#the less hinged and more obsessive the better

[jin-zixun]

uh wip/story idea poll, but instead of being worded badly, the ideas themselves are just terrible.

(yes all of them are about jin zixun! its not like i like him or anything!)

((uhh how about this, even if its just 1 vote ill write it by the end of the weekend. taxes who?))

[lnkedmyheart]

Wasn't it because creating the stone is likely to kill the creator? Like Hohenheim died when he created the first stone which Dante used to attach his soul to another man's body. They kept using the stone to hop bodies and later Danté decided she needed someone else to create the new stone because she didn't want to die while creating it. The only other person who created the stone also died (Scar), though his case is pretty complicated.

Sorry for saying this but Dante, the final villain in Fullmetal Alchemist 03 is one of the most incompetent villain's I've seen. Or rather, for all the talk about her being a powerful alchemist she doesn't live up to the hype.

Her plan is to cause misery upon people in the hopes one of them starts searching for the philosopher's stone out of desperation. Then, when this potential person then creates a stone she'll take it from them and use it to keep herself young/hop body to someone younger and prettier. The reason she needs someone else to create the stone is because she herself don't know how to create one. This 500+ years old woman, who was right next to Hohenheim when he created a stone, someone who knows the ingredients to a philosopher's stone, somehow doesn't know how to create one.

I can buy Hoenheim hiding the specifics of how it's done from her, but that she still doesn't know after 500 years? That she needs Ed, a fifteen year old who only studied about the stone for about four years, to create one for her instead of her doing it herself. It doesn't make sense.

The only "amazing" alchemy thing she seems to have done is to create Pride, a homunculous who can age, but how she did that is never explained.

[gutsby]

Joel Miller

Waiting Game (dbf!Joel)

Joel has mastered the art of self-control in all areas except one: not fucking his friend’s daughter. A cross-country road trip home from college takes a hard turn when he’s forced to share a motel room with you.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

One shots for the Waiting Game ‘verse

Homemade: While your dad’s watching a movie downstairs, you and his best friend decide to make one of your own.

Diehard: Joel tries Viagra for the very first time.

Ruined!: Joel is an old man who struggles to cum sometimes. You’ve got time to kill and a tight hole to fill.

Cabin Fever (Dark!Joel x Dark!Reader) [DEAD DOVE]

Joel saves your life, but help comes at a price.

Confines: Joel locks you up in a subterranean bunker.

Finders Keepers (bfd!Joel)

When you find an old shirt of Mr. Miller’s lying around, you can’t resist. When he finds you humping a pillow and moaning his name, neither can he.

Cry, Baby

Joel fucks you to the point of tears. That’s all.

Just Peachy [anal]

Joel’s got a jealous streak and a bold idea.

Wingman (himbo!Joel crackfic)

Your bestie braves the tampon aisle for you.

Watch Your Mouth

Joel teaches you to keep quiet during sex.

Love Tap (dad!Joel)

Old habits die hard with your husband—touching you at inappropriate times is one of them.

If You Like Piña Coladas (neighbor!Joel)

You secretly make Joel a profile on Hinge. Then he shows you exactly why he doesn’t need one.

My Body, His Choice [freeuse]

After a long day, Joel just needs some relief.

Who’s Your Daddy? (stepdad!Joel)

You get stuck in the washing machine. Thankfully, your stepdad is around to help you out.

Make It Stick

Joel never thought he’d need a vasectomy. Then, one night, he accidentally finishes inside you.

Stiff: At fifty-nine, Joel isn’t sure his dick can keep up with every day it’s going to take to get you pregnant. He seeks help from Jackson’s local apothecary and gets more than bargained for when that little blue pill kicks in.

Cowboy Killers

On a mission to find—and fight—your best friend’s lying, cheating boyfriend at the bar, you end up throwing your drink in the wrong face and landing in a sticky situation with Joel Miller, who never plays fair.

Seeing Pink [DD/LG]

Joel steals more of your innocence every day. Fortunately, you love to give as much as he loves to take.

Easy to Please (sleazy landlord!Joel)

Months pass, and you can’t make rent—again. You find another way to pay your sleazy landlord. Again.

Wants and Needs (sugar daddy!Joel)

Bills are high; your dad’s boss wants to help. How you pay him stays between you and him—for now.

Bigger in Texas

Joel won’t fit.

Marcus Acacius

Bloodline

The General needs an heir.

Bucky Barnes

Wedded Bliss (Mob!Bucky)

The marriage was arranged, and the sex is deranged. Bucky is so obsessed with your pussy that he almost forgets he’s meant to be faking this whole thing—and hating it, like sworn enemies are supposed to do.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Daryl Dixon

Dead Ringer

Weeks of separation and sexual frustration come to a head when Daryl pays you a visit in the middle of the night. Whether it's the product of your own sex-deprived subconscious or reality, you can't be sure—and couldn't care less. Daryl wants to fulfill the fantasy any way he can.

Easy Street

You steal a cop car and almost run Daryl over en route to the Sanctuary. You can’t decide if you want to fight him, fuck him, or bring him back to Negan. Lucky for you, Daryl is game for all three.

Nighthawk

You decide to bring Spencer to the neighborhood Halloween bash to take your mind off your breakup with Daryl. Your ex isn't so easily convinced of your intentions and decides there's no better place than his motorcycle to show you just how much he misses you.

Cherry Pie

You know virtually nothing about sex, and Daryl’s done it all. Together, you take on an impromptu anatomy lesson, and you learn that Daryl has a lot more to teach you than what’s covered in the textbooks.

Walker Bait

An unforeseen foray into a sex shop leaves you and Daryl trapped between a plastic cock and a hard place as a herd of walkers closes in. Angry sex ensues.

Grow a Uterus and We’ll Talk

Daryl has a bad case of baby fever, to put it lightly. You’re practically terrified of children. Rick lends you his kid for the night, and together, you come to learn that parenthood might not be the worst thing in the world. Even easier than baking muffins, one might say.

Honey Trap

You’ve been tasked with two simple jobs: infiltrate Alexandria’s community and bring intel back to your boss by any means necessary. When your entry point into the group takes the form of a familiar blue-eyed archer, you expect this to be your easiest gig yet—that is, until your prey decides to hunt you back.

Pregnant Pause

Babymaking is a bit trickier than anticipated, and months have passed with no sign of pregnancy. When your period finally doesn’t show up on time, you and Daryl act fast and head straight for the pharmacy—and get a little caught up along the way.

Mr. Dixon

Your efforts to seduce the DILF next door have all failed spectacularly, so you decide a wet hot car wash in front of his house is in order. Mr. Dixon is less than impressed with your antics and plans to teach you a lesson in good manners and ‘neighborliness.’

I’m a Good Girl, Officer!

Apparently flashing your tits to truckers on the freeway is frowned upon in small towns like yours. When three familiar King County cops take charge of the case, you learn they punish bad girls a little differently.

Playing Dangerous

Working undercover in a seedy part of town, homicide detective Daryl sees you in your skimpy club attire and mistakes you for a hooker. A wrongful arrest makes for a funny way to foreplay, but you’re still game.

Fake It Til You Make It (Or Drown)

Daryl finds out you faked an orgasm. Instead of getting mad, he decides to get even.

Best Served Cold

Since your fiancé can’t seem to keep his hands off of Lori, you decide Daryl is the perfect way to make him pay. Revenge sex has never felt so good.

Coming Soon:

Bite the Bullet

Back at the prison, new recruits have been showering you with gifts. One of these presents doesn’t sit quite right with Daryl, and he decides it’s time to let the men know just how he feels—and who you belong to.

Atlantic City

A very drunk Daryl meets a stripper in Jersey and wastes no time putting a ring on her finger. With the late, great Elvis Presley presiding, the two get hitched in a slipshod ceremony a couple weeks before the world descends into chaos. This marriage may be short-lived, but damn if the honeymoon won’t be one to remember.

Requests are open!

[the-starry-seas]

since I have a lot of Star Wars mutuals now: if you like Mandalorians, then you're gonna love Killjoys

(or if you like multifacted badasses who are queer, female, or characters of colour? antiheroes? found family? messy complicated relationships? ordinary people being drawn into stopping the galaxy from being destroyed? character-focused sci-fi in general?)

main characters are a trio of bounty hunters running from their pasts, who have a rather vague grasp of 'strictly obeying the law' and 'the greater good', and a very strong grasp of 'I love these people so much I would die for them'

honestly this is less a "these characters set out to save the galaxy" story and more a "these characters set out to save their loved ones which means ending a threat to the galaxy" story

two main characters put each other above everything else and explicitly state they are not romantic, meaning that a queerplatonic relationship is central to characters and plot

the entire overarching plot hinges on the depth of the love that the characters feel for each other, and how far they're willing to go to protect the people they care about

female characters are nuanced, messy, three-dimensional people. they're addicts, bounty hunters, warlords, scientists, and doctors. they're traumatised, cunning, sarcastic, intelligent, protective, and driven. no sexy lamps here!

characters of colour are intelligent and badass, aren't undercut to make white characters look better, and have character arcs that make sense and give them more depth

queer characters are written as full-fledged characters instead of stereotypes and are central to the plot, like my beloved gender-non-conforming warlord and bartender Pree

characters with trauma and PTSD are portrayed in a realistic way, and even when that means they cause problems or can't step up to help their team, they aren't belittled by other characters as weak, lesser, or crazy

apparently-stereotypical asshole characters have emotional depth and character arcs. they're smart, capable, and ruthless, but also care about the people around them and are troubled by the tough calls they have to make

there are real, long-lasting interpersonal consequences of various' characters shitty behaviour. when a shitty parent joins the good guys' team and tries to make amends, their family isn't pressured to forgive or forget what they did.

even characters who only show up in one or two episodes are well-written and memorable, and save the day instead of being there to make the main cast look smarter, stronger, or cooler

I need to give a bullet point to my beloved canon lesbian ship in which two antihero rulers decide to be weird and obsessed with each other, kill a bunch of people along the way, and generally enjoy making each other worse

as the cherry on top, there are fifty episodes across five seasons! the show says everything it wants to and comes to a conclusion with all the loose ends wrapped up! much different from today's wasteland of 'one six-episode season and then cancelled on a cliffhanger'.

[thatswhatsushesaid]

well i think it has finally happened: my multi-year-long hyperfixation on jin guangyao is starting to wane 🥲 and not because he isn’t still my specialist little guy, aka the most interesting and compelling character in mdzs. i think i’m always going to love and adore him, and by extension xiyao and lan xichen and su she. i can’t see that changing, ever; he’s going to become like robin hobb’s fool for me, a fixture in my heart, a delightfully unexpected gift from another book i didn’t realize would change my life the way it did. truly some characters just become a part of you when you think and write about them long enough.

i just… think i have finally said everything i really need and want to say about him. i don’t have many New Thoughts i’m just chomping at the bit to share, or much motivation to revisit cql or the novel to seek out inspiration for More Thoughts. checking the tags just feels like something i do out of habit now, and not because i’m actually that invested in finding new fic or art. and while the bad takes have always left me tired and annoyed in the past, they do something much worse now: they just leave me bored. boredom is the ultimate creativity killer.

to be clear, i don’t have any plans to abandon this blog or stop posting! i’ll probably also keep my sideblogs going for as long as i can still track down some screenshots that are worth sharing, or maybe i’ll start reblogging and resharing older screenshots. i’d like to find a way to make my meta more easily searchable and shareable so that people who find my blog later can make use of my writing. and i still have some fic ideas i’d like to explore, and doing so while being less engaged on tumblr might be a better use of my time anyway.

so tl;dr i’m not necessarily going anywhere, i’m not bouncing from the fandom, but if it seems like i’m around less, or like my unhinged obsession with jin guangyao actually seems to have some hinges on it all of a sudden… well, now you know why lol.

[emeraldspiral]

Sometimes I wonder about the amount of Zimfluence there was in Avatar.

Like, I've already talked about how Aang defeating Ozai through sheer willpower is reminiscent of Zim overpowering the Control Brains with raw insanity in The Trial, how LoK's ending resembles the post-cancellation ending comic where Zim and Dib leave earth to go frolicking in space together, and how Mai's sour, apathetic attitude being the result of feeling pressured to behave herself all the time to please her parents is similar to Gaz trying to win her father's approval by being the Good Child to Dib's Problem Child.

But like, more than a few people at Nick, including co-creator Bryan Konietzko, worked on Zim before Avatar, and members of the Zim crew have expressed regrets about the show being cancelled and not getting to explore things that they had wanted to. So it'd honestly be more weird of Zim didn't have an influence on Avatar.

So let's consider some of the similarities between the shows and elements that may have been inspired by things people wanted to explore with Zim but never got the chance to.

Like, to begin with, the premise of both shows is that there's a war instigated by an Imperial colonizing force that wants to wipe out and/or enslave all other races and take everything over. It's not a super original concept but there are more specific similarities.

Both shows, rather than just having one protagonist that the story centers around, have a protagonist and a deuteragonist, who both have their own stories which are separate yet interconnected to form one large picture integral to the overall narrative. Both sets of characters are both boys who due to circumstances are pitted against each other on opposite sides of the war but have the potential to be great friends if they didn't have that conflict in the way.

Both Zim and Zuko are banished for stepping out of line and sent on a fool's errand at the beginning of the story to keep them from interfering in the war and embarrassing their leaders. Both are determined to succeed and willfully deceive themselves into believing that the ones who sent them on their missions really do expect them to because they're so desperate for their love and approval. Zim and Zuko both have a second rival (Tak & Zhao) looking to make a name for themselves by stepping on their toes, and Zim & Zuko both end up committing treason by teaming up with their main rivals to stop their secondary rivals from succeeding and robbing them of the victories their self-worth hinges on.

Dib and Zuko are both obsessed with capturing a singularly unique individual in their world in order to win their father's love, but even if/when they succeed it doesn't get them what they want. With Zuko, he realizes that his father only loves him conditionally, and that's not real love at all. With Dib, he realizes that his father does love him unconditionally, but in ETF, the comic Dib's Dilemma, and the Zimvoid storyline it's made clear that Membrane will never believe Dib or respect his chosen field of science, regardless of whether he defeats Zim or not. So defeating Zim isn't the key to his happiness either, although Dib has yet to come to that realization.

The Membrane family and the Fire Nation Royal family both have a single dad with two kids, a boy and a girl, with the boy being the eldest. The boy is supposed to be his father's successor but he and his father disagree and his father refuses to accept his son's dissenting opinions and makes the son feel that he has to earn his father's love and approval by accomplishing something great. The daughter resents her brother and tries to prove that she's more worthy of their father's love by being a Daddy's Girl who acts more like the child he wants. The son is known for being a loser while the daughter is known for being incredibly scary. Both are strong and talented, but the daughter seems to better at everything with less effort while the son is unfairly maligned. The daughter gets treated better by their father, but he's still not really being a good father to her. Although the son is motivated by a selfish desire to prove himself to his father and fueled by a lot of anger, he has a good heart deep down and cares about doing the right thing while the daughter doesn't really care about anything except pleasing her dad and her own gratification.

Dib and Gaz are also somewhat like Sokka and Katara in that they have to more or less raise themselves because their mom is gone and their dad's preoccupied with important world-saving work that keeps him away from them. Katara feels that she has to step up into the role of a mother, despite being the younger sibling, while Gaz is often tasked with wrangling her brother. Sokka and Dib both fantasize about being heroes and making their fathers proud, but are a bit too cocky and get in over their heads their first time facing a real enemy combatant and have to learn to think more strategically and sort out their priorities.

Many fans see Zim as a victim of the society that created him, who's just doing what he does because it's the only way he can feel valued or loved, and wish that if the series had continued he would realize he was being played for a fool and turn his back on the people he'd been trying so hard to please, realize what he'd been doing was wrong, befriend his rival, and become a hero fighting back against the Imperialist regime. And that's exactly what Zuko ends up doing. Also, something at least one of the writers has said they would've done with Azula had the series continued.

Azula is mostly shown as cold and ruthless throughout the series, but near the end she starts to show more vulnerability, starting with the Beach episode. In that episode, her obsession with competition and asserting dominance to affirm her superiority is played for comedy, which makes the similarities between her and Zim stand out much more than it normally does when the series frames her as dead serious. The scene where she awkwardly flirts by telling a guy they could dominate the earth together in particular always gave me Zim vibes from the first time I saw it. There's also one scene where she makes one of her only friends cry and actually feels bad about it and apologizes, similar to the scene in Walk of Doom where Zim thinks he's made GIR cry and tries to make him feel better. Both scenes stand out as rather uncharacteristic for two characters who are usually cruel and callous and don't care about anyone else's feelings.

Zim and Azula also both have huge, but fragile egos, believing themselves to be better than everyone and unable to accept being less than perfect. They both derive their sense of self worth from having power over others and believing that they were just born better, regard themselves as above the need for genuine friendship, view love as a weakness, and consider everyone in their orbit as either an asset to be used and discarded or an obstacle toward getting what they want.

One of the most popular concepts to explore in Zim fanfic is the idea of Zim's ego being broken by the realization that his mission is a lie and breaking down over it, and that's exactly what we get from Azula when she realizes the control she thought she had over her friends and the prize her father was dangling in front of her the whole time were just as fake as Zim's mission.

Bonus: The most popular ship in the fandom is a Red/Blue ETL ship which the creators hate but board artists draw fanart of in their free time and the voice actors are willing to indulge for the fans. Also, it used to have a large hatedom that was just upfront about not liking it because it got in the way of other ships, but then a new generation discovered it on Netflix and now people dress up their petty reasons for disliking it with purity culture BS about it being "problematic".

[actualbird]

i finally blocked off some time to read the mushroom luke card (ssr prosperous shade) and GODDDDD IT WAS SO SO SWEET AND HEARTWARMING ;-; !!! lukerosa continues to be a relationship hinged on mutual bravery, growth, and protecting-of-each-other, and to that i say //soft weeping

i wanna just highlight this bit though because it made me lose it

I AM OBSESSED. aaron didnt just tell kelvin, the guy who runs the B&B no no, peep that plural pronoun. told "THEM", MORE THAN ONE PERSON

aaron the moment luke and mc become official busting into the grpchat of nsb colleagues: GUYS GUESS WHAT FINALLY HAPPENED 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉

and to make this even better

KEY DETAILS

aaron's been telling them about luke and mc since the BEGINNING OF THE WHOLE SPHYNX DEBACLE

they were MAKING PLANS TOGETHER

kelvin used the word "group" which im taking to mean that the group chat i said as a joke a few lines back is actually true LITERALLY

this is everything to me. thank you to aaron yishmir, patron saint of lukerosa, with special thanks to the groupchat that i can only assume was named something along the lines of "HELP AGENT RAVEN BE LESS MISERABLE" or perhaps "SO THERE'S SOMETHING RAVEN ISN'T GOOD AT: SUPPORT GROUP"

they all better get invites to the wedding

[mermaidsirennikita]

Need your Saltburn review though 👀

I will preface by saying that I personally find Emerald to be a filmmaker/writer that is rather boring at best and kind of... horrifically misled in that she thinks that shocking "darkness" = depth at worst. I think A Promising Young Woman had some fun visuals at points (and so does Saltburn--though I think this has less to do with Emerald having an eye and more for Emerald understanding aesthetic, which makes sense when you realize that her dad is an Eton-educated jeweler to the stars, King of Bling, I wonder if that possibly could ever have anything to do with a UK performer's rise, hmmmmm--) but the way it ended was just... Lol. Yes, Emerald! I know that this is how the story would probs end in real life, the women of the world NEEDED TO KNOW.

(Princess Weekes did a good little video essay about PYW btw, would recommend.)

But yeah, point is--I don't think Saltburn is a misstep for Emerald. I think she's just very mediocre and self-indulgent. You can be self-indulgent and get away with it when you have a vision and something to say (see: Baz). I don't think Emerald has something to say. I think Emerald has concepts, which she pushes to a point she thinks is edgy, but doesn't actually... string into a coherent idea.

First off, Saltburn is nothing new; and it doesn't need to be. I like the pretentious rich people problems aesthetic. I love the bacchanal of the upper crust sensibility. Hell, I loved Donna Tartt's The Secret History. Sierra Simone's Thornchapel series is one of my favorite things she's done. I love Cruel Intentions. I also love The Talented Mr. Ripley, which--

My good man. If you wish to watch what you think Saltburn was going to be, but with better actors (including Jude Law in what is essentially the Jacob Elordi role, which, uh, how we have fallen as a society) and honestly better homoeroticism in a movie made like 20 years ago... just watch The Talented Mr. Ripley.

But yeah. So, I think everything Emerald does is meant to shock but doesn't go quite far enough. It's little moments that happen, and aren't really contextualized in a way that feels like it's there to be anything more than shock value, which makes it less shocking. Like, the period fingerbang--if those characters had a dynamic which led up to that moment, if I felt the actual power play there, it might actually shock me. Or be sexy? For the record, Fair Play has a period sex scene within its first five minutes that is both more surprising and better in every way. The shit with Farleigh? Would be compelling. That was the one bit of chemistry in the movie, the moment when Oliver and Farleigh talked to each other right before the whole singalong disaster. But then it's happening and I'm like "why is Barry Keoghan fucking everyone in this movie except for Jacob Elordi? What is the point?"

And what is the point indeed. Jacob Elordi has the charisma of a medium-sized tree, and I suspect a medium-sized tree would do a better job of ditching the Aussie accent. Emerald's inadequacies could be overcome and made into a thing that is campy, maybe? Not good, but fun? Barry Keoghan does his best with the material. He's fun in the last like ten minutes of the movie wherein he's basically monologuing like a demented real housewife and dancing around naked. He tries so hard to create chemistry with Jacob, while Jacob's vibe is very "no homo". (But the character is supposed to be no homo, you say--is he, first off, because I honestly don't know what Emerald is saying, and second... Like.... The character can be not attracted to Barry's character will still giving us an essence of intrigue that would inform why Barry is spellbound.)

But the biggest issue is that the movie hinges on Jacob Elordi being worthy of obsession, and he is just a flop in this role. He doesn't sell himself as this posh, beautiful, Brideshead Revisited-But-A-Bro guy. He can't really act (there's a scene where the movie cuts to him giving a smile that I think is supposed to be charming and I went "yikes" out loud). He is up against people who are actually actors, which makes it a bit worse. Everything feels very forced and constructed, for want of a better term. If you do not get WHY this guy, then the movie flops. And try as I might, I cannot get WHY this guy.

(Might I add--the bathtub scene would've been more intriguing had we seen Jacob interact with the voyeurism, some sense that he knew, whether or not he enjoyed it. The queerness in this movie is so... It's just this queer guy being obsessed and rebuffed and murderous, and I don't know, there didn't seem to be enough exploring the ramifications of that kind of story.)

The Talented Mr. Ripley also hinges on the focal point of obsession being worthy of obsession. And again. It's Jude Law. And it's Jude Law giving a really good performance, too.

The movie also does some shit I really don't think it's equipped to do. Like, the premise is essentially the working class interloper (but like, he's not as working class as he saaaays so oooooohhhhh) is preying on this family of rich folks who offered him a place to land. And it's not inherently bad, imo, to tell that story. However, you need the rich people to have some role beyond being prey; you need to understand the predator's contempt beyond jealousy. But the rich people are cardboard. They aren't sharp. They may have a few throwaway lines that illustrate their own sins (including some very clumsily handled racism) but ultimately the movie gives Oliver more power than it does the elite upon whom he preys. So ultimately, you come away from it feeling like you're watching the anxieties of the upper class, re: the encroaching middle and working class... But there's no examination, because the rich people are just victims lol. I think it's genuine anxiety.

Yeah though, I thought it was really hokey basically.

[fleetwood-cheese]

Phantom Thief Outfit Breakdown

Okay so exactly one (1) person asked me abt my opinions on the phantom thief's metaverse costumes (thank you @waywardsalt) bc I mentioned them in the tags of a poll so now you are all locked into my insane rant abt this topic. Originally this was a power point i made to vent but i realized its too long to post in its entirety (its more than 20 slides long) so you get this monstrosity of a post. I'm going to split this into multiple posts discussing each thief's designs bc there's a lot and it'd be too long; will link each post at top.

Ann - Makoto - Sumire - Futaba - Yusuke - Akechi 2

DISCLAIMER: I am not a designer, have relatively poor fashion sense, and these are largely just my opinions on the matter, obviously people are going to disagree. I'd love to discuss this and get feedback on it but if you're an asshole im not going to entertain you.

Starting with the worst (imo), let's begin with Akechi's black mask costume.

This is, from a purely design and visual standpoint, the worst to me because it simply has too much going on, and all of it gets lost in its attempts to be cool or intimidating. This attempt at being menacing, presumably, is lost in translation and mostly just makes it look uncomfortable, edgy, and sort of goofy.

It seems to be pulling on ideas of knight armor, birds of prey, straight jackets, and the general idea of being trapped or isolated, but very few of these things actually come across in the final design. (It also might have some bondage/bdsm inspiration, but I'm not sure how intentional that is.)

Firstly, the bodysuit isn't well executed here, and is complicated by the fact that it appears to also be booty shorts with matching leggings?? but they're all the same thickness?? This is confusing and goofy, and would look much better split into an actual top/pants combo. Additionally, the stripes add further confusion and lack the appeal of Loki's stripes, who I presume they're trying to tie-in/invoke with them; their diagonal direction certainly doesn't help. To fix this, I would keep the stripes on the top, but have them run up and down, and simplify the pants to solid black with blue piping along the sides. I think this separate top with the straight stripes would also do a better job of communicating a straight jacket than the current costume does.

Another major gripe I have with this outfit is the hems, but especially the pant hems. They're what I can only describe as boot cut and its awful; I grew up with the 2000s boot-cut obsession, and they don't look good on anyone except horsegirls who wear actual cowboy boots underneath them. I understand the frayed pant and sleeve hems are supposed to look unkempt and villainous, but it mostly just looks like he's walked on them. To solve this, I would effectively cover them up by adding armor; extend the boots and claws and give him actual grieves and arm guards to make him look more dangerous, sharp, and combat oriented, and invoke the knight aesthetic to clash with the detective prince persona and its white, ornamental style.

Adding additional armor also helps solve the problem of him looking so top heavy. This costume's huge neck guard and mask are super bulky and make you feel like he's about to break his neck; by adding weight to the legs, its no long all concentrated at his head. If you compare it to actual helmets, I think its roughly based off of the frogmouth helmet, which has one, continuous neck piece like the black masks. I would adapt it to look more like a closed helmet or a armet, which have a similar shape but much clearer plating and hinges and thus appear less stiff and might have better mobility.

My last major gripe is the cape, because it is SUCH a wasted opportunity. The torn fabric, while matching his frayed hems, is so boring; a cape made out of feathers would convey the crow idea so much better, and give him a sort of dark knight fantasy vibe that would look wonderful imo. You could even show the iridescence of the feathers, which would tie well into the black-grey-blue palette excellently. Im thinking something like the cape below, or possibly like the crowfeather set from bloodborne if you want some extra drama.

As for the belt, I'm fairly neutral on them; I could take or leave them really. You could remove them if you wanted to simplify the design, or keep them if you wanted an edgier look or to incorporate more bdsm elements, but in that case I would change them to look more like actual bondage belts and not, you know, normal pants belts.

Overall, when ranking these outfits for my powerpoint, I gave this one dead last placement and a solid 2/10 personal ranking.

[agentrouka-blog]

That ask about Barristan lying about Viserys got me thinking if say Viserys and Rhaegar were age swapped do you think he might've done better than Rhaegar? I mean for all his faults Viserys never once seemed even a little bit interested in prophecy and Rhaegar by nature just seemed like a pretty miserable person who's never satisfied.

I mean, we can't know what effect the catastrophic events around his birth or a lifetime of watching his father abuse Rhaella would have had on a firstborn Viserys. What he lacked in prophecy obsession, he may have made up for through other flaws encouraged by trauma or supremacist views.

Rhaegar's reticent politeness and harp-wielding romanticism did him a lot of favors when it comes to masking his downsides. His prophecy obsession may have also made him more open-minded than Aerys in general, going especially by his relationship with his Dornish entourage and Elia. Viserys was a lot more outgoing and impulsive, and therefore less able to hide unpopular views and traits.

I don't think that there was any saving that family in the long-term. Egg tried to re-hinge them for a while, but gave up and succumbed to the same inherent need to Be Unhinged from which all their bad choices flow.

[serenxanthe]

After Ziost, a SWTOR Story

Part One: In which Theron is thoughtless and self-obsessed after Ziost.

(He will regret it in Part Two, and even more in Part Three)

Quick background note on my OC Jedi Knight; she's a former Sith who defects after her Warrior training on Korriban, tired of hiding her Lightside nature. After dutifully completing her Knight training on Tython, she heads to Coruscant on The Esseles, where she saves the ship with the help of one Theron Shan. They've been together(ish) ever since - well, nobody said she was always a good Jedi!

Seren strode through the Imperial space station orbiting Ziost, her red cloak swirling behind her, Scourge at her side. Scourge was masked to conceal his identity as the former Emperor’s Wrath; he had been a well-known face among the people who now considered him the worst kind of traitor.

Dressed in the Sith armour and wielding the red-bladed lightsabres she had been forced to use during her time as the Emperor’s puppet on his cloaked fortress, her hair braided into a long rope rather than her usual multiple braids, and of course using her real voice rather than her Republic accent, still faked after all these years, Seren hadn’t been recognised as the Hero of Tython, the Jedi Battlemaster. 

She wasn’t happy about the attire or the attitude she was having to project to pass as Sith, but Seren was enjoying not having to fake her accent and adjust her speech patterns. It was surprisingly relaxing. She wondered idly if she could stop once she left the Jedi Order. That was all still up in the air as far as she knew. Seren had been stunned when Satele had named her Battlemaster in the aftermath of Yavin IV. Satele knew that she intended to leave the Order once the situation with the former Sith Emperor’s spirit, or essence, had been dealt with. 

Theron congratulated her publicly of course, as did everyone else, but she saw his eyes slide angrily to his mother’s face. He suspected Satele of trying to manipulate Seren into staying in the Order and giving up their relationship, he’d told her later, when they were alone. Seren didn’t for one second agree with him, but she hadn't known how to go about persuading him when her argument hinged on the fact that she knew his mother substantially better than he did, and they hadn’t had time for the whole can of emotional worms that would open up.

After the defeat of Revan, Seren and Theron had headed off to their Temple and Headquarters respectively to discuss next steps in the fight against what was left of the Emperor, with only a few hours of downtime to spend together on Yavin IV before they did so. Obviously they’d spent most of that time in bed rather than talking, incapable as always of demonstrating any level of self-restraint. And this time Seren was concerned that there had been… unintended consequences. 

They had had even less time alone on Ziost, certainly not enough to discuss what to do about that, so Seren hadn’t said anything, focussing on the fight, and now Theron was gone; he’d headed back to Tython to take Master Surro and the other surviving Sixth Line Jedi, including Masters Onok and Landai, to be healed after their ordeal as the Emperor’s puppets. Seren felt desperately sorry for them of course, and she knew exactly how they felt, their bodily autonomy violated, forced to kill instead of rescue. She hadn’t been able to suppress a stab of hurt however, as Theron walked away from her without a moment’s hesitation after the events at the People’s Tower, supporting Surro.

Why had he even gone to Surro instead of Seren when he wanted to infiltrate Ziost anyway? She was his girlfriend and he’d kept secrets from her, she hadn’t even known about the Sixth Line, let alone the fact that Theron was working with them, had developed such a close, trusting, relationship with their leaders. Her professional pride was wounded too. Had Theron forgotten that she was uniquely suited to this type of mission? Not only could she easily pass as Sith; but also, having broken free of the Emperor’s control once before, she was much less likely to fall under his influence than any Jedi other than perhaps Kira.

Seren felt no satisfaction that his secrecy and reliance on the Sixth Line had been disastrous, only grief for the dead and tortured Jedi. She hadn’t been able to save all the possessed Jedi she’d fought. She’d dragged or lured as many as she could to generators or electricity towers to overload and shock them, but some had attacked her nowhere near anything she could use, and she’d been forced to kill them. 

She wasn’t jealous of Surro exactly, Seren didn’t think for one moment that there was anything romantic or sexual between her and Theron; but the fact he had felt that Surro was better suited to do whatever Theron had been trying to do on Ziost than she was? That hurt. As did the sight of her boyfriend walking away from her without a backward glance, his arm around Surro.

Her thoughts were circling around on themselves, clearly, and Seren sighed audibly. “Is there a problem, J… My Lord?” Scourge asked her, the ‘My Lord’ uttered through gritted teeth. “No problem.” she snapped at him, her tone convincingly imperious. She felt his approval at her shortness and tone of voice, and that made her sigh again. She needed to get off this space station and away from Imperial Space before this charade became way too comfortable.

Lana had gone too, heading back to Dromund Kass to brief the Dark Council on the events on Ziost. Their last interaction had been somewhat acrimonious. Lana had wanted to study Surro and the other surviving Sixth Line to learn more about the Emperor’s connection with his puppets. Seren had refused to even consider it, telling Theron to take them to Tython. Lana had argued, clearly angry, but hadn’t tried to do anything more than that to stop them. Why had the Minister of Sith Intelligence, a powerful Force-user in her own right, deferred to two Republic officials on an Imperial core world? 

Seren thought back to her and Lana’s first meeting, first as adults at any rate.  They had been in the Manaan office suite Theron had hired for them to operate out of while chasing the Revanite conspirators.  That was now well over a year ago, she realised. Back then, their relationship had been more equal. If anything Seren was in effect subordinate to Lana, and, professionally at least, to Theron; just the muscle to get things done as the two spies orchestrated the campaign against the Revanites. When had things changed? When did Lana and Theron start deferring to her? Accepting her decisions as definitive? When had she become the de facto leader in their fight against the former Sith Emperor?

Seren was still here on Ziost days after the other two had left. She wasn’t completely sure why. She headed down to the planet from the space station several times a day to coordinate rescue and evacuation efforts, ensuring as many people as possible escaped the Emperor’s control and if possible the planet. People. Imperial people, both civilians and military. Her enemies.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to see the conflict, or rather war, between the Republic and Empire in the black and white terms that had characterised most of her career as a Jedi thus far. She recognised that the Republic had numerous faults and flaws, but she still emphatically believed that it was infinitely better than the Empire. That hadn’t changed. But the cooperation between themselves and Lana, and then eventually between Satele and Marr’s forces, felt better; more right, more comfortable, than endless war. 

On Yavin IV she saw Imperial troops and Sith develop newfound respect for the bravery and professionalism of the Jedi and Republic forces, and in return, she saw Republic troops finally begin to realise that citizens of the Empire were people in the same way that they were; with hopes, dreams and fears of their own. She saw the gratitude on the faces of the Imperial Reclamation Service every time a Republic soldier carefully handed them an ancient Sith relic for study rather than unthinkingly throwing it into a pile as part of a defensive barricade.

Was that why she was still here? Or was it the guilt? Scourge believed that her momentary hesitation over killing the Emperor when she defeated him on Dromund Kass had allowed his spirit, or essence, to escape. Was that true? Had that split second of inaction directly caused the loss of life on Ziost? 

Seren mentally shook herself and tried to focus on the task at hand rather than fruitless introspection over the events of years ago. She and Scourge had their gear repaired by the space station’s resident armourer, then prepared to make their way back down to the planet’s surface. As they headed for a shuttle, there was a sudden power cut. The space station shuddered and groaned alarmingly, before the emergency power kicked in and the lights and stabilisers came back online.

Seren rushed to a console to check the status of Ziost below them, and saw to her horror the inexorable tide of death sweep across the planet; every living thing still on the surface turned to ash in minutes. She and Scourge looked at each other; even with his face masked she could sense his consternation, and something almost like horror. The Emperor may have blunted and dulled Scourge’s emotions, but they were still in there, somewhere, even if he couldn’t access them.

Neither of them had any doubt that this was the Emperor’s doing. What he’d tried to do on Belsavis, Voss, then Corellia; Seren and Scourge thwarting him at every turn, he had finally succeeded at, and on one of his own core worlds. The Emperor had destroyed Ziost, syphoning the life out of it to fuel his own diabolical power. 

Seren thought about the last dead planet she’d seen from orbit, Uphrades; destroyed by Imperial forces at the behest of Darth Angral in revenge for his son’s death. That had been no more her fault than this was. Terrible people making horrifically immoral decisions. She had always done her best to do the right thing, and she stood by her decisions. She could mourn the deaths of innocents and mostly-innocents without feeling guilt. Usually.

Wait. Uphrades. There had, incredibly, been survivors down there. Seren looked at Scourge and told him that she was heading down to the planet’s surface to check for survivors, given that the sensors must have been fried during the event that had just taken place. 

Scourge ground out a token objection, surely the Jedi could sense that there was nobody left alive down there? But he knew it was fruitless, as always, and they headed down on the next departing shuttle.

Seren stood on the surface minutes later, dust and emotion choking her throat. Being down here, the horrible wound in the Force was assaulting her senses; the imprint of the last few terrified seconds of life the inhabitants had had before the cataclysm overtook them. It hadn’t been instantaneous, they had had time to feel fear, to try and run. Billions of people. Seren leant against Scourge, her head against his huge arm as he towered over her. He may have been ‘full of awful’ as Doc had put it back on the cloaked fortress as Scourge helped them flee, but he was comfortingly familiar to her now, nearly three years later. She felt Scourge flinch in surprise, but he let her remain there, his body relaxing.

Seren had a sudden awful realisation; Theron. The space station orbiting Ziost was still fully up and running, and therefore the news of the destruction of Ziost would be all over Imperial channels by now. And she knew that the SIS, and by extension Theron, would have intercepted and analysed their transmissions, encrypted as they were. He must be absolutely beside himself, terrified that she had been on the planet during the cataclysm. She grabbed her communicator; no signal. Of course not, the event had knocked out the transceivers on the surface.

Scourge looked down at Seren, still leaning against him as she clutched her useless communicator, staring at it. “Shall we go, Jedi?” he rumbled at her, “There’s no more we can do here.” Seren nodded at him gratefully and they headed back to the shuttle.

Back on the space station, they headed straight for the Defender’s airlock; there really was nothing more they could do for Ziost now. Before they jumped to lightspeed to head back to Carrick Station, Seren insisted on trying Theron’s frequency, firstly from her own communicator, then from the Defender’s communications array when there was no answer.

T7 informed her that he thought that Theron was on another call from his communicator, which was why Seren’s calls weren’t getting through. Seren nodded with relief; that would make sense. Theron must have tried to get through to her inactive communicator when she’d been down on the surface of Ziost, and was now probably calling all his contacts to see if they could confirm whether she’d made it off the planet before its destruction. He must be frantic with worry, Seren thought, feeling awful that she’d put him through this. Seren couldn’t decide whether to keep trying him, or jump straight to lightspeed; getting back to the Republic Fleet as soon as possible. She eventually decided on the latter.

As soon as the Defender docked after the day’s travel to Carrick Station, Seren rushed to the SIS outpost alone; she knew both she and Theron were going to be emotional and neither of them would want an audience for their reunion. As she arrived in Theron’s office almost at a run, she saw he was on a holocall. With Satele. Of course. He was thanking her for something, his voice heartfelt with gratitude. 

He turned to see her, and Seren expected him to rush across the room, sweep her into his arms with relief, like he had after she’d been in danger on Manaan and Rakata Prime. Instead, Theron told her, “That was Satele, Surro is recovering.” 

Seren stared at him, nonplussed. “That’s great news, Theron.” she eventually found her voice to say. “What about Onok and Landai? And the others?” she asked. 

“I er, I’m not sure. Satele didn’t say.” Theron said awkwardly.

He hadn’t asked Satele about them, Seren realised, even more nonplussed. Belatedly, Theron crossed the room to greet her properly, but his movements were unhurried, and he seemed distracted. He put a casual arm around her shoulder and kissed her forehead briefly, before stepping back to speak to her.

“I lost my job.” he told her. “Saresh forced Director Trant’s hand, I’m sure. He shook his head, “I probably shouldn’t even be here in my office.” He grimaced and corrected himself, “My former office.”

“Theron, I’m so sorry about your job, but about Ziost…” Seren began.

Theron grimaced again, “I know. I heard. We managed to evacuate some of the Republic personnel, but we lost a hell of a lot of people. I know I made a bad situation worse with the Sixth Line, and I’ll never forgive myself for what happened to h… them. But this is on Saresh. Saresh and her snake Kovach.”

Seren said nothing. She didn’t want to have to beg her own boyfriend to care about what had almost happened to her, and she wasn’t great at dealing with Theron when he was like this. Spiky, defensive, and full of wounded pride. It reminded her of how he was with her towards the end of their time together on Coruscant, and when they’d first run into each other again on Taris.

A wave of bone aching fatigue swept over her and she was reminded that she needed to talk to him about that too. She stared at him, not knowing where to start. She wanted to ask him to come with her, be with her, full time; rather than the snatched periods of weeks or occasionally months they’d had together over the years. But the way he was looking at her, or rather through her, made voicing that idea seem ludicrous. 

Instead she said, “Join me on the Defender? I could use your skills on my crew.” As soon as she said it Seren realised she could hardly have put it worse, and she wasn’t surprised when Theron’s facial expression changed from blank introspection to angry reproach. 

“I’m sure you could!” Theron said hotly. “But I’m not your… sidekick!”

Seren opened her mouth to explain what she’d really meant to say, but Theron continued, talking over her. “The SIS is part of my identity, it’s who I am! I’m not giving up on it.”

“I know, Theron, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… Listen, can we talk? The cantina here, or the VIP Lounge?

He shook his head, “I can’t now, I’m sorry, I need to get to Coruscant. Maybe if I can get in to see Trant face to face, I can persuade him…” 

Theron was back inside his own head again, Seren realised; there was no point in trying to push him further, no matter how much it hurt to leave things like this. They weren’t breaking up; he almost certainly still loved her, she just… wasn’t his priority right now, for whatever reason or reasons. Seren swallowed and said, “Ok Theron, another time maybe.” She tried to keep her tone neutral.

Theron suddenly seemed to notice her again and stepped towards her. He bent his head to kiss her with a little bit of his usual affection and passion. As they broke the kiss Seren looked up at him, and his gaze was softer, almost warm as he met her eyes, and her heart lifted with hope that they’d be ok. But then he stepped back, and without another word walked away from her, leaving her behind in his old office.

Seren looked at his retreating back, but said nothing, determined not to beg him for further scraps of affection when his current focus was clearly as far away from her and their relationship as it was possible for it to be.

Unexpectedly he stopped in the doorway, and not fully turning around to look at her said, “But I won’t make the same mistake in future. That I made with Ziost, I mean. Next time something happens you’ll be the first person I come to. I won’t leave it until it’s almost too late ever again.”

He turned again and left before Seren could reply. At least he’d salved her own wounded professional pride a bit, she thought, even if his own was making him behave like an absolutely terrible boyfriend right now. She sighed, she’d have plenty of time to talk to him later no doubt, it wasn’t like her current issue was going away any time soon.

[haggishlyhagging]

The history of drawing on feminist language and theory to sell products has been driven by the idea that female consumers are empowered by their personal consumer choices—indeed, that choice, rather than being a means to an end, is the end itself. The idea that it matters less what you choose than that you have the right to choose is the crux of "choice feminism," whose rise coincided with the rapid, near-overwhelming expansion of consumer choice that began in the 1980s. Consumption, always associated with status, became elevated as a measure of liberation and swelled with the self-obsession of the privileged but insecure. Tom Wolfe identified this dynamic in his coinage of the term "Me Decade," and later satirized it in his 1987 novel The Bonfire of the Vanities. Historian Christopher Lasch, author of the 1979 bestseller The Culture of Narcissism: American Life in an Age of Diminishing Expectations, laid the enshrinement of a cycle of consumption and neediness at the doorstep of the advertising and marketing industries, but also excoriated left-wing movements, feminism included, as enablers. (The temperamentally antifeminist Lasch would later target burgeoning marketplace feminism in his posthumously published collection Women and the Common Life, writing that "the feminist movement, far from civilizing corporate capitalism, has been corrupted by it. It has adopted mercantile habits of thought as its own.")

The feminist cultural historian and media critic Susan J. Douglas has noted, for instance, that the success of advertising to women in the 1980s hinged on its effective pairing of status and power with liberation. As neoliberal, greed-is-good, if-I-have-an-umbrella-it-must-not-be-raining rhetoric became the common tongue of the overclass, luxury beauty products, designer labels, and exercise regimens (Buns of Steel, anyone?) became liberatory achievements, rather than mere consumer goods. "For women in the age of Reagan," wrote Douglas, "elitism and narcissism merged in a perfect appeal to forget the political already, and get back to the personal, which you might be able to do something about.” The representations of choice in a time of tacit postfeminism translated neatly into what could be called "empowertising"—an advertising tactic of lightly invoking feminism in acts of exclusively independent consuming.

Take the infamous 1994 billboards for Wonderbra that featured model Eva Herzigova looking down in delight at her suddenly pneumatic breasts swelling out of a scalloped black bra, alongside the words "Hello Boys." The Wonderbra had been sold in the UK since the mid-1960s, but sales rocketed up thanks to the billboards. The ads worked so well in part because they were tongue-in-check (others in the series read "Look me in the eyes and tell me you love me" and "... Or are you just happy to see me?"), but also because they assumed a level of what feminist theorist Angela McRobbie calls "feminism taken into account"—a belief that the movement's success has rendered it irrelevant as something to be considered in shaping culture. You can almost hear the rationale proffered in the Wonderbra billboard concept review: "This would seem sexist if we didn't know better, but we do know better, and because women know we know better, this is, in fact, empowering." If Herzigova, Kate Moss, and the millions of other women who sent Wonderbras flying out of department stores were making the choice to wear this underpinning, and they’re exhibiting sexual agency in doing so, such logic went, what's more feminist than that?

There are no concrete numbers on how many consumers indulged that postmodern reading of the ads, but based on Herzigova's own reflections twenty years later, probably not a ton. Recalling the billboards (which, in 2011, were voted the most iconic ever by Britain's Outdoor Media Centre), she initially told the UK's Mail Online, "My Wonderbra campaign empowered women.... It didn't degrade them like some said." But in the same article, Herzigova complained that when she tried to shift from modeling to acting, Hollywood executives wanted to check out her underthings first: "I met people who said, Yes, we can talk about the movie over dinner. I was, like, What dinner? I can just read the script here." The fact that the supposedly empowering ad did nothing to chip away at the routine sexualization of women—that it might have further galvanized it, even—didn't seem to register.

-Andi Zeisler, We Were Feminists Once

[plastic-tulips]

Tagged by @rock-n-rollin-bitch thank you pal! It's my birthday today and what better present than being able to talk about myself at length

Last song: We are Family by Sister Sledge

Fav colour: Delia is a woman of taste, my fav colour is also brown

Last movie: Robin Robin, the Aardman short from a few years ago with the felt mice

Last TV show: University Challenge, I like to make bets against myself on how many answers I can get right- the fact I have any friends at all is a mystery science cannot explain

Sweet/spicy/savoury: if I don't look like an absolute wally with tears running down my face and my nose running then it needs more hot sauce

Relationship status: slowly having my soul chipped away on Hinge

Last thing I googled: how to decorate a room on a budget (turns out the most budget-friendly option is not bothering at all)

Current obsessions: I've made my own Christmas pudding this year and it's occupied 80% of my brain power since November

this is less of a tag and more of an opportunity to say MERRY CHRISTMAS to @achapnamedtom @safeinthewomb @funstyle @tautittology @iwatch-thebees hope you all have a fantastic time

[d34dpulse]

Seeing Katsuki's life from his perspective is so rough...

Imagine this, you're a child in a world full of super heroes and super villains and other than your rough home life and older kids with quirks picking on you, life is good.

Its your birthday and you've just manifested your quirk. People are praising you and telling you how cool you are, how perfect you are and how your going to be a hero one day. You start to believe them and you look up to All Might, the number one hero and get exited about your guaranteed future of being even better than him one day.

One problem though, as your friends get their powers, one doesn't, your good pal Izuku. You've always felt a rivalry with him, a jealousy even, so seeing how the others make fun of him and how the teacher talk about him behind his back make you feel a little better about yourself. Sure he's much happier than I am, but at least I've got a cool quirk and he doesn't, right? Except it doesn't get him down, you two still hang out and he sees himself as better than you, even though he clearly isn't, and no matter how much you try to shove it in his face, he's still condescending towards you and following you around wherever you go. You start to despise him.

Cut to around 4 or 5 years later, the abuse at home has gotten worse and Deku is still following you around and trying to be better than you, but who cares about that? You've been constantly training for years on end for this moment, the UA entrance exams and- you get attacked by a sludge monster that's slowly killing you. Your all powerful quirk isn't doing anything and you're starting to suffocate as camera crews broadcast it to the world, when in you're dying moments as if it couldn't get worse, Deku shows up and tries to save you, no doubt trying to get clout of your death and when All might of all people comes to save you, your idol, he praises him for trying to help you.

Traumatized, you focus on getting into UA, people are recognizing you from the broadcasts and you're so ready to make peoples memory of you positive again and you get in obviously, 1st place no less! You get to school early, ready to start your training when all of a sudden Deku walks in. Just seeing him makes you angry but even more so now because how has someone like him even gotten into UA, let alone 1-A, the top preforming students. It makes you suspicious and you see him using a quirk you didn't know he had.

Everyone in your class suddenly hates you and your quirk, and is obsessed with Deku and how cool his quirk is, especially All Might. Was this his plan all along? To keep this cool quirk from you so he can reveal it later and see the look on your face, embarrassing you in font of everyone and putting you in your place. You wouldn't allow that. You target him at the next training session, you decide to take your anger out on him but he wins and gets even more praise from All Might and you're even more hated by your classmates, not only that but you two are paired up together as a duo to fight All Might himself.

By this point, Deku has received nothing but love and admiration from your idol and yet you've received nothing, even though you've done everything in your power to get here. You get the idea to defeat All Might on your own, then he'll have no choice but to praise you! But you get the shit beaten out of you, and who saves you, but Deku. You're forced to team up with him and you only win with his help.

All of this and this is just season one! I understand that this all hinges on a misunderstanding of Deku's intentions but Jesus, no wonder he was so pent up.

[pollenallergie]

Tom Grant was definitely one of those pokémon-obsessed kids in primary school. He used to bring his case of cards to school in his backpack so that he could show them off to his mates and to whatever bird he was trying to impress that week. The girls were seldom impressed by his collection, but his mates always were. Even back then, pokémon cards were pretty costly (especially when you’re eight and have no real source of income), so Tom used to do housework and yard work for the elderly people in his neighbourhood: mowing the grass in their gardens, watering and tending to any plants that they might’ve had, dusting the hard-to-reach places in their homes, greasing up any squeaky door hinges, hanging up picture frames for them, etc. He made it fun for himself by thinking of it like a game: mow Mr. Redding’s garden for 100XP, carry in Mrs. Harold’s groceries for her for 50XP, then use your XP to level up your arsenal (buy more pokémon cards).

He had some of the best pokémon, so you know he was almost always the winner of playground card battles. That is until one of the posh kids came along with all the amazing cards their daddies’ money had bought them and stupid smug grins to match… Tom usually did his best to stay away from those pricks. He preferred battling his mates anyway; it was more fun that way as there was better sportsmanship and comradely involved when you battled against your mates.

As an adult, older!Tom Grant still has his whole collection of pokémon cards, and, of course, most of them are in pristine condition. Tom’s always been very good about taking care of the things he finds important, even as a kid. He always kept his cards neatly packed away until it was time for afternoon-break card trading, and, even then, he was always incredibly careful with how he handled his cards in the heat of battle.

Once in a while, he’ll buy a new pack of pokémon cards to add to his collection, but, for the most part, his collection is made up of cards he got before ‘07. Well, cards he got before ‘07 and some vintage cards that he’s gotten from online auctions. Online pokémon card auctions are a secret vice of his; it’s the closest he gets to gambling, other than betting against his mates on the outcomes of upcoming rugby matches and on whether or not they can chug a pint in less than three seconds (they can’t). He hasn’t spent too much money there, at least not compared to the millions of dollars that some collectors shell out on those things, but he has blown more of his income on those than he’d like to admit.

Tom doesn’t need to be taken care of or looked after much when he’s sloshed; he’s a big boy, he can take care of himself. However, your one task when he’s drunk is to keep him off those online auction sites. The only time you ever look through his phone is to make sure he hadn’t sneaked onto one of them while you weren’t looking the night before when he was drunk… Luckily, you’re really good at your unofficial job, so, usually, the only sites he’s sneaking onto when he’s plastered are 1) youtube to watch people blow shit up and fuck around with their engineering knowledge (he’s a simple man, he likes e’splosions and fucking around… but absolutely not finding out because fuck consequences), 2) your mum’s Facebook page so that he can go through her photos and look at all the ones of you (he doesn’t have any social media accounts of his own, and most of yours are private, so he has to resort to stalking your mum’s Facebook page to look at pictures of you… or, at least, to look at pictures of you that he doesn’t already have on his phone), and 3) fucking around with the ‘Special:Random’ feature on Wikipedia (he enjoys reading niche Wikipedia articles… but only the ones that involve fucky shit, like a famous politician getting a shoe thrown at them or the war against emus or Europe’s history of defenestration or famous historical sex cults).

Other websites that Tom is not allowed to get on whilst he’s drunk and why: 1) any pet supplies website because he will spend too much money on unnecessary purchases for The Lads, 2) the official Lego online store because he will spend too much money on new and exclusive sets, and 3) any website/app where you can order food online to be delivered because he will, spontaneously, order enough food to feed a small village if given the opportunity (he’s a foodie), and while he won’t waste all the food, he will eat himself sick and you will have to listen to his pitiful moans and groans (and retching) for the rest of the night.

[cipherbite]

chris/justin, motionless in white, t, 800 words

"… leaping into the other’s arms" from the semi-NSFW meme. My first Motionless in White fic 🤘 Thanks for the prompt, anon! :) You can find this one on AO3 too.

The cool thing about going from openly-affectionate-bros to boyfriends is that basically nobody bats an eyelash when the openly affectionate shit keeps going. (Well, that’s not totally true. Ryan gets this sly look behind his vape sometimes, like the facial manifestation of tutting ‘heh, gay.’ Like he wasn’t egging them to hook up from the day Justin got Motionless minted for real. Justin just flips him off, it’s all good.)

When Chris comes loping down the otherwise abandoned terminal like a rescue greyhound chasing some fresh frisbee, Justin just braces his knees and throws out his arms to catch him. Chris is kinda obsessed with being picked up, which Justin totally gets. Once you hit the five foot mark as a dude, it’s kinda game over in the uppies department – unless you find someone bigger than you. And before Justin, Chris was usually the biggest motherfucker in the room.

It’s total hell on Justin’s back… but it does great things for his self-esteem, being able to catch Chris and hike him up on his hips for a wobbly ride down the dank, carpeted corridor. Chris is bare faced like he usually is during downtime, so Justin can see splotches patches of pink high on his cheek bones. Even better, when Chris breathes “hey,” it’s in that low, happy rasp that usually precedes a kiss.

Justin’s hard in his joggers.

“Hey, hot mama,” Justin jokes, still toddling along with Chris’s arms snaked around his neck and his warm, heavy, be’sweatered body draped along Justin’s front. He grins. “Ya miss me that much?”

Chris’s eyes go heavy-lidded. “What do you think, asshole?” he asks, and then they’re kissing. With tongue. Like, kind of way more tongue than should be legal in an airport, even if it’s a fuckin’ ghost town at this hour. Justin groans a little, moves a hand to Chris’s butt for a possessive squeeze.

“Where the fuck is the baggage claim?” Ricky grumbles somewhere to their left. Justin stops sucking Chris’s tongue and sneaks a glance at the guys to make sure that, yeah, they’re all just moseying like normal.

“Downstairs,” Vinny says without looking up from his phone. “Hey, do we have, like, a van waiting, or did you Uber here alone?” he asks Chris.

“Van,” Chris confirms, contentedly tucking his face into Justin’s neck. Which basically melts his heart into bubbly goo. One less solid thing for his spine to have to support, he guesses. “They’re circling outside until we get out there.”

“Cool.”

“I know I’m too heavy, I’m just being a greedy bitch,” Chris says lowly. Ryan and maybe Ricky can probably hear him too – everything echoes a little in this utility carpet purgatory – but nobody says anything. (“You’re not heavy,” Justin lies immediately.) Chris butts his beaky nose against the hinge of Justin’s jaw. “I missed being in your arms.”

“My arms missed you being there,” Justin says conversationally. It’s still so fucking weird, doing the cutesy couple talk shit and it’s legit instead of brohomo. His boots clunk extra heavy on the floor because he’s kinda stomping to make room for the big booty koala in his embrace, but like. He’s a corn-fed American, it’s his god given right to be loud for no reason. “I missed you being there.”

“What else do your arms feel about me?” Chris asks, and okay, that’s a silly thing to say, obviously meant to make Justin laugh, but like. Justin’s arms actually have a lot to say on the subject of Chris. How if they could get away with it, they’d never let him go. They’d keep Chris tucked against him even on stage, Justin’s bass slung over Chris’s backside so he could keep playing while Chris yowled into a mic right by his ear. (Justin likes when Chris yowls right by his ear. Hopefully he will be doing it in a hotel bed in the next hour.)

But, uh, the whole stage cuddles idea might actually be too openly affectionate, actually. Codependent. Clingy.

Chris must sense his line of thought, because he breathes a warm laugh against Justin’s neck. Chris wiggles to drop his long legs down and force Justin to let him walk on his own before they get tangled and fall over. Not that Justin’s dick would mind rolling around on the floor together.

“Someone else missed me too,” Chris points out as he loiters all hot and lanky and fat assed against Justin’s front. Jeeesus Christ, this guy.

“Of course I missed you, buddy,” Vinny deadpans without missing a beat, and Chris laughs all the way to baggage claim. Justin’s right on his heels like he’s the rescue dog now, no frisbee necessary to keep his attention.

He has no reason to hoist Chris up while they wait for their bags to come around the conveyor, but nobody but Justin’s back has shit to say.