#the meanings are beautiful and multilayered

[hanafubukki]

Been thinking but getting flowers for the boys would be cute especially if we matched their eyes.

Silver’s flowers with consist of whites, blues, purples, and some pinks. His bloomquet flowers were pretty and wedding like but I feel matching his eyes would have been fun too.

Lilia’s would consist of pinks but I think a nice shade of gradient reds would be beautiful. Reds and pinks tends to symbolize beauty, courage, desire, love, joy, etc.

Malleus’s and Sebek’s would be different shades of green.

But for Malleus, I think red roses would fit him wonderfully and whites too. Especially given his mother’s castle name and we know he grows them from his grandmother’s seeds.

Sebek’s I think having daffodil would be cute for chivalry and regard. They are often known as the gentlemen’s flower too.

[harrowscore]

a few days ago i (re)watched the 25th anniversary concert of les misérables and. oh god. i forgot how much this musical did éponine dirty

[misstrashchan]

The Little Prince and the Ever After

So it was confirmed a while ago that Oscar's allusion is the Little Prince, which many Oscar fans and Rosegarden shippers in particular where theorising back in V6, with Oscar's crush on Ruby Rose being proof that she was the Rose that the Little Prince loved and cared for. Both @conehatcryptid and @chaikachi have written wonderful posts about Oscar's allusion to the Little Prince here and here.

However, after V9 I'm inclined to think both Ruby and Oscar interchangeably play the roles of the Little Prince and the Rose, in much a similar way that Blake and Yang both interchangeably are the Beauty and the Beast (Blake's surname means beautiful woman, and she likes to read like Belle, but she is also the Beast who wishes to redeem themselves, and is a literal Beast as a faunus "black the beast descends from shadows". Yang is introduced as the "yellow beauty burns gold" and wishes for a life of adventure like Belle, but she is also the Beast, being left by their Beauty and having a fiery temper).

This is in part theorising/speculation, as V9 obvious main allusion is Alice in Wonderland, and the similarities I see maybe coincidental, since both stories deal with similiar themes. Both stories have a child that travels to strange lands to meet characters that represent the misgivings and absurdity of adult society and the pressure to conform to these as you grow up, and the confusion as to who you are and should be that follows.

Alice's journey to adulthood is a path that takes her from a confused child changing size and unaware of her true identity to an assertive girl scolding the immaturity of the Mad Hatter and ends with Alice being brave and confident enough to confront the Queen of Hearts.

The Little Prince's story is about the importance of reconnecting with your inner child as an adult/someone growing up.

"No! I will grow up, but I'll never forget about being a child!"

In V9, Ruby must grow into an adult like Alice does, but also reconnect with her inner child as she does so like in the Little Prince.

RWBY is known for its multilayered literary allusions, and Oscar, the Little Prince, does introduce us to the story The Girl Who Fell Through the World in V8, which is Remnant's version of Alice in Wonderland. Not to mention Ruby and Oscar's arcs are intentionally foiled, so maybe it's not coincidence. It's entirely possible with how V9 also appears to be following the story of the Little Prince too. While Ruby is in the Ever After she travels through the different acres like the planets the Little Prince visits, meeting similar characters.

She is confronted with the question "what are you" on an existential level:

Little: What's wrong?

Ruby: Have you seen other people- humans- like me?

Little: Exactly like you?

Ruby: No, not exactly like me. We're similar, but different.

The Little Prince:

"Good morning" he said courteously.

"Good morning--Good morning--Good morning," answered the echo.

"Who are you?" said the little prince.

"Who are you-- Who are you-- Who are you?" answered the echo.

"Be my friends. I am all alone."

"I am all alone-- all alone--- all alone" answered the echo.

She meets Little (as in "Little Prince" as well as "Little Red Riding Hood" and "Alice Liddell") who is meant to symbolize Ruby's inner child, as the Little Prince reminds us of the inner child we have forgotten as we grow up. Both Ruby and Little "die" in a sense as the Little Prince does, but ascend and come back.

In fact the whole way ascension is described in the Ever After is on par with how the Little Prince and the Snake describe how they will leave their body as an empty shell behind to go back home, being "called back" home to the Tree.

"It'll look as if I'm dead and that won't be true, this body is simply an empty shell, I can't take it with me"

Purple Paper Pleaser: Then, the wisest of our village suggested breaking from our physical forms, so that the winds may carry us back to the Tree.

...Which leads me to how the Curious Cat and Neo are both the Snake who convince Ruby/the Little Prince to "die".

We get Cats and Snakes being linked together early on in the first episode of v9:

Mouse Leader: You have our sincerest apologies! Please understand that our kind is a bit skeptical of cats… and snakes… and cats.

This stuck out to me considering this is foreshadowing of the Curious Cat being the main antagonist of the volume, but we don't ever see any snakes in the Ever After.

The Curious Cat's first appearance is akin to the one of the snake in the Little Prince movie (2015) of two eyes peering out at the Prince

The Snake is a character who speaks in constant riddles and is confident they have all the answers to life's mysteries, similar to how the CC knows so much but is incredibly cryptic in how they speak. The snake is also meant to represent the inevitability of death, and part of the CC purpose is to help the inhabitants of Ever After to ascend, which is a process of death and rebirth.

Curious Cat: Mmmm, when we break or wear out or simply finish what we were made to do, we’re called back. But Herb… his heart was too weak to listen, so I gave him a little bit of mine.

Blake: Is he… dead?

Curious Cat: (chuckles) No, no! Well, maybe a little bit, but not at all.

When it comes to Neo being the Snake, she manifests her illusions of the Jabberwalker to terrorise RWBYJ after killing it, the one being capable of dealing permanent death to Ever Afterans.

She's also the one who offers their "poison" to the Little Prince, (the tea made from the leaves of the Tree) which they accept.

Additionally the way the Curious Cat enters Neo is like that of a snake slithering inside her. Once the snake bites someone, they are described as becoming an "empty shell", and the CC is looking for an empty human vessel to possess, while Neo wants to destroy Ruby and make her feel empty.

Curious Cat: You’ve lost something most important, haven’t you? And now you have nothing left. How delightful! An empty host, perfect for me to fill.

Neo-Torchwick: You don't deserve to die Red! You deserve to be broken down... torn apart... wiped from existence.

And when the Little Prince believes their Rose has perished (Penny) or will perish (Oscar), because of them, they give themselves over to the Snake completely.

But, Neo and the CC also play into the Fox allusion as well. The Curious Cat's ability to give his heart and understand others is similar to the Fox's sentiment in the book, who tells the Little Prince the importance of taming, and of looking with the heart:

"Now here is my secret. It is very simple. It is only with one's heart that one can see rightly. What is essential, is invisible to the eye."

"Men have forgotten this basic truth. But you must not forget it. For what you have tamed, you become responsible forever. You are responsible for your rose..."

Curious Cat: I know, Your Majesty, it truly isn’t fair. You must play your game and win at any cost. It must hurt your heart. Let me help.

Curious Cat: But Herb... his heart was too weak to listen, so I gave him a little bit of mine.

He "tames" the Red Prince in managing to calm him down from executing RWBY to just exiling them.

He helps Herb to "see with the heart" when he becomes blind to how he has stagnated and forgotten his purpose in being overwhelmed by his work.

The Fox is meant to show us the importance of the patience and compassion that is needed to understand and connect with others, to reach out to them. This is part of the CC purpose in the Ever After in fixing those who are broken, but becomes the negative declination of this in becoming manipulative over time. (like him "taming" the Hawker to make him do his bidding)

Neo is like the Fox in that she dislikes hunters (huntsman and huntresses) and she has lost the person who has tamed her, who was "unique to her in all the world" with Torchwick. Part of what escalates Ruby's conflict with her is that she does not take the time to understand and empathize with her:

Ruby: Is that seriously what this is all about? You still blame me for what happened to Torchwick?!

Neo-Roman growls

Ruby: If you’re looking for an apology, you’ve wasted your time!

and much like the Fox points out here:

"One only understands the things that one tames... Men have no more time to understand anything"

And that it is only when Ruby takes the time to understand Neo towards the end that shows how she has started to grow, to understand the importance of looking with the heart, the very first step of "taming".

"You must be very patient. First you will sit down at a distance from me-like that- in the grass. I shall look at you out of the corner of my eye and say nothing. Words are the source of misunderstanding"

(...I believe this will continue on in Remnant with Mercury and later Cinder)

The idea of intertwined allusions of the Fox and Snake with the CC and Neo in V9 interests me. Because it makes me wonder if my theory/prediction on Emerald/Mercury both being the Fox to Oscar's Little Prince may not be entirely right, but that they will both be the Snake also. If they are it will likely be an inversion, with the Prince (Oscar, and maybe Ruby) helping the Fox (Emerald) realise the importance of "taming" (taming Mercury, specifically) while the Snake may play a more positive role in saving instead of killing.

After all, the baobab tree roots in the book are meant to consume and threaten to kill the rose if she is neglected too long, and while Ruby is consumed by the Tree in the Ever After that very much resembles the baobab, and she does "die" in a sense, the tree is a positive force that helps her to be reborn and grow into her true self. So, Emerald/Mercury could have a similar duality in alluding to the Fox and the Snake, capable of killing and saving the Little Prince.

@aspoonofsugar I think has mentioned Emerald's design resembling a snake puts me in mind of this, plus Mercury's main allusion being, well, the god Mercury, whose symbol is this:

A staff with wings and two snakes entwined around it. His emblem also features wings, and like a snake he technically has no legs (in a symbolic sense too, his lack of semblance and agency, the freedom to be his own person) Alchemically I believe the mercurial character is meant to shift between life and death also? So there is something there in how the Snake simultaneously saves and kills the Little Prince. (also this is me really really stretching here with my red string but. The Curious Cat. Like Mer-curius. Mercury. Both the Snake for Ruby and Oscar.)

Depending on your interpretation of the stories ending, the Little Prince ends up dead because of the Snake's bite, or the Snake genuinely helped him return home and be reunited with his Rose. Mercury/Hermes is said to be able to travel anywhere, any plane of existence without limitations, which has lead to theories of Mercury's semblance being flight or teleportation, which, well, in relation to the Snake aiding the Little Prince:

"I can carry you farther than any ship could take you," said the snake. He twined himself around the little prince's ankle, like a golden bracelet. "Whomever I touch, I send back to the earth from whence he came," the snake spoke again. "But you are innocent and true, and you come from a star . . ."

This is of course just me going off on another theory for funsies, but it would be interesting if Mercury was placed in between a choice of killing or saving the Little Prince and helping reunite him with his Rose. How Emerald and Mercury would save Oscar/help him and Ruby is unknowable. They could be save their life, help delay the merge, or just helping assure him of his own personhood and agency (this could be explored through how both Mercury and Oscar lack semblances relating to the "curses" placed on them in relation to their father figures), or something else entirely, but either way I'm pretty confident they'll have a significant role to play in the Vacuo arc.

I am aware most Rosegarden fans are mainly theorizing Tyrian as the Snake, (I've even seen some say Ruby is the Snake as well as the Rose, with a similar sentiment of the Snake being capable of saving/freeing the Little Prince, not killing him) especially since the first scene Oscar is introduced is him waking up from a nightmare following Tyrian being sent to capture Ruby Rose, as well as like, him being a venomous scorpion faunus present in the desert right now. But even that only makes me more certain in a way since Tyrian is meant to be Mercury's dark foil (and the antagonistic mercurius for Emerald/Mercury) accompanying him into the desert. So like, it Could Be Both.

Ruby also meets a King/Narcissist like in the Little Prince (the Red Prince). The Narcissist demands to be complimented and coddled, much like the Red Prince. The King is drawn wearing a crown too big for him (in the 2015 movie adaptation it is constantly crooked and threatening to slip off his head), similar to the Red Prince.

The King claims absolute authority, that what he says will happen if he orders it so. However this is untrue, as he will only order what will already happen. The Red Prince claims he always wins his games, but the board game he plays with RWBY is already in his favour as the pieces on their side throw the battle so he can claim victory. Both cheat and find loopholes in order to maintain their superiority over others. The King symbolizes rulers who make a big deal about the power they have, but who in actuality are pretty ineffective as rulers and will cheat and find loopholes to justify their power. It also mocks their grandiosity and showiness, which is kind of funny because they think they are way more important than they actually are, all of which fit with the Red Prince (...and with two other characters that were significant during the Atlas Arc *points at Ironwood and Cinder* even moreso after episode 3 of RWBY Beyond)

The Lamplighter, whose job on his tiny planet is to continuously light and snuff out the single lamp, but because the night and day cycle is so short he essentially never rests and is caught in this loop, always stuck working and nothing ever changing. Jaune as the Rusted Knight is stuck doing the same jobs everyday in a Sysiphus task of preventing the Paper Pleasers from ascending, and rests very little. He is also the Geographer, who maps out other planets but can never travel himself (because he is too busy drawing maps) and suggests to the Little Prince to visit Earth (the acres that Jaune maps out but has yet to properly explore because he can't leave the Paper Pleasers, is trying to find a way back to Remnant, their "Earth").

Another interpretation is the Lamplighter as the Caterpillar, who similarly has a neverending and thankless task of helping the Afterans ascend, and has stagnated as a result.

The Stars are not a character in the book perse, but they do come up a lot both in RWBY and in the Little Prince, especially when it comes to the theme of death and rebirth, and grief. In V9 in the Ever After we meet the Paper Pleasers (origami stars) that Jaune is desperately trying to stop from ascending, essentially keeping them trapped as he monitors them. There is a character in the Little Prince that obsessively monitors the stars and keeps them trapped, the Businessman. It is pointed out by the Little Prince that while the stars make him rich, the Businessman is of no real use to the stars.

In much the same way the Paper Pleasers do not need Jaune as much as he needs them to prove his own worth.

The climax of the Little Prince movie (2015) adaptation is the stars being freed from their entrapment, ascending into the sky, free from control, by the protagonist who is a young girl trying to break free of the expectations placed on her by adults as she grows up, is like one of the stars herself, rising into the sky.

The paper pleasers ascending, while initially seen as tragic, in actual fact allows them to grow and be more, and the Genial Gem that appears to once have been the Paper Pleaser called Ruby is the one who explains this process to WBYJ as they are worried about Ruby and how the process of ascension will affect her.

The Pilot is likely WBY, as for them Ruby is like a younger sibling to all of them who helps them reconnect with their inner child early on in the story, much like the Little Prince does for the Pilot. For Weiss, Ruby helps her connect with her inner warmth and heart. For Blake, she helps reignite her lost idealism. For Yang, she is her inner child to nuture, the one who lost her mother. The author Antoine Saint-Expury based the character of the Little Prince on his own younger brother who died, and that the Pilot as the narrator of the story is himself as an older sibling remembering and grieving for them. When WBY all watch Ruby drink the tea, it mirrors the scene where the Pilot watches the Little Prince give himself to the Snake, and is too late to intervene, particularly for Yang.

Their body disappears, and it is uncertain whether the Little Prince has died or found their way back home to their planet, and to their Rose. For Ruby, it is both. She dies and was reborn, literally reclaiming Crescent Rose and regaining her Rose emblem, she reunites with her Rose, her own sense of self. And in her ascension is able to come back to defeat the Curious Cat, and return home to Remnant with everyone. (coincidentally I think this is how Oscar's story will go, he will sacrifice himself to the Merge fully and "die" in a sense, momentarily, but return fully to himself later on, reuniting with both his sense of self and his Rose, Ruby Rose).

Oscar is also Ruby's Rose in a sense, someone she has tried to protect and care for. Even the pattern on the back of his outfit can be seen as the stem and thorns of a rose, like Ruby's hood can be seen as the petals of a rose. The Little Prince believes that if the Rose is left alone, then it will be his fault if they die:

“If some one loves a flower, of which just one single blossom grows in all the millions and millions of stars, it is enough to make him happy just to look at the stars. He can say to himself, 'Somewhere, my flower is there...' But if the sheep eats the flower, in one moment all his stars will be darkened... And you think that is not important!"

"He could not say anything more. His words were choked by sobbing."

When Ruby cuts down an illusion of Oscar, killing him, it is foreshadowing that Ruby is afraid she will not be able to save Oscar from his fate. This is the final breaking point for her (along with Little's death) that leads to her drinking the tea.

...But as much as I am a Rosegarden shipper, it's actually her mother Summer Rose and Ruby's identity that is the main "Rose" to her Little Prince in V9 that she becomes separated and united with, imo.

She learns that their Rose (Summer, and themselves) are not uniquely one of a kind, but "like any other common rose" the same as all the other hunters represented through their weapons in the Tree with the blacksmith. Like the Little Prince in the Rosegarden:

"Good morning" said the roses.

The little prince gazed at them. They all looked like his flower. "Who are you?" he demanded, thunderstruck.

"We are roses" the roses said.

And he was overcome with sadness. His flower had told him that she was the only one of her kind in the whole universe. And here were five thousand of them, all alike, in one single garden! ... Then he went on with his reflections: "I thought that I was rich, with a flower that was unique in all the world, and all I had was a common rose."

Not in the sense of being a SEW who believes they are the only one of their kind, but that like her mother Summer Rose, or any other huntress or huntsman that has lived (represented through the weapons she looks at, and her saying they all have the same weight to them) she is not perfect, or unique in always knowing the right thing to do and being a flawless shining hero. Ruby thought the ideal of the hero Summer Rose she carried and tried to emulate was unique and special, what made her "rich" in the sense it defined her self worth, but she was a "common rose", a person, a human being, just like Ruby. Being like any other common rose means Summer is much like Ruby herself, just a person trying their best, with their own flaws and burdens to carry. Ruby leaves the Rose behind initially (gives up her Rose emblem that Summer left her, rejects Crescent Rose) and the pedestal she puts her on shatters, becoming disillusioned with Summer like the Little Prince does with his Rose, specifically after finding out that they lied.

Ruby: What? What was that? She… She lied. She left with Raven. Why would she…?

Blacksmith: Who knows why people keep the secrets they do. Maybe you’re not the only one who has felt the weight of other’s expectations. Like Alyx, like your mother.

What makes Summer unique to Ruby is not her being an ideal hero, but the love she had for her as a mother, and that in of itself is incredibly beautiful and powerful, because it helps her realise and affirm her self worth.

Summer: (voice) I love you…

Ruby turns to see the red glowing light behind her.

Summer: (voice) Just the way you are.

"Of course I love you," the rose said to him. "If you were not aware of it, it was my fault"

Much like the Little Prince learning and understanding that his Rose is unique to him, not because she is one of a kind, but because of their time shared together, loving and caring for one another. That it is our ties to people that makes us special and unique in the world, to the people we are connected to and choose to care for, more than any power or titles do. Which goes back to the source of Ruby's power as a Silver Eyed Warrior, her love and compassion of those around her. The true power of humanity.

[vampiricgf]

— leon kennedy | psychomatchia

re2r leon x fem reader

wc: 3k+

what meaning does sex and violence hold when they become inextricably linked in the mind?

dead dove do not eat, dark content, no outbreak au, surrealism ish, heavily inspired by one of my favorite books story of the eye by george bataille, alcohol consumption/intoxication, pornography/drawn erotica, mention of parental loss, foot fetish, bridle wearing, spitting, piss drinking, slapping, fingering, face riding, gore descriptions, jerking him, orgasm denial, begging, blood

The first person he’d met that morning had been you: a black clad funerary vision as soon as he stepped foot inside the station. Your lips, painted a red so dark it may as well have been black, broke out into a wide smile as he introduced himself and it was like you sunk a fishhook into his cheek. Your voice was sweet as you grabbed a box of things, presumably for him, and told him to follow you back into the office portion off the main hall reception. He would be a liar if he said he wasn’t checking you out a little as you back was to him, enjoying the shape of your legs as he traced their path from your chunky boot clad feet to the back of the velvety long sleeve top you wore. 

“Hey, your rookie’s here!” Your voice had carried through the din of ringing phones and multilayered, but indistinguishable conversations that pushed up against the wood pannelled confines of the room. He caught sight of a banner stretching over your head and between the archway sides, welcoming him in. 

You moved, turning to him to hold out the box, smiling soft again. 

“So they came up with this little activity for you but if you need the combinations to any of the locks and can't figure them out I wrote them down just in case, can’t have you locked out of your desk all day. But at least try before cheating otherwise the Lieutenant will never let me hear the end of it.” 

He accepted the box of miscellaneous supplies with a smile to match your own and he didn’t miss the way your eyes scanned over his face. 

“I’m just down in the secretarial spot, so, if you need anything come find me,” you also told him your name then and he would swear, then and now, that it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. 

He’d promised that he would and you’d set off back towards the frontal area, giving a little wave to other officers that greeted you as you passed. 

In the weeks after that initial meeting he’d learned you were a relative of another officer and just in a secretarial position so they could keep an eye on you, worried about a girl so young spending her time alone although you were around his own age. No other family, similarly to himself at least in that your parents had passed but at least you’d had some relatives looking out for you still. It softened you in his eyes despite your look, that similarity. He knew what it meant to have practically no one, and absolutely no one who could understand how it felt despite all their efforts to. 

As the days passed he found himself fixated on you in a way that only grew from that first meeting. You were always sweet, friendly, every time you’d be back in the bullpen for one reason or another. Laughing with different officers and he wished the two of you could be close enough that he could walk up, chatter to you about nothing or everything, make you giggle in that way that made heat rise from his collar up his face, warm and a little itchy.

That desire for closeness with you is what made him take note of the book you were always toting around or had your nose buried in when there wasn’t anything pressing to do in your workspace. Story of the Eye. It sounded weird but he made sure the title stuck in his brain, planning to look it up after his shift that day in the hopes of having even one other point of commonality with you, maybe read a summary and then drop a line over the next few days, something that would impress you in a “I can't believe you’ve read this too!” sort of way. 

Except later that night, in his apartment, his blue eyes were blown wide as they stared at the screen. The Histoire de l'œil, as he larned, was nothing but a blood and piss soaked exploration of sexual debauchery. He’d even found an excerpt, gaze full of curious disgust as it scanned over the words and absorbed the meaning of their described action. The passage detailed a young woman sitting her bare cunt in a saucer of milk on a challenge from the male narrator who laid at her feet masturbating at the sight, describing how in his eyes cunt was the most tender name for the vagina. Other excerpts were more extreme than the last, and as he rushed to close the window with a shaking hand on the mouse his thoughts raced.

There was no way this was the book you were reading in broad daylight in the middle of a police station. When he’d spot you grabbing for a pen, scribbling annotations on a page, what could you have been noting? Things that interested you? Things to try with a sexual partner? Was this the sort of thing you were into?

Leon got little sleep that night as his train of thought continued to loop around and around the winding track of you in his head and what your absorption in that book could possibly mean. 

Which leds to the current moment, a morning where his head is functionally full of fuzz as he tries focusing on the words coming out of your mouth but remained distracted by lack of sleep and the memory of what he spent the previous night doing. 

Since the questions surrounding your sexual tastes kept prodding at him he’d been indulging in pornography of an ever increasing level of extremeness, every website visited was more unhinged than the last and he would ask himself the same questions each time he’d spill all over his own abdomen in a mixture of self disgust and ashamed desire after breathlessly fisting his own cock to fantasies that the women on screen were actually you. Would you let him do those things to you? Slap, bite, choke, squeeze your cute cheeks together so you'd open your mouth and let him spit right on your pink tongue? Lap at your feet and draw your toes in his mouth, run his tongue against them like he was tasting divinity?

How would you look right now if he slid a bridle on your face? The leather straps digging into your cheeks, the bar slotted between your black laqured lips, would there be tears in those pretty eyes of yours? Would you try calling his name through it, garbled and barely intelligible as his fingers rubbed hearts against your stiff nipples, hands shoved up your shirt-

“Oh also, before I forget, did you want to get drinks later tonight? Everyones going to that bar downtown to celebrate filling quota,” You were looking at him, anticipating an answer to a question he only half understood. But the important part, the part his mind immediately latched onto, was that of drinking. 

If you were a little hammered would it be easier to bring up that book, would you be more forthcoming about satisfying his curiosity? 

“Uh yeah, yeah I’ll be there,” he gave you a small smile as he took in the pleased expression on your face before you left, back down into a room of endless paperwork and the four walls that probably knew better than anyone nearly all the answers to his questions, if only they could speak. 

But maybe tonight he’ll be able to get those answers from your lips. 

~

Usually he enjoyed his shifts, even if the routine of a beat cop was a little monotonous and mind numbing at times it was still a stepping stone on the path he’d always wanted to tred. Today however, was spent practically jumping out of his own skin and so wound up thinking about tonight that he could barely focus on patrols or reports, head drowning in the whisper of possibility that something might happen with you tonight, finally.

Every glimpse of you today was particularly cruel because all he could do was suck it up and hide the semi he’d been walking around with since waking up that threatened to become fully erect at even the sound of your laughter drifting towards him. It was a horribly confusing mixture of embarrassment and unadulterated need, like if he didn’t get you naked and writhing beneath him soon he’d die on the spot. 

But soon enough the hours were down to practically nil, and he’d changed into street clothes in record time, not even bothering with his usual routine to prep for Monday morning too preoccupied and wound up tighter than a steel spring about to snap. It didn’t help that as he walked towards the main hall he could hear you, his heartbeat kick starting like a prized race horse and his footfalls becoming quicker as the sound guided him sightlessly out into the marble floored and high ceilinged area. Like you were the prize to be won after a long day and the thought wasn’t far off from his goals with you.

“Leon!” You called to him and he couldn’t help the immediate satisfaction that oozed through his body at the way you said it with so much familiarity. He wanted to hear you say it again and again as if it were the only word you knew, would ever know. 

As he joined the chattering group he couldn’t help but be disappointed hearing you say you’d be riding over to the bar with someone else, jealousy flaring in his gut like acid reflux, sharp and uncomfortable. But nevertheless in record time he’d driven out from the station lots and in the blur of neon lights downtown found his feet carrying him inside the little not quite hole in the wall bar and back into your presence. It was like going from stumbling in the dark to being flooded with a sparkling light, something that whispered in his head that this was meant to be, that he had to be ready because tonight he was going to find a way to satisfy the unbridled lust you kicked up inside his head. 

Pleasantly it didn’t take long for an opening to make itself known to him, it was obvious that you were a bit of a lightweight as more and more beer and liquor made its way to the tabletop the later it got and the more the conversations devolved into spirited nonsense. In those amberglow orange bar lights you looked like an angel, eyes glossy the drunker you got and your laugh becoming more and more unrestrained with every sip of dark liquid that passed your lips as you spoke animatedly in a conversation he couldn't be bothered to pay as much attention to.

Your lipstick was smudged and it was suddenly endlessly fascinating to him, his hand itching with the need to bring his thumb up to your bottom lip to swipe away the messy stray bit of black that bled from the clean edge of the flesh. His teeth felt like they could start vibrating the urge was so powerful but before he could act on it you grabbed ahold of his hand. 

“Leon can take me home!” Your voice was unsteady but clear and he could feel his palm getting damp as he refocused on whatever was being said between you and another officer.

“He hasn’t even been drinking, right?” You turn your head to him and it’s like getting beaten by a rough wave, like hes the rock on the shoreline, powerless against the battering wall of water. 

“Right,” he offers weakly, fingers still tangled in yours and becoming increasingly aware of your chest pressed against his elbow. 

“See, don’t be a worrier. I’m drunk but I’m not unsafe,” you manage to force the words out but he can tell you’re definitely more inebriated than you want to let on and a part of himself he doesn’t want to examine too closely at the moment feels satisfied that you got yourself in a vulnerable position, he didn’t even have to do any of the work. 

“I can take her home,” he says it more clearly this time, offering a reassuring look to his fellow officer before you let go of him to hug a few others goodbye. As you come back at his side you stretch up to plant a kiss to his cheek, making his face flush hot. 

“Thanks for being sweet,” you murmur and he could kiss you full force if he wasn’t so aware of the current surroundings. “Lets go.”

The squeak of rusty hinges and the bang of the door cutting off the burst of revelry heralds your exit into the chilly, damp air. A promise that there would be a blanket of dew laid across the world once the sun rose.

The car was tense for him, being in such close quarters with you as you happily slammed the passenger door shut, buckling yourself in and he can’t help but notice how right it feels to have you sitting to his left, shooting him a shy smile as your eyes drift over him. It’s not lost on him, the way you were suddenly so touchy as the two of you made your exit, how you jumped to claim him as your ride home. It felt good to know you wanted him, at least a little bit. It made clearing his throat, preparing to start prodding you about the book far easier. 

As streetlights flickered by and you rattled off directions to your apartment his hands tightened on the wheel, practically white knuckle.

“So that book you’re always carrying around, is it any good?” He already knows the answer. 

You give him a look but shrug noncommittally. “It’s interesting, have you read anything by Bataille before?” 

“Can’t say I have,” he lies as he takes a right turn a little too sharp, making your body jolt to follow the motion of the car. 

“Hm, well he was a pretty weird guy but you can’t really blame him for it. Rough upbringing and all that. Anyways,” you stretch the syllable out, smiling to yourself before continuing, “he seemed pretty interested in sex, violence, and meaninglessness.”

“Meaninglessness?” 

“Yeah, theres one part of it where he talks about how a woman could die in the middle of sex or something but would the man even notice? She could get possessed or act insane like a demon and he wouldn’t even notice, too focused on the sexual part of it, thinking of her as just an object. And sure, people can have all the weird sex they want but whats the real meaning in it?” You're babbling and he’s having a hard time focusing on the road. 

Thankfully the building you live in comes into view quickly, allowing him to ease into a parking spot and kill the ignition before turning to look at you, your profile barely visible in the dark as you turn to peer out the window. 

“Whats the meaning of it for you?” He’s asking before his mind can even catch up to what he’s saying, heart hammering so strongly he’s half sure you can hear it across the center console and it’s like the entire car went through spontaneous decompression, all the air suddenly sucked right out. 

You turn, smiling in a way that makes your features darken and his tongue slides over his bottom lip. “Haven’t had enough weird sex to figure it out.”

"Do you want to?" His voice is barely a whisper and the silence afterwards cuts against his nerves like a serrated blade on twine.

"Are you offering, Officer Kennedy?" you raise a brow at him like it's a challenge, teasing him with the title and in the span of a second he's unbuckling, reaching across the console to slide a hand to the back of your neck practically scruffing you, forcing your bodies closer and your lips are crashed together in a sloppy clack of teeth and barely audible gasps that punch through the almost darkness.

As you pull back he can hear the change in your breathing, harsher then it was just a moment ago and you only let go of him to unbuckle yourself before your voice reaches his ears again.

"Do you want to come inside?" It's such a laughably benign question after what he just asked you, after kissing you like he could swallow you whole and he almost feels dizzy, like maybe the kiss wasn't even real but he knows it was, can still feel the stickiness of your lipstick against his mouth.

He nods, not really trusting himself to speak but you get out to lead the way and it doesn't escape him how your hands shake as you fumble with the keys in your front door lock after hurriedly crossing the parking lot with him. As the door swings open he's not really paying any mind to the interior, eyes glued on your body and focusing on the faintly floral smell of perfume he didn't notice on you earlier. Then again he hadn't been so thoroughly in your personal space before.

You look back at him, not bothering to turn on any lights before grabbing his hand and he manages to push the door closed before you're leading him further inside and down a little hallway.

Your bedroom isn't what he expected but then again he's not really sure what exactly he expected it to look like. Through the dark he can make out bookshelves, each row neat and filled with title after title. Some more in little stacks on the floor beside the shelves. Gauzy curtains frame a window on the left side of your bed, facing the parking lot he guesses. There must be hundreds of books in here.

As you let go of his hand to pry your boots off he crosses the room, footfalls muffled by the carpet, so enamored by the sheer volume of your collection he could almost forget why you two came in together. Almost.

"Like to read huh?" He mused, running fingers over the spines before feeling you coming up behind him.

"And what would've given you that idea?" Your voice is full of faux sarcasm as you tug on his forearm, shifting his attention back towards you.

At just that moment something comes tumbling from the shelf, following the motion of his hand pulling away, clattering at his feet and the spine cracks open to reveal this one is not a novel but a sketchbook. He can sense your body tensing up beside him, your grip on him becoming more firm and suddenly hes desperate to know what's in those pages. What don't you want him looking at?

There's a silent struggle of will that happens in the span of a millisecond between you two. You seem to abdicate, stepping back to perch on the edge of the mattress as he bends forward to pick up the book. A lamp clicks on, illuminating his eyes to a figure floating in an expanse of white.

You've drawn her without adornment, without background. A woman half bent at the waist, viewed from the side, and some sort of mask on her face making her appear featureless. A delicate hand is posed between her legs but with closer scrutiny he can see one finger is reached inside herself, the rest splayed around to frame the obscenity. Her other hand grasps her breast, sharp nails rendered carefully and seeming like if he just kept looking they'd pierce fully through the flesh.

"Didn't know you were an artist." His own words sound lame against his eardrums and he cringes internally, hoping you don't take it as a condemnation. It's very much the opposite, he can feel himself getting nearly lightheaded, coming to sit heavily beside you on the bed still grasping the sketchbook.

You swayed drunkenly beside him for a moment before resting your head against his shoulder, not looking at the page, as if it were some hidden shame. So you're a bit of a sexual eccentric, not the end of the world and there's worse things to be. But for him it's terribly exciting, making his body feel like it's on the edge of vibration, like electricity might come arching off him at any moment.

"You think I'm gross or something?" Your voice is small, still not looking at him until he reaches over, lightly directing you to meet his gaze through touch.

"I think you're beautiful," and in an instant the book is abandoned, his hands full of you and feeling the slide of fabric as you move to straddle his lap and he can't help but run them all over your body, every part he can reach.

And you're amazingly receptive, but it's seemingly not enough for you as you bite and tug on his bottom lip. A demand for more. So sharp without even saying a word, just the feeling of your canines threatening to skewer the delicate skin. It sent shivers down his spine. But like a well trained dog he answers, rolls you onto your back and your legs part to allow him to slot himself between in a perfect fit as he kicks off his shoes and they meet the floor with a dull thump.

The skirt you wore bunched up around your waist, and the friction of his jeans grinding against your damp underwear makes your lips part so perfectly he forgets himself and grabs your face just like he wanted to earlier, squeezing slightly. The question passes once more in eye contact and you open your mouth wider, eyes never leaving his as a glittering string of spit makes the journey from his own mouth to your waiting tongue.

And you fucking moan when you swallow it down.

You grin at him and he's never felt so inebriated without a drop of alcohol in his bloodstream, just you. His mouth moves to devour you again and it's all tongues and more spit, messy and imperfect as you both tug at clothes and yank them overhead to be tossed in some haphazard heap over the side of the bed.

"Can I- what's okay with you?" He finds himself stumbling, waiting with bated breath to know the extent of what you'll let happen right now.

"You were lying, about the Eye, right?"

He nods, not even thinking to be embarrassed at having been caught out, only hyper focused on your features, every sound from your throat, as he cages your head with his forearms and rests his forehead against yours.

"You know what they do to the priest in Seville?" You giggle breathlessly and he can smell liquor on you for the first time, "Don't kill me, but we can do everything else."

And that's all it takes, your absolute permission to do anything he wants. He settles back on his knees, running hands up and down your thighs as you squirm, enjoying the feel of the tights you have on sliding against his skin. It's like choice paralysis now that all his options are open to him, mind flicking through the near endless catalog of porn he's consumed over the last few weeks, all the things he imagined doing to you. Everything from those piecemeal passages of the book.

In one fluid, slow movement his hand glides right up between your legs and over your cunt to the waistband of the tights and underwear you have on. Rolling them down felt like edging himself, bit by bit of your cunt revealed in the low lamplight and he bit his cheek staring at it. Slick and glistening, suddenly he understood that passage about cunt being the sweetest word for a vagina.

But he didn't allow himself or you to linger too long like that, ignoring your rolling hips to hover over you again, grasping your jaw in a harsher grip that made you yelp and his adrenaline spike. You looked so cute with your lips forced in a purse he just couldn't help but full force spit on them, making your eyes widen but you didn't have time to react to it before his hand withdrew only to reconnect with your cheek in a slap so firm your head snapped to the side.

He watched you bite your lip, tongue coming out to lap at the spit splattered over it and one of your hands snaked down between your legs and he didn't have to look down to know you were touching yourself. The sound alone conjured up a near perfect picture, your fingers sliding in and out of that squelching hole and he was reminded again of a passage from that novel.

Burying his face against the side of your throat he nosed his way up to your ear, the request far too debasing to even speak aloud, the enticing heat of shame rushing beneath his skin as his lips formed the words despite his body's will to hold it in.

"Let me taste it?" Never in a million years would he have guessed previously that he'd be begging a girl to drink her piss but there's a first time for everything and he hopes to indulge in quite a few more firsts with you.

You understand immediately, of course you do, and nod your head as he shifts to lay down and you abandon fingering yourself in favor of hovering your naked cunt above his face. He watches your fingers force the folds apart, enraptured by the shiny flesh and the butterflies in his stomach, gripping your thighs so tightly you'll undoubtedly have bruises in the morning. Your fingers move to rub little circles at your clit as your other hand grips the headboard and he hears your nails scratching against the wood.

He closes his eyes and it's not long before he feels it, hears your moans reaching a higher pitch as warm liquid meets his lips, his chin, his tongue. You piss on him like a cat and it's one of the best experiences of his life, like being soaked in liquid ecstasy as he yanks you down to sit fully on his face, not even bothering to wait for you to finish before he's sucking and lapping at your pussy like a starved animal. The mingling tastes of arousal and piss as you ride his face and rub your clit makes him so painfully hard he feels like he could black out, maybe even die on the spot and he'd be the happiest dead man in history.

The shade from your skirt falling back into place gives the illusion of privacy and in a way it elevates the experience, like he's devouring a bodyless pussy. Delirium takes hold, wrapping spindly fingers around his brain as he tastes another gush of warm piss and feels the muscles in your legs flex so hard they're straining against the skin, shaking with exertion, like they'll split open in a mess of gore and sinew as you come violently against his face.

The image is so profound in his mind he could almost swear he tastes blood on his tongue but before he can even recover from the experience you're shifting and the brief darkness vanishes as you straddle his thighs and tug his cock free from the underwear he still has on. Barely pulling them down enough to cup and fondle his balls as you stroke him experimentally, getting a feel for him in your hands.

Anticipation and arousal was a knife edge you kept him teetering on, running your thumb over his leaking slit just to watch his hips jerk, like he was a specimen and you were the scientist jamming electrified rods wherever in an effort to see any kind of bodily reaction. The sudden role reversal only served to heighten the eroticism and obscenity, making his mouth practically start watering.

He'd hardly been a kiss less virgin before but at most all he'd done that could be classified as outside the norm was a bit of anal. You were like a religious experience, wholly different and something to savor. And you were right, or that dusty old writer was, but sex and violence were both bursting at the seams with meaning, untapped potential, and while he still isn't sure what meaning it holds for you, he knows what it is for himself.

Devotion.

It's what makes him whine like a bitch in heat beneath you, reduced to pleading and begging to come as you alternate jerking him off and fondling him right when he's about to spill all over himself. It's torturous but it's not bitter, more like melting sugar on his tongue as tears threaten to spill from his eyes.

You cup his face then, abandoning his cock completely, and coo at him.

"You look so pretty like this, you wanna come so bad don't you?" And he's shaking his head so rapidly the world tilts on its axis. Please, please let him come doesn't he deserve it? "You're like a whiny little puppy."

And you're bending down, biting his lip so hard you draw blood, make him cry out as his hands fumble to grab at you from the sudden shock of pain and it's at that exact moment that you reach down and squeeze his balls so tightly the coil of pressure that's been built up inside him ruptures. Blood floods his mouth as it drops open, screwing his eyes shut and he swears it's like you're licking it out of his mouth as hot ropes of cum paint his stomach.

You kiss him as he whines and pants like a dog on the dizzying comedown, stroking his face and kissing the top of his head so chastely it's inherently at odds with what you've both just done to one another.

As his lip throbs and his muscles relax in your hold he can't help but wonder if you'll let him do more tomorrow, if you'll let him explore this newfound meaning, expose all its hidden depths. More importantly, he hopes you'll piss in his mouth again.

[stickandthorn]

I was rewatching some of the Aeor episodes of C2 recently, and I forgot just how much Caleb and Essek were Like That in their average conversations. Every time they spoke was like “I’m using magic and the war between our respective countries we both have complex feelings about as a metaphor for our relationship but it’s veiled in 6 layers of obscure side speak and discussing atonement and redemption as deeply personal and multilayered quasi-flirting.” The sexual tension requires a literature degree to fully parse and even then it’s iffy if you can get the entire meaning. They were both deeply fucked up magic prodigies and I guess that’s their favorite wavelength to communicate on, that and staring deeply into each other’s eyes. More meaning and certainly more layers of subtext is conveyed through their average casual greeting than is conveyed through a full semester of any given undergrad class. They basically do sexy philosophy dissertations about their sins at each other. Also everyone else at the table constantly watches like 👀👀👀 while happens. It’s beautiful.

[politemenacephd]

Arachnophilia: (Part Seventeen)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Content: Mostly relationship fluff + some worldbuilding. Also Peter content.

Word count: 4890

It was early morning once more, and today light was streaming in through every hole in the nest. The sun was bright and high over the canopy in a sea of pale blue, sitting in an sky barely touched by clouds. It was quiet, calm, even verging on warm, with the morning heat creating a low mist across the grass.

You liked to believe the weather was a reflection of your mood, because today you were finally taking Mig with you to the Society. You were elated, almost giddy, but him? Not so much.

‘Ogh. Look at you. So handsome!’

You grinned up at Mig as he paced about the nest, his eyes solely focused on his chest. His usually bare torso had been covered by a single, plain white shirt, and he seemed to be struggling with the sensation.

‘Mm… It has been, far too long since I had to put one of these on. How do you wear these all the time?’ he grumbled. He kept pulling on the shirt, awkwardly shifting it in and out of place. You were trying to not get distracted by how tight it was. You’d gotten the largest size you could, but it was still sticking quite close to his chest and shoulders, the smooth white fabric perfectly highlighting the rounded pounds of his pecs.

It was rather unfair, really, how you teased him for his constant ogling. You weren’t any better. He was just so damn pretty, with the plain white sitting on his warm skin, hugging his hefty chest.

‘You’ll get used to it’ you reassured him, ‘I did argue with them about the clothing but… they said, you know, society protocol. No shirtlessness. Not even for this most beautiful of men.’

Miguel shot you a smile to acknowledge your praise. ‘Yes. I should have suspected it would not be easy. Still, I appreciate you trying, mi tesoro.’

With those dreary words he crept forward to comfort himself with your touch. His forelegs pulled you in and clutched you to his abdomen, and you nestled back so tight that the fluff went up your nose and caused you to sneeze.  

‘Aw—Mi arañita, qué menso eres’ he murmured affectionately.

‘Mean’ you retorted.

He was purring now, his abdomen vibrating and rustling with joy. ‘I will be grateful to have you with me’ he said as he brushed your suit down. It wasn’t dirty, he’d just gone so long without clothes that he assumed you brushing off his shirt was a sign of affection, and he wanted to return it. ‘I would never have gone alone, even if the offer was made again.’

‘I’ll be there the whole time, I promise’ you said. As Mig smiled you sealed that promise with a kiss to his claws. ‘And if Miguel tries anything, I’ll rip his claws out one by one. I promise that too.’

You saw Mig’s smile falter a little. ‘Ah. Yes. Him. He will, be there as well.’

Your smile dipped too. You were trying to joke about the situation but you both knew, deep down, how strange everything had gotten.

There was a tension between all three of you, one that was strange and multilayered in ways you couldn’t discern beyond a constant, simmering, anxiety inducing pressure.

Miguel had remained on watch at your nest after the first time you mated in front of him, and for two days while you prepped he’d stuck to his stubborn word and remained. He’d mostly stayed outside, only coming in occasionally to ensure you were being ‘safe’ as he put it, but he never spoke a single word to either of you.

The only thing you’d noticed is that his eyes, when they fell on you, were no longer cold; they were burning hot, simmering and seething, filled with something unspeakably strong.

You shuddered at the thought.

Luckily Miguel was gone today as you were visiting the HQ, so he could monitor you there, but it felt like his presence was always hanging over your head.

‘Alright. Come on. Let’s go’ you said, gently urging him to follow you with a tap to his belly. For a moment he hesitated, his little paws tapping back and forth on the nest floor, but it was only for a moment. With your face beaming and urging him on he reluctantly followed.

You’d been prepared for Mig to struggle with the portal. He’d never gone through one before and everyone struggled at first, so you were as patient as possible with the big guy.

You just hadn’t expected how badly he’d take it.

The moment you stepped through the lack of weight and gravity seemed to throw him totally off balance. You were used to keeping with the flow, to angling your body so that you flowed seamlessly through the void of space time and out the other end, but Mig didn’t have that.

He immediately crashed into you and sent you both hurtling through the portal at a speed you could not keep up with.

You both rolled out of the portal at max velocity, his enormous body crashing into the HQ floor with such force that it cracked. In the safe, fluffy grip of his legs you were thankfully unharmed, but it didn’t stop you from being dazed. As he tumbled to a stop you gasped.

‘AH—Fuck, oh Mig I am so sorry, I should have done a trial run of—oh god—’

You tried to scramble out of his grip to check on him but he refused to let go. He was terrifyingly strong, with his spider legs folded in tight to his belly, pinning you to his abdominal underbelly.

‘Mig? Mig?’ you panted.

‘Mmm.’

His low groan vibrated right down to your core, and you nearly cried with relief. ‘Oh, Miggy. Are you okay?’

‘I did not enjoy that’ he said bluntly. You managed another breathy laugh. ‘No, no, I can tell.’

As his legs slowly loosened you crawled out from his grip and stumbled to the floor on all fours. You glanced up.

To your horror, hundreds of spiders were perched on every surface available, all of them staring directly at you. It was a sea of suits, a sea of bodies and eyes, all staring with a mix of disgust and curiosity. You turned and immediately patted Mig, urging him to stand.

‘Mig—Babe, uh—’

‘Argh—my, legs—who designed these portals?’ Mig grunted. He was struggling to stand as he unfolded his long legs. ‘They are not safe, didn’t you say there were quite young spiders who—’

A wide-ranging, multi layered gasp of horror momentarily interrupted Mig’s grumbling, finally drawing him to look around. Everyone was in a defensive position, their eyes trained on his body. You instinctively sank against his side.

‘Hey, hey, it’s okay’ you whispered to him. You could see his eyes sinking already. He tried to step forward, his claws outstretched, but when every spider jolted in fear he froze up.

‘Hey! Sorry, guys, don’t um—he’s safe, he’s fine’ you cried. You impulsively stepped forward with your hands raised, hoping to de-escalate the situation. ‘This is—Miguel, or uh, Mig? If that’s easier, he’s a variant, he’s safe! He’s fine!’

To your continued discomfort, nobody said or did anything.

‘Hey! You two!’

You turned to see Jess making her way through the ogling crowd. She seemed to be trying her best to ignore them. ‘There you are, you—did you break the floor? My lord—never mind. So, obviously you guys know about the mandatory work you gotta do before you can be sent on missions?’

You awkwardly nodded in response, but Mig was too fixated on the crowd staring him down. You’d never seen him look so small.

‘Okay, good’ Jess said, ignoring Mig’s discomfort. She just ticked a few boxes on her hologram. ‘You have a few today, just—do your best, you’ll be fine. I just needed to give you this to fill out for HR and then you can get to work.’

She handed you a pile of papers before turning back into the crowd. She paused briefly to gage the amount of spiders and their curious eyes.

‘HEY! What are we, a circus? Do none of you have work to do?’ she yelled. The overtone of her voice quickly scattered the spiders as they flung themselves in all directions, and with a huff she followed after them. You and Mig were left alone.

‘A whole… new world.’

You looked up to see Mig murmuring to himself. His eyes were fixed on the building, on the view of the world beyond the big glass walls. He shone with a deep melancholia.

‘A whole, new world. And… everything is the same.’

Your heart sank. You shyly took his paw in yours.

‘Well, that was… a bad start, but, it’ll get better. It’ll be fine. We’ll be-- fine’ you said.

…

You were wrong. The rest of the day wasn’t much better.

You had certain activities you had to finish before you were cleared. The society wasn’t a workplace, but it functioned like one, and you were constantly in life-or-death situations. That meant all relationships needs to be safe.

You were expected to do three things: mandatory couples therapy, de-escalation and crisis training, and monthly reviews with an elite.

All of them went terribly.

You went to HR to hand in your forms and found only one person waiting at the desk. They were curt, almost rude, rushing through your paperwork, and after leaving you peered through the door only to find six other people had been hiding behind desks. You heard them gossiping and left in shame.

At your first de-escalation training for couples, you couldn’t even fit Mig through the front door, and you were forced to both sit in the hallway with the door half open to listen in. Every other couple there barely focused on the course; they just stared at you both, making little whispers and comments to each other.

You ended up failing that session due to Mig’s heightened anxiety. Any mention of a scenario where you were hurt caused him to panic and clutch you close, with his fangs overproducing venom as a protection tactic. They had to tape off the area as a hazardous spill zone. More mess, more eyes, more morbid curiosity.

Even your mandated therapy was unbearably awkward. The therapist assigned kept making suggestive questions regarding your safety, your wellbeing, questioning if Mig had some kind of fetishistic problem.

It wasn’t just Mig though, or at least, not just his body. People were clearly fixated on your closeness.

At the start of the day you were as physically affectionate as you usually were, since that’s what you were used to. You kissed his claws and he held you with his forelegs, he would scratch your head and you would hold his hand.

But you could see, now, the overt morbid curiosity in those around you. Even when you tried to find time alone, either in corridor corners or darker rooms, you kept spotting people staring.

As the day wound on you got more and more stingy with your affection. Mig kept dropping your hand to avoid people staring at you, and you had to hide your kisses when they happened.

With every activity you attended you felt a little isolated, a little less welcome. You hadn’t expected it to be easy, or even good, but you just hadn’t anticipated how bad it would feel. You began to feel guilty for doing this to Mig.

After your last therapy session, you began making your way through the lobby together. It was here, whilst making small talk and enjoying the brief moment of solitude, that you felt the hair on your nape stand up. You turned.

Miguel was up in the rafters above, his masked eyes following your every move. In the shadows you could only see the deep, sharp red lines of his suit as they shifted.

‘You—fuck.’

With a hiss you turned and sped forward. Mig rushed to catch up.

‘Ah—arañita?’

‘It’s all him’ you hissed angrily. ‘It’s all- him! He’s spread it everywhere, because he’s trying to embarrass us into giving up!’

‘Who? You mean—’ Mig paused midsentence. He didn’t need to say it; he knew who you meant. You hurried into a small, darkened corridor between two other meetings rooms, a space where you could avoid any prying eyes.

‘That—fucking, asshole’ you whisper shouted. Mig squished himself into the tight space and tried to grab you for comfort, but you were too busy pacing. ‘Fucking—Who does he think he is? Why won’t anyone say anything to him?!’

‘Mi tesoro’ Mig whispered back. ‘what is it? What do you mean?’

‘He—’ you paused to breath as you felt that guilty tug in your gut once more. ‘I’m so sorry, Mig, I—I knew this would happen. I knew it. Miguel knew I wanted you to join, and he said he—he said if he did let you in, he’d make sure we, quote, would learn why he keeps his relationships private. Obviously he wants you to feel unwelcome.’

‘Ah—yes, that—sounds like something he would do’ Mig said slowly.

‘I’m so sorry, I really—I wanted you to feel better’ you stammered. ‘I wanted you feel, just… I don’t know. I wanted something. I wanted the OPPOSITE of this!’

‘Hey, hey, arañita. It’s okay’ he said softly. As his foreleg gripped your arm you felt a wave of hopelessness wash over you.

‘Is it okay?’ you whispered back. ‘Is it? Are you okay? After what he’s done?’

Mig opened his mouth, but no words came out. You could see it in the dim light; the flash of his red eyes as they drooped and narrowed, the way he looked down and to the side out of shame.

Not one person besides you had even acted neutral to him. They’d all treated him like an animal, a monster, without shame.

You didn’t want to call this effort a failure. He deserved to be loved, to be valued, to be heard, but how did you do that?

Something had to change. Even just one thing. You closed your eyes and sighed.

‘HI!’

You and Mig both jumped in unison as someone’s cheery voice erupted right against your ears.

Mig launched himself into protection mode. With his fangs bared and his claws spread he pushed you to his back, but it was you who stepped in to call him off when you realized who the assailant was.

‘No, no, wait—I know him!’ you stammered.

Mig obediently stayed his hand when told, and after checking you were safe he turned to the speaker.

Peter B was standing on the ceiling, his head upside but more or less at the same height as Mig’s. He beamed at you both. ‘Shoot, sorry—did I scare you guys? Wow that feels weird, me scaring the big spider’ he blurted in his usual chatty tone. You stepped forward to greet him.

‘Ah, hi! You’re uh—Peter, right? I mean that’s half the people here but—’

‘My name is Peter, yes, and as you just pointed out that’s really a lucky guess, but I’m ASSUMING what you mean is I’m Peter Peter, the uh—’

‘The sad one’ you said, far blunter than you’d usually be. He beamed and snapped his fingers.

‘There it is! Yes, that’s me. Or I was.’

‘R-Right. Well, um-- Hi! Can we, help you, with anything?’ you asked. You could sense Mig was still a bit tense, so you decided to step in and speak in his place.

Peter dropped to the floor with an oomph before responding. ‘Ah—well, sort of. I’m not here on an errand though’ he cheerily explained as he stretched. You raised a brow.

‘You’re not?’

‘Nope! I’m here for—him!’ With a gleeful squeal Peter turned to Mig, his eyes eagerly running up every inch of the man’s body. You saw Mig tapping his paws in confusion.

‘Have I- done, something offensive?’ Mig murmured awkwardly.

‘Oh, he’s exactly like I thought he’d be’ Peter cooed. ‘He’s so awkward! No, you haven’t done anything wrong. I just wanted to see if I could uh, tag along with you guys for a bit.’

‘You did?’ you and Mig both said in unison.

‘Oh you’re adorable’ Peter said with a dramatic sigh. ‘You’re both so… well, whatever. You don’t need me fawning over you. But yes! Obviously! Who wouldn’t wanna learn more about the Miguel variant with the spider body? I wanna hear everything!’

‘You do?’ You and Mig repeated together.

‘Yeah! I—look, I feel bad at how strict the others are being on you two. I mean I don’t get it, the whole, spider thing, I mean he is very handsome but the spider is a bit of a deal breaker for me. But I’m just like, hey, good for you guys, you know? Good that it works for you!’

You blinked in surprise as Peter continued to ramble.

‘Plus, look, uh—my wife, Mary, she—well, she’s pregnant!’ he squealed, ‘like, right now! Ah! And I don’t have anyone but Jess to talk to about relationships and I mean she’s always so busy, and Miguel can’t hear about baby stuff, but YOU two! You guys, I can talk to! So, can I? Can I uh—hang around for a bit?’

You glanced at Mig, expecting to see the same hesitation on his face as you felt in yours, only to find him utterly elated. He looked so happy.

‘Ah—yes, of course’ he stammered, his enormous abdomen shifting and vibrating. ‘Of course, a-absolutely. Let us, talk.’

Peter clapped his hands with joy, and you realized you had no other option.

‘GREAT! You guys wanna see the canteen?’

…

‘And I swear, I begged for HOURS, but Mary just wouldn’t come around to it! I said come on, what’s the worst thing that’s ever happened at a gender reveal party?!'

You chuckled politely as Peter finished his dramatic story, a sharp contrast to Mig who was erupting with his sweet, gruff, awkward laughter.

You were sat at a booth in the HQ canteen, with Peter on one side and you on the other, while Mig was awkwardly folded on the floor at the tables head. You’d tried to make room but there just wasn’t space.

You knew everyone was staring at you. You knew they were keeping their heads down so you didn’t suspect them of listening in, even though it was obvious they were. Even the people serving in the kitchen were craning their necks over the counters to watch.

You sank a little deeper into your chair.

‘Your mate sounds very responsible’ Mig said. He shuffled a little as a couple of people had to hop over his body to get around the corridor. ‘Ah—and it is, wonderful to hear your attempts to have offspring were successful. I don’t blame you for being excited. I would be, inconsolable in your position, from joy that is.’

‘Right! I’m just excited, like come on’ Peter said loudly as he grabbed a fry from his plate. ‘Like I was scared, you know? Who knows what my weird spider genes will do! It’s nice to talk to someone who gets it.’

‘Yes. I worried about the same things’ Mig said softly. ‘With my biology being so… poorly constructred, I often lie awake wondering what I would create. But it is hard, to deny yourself something when it is so… close, to your heart. It is what I always wanted, and I know many like us feel that way.’

‘Oh—yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to be insensitive’ Peter whispered. Mig shook his head.

‘No, no. As mi tesoro says, we’re all strange on the inside.’ Mig turned to you with a smile as he spoke, and you returned it.

‘Right! Sorry, sorry, ah— enough about me though, I have so many questions for YOU. How DID you two meet?’ Peter asked as he folded his hands over the table.

‘Oh, that is an interesting story. Mi arañita, do you—’ Mig turned and gestured with his claws, politely offering you the chance to step in. You quickly swallowed the single fries serving you’d ordered and tried to respond.

‘Oh—oh! Right, um—I was sent to fix an anomaly in his universe, it was my first proper mission and I uh… I, botched it, pretty badly.’

‘Don’t say that arañita, you did well considering the circumstances’ Mig cooed. You waved him off.

‘Yeah, yeah. Well, I messed up and needed help, everyone was busy but I remembered Miguel saying he had a variant in that universe. He said not to reach out, but, I did. And I met Mig.’

‘Yes, I—found them cowering beneath a tree. Such a handsome creature, I thought. So pretty. Que chula, that’s all I could say. I was so attracted I momentarily forgot that they likely would try to kill me out of fear’ Mig dreamily reminisced. Despite your anxiety your smile widened.

‘Oh, you, you’re such a romantic. I could tell’ Peter added as he circled his finger at Mig.

‘Anyway, they—did not hurt me, which I was glad of. I helped heal them and fixed their web shooter, and, they offered to return. To, spend time with me. So we kept doing that and—became friends’ Mig said, finishing the brief and work-friendly version of the story.

‘Oh, that’s— nicer than I was expecting, honestly, considering how we first met you’ Peter teased.

Mig missed the teasing and responded bluntly. ‘Yes! Well, that is the first half. After that, one day they happened to visit while I was rutting, and when I pleaded to mate them, they agreed. We became a mated pair from then on, which is why they were hiding at my house, the poor thing went into quite a severe heat due to my presence.’ His soft, satisfied smile never wavered as he recalled that day.

You could hear a pin drop in the canteen; Mig was talking, but nobody else was.

You immediately sank so low you almost fell beneath the table. Oh god, you thought, why. Why. Why. Why did he have to be so blunt.

You’d shown off in front of Miguel in relative private, sure, but this was different. That was to humiliate him. It made you feel powerful to be in Mig’s arms, beneath his body, but the eyes on you were turning that power to shame.

Peter maintained his smile, but you could see he was a little surprised at the blunt swerve in conversational tone. ‘I—I mean I wasn’t gonna ask about it, you know, it’s rude’ he stammered. ‘You don’t seem like a man who’d kiss and tell—’

‘You mean the mating?’ Mig asked. You shrank into your seat as his words echoed.

‘Ah—yes, the—is that what you call it?’

‘Is that not what it is?’ Mig asked as he tilted his head. ‘I believe that is the proper term. Or, do you mean, here it’s called sex? Because that is also what I meant, and I see no reason to hide it. We’re all sexually mature.’

You noticed Peter stifling laughter as he listened to Mig. Instinctively your stomach clenched; was he just here to make fun of Mig? To make fun of you both? Had you been tricked?

Luckily, Peter spoke before you could spiral further. ‘Oh, you’re so delightful! Isn’t he delightful? I can see why you like him’ he said with his finger pointed at you. ‘I wish I had the guts to say half this stuff, my god, the confidence! I love it! And I can tell he clearly likes you.’

‘Oh, they are—wonderful’ Mig purred in response. His abdomen began to vibrate as he closed his eyes, his thoughts lingering in memories of you in his arms. You gripped the table and begged for the strength to not physically slam your hand over his mouth.

‘Isn’t the size difference a little difficult though?’ Peter whispered. ‘I don’t mean to pry, but—’

‘I was worried about the same thing, but, they take me remarkably well’ Mig said calmly. You thought your teeth would crack, and yet still Peter seemed utterly unphased. ‘I always ensure that they’re not in pain and that they’re enjoying it, and I’ve never had issues.’

‘Oh, well that’s good to hear! I know it’s tough, having issues, especially in those uh—very, intimate areas, and especially I imagine when you’re uh—well, you! So, different! And so early on in a relationship, I mean my god you’re doing better than I did at this stage. You guys must really get along.’

Peter turned to you as he spoke, as if prompting you to engage with the conversation a little more. He must have noticed your silence. Unfortunately, you were still too mortified to really say much more.

‘Y-Yeah. Yeah’ you stammered, unsure of what more to say. Peter seemed to notice your hesitation; Mig did not.

‘Yes. I—I like them, a lot’ Mig said wistfully. ‘It’s not been easy, even now, adjusting to this—body, but… In truth, I feel more wanted now than I did when human. When I was, considered attractive. When I fit into places. That means the world to me. They are, priceless. Mi tesoro.’

You felt your face start to glow as Mig looked down at you in the booth. For just a moment, in that silent space with your eyes locked on, you recontextualized your embarrassment. You felt, guilt.

You were struggling with all the attention. You couldn’t deny that. You knew this was Miguel’s plan to pry you apart, to leave you at the mercy of their constant ridicule. The eyes on you, the constant judgement, it was rough.

But, seeing how happy Mig was, it made you wonder: why did you care?

He looked so happy as he gazed at you. His soft, affectionately creased eyes, his upturned lips showing the thick fangs beneath. What a pretty man.

And Peter, despite your initial reservations, didn’t seem phased at all.

When you’d had everyone’s approval, when you’d been just another replaceable spider doing everything routine and by the books, you’d been ignored. They hadn’t wanted you then, so why did it matter if they didn’t want you now?

Now, you had someone who did. Who cares that you were infatuated with a monster? At least you were wanted.

You smiled. ‘Mig, is… Wonderful, at what he does’ you said softly. ‘I really couldn’t ask for more. He’s so attentive, he—knits me suits, the pillows, and blankets, he refurbished his entire nest for me, he’s always making sure I’m well taken care of. He never raises his voice, never avoids me. I am… very, very, happy.’

The emphasis and tone you put on ‘happy’ was more than enough indication of your sincerity, and was certainly enough to put plenty of unwanted images in the heads of those listening. You didn’t care. You let them imagine, and you beamed up at the real thing.

‘PETER!’

You, Mig and Peter all turned as that chilling voice echoed through the canteen.

Miguel was walking stiffly down the canteen corridor, his eyes roaming. He seemed to be looking for someone, most likely the man he’d just called for.

‘Peter, you’re supposed to be on mission with me. You—’ Miguel paused. He looked up to see you and Mig, sitting comfortably with his friend at the table. The two people he'd been viciously targetting. The two people who had humiliated him in the worst way possible.

‘What is this?’ he hissed.

‘OH! Hey big guy, big fella, big boss man’ Peter cried back, cheery as ever. He didn’t seem to notice the tension as he hopped the back of the booth. ‘I was just making friends! I can say that, right, uh—Mig, is that what people call you? Can I use that?’

Peter spun back to Mig who, under pressure, immediately nodded. ‘Ah—yes, of course. Friends. Yes.’

‘GREAT! Great! Oh, I got two Miguel friends! I’ll catch you two around, okay?’

‘You sure will’ you replied. Peter waved you off as he clapped Miguel on the back.

‘Man those two are great. You never told me your variant was so nice! He’s hilarious!’

You could see that hot, burning anger in Miguel’s eyes even from here as Peter rambled on at him. It was barely disguised beneath his usual calm, collected expression.

You saw him realizing that, even by a small amount, his plan was failing. Mig was being treated as normal, and not by just anyone, but by someone close to him, someone who he could never let find out about your voyeuristic escapades. 

Miguel grit his teeth as he tried to find any words to say. ‘Peter, you—’

‘Come on, my god—you were so urgent a minute ago.’ Peter laughed as he dragged Miguel away by the shoulder, and while the man’s eyes lingered on you both he did not strain against Peter’s grip. He reluctantly followed.

Back at the booth, you made a choice. You crawled up onto the table, pushing the fries aside, and with both hands you grabbed Mig’s face. You turned him physically, as he’d been gazing after Peter.

You smiled up at him without a care.

‘My Mig’ you said softly, and then you kissed him. He eagerly kissed you back. In front of the whole canteen you nestled into his fluffy forelegs and let him kiss you from your forehead to your chin.

It wasn’t exactly a perfect first day, but it was good. It was enough for now. Mig had one more friend than he’d had at the start.

But you knew, deep down, Miguel wouldn’t just let this go.

Link to next part!

[10underoot2]

Here's a lovely, beautiful, little detail I loved in Episode 14 that I wish we saw more of throughout the show. BaekHong just teasing each other with their quirkiness and wittiness.

All those little scenes and dialogues were so beautiful and so important in letting me know and believe that yes this is why and how they fell in love. This is where they match in personalities. They see that part of each other. Cause life can be long as much as it is short, so god do you need a person who can make you smile, allow you to take yourself less seriously and just someone you can laugh with.

Here are a few examples I found in episode 14. If anyone knows more throughout the show that I'm missing please list them here!

1. Busman Confession

Haein: 'How did you even get into SNU?'

She was so real for this and it was so deserved. Also the way Hyunwoo starts teasing her immediately. She never wanted to tell him cause she knew he'd get cocky with her and of course he did. Love that lil laugh and teasing. Also I love how Haein keeps teasing him about his first love. She loves seeing him wound up.

2. Praying at the Church:

Haein: 'You're praying so much to get into heaven. Of course you'll need it if we want to meet in heaven.'

Hyunwoo: 'What makes you think you're going to heaven?'

They're both so mean and chaotic 😂 They're literally in church praying for Haein's fate and they decide to make these jokes. And I love how Hyunwoo doesn't hold back. He gives as good as he gets. I love the lightness foreshadowing the very dark and real reality they live in. This was so necessary and so well delivered. Like just subtly sprinkled.

3. Last Night at the Hospital before Haein's Surgery

Haein: 'You have nothing (complaints, times you were hurt in marriage secrets)?'

Hyunwoo: 'I'm trying to pick'

Making light of something that is very heavy and sad. It also shows the lighter side of Hyunwoo that I really appreciate when I get to see this in characters cause the people these characters are have to be multilayered. They can't be defined only by their capacity of love and sadness. Another example of this is Haein's really dark and dry sense of humour.

4. Episode 14 Epilougue

Haein: 'You used to tell me about the days you were in Law School? What was your secret to memorising so well?'

Hyunwoo cockily lies: 'I was just able to easily memorize anything I looked it.'

Haein: 'I'm serious did you gobble up the pages after memorising them?'

Hyunwoo: 'I'm not a goat.'

There literally hours away from her surgery. But look at him teasing her and making her smile. I love how Haein points out in an earlier episode 'as arrogant as you are you must Baek Hyunwoo' cause in front of her he flexes like no other but other than that he's just a humble man. So I love him never missing a chance to impress her. It's a very cute detail and I love seeing it strung along.

There are others as well. I think I saw a post by @havemercedes some time ago as well. I think this truly shines in episode 14 and I love this detail! ✨

[mermaidsirennikita]

Louis de Pointe du Lac, as originally written, could be regarded as one of lit's most famous "also rans", someone who was originally positioned as Thee Tragic Figure of the series, only to be almost immediately superseded both in the readers' and the author's minds with Lestat. Like, you know Louis because of the original book, but Lestat is the one everyone talks about, Lestat drives the rest of the series, Lestat has all the best lines.

And the movie, as much as I personally don't like it, only sort of dug this further into the pop cultural understanding of the story. Brad Pitt is at his most "I am relying on pretty" boring and sulky; when there is a performance, it's largely annoying. And Tom Cruise... I mean, it's literally nothing next to what Sam Reid does in my mind, but it was at least very off-brand for him at the time, and he was doing SOMETHING, and he (and Kirsten Dunst) have the most iconic Moments, the camp, the arguably most memorable part of the movie (the very end with the Sympathy for the Devil cover playing us off).

So it's honestly SUCH a testament to the innovation of the show's writing and the brilliance of Jacob Anderson's performance that Louis has been reinvented, not only as a compelling protagonist, but as a character that is EASILY as complex and multilayered as more traditionally antiheroic/villainous types like Lestat and Armand and Claudia. He's more than the beautiful, tragic object of Lestat and Armand's affections, he's more than the guy telling us the story.

Louis is self-loathing and self-aggrandizing; he's victimized by Lestat, and he manipulates Lestat, very aware of his own emotional hold over him (might we note how much agency Louis had over Claudia's turning, and how Lestat in no way would've done that if not for Louis... and that act was arguably one of the most selfish in the series, if emotionally understandable). He's controlled by Armand, yet we get hints that he's actually quite dangerous and perhaps in some sort of self-delusion about just how dangerous he is (and Assad certainly plays Armand like he's nervous as fuck about Louis knowing the truth--and I don't think that's JUST about the possibility of Louis leaving him once he finds out).

Louis tells himself that he loved Claudia more than anything and that she was his "spark in the dark", when we see that in reality their relationship deteriorated over time and continued to do so, even after the person who was seemingly a wedge in their relationship was vanquished. We see hints, perhaps, that Claudia was no more the ideal daughter in his mind than Lestat was the ideal lover.

And that last scene in the premiere? When we're not sure who the "you" is? Sad and kind of horrifying, too. Because like--what will Louis do to Claudia to further his own love and obsessions? Who does Louis prioritize more--Claudia, Lestat, Armand? Maybe none of the above. Maybe himself and what or who he thinks will stave off his own loneliness, his need for love and validation and, yes, power.

None of this is a criticism of the character. The show already did something SO good and SO smart by turning Louis from a white slave owner to a Black man with money and social standing, still so held back by the laws and environment of his day. Vampirism gave him agency, yet the show, in season one, showed the potential for Louis to still be the perpetual tragic victim (in episode five especially). And maybe they'll still slip up and do that.

But increasingly, with the reveal in the s1 finale and the s2 premiere, I think we're getting the implication that the thing Louis could be protecting himself from mentally (with some help from Armand--I don't think Louis's memory issues are all Vampire Magic, though) is something horrible that he did. A choice he made. Because Louis does have agency, and the narrative allows him to be someone with conflicted desires and a complicated sense of self. Someone who doesn't love PRETTILY. Someone who is manipulated and manipulates.

Like, I've joked about him being this kind of like vampiric Helen of Troy because of the allure he holds for powerful figures like Lestat and Armand, but I also think it's so powerful to explore the way that Louis uses that appeal and ALSO makes fucked up decisions on his own because he is... into being adored, frankly. Even if the people who adore him also hurt him. He gets caught up in his own romanticized retellings of his life story, whether heartfelt or tragic, because in those retellings he can pretend that he had no choice, he had no ability to say otherwise.

But like--Louis could have stopped that woman from being decapitated, potentially. Louis didn't have to walk away from human affairs. He chose to do so, just like he chose to beg Lestat to turn Claudia. Just like he chose to deny her Lestat's true death.

And I think there's like, an attempt to reckon with this in the unreliable narration of the books, but I also think that this is so dependent, in Anne Rice's version, on spinning to Lestat... That Louis's culpability and untruths are overshadowed by his Everything. Here, the story lets us soak in Louis's mind, and Jacob Anderson's performance really seals that. I find it so smart.

[lauravanarendonkbaugh]

We are LIVE!

The Eyes of Mandoral is up and running!

This new and complete epic fantasy is available on BackerKit's #Booktopia.

Galen was unhappy in his overcrowded farmhouse even before learning his uncles murdered his father for the spoils of a robbery. Now the only way to keep his family from killing each other—again—is to steal the magical amulet they’re fighting over. Too bad it turns out to be a hoax.  A coup leaves Prince Kayvin entrapped by the usurper, with his mother hostage in an icy prison. To save her life, he must venture alone into a hostile land to collect legendary artifacts. He can trust no one but a beautiful dancer and a young man trained to be the perfect luxurious companion—and perhaps not both of them. When Galen and his notorious sorceress partner find themselves on the front line of an inhuman invading horde, Kayvin is the unlikeliest of allies. But how can so few stop a magic-wielding queen bent on saving thousands of lives? Surely you mean “ending thousands of lives”? I said what I said.

If you like deeply realized characters, sweeping adventure, and multilayered storytelling, then you’ll love this new epic fantasy.

Check it out!

[aihoshiino]

do you think that the star symbolism metaphorically and literally has something to do with ai Hoshino and the rest of her family?

Oh there is SOOOOOOO much to the star symbolism… Akasaka really loves his puns LOL

The immediate and most obvious one is the celebrity angle - 'star' is a word we use to describe celebs almost thoughtlessly but Ai specifically plays a lot with what stars are in their literal sense, too; she's a beautiful bright guiding light but she's also distant and unreachable. You can look at her and you can dream about her, but you can never close the distance and touch her. She's a guidepost, showing people the way down a path they can never reach.

There's a lot of punny angles to it as well. 'Hoshi' (as in, star) and 'Oshi' are punned off each other repeatedly and the lyrics of Mephisto play with this in referring to Aqua and Ruby as 'hoshi no ko-tachi' both for the phonetic similarity to the series title and all the other implications calling them 'children of the stars' brings with.

Most important of all, I think the multilayered meaning of Ai's name is really important, too. It's mostly in the phonetics, because her name is spelled with a combo of kanji and katakana that obfuscate this a bit - but her name can be read both as 'love of the stars/'the stars' love' or, when read in Western order, 愛ほしいの (ai hoshii no) - 'I want to love'. Which really speaks for itself, huh?

[loversofthegrave]

So I feel like it's my duty as a wincest blog to share with you this movie I watched a couple of years ago. I went through a phase of watching loads of foreign gay movies I could find online lol and I came across this one called 'From Beginning To End' and it follows the story of two half brothers growing up in Brazil with their parents.

Firstly, it's actually a really beautiful precious movie and it's such an interesting topic with it being about incest because it's so taboo but the way the movie goes about it actually makes you very compassionate towards the situation, it's a complex topic of course. I don't condone incest in day to day life despite being a wincest supporter but it's interesting nonetheless. Humans are very multilayered and things aren't always black & white.

Secondly the parallels between these brothers and Sam & Dean are unmatched, it starts from their childhood and the elder brother is pretty much the youngest's caretaker, he lulls him to sleep, protects him by getting into fights, is always so proud of him. The difference is that their parents are more present but their take on the difficult situation is very beautiful really, seen here:

After their mum passes and they are grown up they begin an intimate relationship, they are forever and eternally entranced, in love and obsessed with one another to a hyper codependent state. The youngest brother is a swimmer and he's been awarded to train in Russia for the Olympics which means he will have to part from his big brother for the first time in his life. They are both very distraught by this but the big brother doesn't want him to miss out on opportunities so he goes.

The older brother is completely and utterly lost without him, he delves into partying, drinking, even tries hooking up with a girl but he can't do it. He just wants his little brother.

Overall if you're a wincest fan I think this movie will be like watching them unfold onscreen, there's so many parallels.

I found a link with English subtitles here X

Enjoy!!

[germanpostwarmodern]

As a constant wanderer between the worlds of East and West Iranian sculptor Parviz Tanavoli (*1937) has developed a multilayered oeuvre that relates as much to history as it does to modernity. Trained both in Iran and Italy, he basically from scratch created modern sculpture in Iran upon returning from Italy in 1959 and shortly thereafter started teaching at Tehran College of Decorative Arts. Here he also became head of the sculpting department, a position he held until 1979 and which was only briefly interrupted by a two-year stay at the Minneapolis College of Art and Design, a brief but important residence as it got him in touch with Pop Art.

For the last two decades Tanavoli has been based in Vancouver and is currently being honored with a retrospective at Vancouver Art Gallery: titled „Poets, Locks, Cages“ the exhibition gathers more than 100 works from all periods of Tanavoli’s career also including prints, paintings and mixed-media assemblages. The exhibition’s title plays at the three major themes in the his work, namely the poet, the locks and the cages with which he creates a connection with pre-Islamic Iranian traditions. The poet e.g. represents his deep identification with poetry and the poet as "annunciator of freedom, peace and love.“ Locks on the other hand are both a pet issue of Tanavoli, who has long been a passionate collector of all kinds of historic locks, but also take on a symbolic role in his art: they codify genitalia, protection, prohibition but also serve as a symbol of healing and hope, just like they did on the grillwork of ancient temples and tombs. And just like the lock the cage in Tanavoli’s work takes on a different meaning that is more about safeguarding than imprisoning and also make for interesting shadow plays.

These insights (and more) a further elaborated in the catalogue accompanying the exhibition which has recently been published by Hirmer: it contains four insightful essays that beyond Tanavoli’s symbology also address the different contexts in which his work came about as well as the important role Abby Weed Grey played for his career in the US. A beautiful way to get to know this pivotal Iranian artist!

[coldcanyon]

Conventional landscape photography tends to overwhelm place with image. It is usually presented in fragments rather than in grounded sequences. Once wrenched from its context, the image, no matter how well intentioned or well researched, floats off into artland. In exhibition of unrelated or loosely related landscapes with vague or lyrical titles identifying the subject or perhaps the site, a false image of unity is lifted from a fragmented world. No matter how aesthetically pleasing the results may be, places are boiled down into commodities. The photographer, having "been there", feels she's captured the place, but communicating it is another matter altogether. Cryptic titles and captions, or none at all, further distance the viewer from the subject by transforming it into a non-referential object. Juxtaposition of two or more images sometimes proves a compelling strategy for making points; so do collage, aerial views, inventive installations, handwritten or autobiographical captions, names, dates, times—bits of information that bring the viewer closer to the images, traces of the awe and delight (or horror and discomfort) of being there. In order to illuminate place not only for the artist but for others, photography must be more than a vignette or a series of vignettes. It must offer a sufficiently thorough and multilayered view to function as a visit or revisit to the place itself. In a series (whether in a book or not), one image can inform another and images and texts can inform one another, extending the sense of presence beyond the individually framed view. But without generous caption information, even series can become simply handsome glimpses of a place that disappears from consciousness as fast as it disappears from sight. [. . .] Then there is the dilemma of meaning. Estelle Jussim and Elisabeth Lindquist-Cock state uncategorically that "landscape construed as the phenomenological world does not exist; landscape can only be symbolic." Many documentarians would disagree, yet the symbolic can also be seen as the thread that ties the local to the outside viewer. Photographer Mark Klett says his goal is to "lessen the distance one often feels when looking at landscape photographs.... The longer I work, the more important it is to me to make photographs that tell my story as a participant, and not just an observer of the land." Given the lack of public skills in reading photographs, given that photographic content is sometimes buried in beauty, contemporary landscape photographers are often condemned to making pictures as pretty as those of their predecessors. Dramatic clouds and sifting light can overwhelm more mundane information. Yet who can resist beautiful landscape pictures of one kind or another? Those photographers who reject strong composition and moving "effects" to make consciously "flat" images can produce works striking in their simplicity but eventually difficult to distinguish from others like them, stalling the memory factor that is of utmost importance in picturing places. And what viewer is moved to identify with a place or spends much time with neutral, factual images unless there is a hook—heightened beauty, familiarity, unfamiliarity, repulsion, fear, or attraction? The role of aestheticization is the most difficult issue within the issue of communicating not only how the landscape looks, or seems, but how it is.

Lucy Lippard

from The Lure of the Local: Senses of Place in a Multicentered Society (1997)

[hologramcowboy]

He is, however, among the most beautiful.

This is definitely subjective and personal opinion though. I know that objectively he is an attractive person, but I don’t personally find him attractive and would therefore never say he is “among the most beautiful”. He’s a good looking guy but there are a ton of guys just as good looking or better out there.

Like I said, I know that he is stereotypically or conventionally attractive but that is not everyone’s personal experience.

Anon, goes without saying but I was referring to the industry and its standards. Like it or not, Jensen's calling card are his looks. His main type is the "pretty boy", well, man by now. His entire career exists solely thanks to his looks that landed him an agent and quickly landed him roles.

Of course beauty and attractives are subjective, however, there is absolutely nothing wrong with acknowledging that Jensen's looks are iconic and live up to industry standards. Just because I appreciate him doesn't mean you have to. His industry is based on looks, especially the first impression looks lead to. Sure, Jensen failed to capitalize on his looks and take his career to the next level but that's solely because he lacks discipline, training and branding knowledge. If he had those, make no mistake, due to his look Jensen would absolutely be a leading man in Hollywood.

Aside from this, Jensen is one of the most admired celebrities online (for his level) and besides the followers he bought, he also has plenty of followers who solely follow him for his attractiveness.(Which is a double edged sword anyway, as some truly lack balance and boundary awareness)

There will always be someone better looking than but that doesn't mean we shouldn't appreciate someone's beauty and Jensen has a natural beauty (well, before the touch ups). He meets a lot of the beauty traits that are considered ideal in today's world. Just as Brad an Angelina represent certain archetypes, so does Jensen and yet not everyone loves Brad or Angie or Jensen, we all have a percentage of people who love us, a percentage of people who are on the fence but could be turned into fans and a percentage of haters. That's just life.

Personally, I appreciate Jensen's multilayered beauty. Especially since he is like the perfect mix of flawless and flawed, it somehow makes him surrealy beautiful to me. That's just how I perceive him, since you touched on personal opinion but beyond my opinion are archetypes and I do believe Jensen meets that criteria.

In fact, I'll be even bolder and say that his career will truly take off only when he will embrace his real type and stop with the fake "macho" stuff. I guess time will tell.

I had written a clearer reply but Tumblr decided to eat it so I tried to rewrite my thoughts.

[juanulove]

Thots on the new Lana record?

love love it but who is surprised.

i absolutely adore the direction she has been taking since blue banisters of production that is rough around the edges, less cinematic, more raw, more direct, improvisational. it matches the content of her lyrics, finally turning inwards and writing from the perspective of elizabeth (not lizzy) grant. she's already built a whole world in her past albums now she gets to explore the real world.

its her most morbid, one of her creepiest, and definitely the work where she literalizes her subtextual interest in death. its full circle to born to die. she has found beauty in nihilism, or rather, she has come to terms with the LIGHT inherent in death. Death is dark of course, which is why the album's production feels so cavernous and echoe-y (especially in the interludes and Candy necklaces) but the album seems to be her journey into accepting death as a necessarily correlative to life. If one has lust for life, one has to first understand the beauty in death. It is a culmination of that element of her conceptual project.

As usual, the biggest issue with post NFR lana is one of editing. I personally don't mind it, i think it is a reflection of her newfound anti-perfectionist attitude. I am also a devout fan and even her worst song i find enjoyable. But from teh perspective of a music critic, there is a way in which NFR and COCC could be made into an album + deluxe and BB and Tunnel could be made into the same. I think that post-NFR lana is not an album artist but a discography artist. I find the last two albums have very similar formal elements, and by formal elements, i mean her abdication to force. She is letting go of her obsession with form and letting her raw emotion determine the course of her melodies and production. She has always been a figure of dionysian intoxication in her lyrical content, but with this album, she takes that dionysian excess of energy to form, as she unravels the strict apollonian discipline taht marked the multilayered and lush production of her early work. Black bathing suit and its messy percussions was her first foray into that style but Fingertips takes it to the logical conclusion. Total automatic writing in the style of the surrealists. Totally letting affect and memory define the content and form of the song and letting melody and production come later.

It is not what fans of early lana would like her to do but i find it incredibly impressive that she can contineu to experiment with her sound so much 10+ years into her career without losing taht essential lana point of view. that is what i have always loved about her most. how specific yet elastic her perspective can be, and in tunnel she truly pulls taht elasticity to places it had never gone before. She still has songs liek Let the Light In and Grandfather and paris,texas with straight-forward beautiful melodies but it feels all around less grand. less cinematic, less about sending the listener into a fantastical work and more about making the listener confront the real world. She continues to be the queen of melancholy but she is less interested in romanticizing it (dont get me wrong, i still think this is what shes best at) and more invested in finding ways to assimilate it. HEr family seems to be like teh best conduit for it because it confronts her with cycles of life and death, sadness and happiness that are primordial, ancestral and escape the individual. her worldbuilding was always solipsistic and shes finally opening it up.

Great great stuff happening all over.

Rn i probably rank it 4th after UV, HM, BB

[very-grownup]

Book 10, 2024

"Death's End" is the conclusion to the trilogy Cixin Liu started in "The Three-Body Problem" and it ends strong. He focusses almost exclusively on a single protagonist, aeronautical engineer Cheng Xin, which is definitely to the benefit of propelling the narrative and the reader forward. It was much easier to fall into a rhythm with "Death's End" than "The Dark Forest". Through hibernation, Cheng Xin's story has her witnessing events across hundreds of years of human history, jumping her from climactic event to climactic event.

As has been a constant through the series, the narrative goes through peaks and valleys of hope and despair, displaying a range of human responses to world-altering events and revelations. There are moments of incredible beauty and hope and cooperation that get yanked away to plunge you into some really dark places.

Something that is distinct in "Death's End" is that Cixin Liu plays with different narrative formats for telling his story, with normal novel prose, diary excerpts, and fairy tales. I love a fairy tale and incorporating them into the hard science fiction as a means of multilayered coded message transmission feels like a natural and human way to bring an older kind of storytelling into what is generally seen as a colder, 'serious' genre of fiction. It also meshes well with an overarching theme of how far humanity can change while still remaining human.

Colonization, climate disaster, and the intersection of fundamentally incompatible existences are mixed in, still distressingly relevant as they were when originally published in Chinese fourteen years ago. That combination of subjects also shows there isn't a strict line between 'hard' and 'soft' science fiction the way some shaggy snob gatekeepers try to impose. There's a section of the novel where most of humanity has to relocate to Australia and there's nothing hard or futuristic about the conflicts of resources and individuality versus the group that arise from the situation.

My only criticism -- and perhaps less a criticism and more an observation of what feels more like an incidental expression of the author's unconscious beliefs (in that I don't think it's an intentional theme the way other things are) -- is that there's some weird gender stuff peppering the work. An unquestioned heteronormative binary that feels a bit out of step in the 21st century, a presumed softness in Cheng Xin where her attitude to humanity is positioned as motherly versus Luo Ji, who returns from "The Dark Forest", and Thomas Wade, initially Cheng Xin's boss and later an antagonist of sorts who mirrors her hibernation-enabled progress through the eras. Observations on the trend of men appearing more feminine during a peaceful era of cooperation where humanity is particularly hopeful and pursuing what seems to be the most luxurious and technologically advanced society depicted in the novel. Although this section of the novel also introduces the beautiful diplomatic android of the Trisolarans, Sophon, who is described as being particularly delicate and feminine, almost geisha-like in her dealings with Cheng Xin in a very intentional, constructed way that, now that I'm writing it down, maybe Cixin Liu is saying something about socialized gender assumptions after all.

None of the books in Cixin Liu's series are easy reads, and "Death's End" is no different. It's long, it's dense, and it doesn't have a neat ending in a traditional sense (although in some ways it's as neat an ending as you can have). I think it is, ultimately, a story with a hopeful ending, but one where hope isn't saccharine but a hard, conscious choice that isn't the same as happy.