired by Bullet for My Valentine’s Scream Aim Fire album. Also by the reel on instagram for “riding” tips 🤣

DEAN’S POV 

When you playfully made your way into the house, he allowed his previous insecurity to grip his heart so it clenched while his stomach sank unpleasantly. 

You seemed far too happy, excited even, for him to be ruining your mood. 

But all he could think of was this morning when he was rushing you to get dressed. When he got to the wardrobe, he froze as his mind instantly scanned through the shirts he knew you both had inside, either folded nearly in stacks or hanging on the sturdy metal bar inside. 

Truth was, part of him felt guilty and his stomach sank every time he saw some old shirts of his you’d stolen years back. He typically found it hot when you wore them, but sometimes the way they fit on you made him feel self conscious about his weight. Especially when he could tell when you wore his newer clothes because of how much bigger it fit on your body. 

You’ve never made any comments about his body or his weight or the amount of food he eats or the lack of activity he engages in now. But he knows. Sam teases him about it, he laughs wryly, but Sam doesn’t seem to notice that those comments make him uncomfortable. Sure, back then it didn’t matter what Sam said about the food he ate because he didn’t notice the change in his body. He was constantly hunting or going hungry for large periods of time when they were stuck far away from society and only relied on snacks to stave off their hunger…

He decided to slip on last night’s clothes, hoping to hide his body from himself, from you, from his brother. From anyone who knew him when he was fit and toned and hard… God… he should’ve listened when those chicks told him he had a “dad-bod”.

He had no idea why he couldn’t stop spiralling now. 

When he got to the entrance of the house, he shut the door behind him and locked it, taking a deep breath as his dick began to soften due to his sour mood. He found your ankle boots next to the entrance and quickly discarded his own shoes and placed them next to yours.

His mind went back to anything that would indicate that you had noticed or even hated his body. Even though he had nothing negative to think back to, he felt awful. Suddenly, he could feel every inch of extra skin and he squirmed uncomfortably. 

He saw your discarded dress in the hallway and he found that he couldn’t help smiling.

He could spend all his life wondering why or how you still found him attractive, but that would be a shameful amount of time wasted. You were so beautiful and you were right here ready for him, loving him in more ways and more intensely than he thought he deserved. 

So he decided to just appreciate that you liked, no, loved him at all and quickly washed his hands with soap in the bathroom before entering your shared bedroom where you were laying like a model on the bed. 

Your face was turned to the window, to the drawn curtains and the sunlight that glided over your smooth skin. Your arm was raised above your head, in the pillows, and your body was covered in the red lingerie set that had caught his attention at the sex shop. To see it on your body was driving him insane. 

He noticed the shaky expansion and deflation of your ribcage with each breath you took. Your knees were bent, feet flat on the bed, thighs pressed together tightly, and then you turned to face him. Your lashes fluttered and you smiled when you saw him standing there, dumbstruck and in awe.

You spoke his name like a siren and he moved to get closer to you, the tension your sensuality began filling the room aroused him. His heart was pounding excitedly in his chest, and while some of the blood flooded up to his face the way it always did, most of it ran down south. And your voice did nothing but intensify how horny and desperate he was starting to feel all over again.

He stood at the foot of the bed and smirked down at you and you parted your thighs just to watch him curiously from between your legs with your brow raised expectantly.

He lifted only one knee onto the bed and reached for your hip to drag you all the way down. Your laughter filled him with delight, but when he slid his hand down your side to get a good look at you with your hair haloed around your head on the sheets, your seductive gaze seized him and his heart nearly stopped from how fast it was beating. You bit your lip in anticipation and reached for his shirt, quietly urging him to remove it.

“Please,” you murmured. He pulled the t-shirt over his head and threw it to the side. Hoping to be ignored, he leaned over you, his warm breath fanned over your neck and he relished the quiet gasp you released before he even pressed his lips softly to your pulse.

Your hands instantly threaded through his hair and he let you guide him off your skin, where he could feel the heavy thud of your heartbeat. You whispered his name against his lips like a prayer and he closed the distance between the two of you like a merciful god responding to your silent plea with tenderness. 

You were quick to bite his lips when he refused to give you anything more than an innocent kiss. He smirked against your mouth, inhaling sharply at your enthusiasm. Your tongue pushed past the playfully-stubborn lock of his lips and the sound you made once you tasted him made his cock twitch inside his sweat pants.

You became more impatient, he could barely catch up with you. His mind was dazed from your kiss alone, but your hands made a mess in his hair, tugging with desperation, eliciting deep moans from him. Your hips rolled upwards, your hands released their tight grip on his hair so you could dig your fingernails into his bare shoulders, needing—more than anything—to find friction. He groaned into your mouth and moved away panting, his lips swollen and tingling from your greedy mouth.

He took your hands far gentler than you’d handled him and pinned them above your head, his hand easily locked around your wrists and you bit your lip. You leered up at him when he placed himself closer between your legs.

“Is there something you need, sweetheart?” He teased, placing his hand flat on your stomach, nearly covering the entirety of the surface.

“Dean,” you whined, laughing breathily, “don’t do this.” He frowned dramatically at your refusal—playfulness guiding his actions—and tested your resolve by pressing his thumb against your clit over the wet lace of your new underwear. Your instant gasp at the softest touch thrilled him.

“Already so wet for me,” he murmured, a furious heat rushing up his face.

“Yeah, you didn’t feel that in the car?” 

He leaned over you again, nipped at your breast above the cup of your lace bra in retaliation, and slowly began to pull your underwear down your legs. He felt your hands twist in his grasp when he brought his lips around your nipple over the scratchy lace, you squirmed beneath him, impatiently attempting to kick your underwear off with his help.

“Need you so bad,” you whispered without being prompted to say anything. He smiled against your chest and threw your underwear away from your body with a snap of his wrist. 

“Oh, baby, I know,” he whispered empathetically, his eyes deeply gazing into yours as he slid his hand up the front of your body to pull down the cups of your bra so your breasts spilled out. 

He knew you saw that he wasn’t going to give you what you wanted instantly. Your knees pressed into his sides, your back arched when he breathed against your hardened nipple, and you struggled against his grip on your hands. You never asked him to stop, you only begged for more, so he wrapped his lips around your nipple and played with the other until you were moaning wantonly and begging shamelessly for him to fuck you.

“Please, tell me… you’ll let me cum,” you gasped, watching him intently as he detached his puffy lips from your now-slick and sensitive nipples. 

“Of course,” he murmured and pushed a finger inside you. You gasped, his lips touched yours, and he began curling his finger inside you, relishing in the feeling of it slipping into you without resistance.

He could feel the spread of your legs, the impatient wiggle of your hips, the pulse of your core around his fingers whenever he brushed over your g-spot. His cock ached as you panted and murmured his name in a quiet plea, your breathlessness made his stomach clench and he was enthralled by the sight of you, flushed and needy—all for him. 

He released your wrists to palm himself over his sweatpants, groaning and grateful that there was nothing underneath stopping him from feeling some pleasure as he admired you. He just couldn’t help himself with your shameless responsiveness. Your hands flew to his wrist and he looked down to watch your frantic grip near where his glistening finger was emerging from your warmth. You were something else entirely today. He closed his eyes momentarily, revelling in the image of you that remained behind his lids as he rubbed at his cock, and added a second finger inside you to scissor you open carefully when his eyes fluttered open once more.

He regarded you as you panted, your lips parted and your eyes closed. He bit his lip, parted your folds and flicked your slippery clit with his thumb watching your body arch and your hips buck. 

"That's it, you’re such a good girl," he praised, his voice husky.

His eyes flickered up to your face, but you were already watching him with your brows drawn together in concentration and your lips parted to release every tender moan that he pulled out of you. His heart lurched at your flushed state and you bit your lip hard, struggling to catch your breath. Your wide eyes swallowed him whole and then they fluttered shut for a moment; he knew what was coming.

Your walls spasmed around his fingers and your body shook when your orgasm finally vibrated through you. “Dean… fuck-fuck-fuck… fuck,” you implored, somehow becoming more wet around his fingers. Your hands moved up to his forearm, your fingertips traced the way his muscles flexed as he brushed against your g-spot repetitively, and you shuddered as you kept his unmoving fingers inside you after the most intense part of your orgasm passed.

“Fuck… so needy today,” he said with hushed astonishment. He looked between your legs with a lewd curiosity to watch your pussy flutter around his fingers. He chewed on his lip and experimentally continued to slowly rub at your clit until it became too much for you. Your pussy clamped down tightly around him and you started to guide his wrist away from you so his fingers slipped out, too.

While you caught your breath, he played with your sticky release and sucked his two fingers clean of the drying slick. Your tired eyes landed on him and you still smiled, maybe he could call your huff a laugh with the way your shoulders shook. 

“Do you want me to fuck you, too, now?” He uttered quietly, mostly to tease you. Still, as he waited for you to answer, he pulled down his grey sweats and stepped out of them swiftly. He moved back between your legs before he could miss a single second of your blissful glow and waited with a patient smile as you ogled him as shamelessly as he was doing to you.

"Please, Dean," you moaned, arms thrown up with your hair to grab the sheets hard. He smirked at you and you lifted your hips invitingly, causing his cock to twitch against your thigh. He cussed impatiently as he grabbed your hip over the red garter belt and teased your swollen clit with his cock, mostly enjoying the way your slick felt along the length of him. “Please… fuck me already. I need it, Dean,” you whimpered impatiently, pressing your ankles against the back of his thighs so he could give you what you wanted.

He considered continuing the torture, but decided against it, pleased by the desperation contorting your beautiful features the longer he played with you. 

"Okay,” he hummed and slammed his cock into you, his fingers digging into your hips on both sides now. Your gasp made his head light, his cock throbbed inside you, and he pulled out slowly to feel every inch of you before shoving himself back in with a satisfied groan. Your pussy pulsed to adjust to him, but you were still slick inside from your orgasm, and every thrust felt deliciously smooth. 

He watched you grip the sheets in tighter fists to brace yourself against the ruthless snap of his hips. His eyes trailed down, noticing the faster rise and fall of your chest as your lascivious eyes drifted lower, slowly moving down his chest and his stomach, and finally down to where his cock was ramming inside of you. His fingers pressed deeper into your hips, moulding your flesh like clay, struggling to keep his orgasm at bay.

He brought one of his hands away from your hip, reaching over to your sensitive clit, and stroked around it lazily—hoping to bring you to the edge of your second orgasm. When your body spasmed and you whimpered a plea, he knew he could get you there again. 

“Please,” you gasped, pulling hard at the sheets.

“Anything for you," he promised breathily, continuing to fuck into you as he circled your clit faster. Each snap of his hips made you moan, and you squirmed restlessly—sensitive and overstimulated from his touch, but somehow needing more. 

He leaned over you to kiss you deeply and you gripped his arms instinctively after releasing the sheets as he caged you in with his arms and swallowed your sounds with his fierce kiss. Your nails dug into the taut flesh of his arms and his stomach flipped at your desperate attempts to restrain yourself. He smirked against your mouth, his thrusts became slow and shallow. You kissed him back firmly, breathing unevenly against his lips when he parted to breathe, meeting his thrusts as best as you could, uselessly trying to gain control.

He buried his face near the crook of your neck, breathing heavily and moaning softly in your ear. He groaned your name at the instantaneous clench of your walls at his closeness. You sighed his name, hands flexing on his arm before your nails bit back down on his flesh again, sending electric pleasure through his body. Dean bit down hard on your shoulder, muffling his heated groans against your soft flesh. You moaned in surprise and your pussy squeezed around his cock again. 

"Gonna come again, sweetheart?" He teased, licking at the bite mark and began rubbing relentlessly at your clit. He heard the hitch in your breath and moved his mouth further over your shoulder to bite down on you again. 

He loved your reaction to it.

“Wait!” You begged suddenly, comically—as if you’d just remembered you left the stove on. Your hand locked around his wrist to stop him from stimulating your clit. Your legs came loose from his waist. Sudden concern possessed him to pull out of your wet heat with a whimper that made him turn scarlet red, but a warning tingle flared up his spine at the loss of your body’s heat. 

He felt deceived by the grin on your face, but you began to climb up the bed with a devious glint in your eyes that made him grin as playfully as you were. 

"Sweetheart, please, let me fuck you," he laughed breathily, crawling up the bed after you. You chuckled and threw the pillows out of the way.

"Who’s needy now?" you taunted, grabbing his shoulders to make him take your spot on the bed before he could settle between your legs again. 

He lifted a brow, unaware of your intentions, and huffed indifferently—defiant, but he still obeyed and sat against the headboard. You circled your arms around his neck after climbing into his lap to give him a kiss while his hands played thoughtlessly with the lace of the garter belt on your hips. 

You weaved your fingers through his hair, sending shivers along his body, and tugged gently at the strands in your grasp to part from his mouth. He bit his lip, watching you through heavy eyes clouded with lust. Your playful smile made him smile reflexively, and then you disappeared to mouth kisses along his jawline and neck. His eyes fluttered shut and his head leaned back—gently hitting the wall—giving you more flushed skin to kiss. He moaned quietly as you licked and kissed at the vein carrying his pulse and your hips rolled forward instinctively at the sound.

Your mouth moved lower down his chest with hot and wet kisses that made his skin tingle with fervour to feel you closer. Your weight shifting off his lap made his eyes open slowly, and was greeted with the pretence of your innocent gaze before you wrapped your hand around the base of his dick. His heart skipped a beat, his cock jerked in your grasp, waiting in anticipation before you squeezed and slowly slid your hand up from the base to the tip. Your eyes flickered down just as a drop of precum leaked out of the tip.

Your satisfied hum flustered him, but he was used to it. Used to the way you licked your kiss-swollen lips at the mere sight of his leaking dick when you got your hands on him, readying him for your mouth or your pussy. To him it felt more like you wanted him at your mercy, throbbing red and hot before you finally gave him the mercy of pleasure and release.

“Shit,” he hissed, watching you pump his cock once, twice, and a third time, using every drop of his precum to languidly slide your hand along his length. “Please.” His hips rose from the bed and your response was a gentle laugh that made heat flare up his face. The pace of your hand remained infuriatingly slow and your tight grip drew thick droplets of precum so he almost felt as wet as you were. 

You had him just like you wanted, throbbing and red from your teasing hands, brushing the pads of your fingers to massage every sensitive area you could find on his dick. After uselessly begging for you to go faster, after pleading for release, you kissed your way down his soft stomach. He held his breath, watching intently as your mouth drew nearer to his cock. 

He squirmed when you breathed against him, your lips curved to a smirk, but his mouth was open, panting heavily and waiting hopelessly for the touch of your lips against his length. 

“Hot,” you whispered against his dick, and slowly, delicately licked the leaking tip with your hand wrapped loosely at the base. He sighed breathily and grunted shortly after you swirled your tongue around the tip to swipe away precum. Before he could form the words in his mind, your whole mouth engulfed his cock. 

You moved your head down and his hands found the soft strands of your hair, gripping tightly in surprise, then to guide the speed himself. Groans tumbled from his lips and he shoved away all his embarrassment when your humming vibrated through his cock and made him whimper. You swallowed, your throat tightened around him and he hissed a curse, pushing your head down and pulling your hair up faster. 

He dared to look down at you, through the haze of lust, the sight of you in tears with your reddened cheeks, and redder lips made his cock throb in your mouth. 

“Holy fuck,” he moaned, pulling you up by your hair to let his cock fall from your mouth. A string of saliva and precum connected your mouth to the tip as you sniffled and blinked away tears. “I need you. Get up here, sweetheart,” he begged hoarsely, unravelling his fingers from your hair to guide you up with his hand on your jaw. 

You licked your lips, released your firm grip on his dick, and allowed him to wipe your tears away as you moved back up his body with your knees on either side of his waist. 

He eagerly pulled you in for a kiss, his enthusiasm seeping through the passion of his kiss. He momentarily allowed himself to get lost, to gratefully lick the taste of himself from your mouth, and let his hands wander to pull the cups of your bra back down. Your tits spilled out of the lace and he thoroughly pinched and plucked at your nipples until he felt you take hold of his cock again and stroked him a few times. 

He drew back from the kiss breathlessly, watched you line his dick up with your pussy before carefully sinking down on him completely. His eyes fluttered shut, his hands fell to your waist, and a growly sound rumbled through his chest. 

“Mmm, fuck,” you moaned against his lips, trailing your hands from his wrists to forearms. Your forehead dropped to his gingerly as you raised yourself up so just the tip remained inside you, then slid back down gradually. His grip on your waist became stronger when you broke away from him to enjoy the sensation of having him inside you. “Ah, fuck…” you murmured, grinding down on him to push his cock as far as it could go into you. 

He choked on a moan, on the breath that was cut off by the feeling of you rolling your hips down on him leisurely. He squirmed beneath you, watching you get lost in the torturous pace you found pleasure in. Your head lolled back and your hair gracefully followed the movement shortly after. Susurrations of his name bled from between your lips. Your hands were secured tightly on his arms, pulling him closer to you. 

Pleasure rippled through him. 

He leaned forward to suck marks and press open-mouthed kisses over your breasts. Your hands abandoned his arms to bury your fingers in his hair instead, arching your back to push your chest closer to his mouth. You shuddered as his breath cooled your fiery skin and tugged at his hair, undulating your hips against his. 

He moved his mouth up your chest to bite at your neck. His teeth sank gently into your tender flesh, grazing along the thudding vein, and his tongue tasted the salty tang of your sweat. Your pussy squeezed around him in delight and he moaned against your throat, exasperatedly digging his fingers into your waist. 

"Please… move," he whispered gravelly, trying to take control of the way you moved by sliding his palms down to your hips and holding on tight.

“I am,” came your breathy response. The amusement in your voice made him whine. 

“N… not like that.” His voice was rough and you bit your lip at his frustration. 

Straight away, you finally lifted yourself up his cock, unhurriedly making him feel every bit of the heat and wetness that coated him. You dropped back down at the same frustratingly slow speed. His eyes fluttered shut, his brows pinched together, and he licked his lips before biting down on it. Again, you rose from his lap and steadily sat back down. Your breath tickled his jaw, “like that?” 

Your voice made his stomach flutter.

“Faster,” he begged, his throaty voice revealing his impatience with your drawn-out riding. You nipped at his jaw and only barely picked up the pace. His eyes fluttered open when you cupped his red cheeks, staring at his contorted face. “Please,” he mumbled, pressing his fingers into your hips. 

You laughed breathlessly and dipped down to kiss him, but he knew that was you denying him. Your teeth sank into his lip and he growled at you, throbbing and achingly close to finishing. If only you’d speed up, he could finally get there. 

You sucked at his lip before pushing your tongue into his hot mouth, inhaling each other’s breaths. His head felt light again and his stomach tightened, brimming with bliss, but you ignored his sobbing pleas by silencing them with your tongue, and continued to languidly ride his cock. 

But he’d had enough. 

He flattened his feet on the bed and snapped his hips upwards before you could even process or halt what he was doing. You cried out in surprise and uselessly attempted to hold onto his shoulders as he ruthlessly shoved his dick upwards into your pussy. He slammed you down with his bruising grip on your hips, moving you down on him faster, and obscene sounds began to burst from his lips. 

You inhaled sharply, clasping onto his broad shoulders to no avail until you defeatedly collapsed on him so he could have complete control of the rhythm. He still had enough awareness outside his pleasure to grin to himself as you moaned and gasped his name into his ear. You clamped down around his dick and began to meet his thrusts as he’d been doing for you. 

"You fuckin’ tease," he panted each word between heavy breaths, whenever your hips met his. Even nestled into you as deep as he could be, he yearned to be closer to you, so he tangled his fingers in your hair and crashed your lips down with his, sure—now—that you wouldn’t change the pace he’d set. Your teeth clashed with his, but he couldn’t care less as his cock pulsed inside you, overflowing with pleasure. "I'm so fuckin’ close, baby," he gasped gruffly into your mouth.  

“Please… come, Dean,” you breathed out your plea and he released a low moan, your words making something warm bloom in his chest. Heat trickled down his body and he couldn’t stop the bubbling of his orgasm, especially not with you kissing him so intensely. 

 "Shit- oh, fuck-" he gasped against your lips. You moaned pridefully when he stilled, his entire body tense beneath you, and he held his breath for a short second before he came inside you whispering expletives and your name. You trembled above him shortly after he’d spilled himself into you and he hooked his blunt nails into your hips so harshly he imagined he might break your skin and draw blood. 

He pressed his forehead against your shoulder and loosed his grip on your hips when you finally stopped riding him after you came for a second time, but still sat on his softening dick after pulling every last drop from his throbbing cock. 

READER’S POV

“I love you,” Dean breathed against your mouth, gently brushing his thumbs over the raw flesh of your hips. 

“Mmm, I love you, too,” you promised quietly, carefully lifting your tender pussy from his dick. Dean hissed softly as your pussy fluttered over him and then he melted into the bed, slowly allowing himself to relax after you’d edged him for… well, who actually knows how long?

"What’s with you today, sweetheart?” He asked, his voice still pleasantly husky. 

You tried not to think about it as you sat by his knees, but your cunt still longed for him. “What do you mean?”

He opened his eyes and gave you a look. He looked so fucked out and it made you unreasonably arrogant. Your eyes flickered from his dishevelled hair, his red cheeks, swollen lips, and scratched torso. You blushed and shrugged after stealing a glance at his soft cock coated in your cum and his own. 

You could act nonchalant all you wanted, but your pussy clenched around nothing just at the sight of him. You could feel his release dripping out of you and you rubbed your thighs together. He was still watching you, but you didn’t care what he was able to see. 

“Please, come back here,” he mumbled lazily. 

You moved to his side and rested your cheek on his shoulder. You had a few moments of peace before his hand ghosted above your thigh and sneaked between your legs. You sat up straight and lifted a brow at him.

Dean smirked and rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, you’re telling me you don’t want more?”

You grabbed his face after staring at him with narrowed eyes and kissed him roughly to shut him up, but he turned to face you and kissed you back just as fiercely. He pushed against your body so you laid on the bed once more and his hand found your slick cunt again.

This time, three fingers pushed into you and he used his other hand to rub furiously at your clit. You whimpered against his mouth, overstimulated, and he pulled away panting. “Come on, baby, give me another one. I know you want it.”

“Fuck,” you sobbed, your body trembling in protest. 

He was right, you could still feel the faint embers of your arousal and he was reigniting them faster than you were able to make your body process. Somehow your orgasm was building up for a third time, feeling less intense but completely fulfilling.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured and before you knew what was happening, you squirted around his fingers and onto the sheets. Dean chuckled and drew out your orgasm as long as you could bear by still stroking on your clit after pulling his fingers out of you.

You could finally say you felt so much more relief, but you were half embarrassed by the gush of your orgasm. Dean was more than pleased by it. He licked his fingers clean of your release and then lowered his mouth down to your pussy with a moan to lick you thoroughly before kissing his way back up your body.

That mouth of his glistened and captivated your attention as he licked them. He pecked your lips and mumbled against your mouth, “I’m so glad I married you.”

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G Witch 22 thoughts

Banger episode this week! I loved every single minute. My only gripe was that it felt far too short. A pox on these weekly waits. Future binge watchers don't know how good they have it

Very much enjoyed the doubling down on QZ's destructive power and complete supremacy. No matter how many weapons/ships you have it doesn't matter because Aerial can just override them. It's a good establisher of stakes.

Mio burrito spotted. She is looking so rough here. Completely unsurprising she won't acknowledge Guel though. He had no sway on her even on her best days. Sorry, my guy. You lack Suletta's magic touch. Only she can play the Mio whisperer now

DEMI BARDING!! Big fan of that chonky suit after Asticassia ep so glad it's getting more use. I don't even care that I'm being manipulated into buying another kit. Secilia is a real one, glad she sat her butt down so the world didn't implode

This was a nice moment and gave Suletta closure on 4lan. He was someone she cared for, no matter how brief. That revelation about her list being Prospera's idea was a bit of a shocker tbh. I just thought she constructed it from the media she watched/read. The truth is way worse lmao. I guess it was meant to acclimate her to the school and therefore the dueling games for Aerial? Little did Prospera know that Suletta's dork charm would snare the heart of Delling's daughter immediately.

This was sudden but a joy to watch. I suppose Guel was tired of being Mio's ineffective secretary lol. But in all seriousness, this was sweet of him to arrange a duel so the lovebirds could be reunited. You've become a solid bro, Guel. Hope nothing dire happens to you.

Btw, I fully expect some fanfic authors to leap on a fencing au now. Pretty please?

This entire scene was so Utena I couldn't believe it. Well, actually the entire episode was littered with Utena but still. The baring of their mistakes. The acceptance of their faults. GOD this was so amazing.

I love how far Suletta has come in her development. Such an excellent change of mindset from viewing her time at Asticassia as a mistake to fully believing meeting Miorine was a blessing. She's so confident in her feelings

THEY'RE SOMEDAY TOGETHERINGGGG I see you Okouchi, giving us rabid Utena fans the good shit. This show is such a great homage in so many ways but this episode takes the cake! (Bit concerned that Suletta didn't verbally promise anything, just smiled fondly. Perhaps wistfully?)

This gave me such an unpleasant jumpscare though. The deliberate framing with Mio's bare legs followed by catastrophic bedhead freaked me out. I could have done without the Anthy reminder, thank you. Made such a sweet moment feel a bit horrific. I envy those who are oblivious to what I'm talking about

But this was so very sweet. I was getting misty-eyed. These babies have been through so much yet the truest thing is their love for each other. Their relationship remains the emotional core. Side note: Mio why are you the size of a housecat? Just how small was Notrette even

I'm glad I was correct in my read that Earth House doesn't truly blame Mio for Earth, only her staunch refusal to seek help. This was a nice little moment as was her brief words to Delling. Sleeping beauty certainly took his sweet time. I do wonder what he makes of this chaos?

Guel's reservation about Suletta heading to QZ is understandable but as she says, it's her choice. And Mio won't let anyone else decide Suletta's fate as she did before. Her quick death glare at Guel was so funny. Mans can only slap himself into complaince. Even when not engaged to Mio, he still obeys like a loyal sidekick lmao

Didn't expect this quick Shaddiq convo. I like how he recognizes instantly that Mio is better because of Suletta. It's very in character for him to accept Suletta's importance in Mio's life without resentment. I am wondering at the deal Mio makes with him. What could he possibly do for her? Perhaps it's Earth-related

At first I thought this was the sweetest thing. I still think it's sweet, but I also find the phrasing incredibly... weird. Not 'I'll always love you?' 'Always be with you'? Instead 'I will always be attached to you'. Could be nothing but it still sounds vaguely ominous. And it's coded in the genetic sequence of her tomatoes all things. The hell were you doing Notrette? Nice nod to mythology here though. Anesidora is an epithet for Demeter, an agricultural goddess, and Pandora. And like Pandora, Notrette unwittingly released evil in the form of QZ and possibly collaborated with Prospera to upload Ericht's biometric signature.

Aww farmer wives on Earth please! Still don't like Suletta only smiles when Mio declares anything future related. I get the rudest feeling she's not making hard promises because she's too aware of the peril. They look so happy here, so imma ignore the danger signs and just bask in their affection.

Mio forcing aside her own fear to support Suletta was so good. She was so relieved when Suletta broke Permet 5 alive, bursting into tears afterward. It was rough for me to hear Suletta gasping in pain, so I can't imagine how Mio must've felt. I don't ever want to see people claim she doesn't love Suletta ever again

I have thoughts on Calibarn's design (Utena spoilers) and place in the plot, but for this review I'll just say it looks neat. I wish it was a bit more unique, but it makes sense they need it to resemble its sibling plus its obvious Vanadis roots. That boom broomstick is super cool though!

I enjoyed Prospera's muted reaction here. She's surprised by Calibarn but not intimidated or angry. I'm sure she has complete faith in Eri's ability to handle this hurdle and her daughter's commitment to the plan. She must know Eri loves Suletta, but assumes it ultimately won't change a thing. For now, at least.

You know, I expected Lauda to lose it but I didn't expect him to be this stupid lol. You can't even use the damn GUND format idiot, you really think you'll beat your brother? I can't believe I gave him even the slightest bit of credit. Easily the worst character in the show. I hope Guel crushes him (and he doesn't get Guel killed in the process)

Petra deserves better 2023!

Ah and Eri peeks her GUND ghost form out to say hello before clashing with Suletta. This is an incredible shot, love the visuals as always. If it goes full Utena as I suspect, we'll see Eri break/override Calibarn. The name of a holy sword bashing at the Gwitch Rose Gate doesn't bode well. What that means for Suletta is anyone's guess, but I have faith she'll live. I fully expect her to get assistance of some kind. After all, the show has been telling us all along that working together is far better than struggling alone!

[bronx-bomber87]

Lets keep this thing rolling and onto:

1x04 ‘the switch’

This ep is SEVERELY lacking in gifs so this will be sparse. Especially since there wasn't any Chenford not a ton of gifs available LOL Also its lacking in Chenford content so this will not be as robust as previous reviews but tis part of the season. So lets get started.

The engagement beginning is sweet but hilarious. 'In 2-5 years- haha When Talia takes the ring cracks me up. Funny thought its been 5 years they’re probably married now that I think about it LMAO

So watching Nolan/Lucy scenes like watching paint dry. It pains me to watch it.

What does give me joy is every time Nolan brings up commitment how uncomfortable it makes her. It's a good view into her as character. As we see later in the ep where she reveals she's never been serious about anything till being a Cop and Nolan.

It is fun to watch the TO swap. Tim saying he’s going to break Jackson’s spirit made me laugh. Not cause I wanted him to break Jackson. Because honestly I think without Angela as his T.O. Jackson would’ve broken under Tim’s tutelage. Where as Lucy thrives off it and it makes her a better cop. This is a great representation of each rookie being with the right T.O.

I do hate how all over Lucy Talia is. She knows dating Nolan is a no no. But damn it’s not who she is as a person. Or as a cop. Shouldn’t be the only thing that defines her. Wracking her with guilty and such. I loved her reply to Talia though . ‘There are no other rookies like me’ damn right my girl. Tim sees that and knows what he has in her. She’s not wrong she needs to not date him but hot damn back off a bit. Their scenes were too muddled with that. I know it was a set up to the ending scene for her and John but didn't need to dominate their entire time together IMO.

She understands his tactics and honestly it’s why they work so well. Yeah he’s rough af but it’s always with a purpose. I love that she already knows this about him early on. Once again proving the original pairings for T.O’.s were the right choice. She’s so right he totally takes it as a challenge for him to fix Jackson. One of the many reasons their work relationship is so damn solid. There's an understanding there and its why their work flow is so cohesive.

I do love Tim’s eventual approach to fixing Jackson. Shows his softer side not only as a cop but a T.O. lovely to watch. His whole thing with Wallace just gives us another layer of depth. Another piece of my fav puzzle that is Tim Bradford ❤️ I love this man. Truly.

We get to the end of the ep. The scene where they finally break it off, sucks to watch for Lucy. Never fun to watch Lucy get hurt. That’s my girl. The way Nolan breaks it off with her sucks. Like she said she struggled for weeks and he just ripped off the bandaid. I’m happy it’s over my least fav part of a rewatch. Always so awkward to watch them.

I do love her empowered comeback telling him she joined on a whim but didn’t realize how much she would love it. She was going to take Talia's advice, give this everything she has. The very start of bad ass Lucy Chen has begun. Don’t need no damn Nolan LOL

Not a morsel of Chenford in this ep but it had some good stuff in it none the less. Thank you all once again for the likes/comments I’ve gotten since I started this. They make me so very happy. Please feel free to comment and or like. Hoping to have ep 5 review up later this week. till next time 😊

Gif Credit to Chenfordsource

[sillylildude]

THE TRIFORCE AWAKENS FOr the wip game >:D

Leave it to me to post an ask game during the busiest week of my life lmao. Sorry for the delay! First of all, thank YOU so much for reading this fic. Your engagement with it has tremendously helped motivate me to keep going! The next chapter is gonna be a long one, and a doozy at that. Here's a little rough draft sneak peek:

They carried on in less silence now, their footsteps heavier and their breaths huffier. Link, growing confident in the lack of nearby enemies, fidgeted with his sword, spinning it beneath his fingertips, passing it from palm to palm. Zelda maintained her distance and chose to look up at the cavernous walls, the tops of which she could not see. She slowed her footsteps as she followed Link to another left and continued her gaze upward toward the ceiling or, rather, the lack thereof. She blinked, focusing her eyes to catch a glimpse of overhead stalactites, anything to remind her they were truly still inside a Calatian mountain. No such assurance came into view, and a pit formed in Zelda’s stomach. “Have you noticed the ceiling?” she whispered, still looking upward. “I… This may sound foolish, but… I fear we have traversed into another world entirely.” She looked to her left. “What do you… think…?” Link was not there. Her torso swiveled back and forth, her search growing more frantic by the second. The hall which they had been walking through had at some point expanded to the size of a large, empty courtyard. There was no indication of an entryway from which she had arrived, nor an exit through which she could escape. “Link?” she called, her voice amplifying as it bounced across the rock walls. She drew her bow and nocked an arrow, just in case. “Link! Please stop being foolish and come out!” she tried, desperately hopeful that this was some elaborate prank.  Something like soft laughter sounded in reply from over her shoulder.  “Hello, Zelda.”

I'm really excited for this next portion of the story. It's been so fun to brainstorm and I hope it all comes together well. Thanks again for the ask and for all your comments! Hope you continue to enjoy it!

[aeide-thea]

absolutely the most boring braindump of a Post Abt Chest Management Solutions, lmao, ergo cut for length—

am hanging around in one of the cotton fruit of the loom ~bralettes~ i bought recently (3 for $15! unbelievable bargain probably made possible by a sweatshop somewhere! no ethical consumption &c!), which like—truly is any word better designed 2 induce dysphoria. like i already hated talking abt myself and bras in the same sentence and now: a further feminizing diminutive suffix!! rigged for hir displeasure!—and thinking like.

(1) thrilled to have found an approach 2 the problem [some people call their tits 'the girls.' i call mine 'the problem.'] that's as comfortable as these. like i accidentally slept in one last night because i didn't get the discomfort cue that normally prompts me to strip down for sleep. extremely can't complain in that regard.

(1b) …does that mean i should really try a size down for better more flattening compression tho. very possibly! but i guess really it depends on whether this set shrinks in the wash much, so like. stay tuned.

(2) the fabric of these is still probably too heavy for really hot weather, i'm guessing, and regardless of thickness cotton just inherently absorbs rather than wicking, so. problem not fully solved. but for the current warm-but-not-sweltering temps these are pretty good. definitely an improvement over nylon against clammy skin.

(3) it continues to be deeply baffling to me that so many people, if the market is to be believed, prefer non-racerback straps for everyday wear. like—these bralettes i bought are essentially just incredibly basic cropped camisoles with some elastic at the bottom hem, and while they weren't totally horrendous in that configuration, i unpicked the stitching on the straps and reattached them at the center back to make a rough-and-ready racerback like so: _\/_ and it was just. immediately vastly more comfortable not to have the straps crossing my shoulder blades. like i accept that we're all different and have different prefs but part of me is just like '…are ppl who prefer that style sure that isn't just familiarity/false consciousness speaking tho.'

(4) the one thing abt these bralettes that still isn't really ideal, but which would be a much bigger project to fix, is that like. not all of us need this much fabric along the vertical axis, lol. like obviously they make these as long as they do to accommodate the amount of tissue in larger chests, and like, thumbs up for that, but for those of us who don't present with that degree of convexity, it's just like. this garment could've been a solid inch shorter and still accomplished its goals?? and so you wind up with extra fabric and either have to roll the band up to reel in the slack or else just live with it bunching up in the eaves, and like, neither approach is totally terrible but. could be better!!

and yeah, i could unpick the stitching on the elastic and cut an inch off the bottom and then work out how to reassemble things, but like. the strap relocation was easy and i could do it by hand while watching tv, whereas elastic is intimidating and also that's more sewing than i really want to do by hand. so in theory i'd want to figure out how to do it on the machine which. is also intimidating. so i'm just living with it, at least for now.

finally & probably most importantly (5) spending this much brainspace [i mean like. just look at this stupid fucking hydra of a post.] on Problem Management does make me mad, lol. like. most of the time it just feels easier to accept the situation and strap it down to something ignorable than to seek out a surgical remedy that's separated from me by so many barriers (expense/current lack of insurance, soc anx, perfectionism, serious uncertainty abt whether it would actually on the whole be an improvement vs just Differently Wrong, fear of increased transphobia), but when it's like. well now i'm having to actively engage with the problem and spend time and thought and money and effort on it anyway, just in ways that make me feel powerless and resentful rather than self-actualized and hopeful… blegh.

[noblechaton]

while I'm thinking about it. some pre-finale Doctah Ooo thoughts. no real spoilers btw but watch out

genuinely I've really liked this series for the most part to the point where I think Space Babies is like the weakest episode for me and even that I found pretty engaging or at least enjoyable from start to end. my personal standouts have been Devil's Chord, Boom, 73 Yards and Rogue. want to say that I originally wrote out basically every other episode bc I genuinely enjoyed them all to this point lmao

they're not without fault tho both within the episodes themselves and in a meta sense - we're definitely missing some of that humanity that made RTD1 hit as well as it did and I think this is both intentional, due to the more supernatural angle they've played with and some obscuring of certain character's true identities and such, and bc of runtimes and episode count

8 episodes is kinda rough honestly. I get that doing more probably isn't viable at this point in the world and it's not as if the runtimes are much shorter than those of the previous eras, but they certain feel like it at times. I genuinely think another episode or two with a handful of extended runtimes would have landed this series in my top 5 of at least the modern/revival era

Ncuti is just. perfect. he really is. he feels like a guy they created somewhere to play the Doctor and I sincerely think he's got the Tom Baker, David Tennant gene in that he could play this part for the rest of time and never turn in a bad performance. Millie's been great too but again I feel Ruby's been lacking something, the sorta thing that Roes and Donna had, more characterization and such would got a long way with her (tho again I feel it's kinda intentional as is)

also think the general production side of things has been pretty solid too. effects haven't felt too janky and I love how much they've leaned on practical stuff even with the CGI intermixed, the direction in most episodes has been pretty lively in a way I felt some of 12 and 13's episodes weren't. music's been okay but definitely toned down a bit compared to Murray's earlier stuff - no I Am the Doctor count needed this time, but he's turned in some solid stuff when it's mattered most

and just overall I'm pretty pleased. I like that it's felt experimental and so different, that things done in the earlier specials with 14 have had consequences that have lingered so long. there's been plenty of the hallmarks that made RTD1 the success that it was and I hope going forward they lean more into those, trim some of the stuff that hasn't worked and continue to let Ncuti and Millie shine

very excited for the finale tomorrow

[kxllersmut]

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?) J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon) P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

( the corinthian would like to know )

-—Clark is part incubus. He has to engage in sexual activity to yoink years of life but people. He's had plenty of practice but also he admittedly just has always had a natural charm and fast learning speed in terms of sexual intimacy. I think what he LACKS experience in is sex with feelings, lmao. Sex is mostly a tool or resource or necessity for him. And it's not something he actively thinks about until he's with someone he's invested with emotionally. So when you put a dude that's not used to that and who has closed himself off emotionally, it can honestly kinda hinder the bomb ass sex experience he technically has jdfbgdg.

-— Like I said, man has a pretty low drive outside of deeper relationships. He's unfortunately the sort that's like 'Can't sleep. Guess I'll jack it. :/' masturbation is usually just a 'I'm bored' thing. Put him in a situation where he's down bad though and pining and maybe he gets a bit more frequent with it, brings in something other than just his hands.

-— Like I've said before, he's got some minor interests and preferences but mostly mirrors his partner. So he's mostly indifferent or it depends on the circumstance and other person.

[moonwize]

MY OPINION ON THE MOON SIGNS AS AN AQUARIUS MOON

Pisces Moon - I love you guys, I feel like I have the best and most philisophical conversation with y'all and in a way I feel like we are similar. Maybe it's because I'm a pisces sun, but I relate to the way y'all detach from things yet feel so deeply. I love how esoteric you guys are, but I also appreciate when the waters get rough and rowdy. You guys are so interesting and I have had some really great experiences with Pisces Moons. :)

Aquarius Moon - Love you, so much, Literally almost all of my friends are aqua moons LMAO Or have really strong aqua placements. I feel like Aquarius moons are just so unique and interesting and really have riveting takes and thought provoking ideas when it comes to emotional intelligence and dealing with trauma. Also you do not have to be the therapist friend!!! you deserve better. (SO LONG AS THEY ARE MATURE INDIVIDUALS) Capricorn Moon - You guys get me fr, I feel like the bond between saturn moons is so positive. I honestly feel like y'all are such good friends and very uplifting, I wish you guys would prioritize yourself more and quit worrying about everyone else. You guys are so solid and deserve to have more people in your life who show the same energy and nurturing as you give. Ask for more balance, LOVE YOU. Sag Moon - I love you guys, I feel like y'all are honestly so interesting but I do feel that there's a sense of aloofness or lacking in awareness of others. Then again, it's your life path and I respect the dedication y'all put towards defining yourselves. You guys are good uplifters and really honestly do a good job putting shit into perspective for me when I talk to and engage with y'all.

Scorpio Moon - My babies fr, you guys fall in my 4th house. I feel so comforted and seen by scorpio moons, like you guys just intrinsically understand who and what I am. I feel like y'all are so emotionally intelligent that sometimes people don't even see what you're seeing because you get right to the root of it all. You understand the people around you so deeply and I feel like people just don't understand y'all the way you understand them. (I felt that lmao)

Libra Moon - I LOVE Y'ALL I DON'T CARE WHAT ANYONE SAYS YOU GUYS ARE NOT FAKE TO THE PPL U LOVE. You guys are honestly real as fuck and when u care about someone fr u will not let them look dumb in public and also know how to pull the right public strings and get people to talk about what's bothering them. You guys are so lovely and have great senses of aesthetic and know how to take people's struggles in stride and maintain a balanced friendship <3

Virgo Moon - I love y'all even though you get on my nerves. I feel like you guys are honestly very sweet people at your core but you need to learn to relax and take a moment to breathe. It's like this constant feeling of dread you guys are internalizing and beating yourself over the head with. You guys have got to take a moment to chill out. Love yew though. I be feeling bad cuz y'alls mom's are fucking weird.

Leo Moon - I honestly truly fuck with y'all and I'm sorry people don't always see how actually intelligent and generous you guys are. I appreciate y'all and appreciate how you gys have taught me to be outright abot my needs and not to be afraid of being dramatic sometimes. I love y'all so much and I find y'all to be so endearing and lovely as individuals.

Cancer Moon - I cannot deal with y'all very well, like it goes well at first and then y'all get way too attached. You uys are mainly in my 12th house, I do appreciate how caring and lovely you can be though. I appreciate the more mature cancer moons I've met and how insightful, balanced, self preserving, and kind they are. I feel like y'all have ur issues glossed over way too much and just truly deserve better. I hate that people always try to shove you into a caretaker position. You guys deserve better fr.

Gemini Moon - I LOVE having deep talks with y'all I feel like y'all just have this fresh and interesting take on the psychology of people and such interesting ways of viewing emotions and communication I appreciate the artistry and beautiful minds of you guys. Some of my fav people are gemini moons, I wish you guys knew that it was okay to not rationalize everything you felt though. Not everything has to be so cut and dry and organized. It's okay to just be upset sometimes. love yew. Taurus Moon - We don't always see eye to eye however I respect y'all and feel like y'all bring a lot to the table. You're steady, you do your best to be fair(ish), and you work hard for the shit you get. I aspire to be a little more grounded like you guys are. I feel like you could be less hard on yourself and others though. Sometimes it's okay to make mistakes. Aries Moon - Like, I get it but some of y'all really need to shut the fuck up and relax. As for those of y'all who don't have emotional outbursts at everyone all the time. I love you, I adore your passion, your taste in aestheticism. You are the it girl, the moment, the baddest bitch in the universe. I appreciate your straight-forwardness and it brings me great joy. I also feel like y'all understand my need to constantly improve and do and seek and shit. (I have a 9H aries stellium lmao)

[sunkendreams]

Hi! Love your stuff and I've been binging it a lottt!! Saw that requests were open so I wanted to send one.

I've been having a brainrot over Eddie Gluskin meeting a virgin!reader that has always wanted to be a wife (and a mother 😳).

┊ 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — one-shot.

┊ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒) ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — eddie gluskin x afab!reader.

┊ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — SMUT/18+! abduction, dubious consent, virgin!reader, eddie is his own warning lmao, descriptions of gore, breeding kink, choking, dirty talk, slight degradation, vaginal sex/rough sex, biting. not a nice character.

┊ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — 5,020.

┊ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — thank you so much for your request & I apologize that I took awhile! I actually went back and played some of whistleblower for this lmao ,, I remember when I was obsessed with this character (you have reinvigorated the outlast spark, anon !!! ❣️) if you aren’t familiar with outlast (taglist) that’s totally fine! I hope y’all enjoy! ❤️

┊ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — @peachygothgirl ; @mrs-heelshire ; @slasherfantasy ; @loraxlola ; @the-wordis-bird ; @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better ; @iamcautiouslyoptimistic ; @dootys ; @mehidktbh ; @darklylucid ; @lttlegore ; @the-anxious-youth ; @callmemeelah ; @comicalrage ; @horrorstories123 ; @krakersy ; @bloodwithpeachmilk ; @suguruswife

“Did I frighten you? I’m awfully sorry, darling. I didn’t mean to.”

Pinned between a table and the splintered, dilapidated hardwood, you were biting into your palm to keep from making any noise. Perspiration built up upon your back, sending cold shivers up your spine as echoed footfalls began to stalk closer and closer, weaving their way through the numerous shelves and sewing units. You could hear your heart, hear your blood pumping, ringing within your ears.

Mount Massive Asylum had become your personal hell — your own dimension bent on tormenting you. You were only there for what seemed like less than an hour, desperately hoping to visit your brother, a patient at the facility, but the carnage began with you inside of the building.

You’d been beaten and thrown, chased and maimed, but you were far more resilient than you’d ever let on. Your brother was the only remaining family you had left, and you had a sick feeling that he might not have lived through whatever disturbed carnival this place had turned into. There was gore everywhere you turned, countless corpses, maniacs running everywhere.

If your brother was alive, you prayed that he wasn’t like them, that he hadn’t succumbed to whatever nightmares these people dreamed. You weren’t going to be allowed to see him whatsoever until you threatened to slam them with a lawsuit, but of course, something terrible always intercepted something good.

There was a stranger prowling around within this room, you were locked in with a murderer. One of the patients that had chased you down here called him Mr. Gluskin. To your complete bewilderment, he spoke with a clarity that many others in the facility lacked, a suave, debonair charm that almost coaxed you out from underneath the table, at first.

And then you saw the bloody knife and the corpses — the absolute strength of the man, dressed as if he’d come straight from a vintage bridal magazine, a groom complete with a bow tie and a patchwork vest. He was moving about the tables, humming to himself as if this were commonplace for him.

His appearance happened to remind you of your own engagement, called off a few weeks ago. You were keen on being a wife and finding your happy ending, so to speak, but after you found out about the vast amount of lies fed to you by your fiancé, you backed out. Even then, you were young — early twenties with plenty of time to try again.

It all hinged upon whether or not you would survive, of course. There was the mounting possibility that you would die here, and this would be your final resting place, some hellscape of an asylum crawling with horrors beyond your wildest imagination. Your chest tightened, and you swallowed hard, fighting back the onslaught of anguished tears.

As the bulky man crouched down to inspect the table across the room from you, you could barely make out your disheveled, terrified expression within the reflection of his knife. Your breath hitched, and you fought hard to stay quiet, pushing any and all thoughts aside, shoving lamenting to the recesses of your brain.

“Hm, quite a recluse, aren’t we?” He sighed, exaggerated and exasperated, growing tired with your state of hiding. He knew that you were close, that you were here in the room with him. One of the shelving units happened to obscure you from sight, but not for much longer.

The man clicked his tongue, tapping the blade of his knife against the top of the table. His movements were akin to a seasoned predator, searching for his prey, eerie-blue eyes fluttering over his surroundings. You couldn’t stay hidden forever, and as much as he thought about waiting you out, he was growing impatient.

He stalked forward, standing only a few inches away from the shelving unit and table you were huddled underneath, and it allowed you a closer look at him, even if it was dark. Moonlight pooled inside of the room, pale slivers dancing across his pale skin, one side of his face marred and riddled with scars.

You almost let out a squeak of terror, shoving yourself as far back into the table as you could go, your legs beginning to shake. He was so close, and if you were to reach out, you might’ve been able to touch him with enough straining. Your teeth were sinking into the flesh of your palm to keep from making noise, no matter how much it might’ve hurt.

“Where could you be, darling?” He hummed, gaze flickering toward the shelves and tables on his left. There was something terrifying about his glower, laced with sinister intent, intermingled with a misplaced adoration. Placing the knife back into his belt for now, he walked forward, giving you the illusion that he was searching elsewhere.

With an indomitable amount of strength, he wrenched backwards, gripping the table you were hiding underneath, and practically tossed it to one side, watching it fly across the splintered floorboards. He heard you scream, paralyzed and trembling where you sat, clad in the jumpsuit of a patient.

“There you are, my love.” He purred, standing tall above you, clasping his hands together. There was nowhere for you to go — you were trapped, pinned within the jaws of this man. “Not such a recluse now, I see.” The man grabbed you by the back of the jumpsuit, hauling you forward.

“P—Please don’t kill me!” You wailed, whimpering when he jerked you forward with an inhuman amount of strength. He dragged you from the darkness and into the vast stretch of moonlight upon the floor, and it hurt to feel some of the splinters catching upon your skin. “Please!” You begged.

The man was quick to crouch down on top of you, so much bigger and much, much stronger. In such close proximity, he was more human than the rest of them in appearance, save for that tangled web of livid scars on the right side of his face. His eyes were bloodshot, a sea of red around cerulean irises. A snarl left him when you wriggled underneath him, hands tangled into the front of your jumpsuit.

You were no patient — not at all, he realized.

You were clever enough to disguise yourself as one, for whatever purpose, but he wasn’t blind, and he wasn’t stupid. There were no female patients at Mount Massive Asylum — at least, none that he hadn’t created himself. Wherever you were from, whatever you were doing in this place, he took it as a sign that you were placed here just for him.

Why else would you be here?

Grasping your chin within his hand, he inspected you, your pretty face and doe-like stare, the small cut you’d endured along your jaw — nothing that he couldn’t fix for you before the wedding. You became quiet, letting out the occasional whimper, and you didn’t struggle nearly as much as he thought you would. The pad of his thumb stroked across your skin, brows furrowing together.

“So beautiful,” He uttered, lips curling into a lovesick grin. “It seems that I won’t have to do any sort of alterations this time.” You were perfect — at last, had he found his true love? Confusion permeated your gaze, accompanied by a furrowed brow yourself as you were completely still underneath him. No use in fighting to make it worse, you figured. “Marvelous.”

Alterations? You were baffled — this man was caught within his own nightmarish fantasy, just like the rest of the patients. You shivered when he caressed your cheek, your chest rising and falling with your quick, labored breathing. He terrified you, but not nearly as much as some of the patients you’d encountered here.

“So very quiet, aren’t we?” His thumb trailed across your lower lip, head cocked to one side. “You do speak, don’t you darling? It would be a shame if I couldn’t hear you,” His sigh was exaggerated, dramatic. He clicked his tongue, reveling in your softness. You were the silkiest thing he’d touched in ages. “Especially on our wedding night.”

Trapped underneath him, you didn’t even know what to say — words coagulated within the back of your throat, unable to force themselves out. Your breathing was sporadic and panicked; you were a canary caught within the jaws of a cat. He held your face with a strong grip, one that was demanding and not entirely gentle, commanding your attention.

“Wh—What are you going to do to me?” You gushed, swallowing hard as the man released your face, gloved hand falling to your sternum. The way he towered over you and enveloped you was wholly intimidating, and you wouldn’t dare try and fight this man, no matter how he presented himself. You ogled the knife on his belt, instead.

“What you were made for,” He uttered, palm finally coming to rest across your belly. “To be my beloved bride,” He leaned in toward your face, inhaling a gust of your saccharine scent. “To bear my children.” You couldn’t tell if he was serious, but his tone indicated that this was what he planned to do to you.

It sounded insane, but it was ultimately better than dying. Your head told you to run, to scream and flee, but you were fighting against all rationale. If you could subdue him, maybe it would be easier to get away. You couldn’t tell if he was toying with you, but it didn’t seem that way. You remembered the hand-stitched wedding dresses you saw when you’d first escaped downstairs.

You said nothing — maybe it was shock, the words coagulating within the back of your throat, or maybe you were unwilling to speak. Your chest rose and fell at a panicked pace, heart hammering so hard that it rang out within your ears. This man was glowering down upon you with a twisted smile, trapped within fantasy and not reality.

“Use your words, darling. I would hate to pry that mouth of yours open,” His words took on some frightening edge, dark and dangerous as he squeezed your chin so hard that you whimpered, and you opened your mouth right then. “Such beauty.” He sighed, petting your side with his other hand.

Tears pricked your eyes, and you reluctantly spoke, your tone kept sickeningly sweet in an attempt to subdue him. “Marriage?” You breathed, swallowing hard as you put on some sort of facade. “Ar—Aren’t you going to propose?” You inquired, and that seemed to delight your future “husband”.

He hummed, hastily removing something from one of the breast pockets of his crudely-made vest. “Of course,” He purred, and sure enough, he presented you with a tarnished, silver ring, topped in tiny diamonds and crusted crimson. You wondered whose finger he cut off to obtain the trinket. “There we are.”

Snatching ahold of your hand, he practically jammed it onto your left ring finger, no matter how ill-fitted it happened to be. You gulped, hand trembling throughout the whole ordeal as he managed to get it onto your hand. The ring would’ve been pretty if it weren’t for the environment, the dingy blood, or the man forcing it onto your hand.

“Now it’s official.” You squeaked, your finger throbbing with pain as you let your palm settle next to you. There was a tremulous tremor within the bottom of your throat, making your voice quiver whenever you spoke. It was some conscious response to fear, to the amount of stress you were feeling in that very moment.

Sweeping you off of your feet, your newfound groom held you like a blushing bride, squeezing you against his wide chest. His countenance was contorted into a lovesick grin, glittering eyes glowering down at you, but there was some unhinged malevolence behind it, lingering beneath the surface.

He carried you through his labyrinth of sewing machines and wreckage, humming to himself as he made his way toward the torture table. You almost gasped when you saw one of the patients bound and wailing on the wooden surface, completely stripped bare. His skin was mottled and strange, like the rest of the patients here.

You looked away, breath hitching within your throat, and your new companion seemed to notice your immediate discomfort. “If his screams bother you, darling, I will get rid of the little whore.” He murmured, and you shook your head. You weren’t about to have anymore blood on your hands.

You had no idea where he was hauling you off to — you could barely remember the way out, if there was any getting out at all. This man seemed far more cunning and more intelligent than most of the patients here, just as brutal and crazed as the rest of them. You intended on playing the long game, making him as docile as possible first.

“Oh, my love,” He sighed, pressing his lips against the top of your head, “I am so fortunate to have found you. I certainly hope that none of those filthy creatures have laid their hands upon you.” It was all said with such sincerity that you knew, for him, it was completely real — but delusional, all the same. “I will take such good care of you, I swear it.”

This was insanity — you should’ve run when you had the chance, try to find your way out of this hellish labyrinth, but it was too late now, wasn’t it? Tears pricked at your eyes, but you worked swiftly to blink them away, pressing your tongue against the inside of your cheek. You didn’t know what to say or how to respond to whatever left this man’s mouth.

Even if it all sounded outlandish and strange, you needed to keep up the facade, you needed to subdue him, get him to trust you. Playing along was the only way that you knew how. “Thank you,” Your voice seemed much steadier than you thought it would. “For taking care of me, Mr. Gluskin.” Despite the anxiousness wrought within your tone, he paid it no mind.

This was a maze — a horrible, bloody maze. The more this man winded through corridors, marked by crimson stains and the stench of decay, the more your heart sank into the pit of your stomach. You were involuntarily clutching onto him out of fear, attempting to suppress your shudder as he passed by a set of doors — you swore you saw hanging bodies.

“How formal,” He uttered, lifting an eyebrow before shaking his head. “It’s Eddie, darling.” Eddie Gluskin — the man downstairs. You nodded several times over, terrified of upsetting the man. As Gluskin took you deeper into the depraved clutches of his own personal hell, you subtly searched for exits, for windows, any shred of potential escape.

At last, he arrived at a room at the very end of a corridor — a dead-end, of course. Wherever you were, it looked like a wing for a handful of patients. Moonlight pooled within the confines of Gluskin’s quarters, windows barred by wrought-iron bars, the pounding of rain reverberating against bulletproof glass. He locked the door behind him, unceremoniously depositing you onto his unkempt bed.

Scrambling to gather yourself, your gaze tore away from the macabre scenery of his room and toward the crazed man himself, eyes glistening like pinpoints of bright light. Gluskin only stood a few feet away from you, but the distance seemed so thin, as if he were pressed against you, weighing you down with his indomitable presence.

The sinful, hungry sheen within his stare only solidified why he’d brought you here — your stomach sloshed with a turbulent worry, goosebumps collecting themselves at the base of your spine. An equivocal tension built between the both of you, marked with your mounting awareness and Eddie’s violent lust. The gleam of the knife caught upon silvery rays — you knew you needed to tread carefully.

“Irresistible you,” Eddie crooned, his voice emerging as that familiar husky lull he’d used with you upon your first encounter. “I must admit to my vulgarities, darling.” He hesitated, breathing uneven and tight with excitement as he stalked closer, akin to that of a fearsome predator. “I don’t think that I can wait until our wedding night.”

Swallowing hard, you felt the knot within your gut, words coagulating within the bottom of your throat, unable to emerge to the surface. Your digits wrenched themselves into the sheets beneath you, heart hammering so hard that it threatened to burst from your chest. You were afraid, you were nervous — but you knew better.

Rejecting Gluskin would only spell your doom, and so you played along, played right into his hand, into his maddening delusions of lust and of eternal matrimony. Your lips parted, and only a stuttering breath emerged, your eyes fluttering between his grinning visage and the bloodstained knife hanging from his hip.

“You know how a man gets when he wants a woman.”

Eddie’s voice was nothing more than some seductive purr, and admittedly, you found it alluring, deep down. It was vile to come to the conclusion that you were getting some sliver of enjoyment out of this, and you wanted to vomit, but you steeled yourself instead. The closer he stepped, the more you crumbled underneath the lascivious ogling he gave you.

You’ve never done this before — you’ve never been in this situation. It certainly wasn’t playing out how you expected it to be within your mind, but that's besides the point. “I’ve — I’ve never …” You left your sentence vague, but your implications ignited something dark and deadly within Gluskin.

“Oh?”

At last, there was nowhere left to go, the Groom looming directly in front of you, a malignant shadow that refused to depart. You caught the pearlescent sheen of his teeth through the caliginous room, feeling unnerved at the sight of his countenance. His grin was wolfish, chilling — it sank right into your bones, making you shiver.

“Saving yourself for me,” Eddie hummed, gaze raking across your form before he motioned toward your threadbare, bloodied garments. “Remove your clothes.” He stepped back enough to allow you proper room, but he wanted to watch for his own enjoyment, watch you unwrap before his very eyes.

Your hands trembled as you sheepishly unfastened the buttons at the top of the patient’s jumpsuit, attempting to suppress your nervousness. Your obedience was enthralling to Gluskin, whose hands tightened into fists in order to restrain himself, knuckles white underneath his gloves. He watched you like a predator would watch prey — obsessed, ravenous.

Sucking in a sharp breath, tears pricked at your eyes, but you fought against them, quivering as you peeled off the top of your jumpsuit, letting the tarnished fabric collect around your hips. Sheepishly, you adjusted yourself enough to wriggle the jumpsuit past your thighs, discarding it in a pile onto the splintered floorboards.

Instinct told you to shield yourself from this man’s grotesque stare, but you didn’t, sitting in your undergarments with skin so hot that you felt completely feverish. Laid bare before your newfound ‘husband’, his breath hitched, surveying your flesh, the canvas of perfection set before him.

“You must lack proper hearing, darling,” Eddie rasped, taking one step forward, “I didn’t say to stop, did I? It would be unwise to keep your beloved waiting.” He reveled in your doe-eyed stare, throat tensing, jaw tightening as you nodded, fingers clamoring toward the metal hooks at the center of your back.

Shrinking underneath his stare, you hastily removed your brassiere, terrified of the consequences if you went any slower. However, your mind bristled with an idea — your mouth began to move before you could make a rational decision. “Maybe you could remove the last piece?” You asked, bewildered by the sultriness that permeated your tone.

Christ, you were so fucked — you’ve never been looked at in the way that Gluskin stared at you, as if you were the incarnation of perfection, living and breathing, placed before him. You despised yourself, hated that you reveled in the way he worshipped you through eyes alone.

Foaming at the mouth, Eddie swarmed forward, brazenly stepping in between your legs, absentmindedly licking at his lower lip. “You’ve found your voice,” He purred, inhaling a gust of your saccharine scent. “Such a little whore, aren’t you? I find myself unsurprised,” Those strong hands curled into the waistband of your panties. “Always the quiet ones.”

You nearly choked, hands flying toward his biceps, thick and taut underneath the dirtied fabric of his dress shirt. You hoped that you weren’t thinking straight, prepared to excuse this all away by means of fear and intimidation, but you couldn’t — desire crept into your mind, poisoning all sense of coherency.

He kissed you then and there, devouring your mouth with a sloppy passion, if one could call it that. It was domineering, hellbent on making you fully succumb, but to your chagrin, you were reciprocating his kiss, clutching onto him for dear life. You were cursing yourself tenfold for this — maybe it didn’t matter now.

A sonorous groan fell upon your lips, and Gluskin didn’t remain static for very long. Wandering hands wrenched your panties aside, just enough for his fingers to deftly stroke at your slit. You gasped, hips involuntarily jolting into the sensation of his hand. It ignited a fire within the pit of your belly, a fire that now demanded to be extinguished.

“Darling,” Eddie hummed, brazenly licking at the corner of your mouth, “So soft, so …” He kissed you again, famished and in desperate need of your embrace, rutting his fingers into your clit. A grunt ripped past his throat when you ground yourself into his hand again. “So very needy, aren’t we? I’d like to remedy that.”

You wanted to beg so bad — you couldn’t. It would leave you stranded with nothing but regret if you did, but he touched you with such want that it sent you spiraling. You were going to surrender your virtue to this man — this monster, this deranged killer.

So be it, then. You were tossing caution to the wind.

After he stroked at your soaked cunt, he brought his fingers to his mouth, greedily sucking on glistening digits before he let out some strangled noise. “You taste divine,” He panted, clicking his tongue. “If you behave, perhaps your husband will reward you.” Gluskin growled, pressing a palm into your chest as he pushed you down.

Squirming and writhing atop the mattress, you listened to the unbuckling of his belt, watching him wrench his vest open, buttons ripping from their sockets. He was deliciously toned, some bulky mass of musculature, some of the scarring having made its way down his collarbone. You wanted to hate him, and you couldn’t.

You couldn’t.

“You are going to make an excellent mother,” Gluskin husked, hunching over you, animalistic and tangled up within his own fervor and fantasies. He spread your legs apart, teeth gnashing together as he freed his cock, unbearably hard and slathered with precum. “Swollen with my seed,” He groaned, guiding himself to your cunt. “A gift to be savored.”

He was going to break you in half — you had no idea of what to expect, but your lovesick paramour was very well-endowed. Gluskin was cunning enough to pick up upon the momentary terror that settled within your gaze, and he grunted, callously pushing his cock inside of you without much warning at all.

You whimpered, crying out in both shock and uncertainty, but after pain, came pleasure. It was all rushed — it lacked tact, it lacked any shred of romanticism, all falsified within the twisted mind of Gluskin. He set an uneven, sporadic pace from the very beginning, pent-up and needing you.

“Let me,” Each word was enunciated with the brutal thrust of his hips, cock driving into your tight cunt with no amount of gentleness. “Let me fill you up.” Eddie snarled, growing somewhat impatient as he attempted to find some sort of rhythm. One hand settled against the swell of your hips, thumb caressing along the side of your stomach.

A wanton moan tore past your lips as you held onto him for dear life, eyes squeezed shut, your stomach flooding with a rush of relief. Warmth pooled between your thighs, and the more your arousal grew, the easier it became for Gluskin to fuck you without much hindrance. It wasn’t perfect — it was a little uncomfortable, his pace, but you didn’t care.

Grunts and snarls emerged from the man above you, voice strained with exertion as he let his other hand tangle around your throat. His grasp wasn’t exactly suffocating, but it was far from tender, thumb pressing just above your pulse point. Wisps of air were stolen from your lungs, but not enough to draw concern.

Gluskin rutted into you like a man possessed, groaning all the while, wanting to cum inside of you so very terribly. He fantasized about what you might look like, doting and full with his child, providing him with the family he’d always craved. Lacking the proper upbringing, he would replace such neglect with you — with a new life, with his aspirations.

His mind turned salacious very quickly, beginning to focus on now — on stuffing you with his seed, fucking you until every shred of energy was expended. Your cunt clenched around his cock, and you sang to him with your symphony of needy whimpers and mewls, panting his name as if it were the only word you knew.

“You like this, don’t you?” Eddie rumbled, pervious to your arousal — your subdued demeanor had only given way to the festering desire inside of you as he destroyed your walls. “Oh, you whorish madonna,” An amorous chuckle escaped him, followed by a breathy growl. He didn’t pause, no stopping him as his cock battered your poor, abused cunt. “I want to hear you say it.” He snapped.

Gluskin had flipped a switch inside of you — you wanted this so badly. The life you desired had been stolen from you when your engagement broke into a thousand pieces, and now, he was giving you everything. Albeit, he went about it in such horrible ways, but you couldn’t keep lying. You loved this.

“I—I want you so bad,” You whimpered, unable to stop yourself, now. “Please,” Doing the one thing you wouldn’t do — beg. “Eddie, please, please,” He was filling you up, cock pumping inside of you over and over again, pulsating with heat, fucking you ragged. “Cum inside of me.” The rational side of you cried out in dismay, in disappointment — you elected to ignore it entirely.

The noise that Gluskin made sent shockwaves right into the pit of your stomach, soaked slit giving way to the brutality of his thrusts. He stooped down, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss, biting at the thin flesh, tasting a swarm of copper during the exchange. Eddie was frenzied, face burying itself into your neck, sinking his teeth into your skin, marking what now belonged to him.

With a strangled moan, you rolled your hips into his, feeling his cock pound into you until it could go no further, stretching your cunt with his size. Stinging bruises and bloodied marks were littered across both neck and collarbone, accompanying your myriad of injuries received from the rest of the Asylum. His hand held your throat, pressing underneath your jaw.

“Darling,” Eddie nearly moaned, using whatever wave of strength he had left to obliterate you, fucking you so hard that you swore you saw stars. His cock lewdly slapped into your womb, aiming to fill you up, carrying out his goal of breeding you. “Such a sin, you filthy,” He panted, sticking two fingers into your mouth, “Filthy little slut.” He rasped.

Sputtering and choking around his fingers, you felt them press toward the back of your throat, and you wanted to fly off the edge. Gluskin’s cock didn’t stop, not for a second, fucking you into oblivion, pulsating with heat, making sure each thrust reached for your insides. The tension was climbing, the coil threatening to burst for the both of you.

The sight of you gagging and sucking on his fingers was what really did it — Gluskin saw right through you like a thin, threadbare veil. You were just as desperate as he was, and his lips curled into some devilish grin, throwing you off-guard. “You’ll be perfect,” He grunted, purring next to the shell of your ear, “I am going to make you perfect.” Eddie snarled, and that’s when you came undone.

You felt weightless, floating — you made a mess all over his cock, tendrils of drool leaking from the corners of your mouth as he kept his fingers lodged into your mouth. Tears stung at your eyes, and instead of fighting them off as you had for so long, you let yourself sob from the pleasure.

Eddie’s hips finally lost their unyielding brutality, stuttering as he came inside of you, buried so deep that you thought he’d snap you into two. Rope after rope of hot, virile seed pumped inside of you, coating your insides, leaving you unbelievably full. He rasped and grunted, hunched in above you as he bred you.

He was staring at you again, slowly drawing his fingers out of your mouth before wrenching his hand around your chin. The suddenness of his gesture took you by surprise, but this hold wasn’t nearly as painful as the one he’d executed earlier.

Gluskin kept himself inside of you, ensuring that his attempt at a legacy be sealed, thumb tracing across your bloodied lower lip. His countenance contorted into one of pure delusions, an unrestrained obsession, the swell of possessiveness that threatened to swallow you whole. He wrapped an arm underneath you, pressing you close to his chest, lips lingering next to the shell of your ear.

“In sickness and in health.”

[anxious-burrito-babe]

an incredibly unnecessary linguistic analysis of like twenty seconds of dialogue in prey (2022)

I was really surprised to see this movie explore themes of gender, siblinghood, and power. there's a scene where Naru and Taabe are really grappling with this as she tries to convince him to help her hunt the predator:

NARU: We need to go back out. Far, beyond the ridgeline. TAABE: No. NARU: Kay well I’ll hunt alone if I have to TAABE: You can’t. NARU: Do I need your permission, war chief? TAABE: It’s not about permission. You can’t. I had to carry you back.

here, Naru is clearly mocking Taabe and the authority he apparently assumes over her. Taabe doesn't deny the "chief" comment, but instead attempts to explain that, based on the previous scene, she lacks the ability to follow through on her goals. in his eyes, she is putting herself in harm's way.

what really struck me here (because I'm a huge nerd) is the word "can't" here. for a native English speaker, permission and ability are tangled up in this word. through the economy of this exchange, the audience easily understands that Naru is not simply struggling against traditional gender roles, but a similarly frustrating underestimation of her ability. this scene is a brilliant set-up for later moments in the movie where Naru ultimately takes advantage of how she is continuously underestimated.

but my question (again, being a massive nerd) is: what happens to this scene in the Comanchee dub? how does that version engage with the question of permission and ability?

it's difficult to tell from the subs alone, which are a (in my opinion) messy gloss toward the English dialogue. to my eternal outrage, there are no subtitles in Comanche. if I wanted to find out exactly what the actors were saying, well, I'd have to transcribe as best I could as a non-native speaker and make do with online Comanche language resources. for the curious, I'm including an incredibly shitty and lazy transcript of the dialogue that I used to work out what was going on. if by any chance any Comanche see this post, I would love to hear any corrections (otherwise do not at me bc as a linguist about to start my phd kI’m already ashamed of the transcript LMAO). anyway, here's what I managed to cobble together after listening to ten second segments of dialogue fifty billion times, with the subtitles written in parentheses:

NARU: u:k pitsaku. u:nitu mirak (We need to return there, going that way) TAABE: oi (No) NARU: megu nana patakh mia (Well I’ll hunt alone) TAABE: ke aan (You can’t) NARU: na se para eala xaya kui? (Do I need your permission, Chief?) this line of dialogue was rough for me rip TAABE: ke ama kuit. ke aan. na se ama kutsahajt (It’s not about permission. You can’t. I saved you)

and here are some relevant words I pulled from an online Comanche Dictionary :

• pitsa miʔarʉ (return, go back, move away from)

• miarʉ / miarʉ̠ (go, walk)

• kee (no)

• nanihtʉbinitʉask (ask permission)

• tsahkwitsoʔai (save someone's life)

I haven't yet been able to find information about modals in Comanche to figure out how "ke aan" relates to "can." but besides making it painfully apparent that my transcript is fucked up beyond belief, comparing the vocabulary to the dialogue revealed a few things. one, Naru is talking about going by herself, and talk of hunting seems not to enter the picture. two, while the English dialogue has Taabe discussing permission, in the Comanche he apparently rejects the label of Chief. to me, this is a more humble treatment of Taabe's character. he doesn't believe he has earned that title and makes clear that he just wants to protect his little sister.

is the difference as striking as I thought? no, but that doesn't make it any less interesting (remember, huge nerd here). i wish we had true Comanche subtitles so it was eaiser to appreciate the subtext more. even better, I'm mourning the missed opportunity for full Comanche dialogue as the original script intended, with both Comanche and English subs. there are even jucier scenes I'm planning to look into more to catch other subtleties. either way, I'm delighted we got to see a powerful Comanche woman kick predator ass and hear her talk about it in Comanche too

[belikov-barnes]

Ok so when I started sending these I didn’t keep track of who I was sending them to and then I had a panic attack about making people mad if I accidentally sent it more than once so I stopped 😅 I saw your tag tho😘

What are your thoughts on the Vampire Academy series by Richelle Mead? The good, the bad? What do you think about the upcoming tv adaptation?

Tell Us👁👄👁🍿

nah honestly people regularly spam me with nipple anons, so getting asked the same question multiple times truly isn't annoying lol so with that out of the way, let's dive headfirst into The Thoughts...

The Good:

These books have defined my life for over a decade. I found them at a pretty rough time in my life at 14, and they're brought me so much happiness, opened so many doors to different opportunities and events, and helped me to form so many friendships over the years. This is absolutely my obsession and my comfort series. I'm at the point where I'm not sure if Rose Hathaway influenced my personality, or if I related to because I could always relate to her deep down. Regardless, I am completely in love with her, but I also want to be her. The world building is incredible, the characters are so magnificently captured, and the relationships between them are so tangible. Rose and Dimitri just give me such strong soulmate vibes and are my forever otp, the friendships are complex but so important. I can't tell you how many YA series I've read where the friends are barely there as characters. The Belikov family are my ultimate comfort fictional family and I adore them with my whole heart. I cannot say enough good things about this series lmao it has such a hold on me.

The Bad:

Of course, while I fucking adore this series, I'm not blind to the various problematic elements from the books. Richelle's love of age gaps that contain one party under 18 and one party over is just not appropriate. Doing it once to 'challenge' societal ideals, as she's stated in the past, is one thing. But she's done it multiple times within the VA/BL series. However, the age gap with Rose and Dimitri isn't the biggest issue with their relationship (the age of consent in Montana is 16, so that's legal even if it's morally iffy). The student/mentor dynamic makes it feel a bit uncomfortable (especially because, even though he's not a teacher, Rose regularly refers to Dimitri as one like... sis you're making this worse than it needs to be lmao). Another issue is the lack of diversity when it comes to race, sexuality, gender expression, and religion. The biggest issue is Adrian's plotline with dabbling... Ultimately, I think VA is a series of it's time. Certain elements don't withstand the test of time when it comes to what would be okay to publish in the 2020s.

The Adaptation:

I'm so excited for it, I literally don't care. I will be engaging with it as if it is fanfiction. I am just watching to be entertained, to see a new interpretation of a story I love dearly. I don't expect a super loyal adaptation, and without that expectation I think I've been able to really enjoy watching and engaging with the production process. The cast seem really passionate and excited, and I have a feeling Sisi will play the best version of Rose. I'm definitely wary of Julie Plec as showrunner, but at this point I'm just strapping in for the ride. Even if the show ends up flopping, I'm just ecstatic that someone approved a VA adaptation and gave it a second chance after that dumpster fire of a movie lol.

[danniburgh]

i am fucking sick and tired:

babes, there's more than just smut,

what do I mean? well let me tell you something:

i love smut; i write smut, i read smut, i enjoy smut, and sometimes i even masturbate to smut, i live for it, its amazing and creative and estimulates our imagination and yeah i love it

BUT

there are so MANY creators that have made and came up with such amazing universes, with plot driven stories and incredible storytelling, loving characters and deep meaning to what they make and share with us and yet when they post they (and I'm including myself here) get little to no notes.

when i read smut, when i reblog smut, i see that some of them get hundreds of notes, reblogs, comments and likes, hell, even my most read fic is nasty plotless rough sex... something i wrote in 3 hours and if I'm being honest put like 25% of my effort in

and from my experience it discourages me deeply to know that my fics, the ones I'm most proud of, the ones I've spent days and weeks and months of my life pondering about and watching media to study the characters and written and re-written and re-edited to make sure it's done how i want it to be, won't get as many recognition as I KNOW THEY DESERVE.

I've been feeling like this for DAYS now, if not weeks, like there's something wrong with me or something wrong with the fics or something just wrong. but at least in my humble, not at all set in stone opinion... it's because this fandom is thirsty as fuck lol

really, the amount of smut i see here is unbelievable, and again as I said before, ITS COMPLETELY OKAY i fucking love it but wow...

i see it now, because of the kind of requests i get and the kind of requests my friends get and the kind of subspaces that are created and the kind of fics that keep on popping up on the surface most of them are smut, nasty, filthy, kinky, delicious smut lmao

so what am I saying here? probably nothing I'm just ranting but i just wanted to tell anyone who reads:

engage more in plot driven stories, it doesn't matter if you're waiting for some chapters to accumulate to then binge read and wait again, it doesn't matter how you read it as long as you do.

there's so many, i swear, so so many stories that are so fucking cool that deserve so much recognition because of how WELL they're written and how AMAZING the plot is and I'm at this point just begging the fandom to engage more with plotty stories and their creators, because at some point we will get tired of coming up with smutty stories and when we turn around to see if there's any other story with a good plot and some amazing written lines written by good people we'll see nothing because of how much the lack of validation and recognition these kind of stories have discourages us to keep writing.

and to my friends that create amazing plots with twists and ups and downs and winks to the original story and callbacks to the beginning and unwanted angst and welcomed fluff and smut that has a purpose in the story and nice villains and flawed heroes and morally dubious protagonists and mary sues and comedy and drama and thriller and sci-fi: thank you

you give me life, you make me want to also keep going. so let's keep going together

needless to say: I'm not calling ANYONE out, i really ain't, I'm not throwing shade to any specific person or story or moment in time and space inside the fabric of the fandom. I'm just saying what I've seen since the past few weeks and just expressing what i feel.

engage in, comment, reblog, like stories, any stories, but make sure to give recognition to all those people that write what you like and keep on sharing it FOR FREE.

we really need it.

love you so much, take care and drink water

[onabikaa]

ohh my gosh so I just saw your American Psycho rb which reminded me that I actually finished the book on Monday and I wanted to tell you about it.

It took me a whopping 2 years to read that book. This was mainly because I got soo annoyed whenever Bateman would ALMOST ALWAYS list the brands of every item of clothing that each character was wearing when they entered any scene. Also the gore and violence (mostly brutally specific descriptions of how he killed and dismembered women) really got to me sometimes.

But otherwise what I found most interesting about the novel is how I think that we're not supposed to view Bateman as a character but rather as a concept. Bateman represents the physical 'ideals' of masculinity in the 80s (and perhaps, to some, today as well), but he was also a shining symbol of how those ideals can be corrupted and/or are only surface level.

I often had to view Bateman as a concept when the book got esp. rough. But it was fun (and painful ahaha) to view him as a character, so I also did that throughout most of the book.

You would think that, since he originated from such an interesting concept, Bateman would be an engaging character, right? Nope. This man is nothing outside of his popularity persona and hidden serial killer identity. The only thing that makes Bateman slightly interesting is how this utterly pathetic, unlikable, homophobic (not in the sense where he hates gay people. he's literally terrified of them and it's hilarious) and misogynistic wet sock of a man makes his way around his ridiculous life of doing nothing at his fancy CEO job, booking for fancy restaurants and brutally murdering mostly innocent victims he feels mildly insulted by. Oh, and most importantly, returning his fucking videotapes. I've had it with this man's videotapes, I swear.

So, well... it was an interesting but dreadful book. And the ending was kind of disappointing. But at least he was fucking broken by the end of it. I think that's what truly mattered. Ha.

Anyways this is really long, sorry. Feel free to just read this if you want. However I would love to know if you have also read the book or watched the movie (which I guess I have to watch now that I've finished the book). Have a great night/day Ona :)

First off, please know that i treasure your asks.

[rest under cut cuz it was already too long]

Second of all, relish the fact that Bateman would be seething and grinding his teeth at the fact that his “legacies” are being eyerolled at by Tumblrinas like high school girls in the hallway going “ugh🙄 here goes that dumb bitch again, thinking he’s sooooo special🙄🙄”. Not much better than his colleagues, who outright mishear or ignore him admitting to homicide—yknow, that moment of hollow and bitter self-recognition, when the people around him are portrayed as too vapid and self-absorbed to care about his confessions (most fascinating part about American Psycho if you ask me)*

Third, the only thing worthwhile i can say in regards to Bateman’s stupid gig is its final outcome and how it made me relearn something crucial in a new light: people around me are much too caught up in their own struggles and lives to actually catch onto any self-perceived flaw of mine. Hence, we should lighten up on how others may judge or measure our success (or lack thereof), all struggling to stand out.

.......that’s a very weird take on that, isn’t it? My brain makes very weird connections and i try to be positive overall, so it heavily affects how i perceive the environment around me and what ultimatum i take away from it.

Last of all, i have NEVER in my life watched the movie or read the book. Haha gotcha [no really. All my information regarding this movie is via gifs and secondhand ranting. Youre right everything about this franchise and how it treats women makes me verryyyyy uncomfortable and I wouldn’t wanna put myself through that and Patrick’s annoying ass LMAO thank god the bastard got his due in the end. but i still wanted to respond to your ask :-) ]

Love you, lee~

______

*actually i take it back. The most fascinating thing about American Psycho is the resulting ironic phenomenon affecting the viewer masses aka how the men who watched it try and emulate him (and the likes of Joker etc instead of like. Learning from their example. Pathetically missing the whole point😬)

[elverted]

*  knowing  your  partner  well  can  potentially  make  writing  a  lot  easier,  repost,  do  not  r.e.blog.

name :  sera. pronouns :  she / her ,  they / them. preference  of  communication :  at  this  point  smoke  signal,  carrier  pigeon  or  yelling  into  the  void  is  fine  w.  me  but  i  also  enjoy  tumblr  dms / discord  ( though  i  do  tend  to  forget / avoid  answering  them  because  socializing  is  Hard  sometimes :( ) name  of  muse(s) :  jane  ‘ 011 ′  hopper  ( this blog ),  selina  ‘ catwoman ’  kyle ( @nineprowls ),  dan  torrance  ( @shinedied,  maybe  one  day  his  muse  will  return  from  the  war  but  he  on  hiatus  atm ) experience / how  long  ( months / years ? ) :  lmao  u  make  it  sound  like  a  profession,  but  ig  i’d  count  2013 / 2014  when  i  rlly  started  rping.

best  experience :  would  definitely  be  meeting  @surftendo  back  in  the  twdrpc  mostly  because  we  are  engaged  and  have  been  living  with  each  other  for  the  past  7  years  xoxox  but  other  than  that,  i  love ??  every  like  ‘era’  /  muse  i’ve  taken  up  because  i’ve  always  met  new  people  and  really  have  been  super  lucky  with  always  having  friends / partners  who  are engaged  to  write  w.  me  ♥  oh,  another  thing !  people  who  follow  you  through  different  blogs,  and  are  willing  to  engage  with  you  on  any  muse !

rp  pet  peeves / deal  breakers :  writing  underage  muses  but  being  gross  about  it  ( oversexualization,  sexualization  in  general,  extreme  focus  on  shipping / romance  when  they’re  like  children  --  aging  up  just  to  ship / smut,  etc ),  being  an  elitist  ( in  whatever  form,  either  with  aesthetics,  muse’s  canon,  the  whole  comic / book  >  film / show  bs. ),  toxic  shit  ( cliques,  bullying,  trying  to  collect  people,  etc ),  anon  hate  or  vaguing.  and  godmoding / metagaming / etc.

muse  preferences  fluff,  angst,  or  smut :  given  jane  is  still  a  minor  ( even  though  i  do  think  often  about  her  as  an  adult,  etc )  i  do  not  engage  in  any  s3xu4l  content  on  this  blog  specifically.  i  do  love  angst,  but  also  like  breaking  down  canon  events  in  thread  form,  writing  out  the  actions  characters  take  against  a  partner  is  usually  super  interesting  as  well  as  making  really�� sad  plots  :)

plots  or  memes :  it’s  honestly  a  lot  easier  for  me  to  engage  with  someone  with  memes  because  it’s  something  i  can  just  immediately  jump  on  and  run  with.  plotting  is  great,  but  often  times  i  find  a  lack  of  interest  to  actually  discuss  indepth  or  one  party  is  contributing  more  ( and  sometimes  it  isnt  me  tbh  but  i  do  love  coming  up  w.  ideas  we’re  all  just  scared  of  rejection )

long  or  short  replies :  i  can  get  pretty  winded,  but  honestly  i  try  to  make  sure  it’s  necessary  the  length.  though  i  do  try  to  match  at  least  the  paragraphs  of  my  partner  i’ve  been  trying  to  be  okay  with  either  one  reply  shorter  or  one  reply  longer.  just  feeling  the  flow  and  writing  what  i  think  is  appropriate.  quality / having  fun > quantity !

best  time  to  write :  oh boy  it’s  usually  whenever  i  can,  these  days  it’s  either  early  morning  ( 7 - 9 am )  to  like  late  evening  ( 10 - 3am )  but  honestly  the  muse  strikes  when  it  strikes.

are  you  like  your  muse(s) :  in  a  way,  yes.  there  has  to  be  that  initial  connection,  source  to  tap  into  for  me.  though  everyone  can  pretty  much  right  anyone,  i  feel  it’s  more  engaging  for  me  personally  if  i  can  tap  into  a  character’s  feelings.  though  i  can  hardly  relate  to  jane’s  experiences  in  the  lab,  i  can  understand  the  feelings  and  try  to  tap  into  it  that  way.  i  think  the  muse  i  connected  with  most  has  been  her,  dan  torrance  and  carl  grimes  because  of  their  rough  childhoods  and  having  to  grow  up  in  traumatic  conditions.  writing  them  has  actually  helped  me  throughout  the  years  with  coming  to  terms  w.  my  own  trauma.

Tagged by: @batfall ( love u ! )  Tagging: @surftendo ,  @crscendo ,  @rulebent ,  @ourpaladin / @guiltskate ,  @lightspoke ,  @nancewheelr​ ,  @gentsleuth ,  @gallowes  ,  &  u  since  i  just  wanna  keep  tagging  ppl  <3