#the point is grow an imagination my god
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constantly wondering about the people who believe the olympic beds are cardboard because they don't want the athletes having sex
like....are you ok?
genuinely, i mean it's clear you've never read a romance novel in your life, but are you ok? how's your sex life? because let me tell you, there's more to life than missionary on a mattress, you poor misguided soul
the positions these incredibly fit people could do it in, like??? wow, i'm talking biceps flexing, your entire weight held against the wall, i'm talking in the shower, i'm talking there's a site called archive of our—
#it's called sustainability obviously#is there an olympic fic coming your way? maybe#but that's not the point#the point is grow an imagination my god#paris 2024#paris olympics#olympics#olympic fic#ao3#ao3 fanfic#ao3 writer
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Sorry for not having a Year of the Dragon MDZS artwork; Unfortunately, I can only picture Dragon LWJ in this particular flavour.
#poorly drawn mdzs#mdzs#lan wangji#wei wuxian#Dragon AU#MDZS AU#noodleji#(IT'S A REAL TAG!!! AAH!!! THROWING MY HAT TO THE LITTLE GUY LOVERS!)#Yes I watched Fruits Basket in my teen years and yes it left a significant impression on me.#'The Dragon Transforms' and its just into a small little guy.#Even more points if the human form is a Tall Guy.#Sadly this does not appear to be a common nor popular variation so I will sit on my little hill alone. (EDIT: I WAS WRONG)#Dragon LWJ probably would be some kind of river dragon. Lesser god of a small stream.#One that grows bigger with time but always has the reputation of being benevolent and calm to those who seek its clear waters.#Do not pollute these waters or your ass is going to be bit. 1000 tiny puncture marks.#I imagine that's probably how wwx first meets him (accidently pours booze into lwj's river) (gets bit - gets bit - gets bit-)#WWX eventually befriends him through stubbornly showing up every week to give him offerings.#Takes him into town in a little pot of water to show him how the people live. Maybe go to a festival.#When the day is done and he's back in his river and alone - LWJ finally feels a new emotion...it is longing and loneliness.
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my martha knight au in a nutshell:
Danny/Martha: see up here?
Danny/Martha: *taps skull*
Danny/Martha: intense psychological damage
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Danny/Martha: *upon finding out she's pregnant*
Danny/Martha: oh my god i cant be a mom, I'm fifteen and homeless--
Danny/Martha: im going to be a terrible mother--
Danny/Martha: i live in a cAR--
Danny/Martha: what if the baby inherits my powers? Oh no--
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Danny/Martha post giving birth: i've only had Bruce for a minute and a half but if anything were to happen to him i won't even need to fuse with Vlad, I'm razing this goddamn planet to the ground myself
Danny, to Baby Bruce: you are the last remaining thread of my sanity. I'm going to give you the world :)
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Danny/Martha prior to getting pregnant: Fuck it, if everything in my life has led to this moment, i'm allowed to make one stupid decision. I'm getting drunk and getting laid
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Danny/Martha while Bruce was a toddler: i swear to fucking god i am going to kill the next person who talks to me--
Bruce: hi mommy!! i brought you something!!!
Danny/Martha, immediately flipping on a dime: hi baby!! what do you have?
Bruce, a weird child like his mother: a spider :)
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Danny/Martha, talking to Falcone after he made an unsavory comment at her and Bruce: If you ever come near me or my son again, I will dig up your shithead father's corpse and make you eat his skin.
Danny/Martha: do you understand me
Falcone:... crystal, ma'am
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Danny/Martha new in Gotham: *getting mugged*
Danny/Martha: *grabs man's arm*
Danny/Martha: I AM GOING TO BREAK YOU IN HALF LIKE A TWIG, FUCK BOY, DO YOU HEAR THE WORDS COMING OUT OF MY MOUTH--
(she then proceeds to terrorize Gotham's night life for the next extended period of time, mostly unintentionally)
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Danny/Martha: Danny Fenton?? No. you must be mistaken, my name is Martha Knight.
Danny/Martha: this here is my littlest knight, Bruce.
Danny/Martha: I made him all by myself :]
#if martha could become the joker in one timeline if bruce died then she had to have SOMETHIGN going on up there mentally. im all for it#im a 'martha wayne may have been secretly batshit' truther. subscribing to bruciemilf's portrayal of the wayne parents#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dpxdc#fem danny fenton#female danny fenton#martha knight au#dp x dc crossover#dpxdc crossover#dpxdc au#dp x dc au#dp x dc#giving danny fenton psychological issues since 2022 folks#points at marthadanny: she's a hot mess with unprocessed trauma and psychological prblems. she's hanging on by a thread#LISTEN TO AFTER ALL BY CHRISTINE EBERSOLE THAT SUMS UP MARTHADANNY ENTIRELY#bruce your mom is even crazier than you. how is that possible. her trauma has trauma.#marthadanny: i dont wanna talk about my feelings OR my trauma i want to raise my son. go away#martha: who knew that being a child hero without any support would result in deeply rooted psychological issues and paranoia in spades#marthadanny: im fine (<- experienced liar. is not fine. please god someone restrain her before she claws someone's eyes out)#she has eyebags the size of the savanna and wields red lipstick like a weapon. she's going to rob a rich man blind. she has a baby to feed#what would a mother not do for her child? what heights would a mother not climb.#and you're shaken to your soul with an ache that you cant erase. like the tears you never cried but still keep scrubbing off your face.#there's a pain you cant imagine. the little talk that keeps you wide awake that somehow turns to bold determination that you wont ever make#the same mistake. so you've got to feed your little future and ensure her talent poise and charm might just grow up and save you after all#fun fact bruce and danny's birthdays are exactly one week apart. danny is Feb.12 and Bruce is Feb.19. take that as you will :)
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one of the things that fascinate me about thawne: yes, he CAN be normal with kids! surprisingly normal!
((not at all times, though. his mental illness still spills through and as usual he, in trying to manipulate or hurt others, spits out at them the exact stuff that would hurt him (or have in his childhood/barry's rejection interpretation) the most in the first place lmao))
but at the same time. his like second instinct when doing his bullshit is FUCK THEM (as) KIDS
(and, well. whatever this classifies as)
#whats wrong with him. seriously. he loves picking fights with literal children So Much#AND NONE OF THEM WITH WALLY ON THE MATTER OF BEING THE BIGGEST FLASH FAN. HOW DID THAT NEVER HAPPEN#about the middle page. honestly i DIDNT remember he is a Jerk in that way too until i checked his interactions with bart for this post#this man officially should not be allowed near children as a mentor.#just straight up drops ALL his insecurities on a poor kid in trying to make him feel ashamed. NO breaking the abuse cycle for this bad boy#the only thing he doesnt say is the direct 'you are a disappointment' altho the message is still the same 💀💀💀💀💀💀#AND I BET HES HELLA PROUD OF THAT. I MEAN CONSIDERING THIS FACT IG HE DOES TRY TO BE BETTER THAN HIS PARENTS. SOMEWHAT.#and omg he formulates his point like in problem based learning (leading the child to making the correct conclusion themselves)#im dying. professor to the fucking core.#and the way he feels the need to bring up flash facts in his appeal?? EO YOURE SO HOPELESS. THIS IS 100% HOW BART SAW HIM THROUGH#and god knows what he told thad promising to get him out of the speed force if he fought barry there and whether he was going to fulfill it#and do you even IMAGINE how FUCKED barry's mental condition would be growing up if thawne fulfilled his button threat#and i really REALLY wonder about the tornado twins and their relationship with 'uncle eobard' but that will be a separate post#he doesnt know any other way tho. and he might be actually mad at bart for not supporting his every action as The Flash#like. he tries to play family but the second they question he just goes WHATEVER. I DONT NEED IT. FLASH OF MY VISION RUNS ALONE#his problem is that he just wants attention. he doesnt see family/heroing for what 'its really about' or downsides that may come with them#everything is so idealized in his head. and the moment he faces reality with its complications the concept immediately gets antagonized.#and then he reconsiders and changes the conditions but fails each time never realizing the problem is his mindset and not everything else#black white at its finest yall#and man. RELATABLE.#also WHY is he standing LIKE A STATUE when appearing in front of bart????😭😭😭😭#poor museum rat has no idea what heroes in real life stand like#eobard thawne#professor zoom#reverse flash#the reverse flash#bart allen#the flash#dc
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what is your favorite thing about charles and your favorite thing about erik? separately, as in what you like most about their characters :]
a devious question this one is, my friend!!! it's hard enough for me to explain my thoughts cohesively, but having to pick ONE thing i particularly love is difficult. with characters like charles and erik, theres been so much done with their characters over the decades and so they have so many components to them that make them so interesting and fun to observe. BUT I TRY FOR YOU TODAY. under the cut i kinda ramble and the size of this text box makin me anxious
i think if i were to be simple and broad, what i enjoy most about charles is his determination to help others, even if he isn't really thanked and/or if people don't even like him. ofc, this isn't to say he hasn't done wrong- to be honest, the fact he does wrong/questionable things at times is another aspect of him i really enjoy, maybe because- broadly speaking- he's meant to be altruistic (intent vs outcome and all that). i don't know if that's super exciting to most people, but it is for me
as for erik, my reason for liking him is easier to explain tbh. To Be Simple And Broad, his progression from villain to antihero over the decades has been fun to observe (as much as i have so far anyhow) and analyze. i think to be a bit more specific, him using his rage and pain as justifications for his villainous actions is definitely what compels me the most: hurt people hurt and the sort, an idea i've always found interesting (something something vicious cycles and the like). yet now, he recognizes this wasn't really. A Just Thing To Do and is beginning to change that, which i enjoy
#snap chats#may you forgive me anon i always feel awkward explaining things AVELKJEAKLJ#i feel esp awkward cause i haven't read toooo much of the comics yet- like ive read. an ok amount so far krakoa wise#can you guys tell im fighting god himself to Not write a fuckin. NOVEL#im so sorry i have an over-explaining problem my mom was mean to me growing up but anyways#i definitely want to read more and more outside krakoa. the more i read the more im fascinated by these two and their history#but to continue my prattling. as if the three paragraphs above arent enough This Is Not A Thesis RELAX#i think a. 'poignant' moment i think adds to what i like about charles too is that soliloquy where he recognizes people dont like him#yet he could always be worse- like if he's bad now to others imagine if he really just said Fuck It All#it's simple but so am i whaddyagonnadoboutit. i mean that point itself could be discussed but i'm trying to keep this brief bear with me#i so bad want to know what issue that's from tho all i know is that it's from krakoa but i neeeed the whole context#i think like. an additional bullet point to charles i also like is his loneliness#and i say this cause- I Say From My Amateur-Psychology Armchair- it's a component of why he's so earnest to help#but im keeping this point in the tags until i can confidently verify that with myself after some more reading#Unfortunately a favorite pass time of mine is psychoanalyzing characters like why else you think i major in psychology smh#im going to force myself to cap the post here because i ended up typing like 20 more tags just rambling#and as i said id like to keep this simple and clean !!!!! i have sat here for like four hours answering this ngl#ignore the fact half that time was spent getting distracted by solitaire and riffling cards ok I Am Very Easily Distracted#but fr when it comes to charles and erik- charles esp imo#i feel like i need to write a whole paper just so i can mention the nuances of the characters and like. EVERYTHING#because again six decades is A Lot of time for writing decisions to be made and for their characters to change over time#im a glazer but i wanna be a nuanced glazer yk. is that glazing at that point-- w/e anyway#its a lot. so today you will have to tolerate a very Blah answer from me which i must apologize for#down the line once ive read a comfortable amount more varying from multiple eras maybe ill revisit this question more in depth#as of right now tho .... chat i wanna get legion of x so bad i skimmed it and hhhhhhhhim gonna throw UP#i need to shake charles like a ragdoll BUT ANYWAY. bye bye for now lovelies !!!!!!!#please forgive me if i didnt answer your question efficiently ..#here i am saying i wanted to keep the tag count brief and yet !!! jesus christ. shut up My God I REACHED THE TAG LIMIT
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#ok I’m so proud of myself bc this involves finance which is something I avoid at all costs but like I did it!!#my work failed to process my check which I should have received yesterday. I’m now expected to get it next week#and part of growing up poor is like. idk. this learned helplessness or defeatist attitude with money problems#like ohh it’s my bad I should’ve had more savings to cover waiting an extra week or longer for my monthly check#and historically I just shut down and panic while doing nothing bc this is my biggest possible stressor to come across#but!!! being around rich people? I’ve learned they negotiate!! and demand to not be inconvenienced!!#my work was like ehh I’m sorry too bad so sad about your check and I was like actually no#I explained how this impacts my ability to pay rent. my credit score. how they didn’t inform me in time to stop bill autopay#and asked what their detailed plan is to fix this#and within an hour admin was scrambling. four different people emailed me apologizing for the mix up#and they worked it out with finance to get me a $2000 loan to get me by until the check hits#but I was like actually no. I won’t be paying interest on this because I shouldn’t be penalized for your error#and so they GOT RID OF INTEREST#0% interest cash advance essentially that covers all my bills#I picked up the physical check for the 2k today so it’s legit thank god#I thanked everyone involved and remained extremely polite#and they said if there’s any other questions you have please let us know#so I was like actually you know what lmao#I explained that I’ve incurred fees for overdrafts and returned items due to bill autopay that I couldn’t cancel due to them informing me#basically the day of my check being late#and so I specifically said I’ve incurred $270 in fees at this point as a result of your error and I shouldn’t be expected to pay this.#and!! they just said… okay!!! I just got an email that they’ve processed a secondary check for $270!!#so like?!?! what?!?! is this what life is like when you don’t shy away from discussing money?!#im genuinely shocked. this is a life lesson. I never would have imagined this outcome#thank god I decided to not take it lying down
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Glad I matured from a “Monoma is the only good character in BNHA” type 5+ years ago to “Monoma is still my favorite character but there’s no reason to put other characters down. They’re great too”
#God I thought BNHA reactors who kept calling Class 1-B cheaters in the joint training arc were irritating#Imagine calling Midoriya a mary-sue for having higher stats despite the fact that he’s the protag and has One For All#Not to mention complaints about the joint training arc ending#It was good!! You see how that loss carried over into Monoma’s role in the war!!#Yes Class 1-B lost but they got to shine in that arc#And it was supposed to hit the point that yes Class 1-B were steadily growing and doing better on average in terms of practicals and grades#But Class 1-A’s experience and real world trauma made up for that gap#My posts
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Had some wine feeling good made a really shitty bowl in ceramics class this morning that I’m really worried has a bunch of air holes in it and had a really crappy therapy session where I didn’t talk too much but was honest about some other stuff which is good overall I guess but now I’m doing drunk crochet and watching the Duggar family documentary and probably going to stop watching soon once they start talking about the awful stuff but yeah day in the life of a woman doing her best I guess
#like both sides of my family are either Irish catholic. converted assimilation catholic. or part Jewish but raised catholic.#but my mom read the Boston glob report so I wasn’t baptized or anything and despite her born again phase I’ve never really been religious#so the thought of growing up in that environment is like I can’t imagine the pressure oh my god#like I’ve had Mormon friends and have some friends who were raised homeschool Christian married young and all and like#i don’t know it’s just wild how different our lives are like I’ve got a problems and def inherited the guilt complex thing for sure but like#I also never got told to submit to anyone or that god was watching#or to be modest or any of the purity stuff beyond normal patriarchy stuff#like I’m not saying my life is better but I didn’t do church after age 5 and only go to funeral masses so I like the comfort of like#doing sign of cross and saying Hail Mary and all bc it provides structure for grief but beyond that I can’t imagine living with all of that#these are very long tags with no real point beyond wow. that’s literally bananas to me. but did I mention I’m a little drunk#and even then my family isn’t like hardcore catholic. my grandma and her siblings skipped church to get donuts bc no farm work on Sunday#and my dad grew up like doing fasted mass and everything but heard the 2000s Harvey milk speech and realized gay ppl are okay#and then rest of extended dads side is like catholic but vote blue and think human rights are good and all#my mom has a student who’s like very traditional catholic like she was trying to teach him math and whatever#and the live coverage of waiting for pope confirmation was on tv the whole time#and he fights with her about evolution and learning about the existence of other religions and everything#so I guess even in my own family like. everyone’s down with basic science and civil liberties which is even weirder for me I guess#like not even among fundamentalists like just regular Catholics I’ve had a pretty liberal upbringing re faith. it’s just wild to me#to see the differences of worldview#and even non religion stuff was pretty liberal overall despite living in pretty red area. idk it’s just wild how different life can be
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playing pokemon black... started tearing up at skyarrow bridge
#THE SKYARROW BRIDGE THEME MAKES ME SO EMOTIONAL BUT IM NOT EVEN SURE WHY?????#POKEMKN MAKES ME SO EMOTIONAL AND I DO KNOW WHY!!!!!#god i wish i could have played it growing up... i have a ds but no actual cartridge and pokemon gamws sell for crazy amounts#i want to olay it on the ds for the full experience#one of my goals in life is to have my own copies of pokemon bw and platinum...#pokemon makes me cry. i love pokemon i love running around collectijg friends and battling cool people#idk i think 7 year old me tjougjt it was so cool how adults in games were so much kinder and cooler tjan real life adults#imagine being a gym leader and archeologist?!?!?!! a member od the elite four who fucking. shoots a guy w hyper beam point blank#i love lance hes insane#IMAGINE BEING CHAMPION OF HOENN! BEING HEIR TO THE LARGEST COMPANY IN HOENN! AND BEING A ROCK ENTHUSIAST WHO CAN SPEND HIS DAYS TRAVELLIMG T#HE WORLD LOOKING FOR RARE STONES!!! STEVEN STONE IS LIVING THE LIFE I WANT#but also i get so sad bc. when i first got into pokemon i was several years younger than the protags#when i first watched pokeani i was younger than ash!!!!! and now i am old :(#never going to br able to go back to spending summer vacation curled up at home going through 7 volumes of pokespe a day...#never goijg to be able to waych anipoke during winter break under a pillow fort again...#never goijg to be ahle to experience listening to n's farewell and the striaton city theme and skyarrow bridge theme and eterna forest and#littleroot town and nimbasa city and cianwood city and#so many other pieces for the first time again#rambling finished i guess first days of class make me cranky and sad#going ti go back to playijg pokemon black again...going to walk around castelia city and scream#rambling about stuff#rambling about pokemon
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On one hand my one sister is Big Stupid and pregnant again, which I wouldn't care as much about if this wasn't the fourth kid with the fourth shitty fucking father who will do nothing but cause even MORE pain and suffering to my sister's life, and on the other hand my other sister keeps sending me apartment ads which is very sweet because she ALSO just had a baby (in August and also her situation is stable, I'm very proud she managed to pull off what she did considering where she's come from. Her boys, especially Older Nephew were SO excited for the baby and I love listening to Older Nephew talk about his sister, it's so heartening to see him so happy and excited. Something tells me my other sisters 3 girls won't be nearly as impressed, especially not Oldest Niece and it's gotten to a point where I feel somewhat compelled to try and mentor this poor kid but I don't know SHIT about kids and don't want to let this poor kid down like everyone else has, she deserves better than that).
Granted my whole life I've preferred Apartment Sister to Making Poor Life Choices sister but also recently Making Dumb Choices has made some serious improvements to her life, very impressive ones too, so it's just disappointing to watch her backslide especially into the same bullshit she's been doing since she was 18 and is now 32. But at least I'm not the only one apartment hunting 😂😂 her efforts are super appreciated given that she just moved herself as well, plus having a fresh baby (very cute baby too). Now with any luck my OTHER sibling will get her shit together hopefully before we're on child number six with father number six with all the same fucking personality flaws and mental health problems not one of these men take even remotely seriously because that's exhausting to me let alone my damn sister.
#winters ramblings#its very sweet that my oldest sister keeps sending apartment ads sometimes im reminded that they care in strange ways#but i like to keep that in the noggin for bad mental health days so if i feel like everyone hates me i can remind myself thats not true#now if only my OTHER older sister would stop making the worlds SHITTIEST choices and grow up thatd be great#i cant imagine doing the same shit at 32 as i did at 18 and bringing a CHILD into my stuoid fantasy thats utterly detached#from ANY known reality. she wants what my oldest sister has i guarantee it but oldest sister GOT that way#because she did the WORK to get there. went to therapy figured out how to make better dating choices for her and her kids#and now shes engaged to an AMAZING dude who loves the hell out of her and her kids. my other sister isnt gunna find that#with her present situation and it pisses me the hell off that we need a FOURTH kid to suffer through her fucking bullshit#before she MIGHT learn getting pregnant with bullshit dudes kids isnt gunna turn them into prince charming#prince charming doesnt exist and CHILDREN won't make him appear either. hard work and looking for men that DONT SUCK#is the way to go. getting therapy is the way to go. or at least SOMETHING self improvement that isnt a self improvement cult#because at this point i would not out it past her to decide to improve her life but do so in the most toxic way possible because it seems#she does not have the emotional skills and tools to do better. which is EXHAUSTING to watch. i love her i do#but oh my GOD how MANY times do you have to make the SAME mistake over THIRTEEN YEARS before you learn?!?!!!?!#and to drag FOUR children into your nonsense fantasy where It Works Out This Time. it WON'T WORK OUT#this man shes back together with for four seconds is a fucking tool who cant even pay his rent and keeo the shit in the apartment#he list that MY SISTER HELPED HIM GET. this man isnt even willing to take care of HIMSELF because he 'doesnt care' W H Y have a kid#with shit like that. itll do nothing but cause that kid pain let alone the three existing kids and i don't know why i seemed to have put#more thought into hakf this shit than she has. im nit kidding when i say ive out INFINITELY more thought into getting a DOG#or another cat than she put into having ANY of her going to be four kids and im baffled that people do that#because CHILDREN arent a joke theyre WHOLE PEOPLE who deserve better than what shes going to give them#like my oldest niece got shipped to her grandparents for being too much to handke like 7 months ago and youre adding a FOURTH??#unbelievably irresponsible and also an amazing way to tell my niece shes replacable and when the going gets tough SHE gets going#no 13 year old should EVER have to deal with this shit. which is why i feel kinda compelled to step in#but i dont have OR want kids i just see this poor girl struggling and appayfeel for her more than anyone else does#like thats not 100% true i KNOW my sister loves her kids but on the flipside shes totally fine to fuck this kid up#in all KINDS of ways i know shes not intending to but fuck. YOU chose this kid how DARE you ship her out when she gets too much#AND THEN CHOOSE TO HAVE ANOTHER ONE LIKE THAT WONT BE DETRIMENTAL TO LITERALLY EVERYONE
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Thank you, younger me, for drawing so many things in which the lines were never quite right. It is quite literally the only reason I ever figured out how to get them right.
#And I imagine future me will have a very similar thing to say when I am them and they are no longer me.#original#something about zyr improved composition and speed hopefully#i keep wanting to use she pronouns for future me. probably bc that is what i do for past me sometimes.#but i really don't think I'm ever going to want she her pronouns again#I still don't get my lines exactly how I want them a lot of the time but I am at a point where I'm fairly confident I can#produce nearly anything I see in my head and capture the spirit of it in a way that makes me proud.#even if it takes a really really long time sometimes.#and although I don't think the art I made growing up was bad i love the phrase#' the road to good art is paved with bad art.' I think I saw it in a video by Bobby Chiu? idk.#and I like it because whenever I'm not sure about what I'm making and I get to insecure or perfectionist about it#*too insecure#I remember that if I want to get good at the thing I'm struggling with I'm going to have to do it poorly or just okay a bunch of times#and that doing this is my ticket to this skill I'm placing value on. also doesn't hurt that Im drawing things I love and I enjoy doing it#although at this point I really really should just sit down and study leg muscles for like a hundred years#it's one of the more longstanding blindspots of mine. that and literally everything that is not people.#as in locations animals objects scenery... did you know that most graphic novels have some or all of those things???#how homophobic that in order to show my characters experiencing such luxuries as plot action and context I couldn't just#drop them on a gradient and be done with it!#I've been drawing for like 20 years and only a couple years ago was i like... OH MY GOD I CAN'T DRAW A FUCKING TREE
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Scent
Miguel O’Hara X f!reader
Summary: It was an intoxicating scent. And he knew it was yours. (In which Miguel goes feral when you ovulate)
Word count: 4k+
Warnings: Language. Obvs. S m u t. Obvs. Oral, f receiving. P in V (no protection), cum eating. Cheesy probs. Reader says Miguel's name a lot lmfao not beta read.
Minors DNI.
Honestly, I don’t know how any of this stuff works. This is some bullshit and none of it makes sense. Enjoy.
...
Miguel was fucking losing it.
He couldn’t focus, couldn’t keep his head on straight. There was a thick fog clouding his judgment, disorienting him like a fever he couldn’t sweat out.
It started with a scent.
Light at first, a barely there whiff of something.
It lingered at HQ, trailing between passageways and different conference rooms. There were times when it didn't linger at all for weeks. Then it'd start right up again, progressively getting worse.
It was an intoxicating scent. And he knew it was yours. How could it not be when you spent the most time with him?
It happened once a month for a week at most, and like clockwork, his body reacted viciously, betraying him of all logical thoughts. Your scent seized him by the throat in a sort of chokehold. Some days were unbearable, your scent so strong that he’d have to fight with every muscle and nerve in his body not to touch you, to not bend you over and—
Well. That wasn't a healthy thought.
Recently (the last two months to be exact), he’d have to excuse himself and step out of the room for a few minutes whenever you’d arrive from your world to report for duty, sneaking off to the restroom to tug on his cock till he felt some relief. Images of you would flash in his mind: you on your knees with your lips wrapped around him, or the pained face he'd imagine would twist your features when sinking down on his thick length. He'd come in his hand, sticky ropes of white, using his release to coat his stiff length and go again.
He never truly felt satiated. It was something to keep his appetite at bay. But once he’d come back and face you he’d get hard all over again, drugged out on whatever smell it was that emanated off of you.
He’d salivate like a dog and his bulge would grow uncomfortably large in his skin-tight suit. It got to the point where he couldn’t face you, and whenever you’d greet him he’d return it with a simple grunt, giving you a clear view of his broad, imposing back. He never looked at you anymore unless to sneak in a quick glance and even then, it’d make his cock twitch in desperation, the head weeping, begging to be touched.
He was fucking feral, like a Neanderthal, primitive and obsessed.
You smelled rich, mildly tangy—not like the fruity perfumes some of the spider ladies wore around him. No, it was something else entirely, something earthy, like what he imagined was between your delicate legs. Like wet cunt ready to be taken.
And God, did he want to take it.
…
"Miguel."
He tensed up at the sound of your voice, running a hand through his unruly dark hair. Maybe the cafeteria at HQ wasn’t the best hiding spot.
It was the middle of the month—July fifteenth to be exact—which meant you had that smell again.
You were ovulating.
He knew enough about female anatomy to put the pieces together when he realized that about two weeks after his body reacted to your scent, you'd be in a terrible mood.
"What crawled up your ass?" He'd asked you once, keeping his eyes on all his monitors but immediately noting your discomfort. You sat on a chair beside him, head in your arms as you leaned on the desk.
He could feel you glaring daggers at his profile.
"Shut up. I'm on my period, asshole."
He did shut up after that.
Blood immediately began to rush toward his cock, bringing it to life.
You stood in front of him, one hand on your hip while the other held a plastic container from the empanada joint everyone had a taste for.
"What?" Miguel uttered, keeping his eyes trained on a particular stain on the otherwise pristine white table. Any distraction was a welcomed distraction.
You pulled back the chair opposite of his, plopping down on it unceremoniously. The action sent waves of your aroma toward him like a crashing wave, engulfing him completely. He stiffened, dropping his head slightly while the heel of his hand pressed over his growing bulge.
"You gonna tell me what the fuck is going on?"
“I…don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said through gritted teeth, fangs visible when he grimaced. His scarlet eyes wandered over your face for a few seconds before he ripped them away, barely avoiding the twitch in your brow and the growing frown on your lips.
“Seriously?” You scoffed, “You’ve been avoiding me for, what, two months? I’m surprised I got a hold of you. You’re never in the cafeteria.” You ripped open the container, digging inside to grab the fried little snack. “Do we have a problem I’m not aware of?”
Miguel watched you take a bite of the empanada, committed to memory the way your tongue lapped at the grease coating your lips. His hand pressed harder over his cock, and at that moment he cursed himself for implementing the suit-only rule. He could really use a pair of sweatpants right now.
“Well? Do we?” You challenged him, defiant as always. You had this look in your eye that he’s seen before—your adrenaline was about to kick into overdrive. Always ready for a fight.
He sighed, shaking his head, willing himself to breathe. He felt sweat begin to bead across his hairline, strands of his hair sticking down the sides of his face. Your scent was becoming unbearable, overwhelming him to the point where he felt lightheaded. He licked his dry lips, carelessly running the tip of his tongue over his sharp canines only to pierce through the delicate muscle. The salty taste of iron exploded in his mouth and he grunted, pinching his eyes shut in frustration.
"Mig."
“No!” He finally barked, slamming a fist over the table. It shook from the weight of his large hand, the empty container almost flying off the surface. You went wide-eyed for a moment at his outburst before pressing the last bite of your snack between your lips, unfazed.
“It clearly doesn’t seem that way,” you replied calmly, but the twitch in your brow remained and your eyes narrowed. You wiped your mouth and fingers with a brown recyclable napkin meticulously, “if you have a problem, say so.”
One thing you had in common with Miguel was your bluntness. You always cut to the chase, saying what you needed to without much thought. It was one of the things that he appreciated in a fellow spider person but right now it only served to irritate him. That last thing he wanted was to deal with someone as fucking stubborn as him.
He must've looked like hell because when you regarded him, the hardness in your eyes softened immensely as if only just realizing his disheveled appearance. You went to touch his hand over the table but he snatched it away before you could, glaring.
"You don't look so good,” you reasoned quietly, stung by his actions, “d’you need some help?”
"M'fine."
"I don't think—"
"Listen to me very carefully," Miguel hissed, nose flaring and skin burning hot, "I need you to get away from me."
"What—"
"I'm not gonna tell you again," he seethed, cock struggling to break free from the constraints of his suit, "Go. Leave."
You were stunned into silence, tapping your fingers over the table awkwardly before grabbing your mess and leaving without another word.
Miguel watched you leave with a groan, dropping his head back in aggravation.
He was so fucked.
…
You hadn't shown up to HQ in a while. He couldn't blame you.
While that should've been a win for Miguel, it wasn't. Sure, the violent attacks on his body had diminished somewhat, but now, just because you weren’t around as much didn’t mean you didn’t leave his thoughts for a second.
He could've called you��had that stupid watch to contact you—see if you were okay. But his pride assaulted him every time he so much as glanced at his watch.
His thoughts circulated and continued, imagining you in all the positions he wanted to put you in, which landed him back in the restroom for a daily cock tug when he should’ve been working.
The spiderverse needed to be controlled and admittingly, you were one of the best on his team. You were stealthy and intelligent—he needed you more than he'd cared to admit.
And...he missed you.
But you were off fighting crime and restoring the peace in your universe—at least that was the excuse you'd given him, only showing face when it was absolutely necessary.
Which, as of late, wasn’t very necessary.
And still, he suffered.
...
Earth- 0708.
A shit show of a universe where the height of winter was in the middle of fucking August. It was snowing, small tufts of flurries lightly coating the ground in white.
Miguel knew exactly where to find you. Sunnyside, Lowery Street off the seven train. On the corner of a bodega by the broken lamp post. He could walk to your apartment complex blind if he really wanted to.
And there it was. He could smell you upon arriving—through the concrete and rusty red brick, up the five floors to your window—he could smell you. His hands shook (not from the cold) as his claws gripped the aging wall, his cock doing its usual swelling.
You must have sensed him immediately, slamming your bedroom window open and peering out into the darkness before he could even make it to your window. The cold wind blew and carried your scent. Mierda.
“Miguel?” You called out, squinting down at him as he scaled the dusty brick wall. When he finally came face to face with you, he lowered his mask, revealing his flushed face and sweat-slicked hair. He could see his breath come out in short, little puffs.
“You couldn’t use the front door like a normal person?” You asked with a roll of your eyes, crossing your arms.
“When were we ever normal people?” It was meant to come out smooth as butter but Miguel’s voice was hoarse, throat seemingly drier than the Sahara. He cleared it, stepping through the window, turning around to quickly slam it shut. He was concentrating, forcing himself to take a deep breath before turning around to face you, except, you were already gone, disappearing deeper into your apartment.
He grunted, rubbing his eyes. He thought he’d gotten better at controlling himself. The gentle breathing helped, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t struggling to keep his cock under control. It twitched a few times, and he groaned, exiting your bedroom. It was now or never.
You were in your tiny kitchen, stirring a cup of tea while the TV in the living room softly played some sitcom he remembered you were into. You were in a black hoodie and gray sweats, your hair messily thrown up in a ponytail. He’d seen you this way more than he could count. When did you become so pretty? Miguel didn’t understand it. You were under his nose this whole time, and he never really looked at you. Well, that was wrong. He did, of course, he did, but he never indulged. He was too much of a workaholic for that.
“What do you want?” You asked, monotoned, “I took care of all the bad guys so I know you're not here for that.” You propped your elbows on your kitchen counter, resting your chin in the palm of your hand as you peered up at him. You’d always told him he looked massive in your apartment as if his shoulders would cave the entire place in, and now, with you looking at him like that—all doe eyes and confusion—just a tiny thing, well…his cock twitched.
He swallowed thickly, jaw tense as he looked away from you to collect himself.
“I gotta ask you somethin'.” The words rushed out of his mouth, the flashing images on the TV seemingly more interesting to him than anything else.
“Shoot.”
“It’s… gonna sound weird, bare with me.”
“O…kay.”
Miguel turned away from you as he always did, hoping to curb his sweltering need to take you against your wall like a beast. “Are you ovulating?” It was quiet for a beat, and his heart flew into his throat in pure mortification.
“What?”
“You heard me, I’m not repeating it again.”
“Miguel, what the fuck—”
“Just—answer the Goddamn question, por favor.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, bowing his head in frustration. He felt hot, his body burning as if molten lava flowed through his veins. His tone must have done something because when he looked over his shoulder you were on your phone tapping a few buttons.
“...Yes,” you finally answered, bringing your gaze to meet his half-lidded eyes, “according to my app.”
“Mierda,” He groaned, dropping his head in his hands, “fuck. Okay.”
“You gonna tell me what’s going on, Miguel?”
“And you ovulate mid-month? Between the twelfth and sixteenth? No don’t—don’t look at me like that, please,” Miguel choked as he began to pace back and forth, ignoring the incredulous look on your face that was both humiliating and overwhelmingly arousing at the same time, “Just—just answer.” Another beat of silence engulfed you both as you searched the information through your period tracker with a shaky hand.
“Uhh, yeah, t-that’s right.” You placed your phone down on the counter, your tea now cold and long forgotten. “Mig…what’s with the questions? How d’you even know that?”
He finally paused his steps to run a hand through his hair before facing you from a safe distance, hoping you wouldn’t notice the growing erection burning hot between his legs from the angle he was in. If you noticed the large space between you both, you didn’t mention it.
“I haven’t been ignoring you,” you snorted at the comment, and again, he pinched the bridge of his nose, “I haven’t been ignoring you by choice, me entiendes?”
“So what is it then?” You took a couple of steps closer while he took a couple of steps back.
“It’s your scent—you smell so fucking good and it's driving fucking crazy, muñeca.”
“I-I don’t understand, Mig, what—”
“Look, I don’t understand it either,” he ran a hand through his locks again and again as if ready to rip the strands off, “all I know is you have a…scent when you ovulate every month…and, well…” he dropped both arms to his sides, standing there like an idiot as you stepped closer to drink him in. Your eyes traced him over, his broad shoulders and muscled arms, his thick thighs, and his engorged co—
“M-Miguel?” Your gaze was pinned to his bulge, pushing against the confines of his suit. “Why didn't you tell me anything?”
The question made him burn—made him bare his fangs and curl his hands into tight fists.
"What did you expect?” He spat, pacing again, “How was I gonna tell you some shit like this?" He licked his lips, his body feeling feverish. If he didn't leave soon he was sure to do something he'd regret.
“Miguel, come here.” He ignored you, much too irritated and embarrassed to do anything but just stand there. His jaw clicked, the bone shifting under the skin as he grinded his teeth in frustration. He could hear your footsteps padding softly behind him until you stood in front of him, craning your neck just to make eye contact.
It was unbearable being in your presence. He was going lightheaded again, the arousal almost blinding.
“Mig? D-did you need some help?” You whispered, your fingers ghosting over his chiseled abdomen, ready to trail lower but his large hand gripped you by the wrist, halting your movements.
“No.” He choked, “I’m not gonna force you to do something you don’t want to. Just came to tell you.”
“What if I want to?” You continued, lifting your free hand to press your warm palm over his heaving chest, “What if I told you I’ve wanted to do this for a long time?”
Miguel hissed as soon as you cupped his erection, gently rubbing your palm up and down the smooth surface of his bulge, hidden behind the silky fabric of his suit.
“Poor Miguel—all this suffering, all this grief, when all you needed was for me to relieve you,” you tutted, feeling how incredibly hard he was, “so I have a scent, huh?” Miguel groaned, his head lolling to the side as he watched your careful movements. The friction wasn’t enough, but it was more than he could have asked for in the last few months. His hand was nothing compared to yours. “What do I smell like then?”
“Like wet pussy,” he swallowed thickly, hands fighting the urge to grip you by the waist, “smells amazing, muñeca.” He hissed again when you gripped him firmly.
“Yeah?” You smiled, your eyes just as hooded as his, “And what do you want to do to me?”
A growl rumbled in his chest. Without saying another word, he pushed you back against the closest wall, caging you in his large arms.
“You have no idea the things I want to do to you.” He whispered, brushing the tip of his nose over yours. Your eyes fluttered, lips parting to take the tiniest breaths, chest heaving in arousal.
“Show me.” You breathed before Miguel kissed you. He curled around you, sealing you away from everything that wasn’t him. Your scent had his head buzzing, had him licking wildly into your mouth, his fangs grazing your skin more times than you could count.
He pawed at your hoodie, his claws sinking into the black fibers of the fabric. “Do you care about this?” He said between kisses, skimming the delicate skin underneath.
“It was an ex-boyfriend’s.” You yelped when Miguel tore into the hoodie immediately, ripping apart the seams with ease. You weren't wearing a t-shirt underneath, leaving you bare above the waist.
“Not important then.” He muttered, tossing the thick shreds of fabric aside in favor of touching your bare skin. He noted your eyes, how blown your pupils were at his actions. You were cold, nipples pebbling and goosebumps forming over your arms. Miguel cooed, his thumbs reaching out to rub the sensitive nubs on your chest, tugging them between his fingers. Your head fell back against the wall, a mewl escaping you.
“Miguel,” you moaned, arching your body into his skillful hands. He brought you flushed against him, pressing his face into your neck and licking a stripe up to your ear.
“¿Qué pasó, hermosa? I barely touched you,” Miguel chuckled, lifting you up in his arms with ease and walking to your bedroom. He threw you on your bed, and within seconds, your sweats were pulled down with your panties, hastily tossed to the side.
He observed you like a beast on the hunt, eyes trained on your glistening cunt. There it was, the source of his misfortunes for all those months, weeping and swollen with arousal, just waiting to be fucked. His mouth watered, watching you slowly swirl your fingers between your folds, coating two digits with your slick before presenting them to him.
“Wanna taste?”
He saw how your juices clung to your fingers like glossy webs when you wiggled them toward him. He kneeled in front of you, gripping your wrist in his hand and lapping at your essence, plunging your fingers into his mouth. He moaned in relief as if tasting you was the cure to every issue he'd encountered.
You gasped, mouth slightly ajar as you watched him. It was so obscene how this man took pleasure from your taste alone, coating your fingers entirely in his spit. You whined, the sensation of his tongue causing your cunt to flutter, desperate to be filled.
“Miguel,” you whined, “get rid of the suit.” He chuckled over your fingers, letting you feel the tip of his fang over the soft pads before releasing them with a gentle pop. He stood to his full height, dwarfing you, glowing in that suit of his. Slowly, the tech that held his suit together scurried down the length of his body like falling stars until he was completely nude. His cock sprung forward, finally released from its prison, standing large and proud.
“Oh my god,” Miguel heard you mutter, saw how your eyes were trained on the angry red tip, shining with precome. His chest puffed with pride. You licked your lips, mind already set on the task you'd given yourself. You moaned, desperate for a taste of him.
He didn't give you much time to react, surging forward to place a hand around your delicate throat, putting the slightest bit of pressure before pushing you down flat.
"Next time. I need to taste you." His eyes were glowing, burning red in the dim lighting of your bedroom. He knelt again, grabbing your hips firmly and pulling you roughly toward the edge of the bed before devouring your cunt like a starved man.
"Shit," you cried, hands immediately tugging on his hair as you threw your head back, "M-Miguel." He was insatiable, tongue swirling around your clit several times before lapping at your soaked folds, moaning at the tangy taste.
"Que rico," he muttered to himself, the vibrations of his voice over your cunt causing you to cry out. He continued his assault, dipping his tongue into your hole, a testament of what was to come. Then, without warning, he plunged his middle finger inside, immediately hitting something that made you see stars. You choked and heaved, pulling at his hair as he fucked you with his thick finger while sucking on your clit.
"Fuuuck, Miguel, I-I think I'm—" you threw your head back, eyes rolling as you came, gushing all over Miguel's mouth and hand. You trembled, almost sobbing when he hadn't let up, feasting on your juices as his finger continued to thrust into you.
"M-Miguel, I can't," you whined, your hands fighting to lift his head away from your aching cunt, but he ignored you, too drunk on your taste to stop. He carefully added a second finger, easily finding a rhythm to thrust into you. The stretch had you gasping for air, thighs trembling on either side of his head. If two fingers were too much for you then his cock would surely be a challenge.
Miguel's eyes were closed, tongue hungrily lapping at the wetness you produced, and within seconds had you falling apart with a wicked moan. Your cunt squeezed his two fingers when you came again, coating his hand and chin with your slick. You sobbed, begging him to stop, and he did, placing a wet kiss on each of your inner thighs before carefully pulling his fingers out.
"Look at me, hermosa." You hiccupped, craning your neck to look at Miguel with blurry eyes. He already had his red gaze pinned on you, and when he had your attention he placed his cum coated fingers into his mouth, humming in approval at the taste.
You were mesmerized, not even fucked by his cock yet but somehow already drunk on the anticipation. You whimpered, watching him lap up the last of your juices on his fingers.
"M-miguel?"
"You taste so fucking good," he growled with a shake of his head, pushing his face into your pulsating cunt one more time to breathe in your intoxicating scent. His hot breath over your pussy made your toes curl, sighing in contentment when he placed a quick kiss on your swollen clit.
Miguel climbed on the bed, caging your hips with his muscular thighs. His cock slid against your folds, your slick already lubricating him. You were still shaking, your hands now finding purchase on his biceps.
"¿Estás bien, amor?" He asked, leaning down to pepper kisses over your tear stained face. He was getting sappy, he knew. He couldn't help it, not with the way you came so pretty for him.
"Mhm," you sighed, letting him arrange your trembling legs over his hips, his cock pressing more firmly into your aching wet core.
"Good." He spit on his hand and ran it over his stiff shaft a few times before pushing your thighs up so that your knees touched your shoulders, effectively folding you in half. He lined up the head, ready to push in, but stopped when he heard you whimper.
"It's been a while, Miguel," you explained with wet eyes, "I haven't...in a while a-and you're so big—"
"It's okay, I know you can take me, hm?" Miguel brushed a few damp strands away from your sweaty face. He leaned down to kiss you, and he knew you could taste yourself on his lips. It made his cock twitch over you, and with no further delay he notched the head of his cock into your hole, slowly pushing in.
You moaned, eyebrows knitting at the stretch of him. He panted, pushing inch by devastating inch, all the while watching your face for any signs. You were falling apart, eyes screwed shut and nails digging into the meat of his arms.
"I can't," you choked, your hips fighting against the offending pain, but Miguel was quick in securing you in place, continuing to spear you with his cock, "M-Miguel, y-your too big, it's too much!"
"Shhh, hermosa, si puedes," Miguel closed his eyes for a moment, relishing in the way your cunt fluttered over him, fighting to take him in, "look how good you're doing for me, mm, así mismo."
He pushed deeper, swallowing your cries with a kiss as he bottomed out, his balls pressing nicely against your ass.
"¿Ves? " He cooed, bumping his nose against yours as you whimpered, "I told you, you could do it." He chuckled at your glare, kissing you again before thrusting experimentally into you.
You moaned, tossing your head back, exposing your throat. You felt full to the brim, completely stuffed. Miguel wasted no time surging forward to lick and nip at your neck as he moved above. Each thrust shook your bed, the springs of your mattress coming to life as Miguel fucked you deeper. Your pussy was drenched, soaking his cock as he glided in and out of you effortlessly. The stretch burned but it was delicious, and Miguel knew you were cock drunk when your mouth fell open, tears running down your cheeks.
"¿Así te gusta, hermosa?" Miguel moaned, his breath fanning over your skin as he pounded deeply into you. His cock reached something within you that had a sob ripping from your throat.
"Oh my God," you whined, feeling the constant slap, slap, slap of his balls against your ass, "Fuuuck."
"That's the spot?" He heaved, his fangs glistening with saliva, "That's where you want it?" He continued his relentless pace, hitting that spot with precision over and over again. The sounds of your squelching pussy made him feral, slamming into you until you screamed, watching you fall apart before his eyes.
You came hard, gushing all over his cock, vision blurry and head in the clouds. Miguel helped you ride your high until you were nothing more than a quivering mess below him, sobbing as he continued to thrust before emptying his load inside you.
He grunted, head tossed back as he pressed his hips tightly against you, filling you up with everything he had.
"Fuck," he groaned, pausing to give himself a moment to breathe before slowly fucking his cum into you. It was too much, leaking out of your hole and over his cock, soaking into the sheets below. "Even better than I imagined." He muttered, shifting to pepper kisses all over your face again. You sighed in content, feeling comfortable in the way his cock was still nestled in you.
"¿Estás bien, muñeca?" Miguel asked, dropping his forehead against yours. He still had you folded in half, his large arms on either side of you. You nodded with a sigh, turning your head to place a chaste kiss on the inside of his wrist.
"Good," he grinned, gently snapping his hips against your ass, letting more of his spend leak from your hole, "cuz I'm not done with you yet."
#spiderverse#spiderman across the spiderverse#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara fanfiction
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April 20, Beijing, China, National Museum of China/中国国家博物馆 (Part 1 - Dehua white porcelain exhibition/德化白瓷展):
Aaand finally, the National Museum of China/中国国家博物馆! I was lucky enough to see the famed Dehua white porcelain exhibition/德化白瓷展 here. Some of you may recognize some of these pieces already, since pictures and shorts of them have been circulating online way before I went on this trip, but there are many many other pieces too. The pieces I post here are only a small portion of the entire exhibition, so if you ever get a chance to see the exhibition elsewhere in person, don't hesitate. This stuff is amazing.
First up is one of the two that has been gaining popularity online, the piece named 神话 or "Legend".
The first time I saw a porcelain piece like this, I thought that the clothing part was made with paper? But no, the light fabric of the clothing, the hair, it's all porcelain. Keep in mind when looking through these pictures: every part of every piece is porcelain.
This piece is the other one that was becoming popular, the piece named simply ��, or "Paper". If you don't look up close and see the glossy surface, you can't tell it's actually porcelain. I cannot for the life of me imagine the kind of magic that was used to turn clay into this
Anyway, this is a good point to introduce Dehua porcelain a little bit. Dehua porcelain is a regional specialty of Dehua/德化, which is located in Fujian province, and is known for its expressiveness and white color. For this reason it's also known in the West as "Blanc de Chine" (French: "white of China"), and this should be the reason why this exhibition is named 中国白, which basically means the same thing. The history of Dehua porcelain goes back to Song dynasty (960 - 1279), and it is still being produced today. Many of the pieces I'm posting here are modern pieces.
But Dehua white porcelain can be colored too (I imagine the color must be painted on later, because the white comes from the clay itself), and when it is colored, it looks like it came right out of a painting
This piece is especially amazing to me. Look at the texture, look at those details. Zoom in and you will find that there are actually a bunch of porcelain ants on this porcelain tree stump. Porcelain ants. I never expected to use porcelain as an adjective when describing ants. Wtf. It's like a manifestation of a scene from an older animated movie.
Peanuts are called 花生 in Chinese, which literally means "flower grow", and because it also has a long shelf life, it symbolizes longevity and a happy marriage. Also a fun fact: because Watson of Sherlock Holmes is usually phoenetically translated as 华生 (huá shēng) in Chinese and sounds similar to 花生 (huā shēng), you will find that many in the Chinese SH fandom refers to Watson as "peanut".
This piece is titled 春色满园, or "garden filled with spring scenery". This is also a common 4-character word used to describe gardens in spring. I'm guessing the figure depicted here is one of the flower gods. It is one of my personal favorites because of its superb depiction of movement, it's as if the flower god will really fly away on clouds at any moment
More depictions of traditional Chinese deities, specifically Chang'e/嫦娥, the moon goddess. That moon rabbit is too cute.
Depictions of what I'm assuming is the Four Heavenly Kings/四大天王, based on the items they are holding. The Four Heavenly Kings are Buddhist deities.
Look at her clothing! That porcelain is so thin it's almost see-through! Also is it depicting Li Qingzhao/李清照, the famous female poet from Song dynasty? She does have a famous ci poem that's about paddling a boat in a lake full of lotuses while drunk
The piece titled 锦绣前程, or "future as vibrant and prosperous as silk brocade". This is also a common 4-character word used in well wishing. The figure in this piece is holding a xiuqiu/绣球, a ball made of silk, which was usually seen as a token of love
Somewhat more modern-themed pieces:
Among the hundreds of amazing pieces, this one caught my attention for its unique texture. When everyone else was trying to turn the clay into these thin sheets representing fabric or paper or flower petals, this artist took the noodle approach. Not many visitors seemed to like it, but I think it's pretty cool
Piece titled 运势如虹, or "fortune like the rainbow", also a 4-character word used in well wishing. Traditionally horses symbolize vitality and success, hence why many people use the words 马到成功 ("horse's arrival brings success") and 龙马精神 ("vitality of dragons and horses") in well wishes during Year of the Horse
Stay tuned for Part 2 of the Dehua white porcelain exhibition!
#2024 china#beijing#china#national museum of china#dehua porcelain#blanc de chine#porcelain#chinese art#chinese culture#art#culture
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On The Run
Pt 3
At some point, Soap and Gaz fall asleep on the couch, sprawled across one another. Ghost is laid back in one of the recliners, struggling to keep his eyes open as Price’s voice lulls him to sleep from the kitchen.
You're not sure how long the two of you have sat here. It took Price an hour to finally open his mouth. He has hardly met your eye since he’s started talking, hands clasped together on top of the table.
The ache you felt in your chest for these men worsened the longer Price spoke. Proud military men, tired of seeing the monsters they hunted get slaps on the wrist for atrocious crimes. Making plea deals with lawyers, getting one way tickets into luxury cells when they should be six feet underground.
You don’t realise Price has stopped talking till Soap snores, causing Dixon to shuffle at your feet, all four dogs scattered around the kitchen floor. You look him over, taking in the man now that all his bravado has been drained, leaving only the raw human underneath. Blue eyes darkened by years on the force and then years behind bars, forced into proximity with the very animals he and his team longed to put down. You’re looking at a man who fought for what was right and when justice wasn’t served in a way he deemed fit, he settled it.
Price is staring down at his hands, and you’re worried he’s going to hurt himself with how vigorously he rubs his hands together. You don’t think, reaching across the table and grasping one of his hands in yours, running your thumb across scarred knuckles. “Don’t do that.” You scold, and his head whips up to stare at you, eyes wide, hopeful but hesitant.
He looks down at your hand holding his, then back at you. “You’re not…?” He trails off, clearing his throat as he sits up straighter, letting your palm slip into his. You’re not sure what word he was going to use, but you shake your head.
“I’m… I’m sorry you all had to…” You don’t finish your sentence, letting it hang in the air between you. You’re shocked to see tears pool at the corner of his eyes but he’s quick to blink them away.
“You’re not horrified by us?” He asks, and you can tell he’s trying to fight his voice from shaking. You clear your throat, but gently squeeze his hand when his grip loosens.
“You have done… horrible things. Inhumane things.” You start, trying to pick your words carefully as you scoot your chair closer to his. He watches you warily, but there is no denying the growing hope in those eyes. “But I couldn’t imagine seeing what you saw everyday. Hearing the things you’ve heard, having to keep that all to yourself. Seeing… monsters you’ve spent years tracking get served the minimum sentence with a cozy cell waiting for them.” His hand starts to shake, and your heart breaks seeing how hard he’s fighting back the tears pooling in his eyes. “We never would have actually hurt you, I swear on my life. We just… Fuck we had been running for fucking hours through those god damn trees and-“ His voice cracks, and you gently run your thumb over the back of his hand. “Why are you being so nice?” He almost spits the word, but his grip on your hand tightens.
Grounding.
“You did as I asked. You told me the truth.” You mirror his words from the barn, and he barks out a wet sounding laugh before covering his face with his free hand. “And you’re happy with that truth?”
“I’m happy you decided you could trust me enough with it.” You admit softly, and he stares into your eyes, and you don’t feel the need to look away this time. “Anyone else would have gone running for the hills.” He whispers, and you can’t help but smile.
“Not many places to run to, and if I’m telling the honest truth, there are worse things than killing human filth.” You shrug, and he lets out a bewildered laugh. “You can’t mean-“
“I do though. There are people in this world that don’t deserve the freedom they have, that have ripped apart the lives of others and continue living like they didn’t single-handedly ruin someone’s entire foundation.” Your words are a little more forceful than you intended, raw. And Price catches it, sitting up a little straighter, tugging your hand closer.
“You have your own monster, don’t you pretty?” He asks seriously, and you swallow, lowering your gaze to your clasped hands.
“I think that’s a story for another night.” You whisper, and you see him nod, before realization hits, and his eyes widen.
“You’re going to let us-“
“You are going to have to show me that I am not making a mistake by letting four wanted men stay in my house.” You interrupt him, but there’s a smile on your face. The next seconds are a blur and you suddenly find this giant of a man at your feet, kneeling in front of you and holding both your hands in his. His shoulders are shaking, head bent but you hear the hitch in his breath.
“Price..” You murmur, a little nervous but you slip your hands free, slowly running your fingers through his hair, and you hear the sob that leaves him. He bunches up the loose fabric of your sweats in his fist, and you can feel his tears starting to soak through.
“You are a good person.” He chokes out, looking up at you and the look on his face has tears of your own threatening to spill. He looks exhausted, like every ounce of his energy has finally been drained, years of enduring visceral human indecency ingrained into every part of his being. And yet he is gazing at you like you are the first glimpse of the sun after week long rainstorms, constant flooding and devastation, the light breaking through the clouds to spread warmth on a new day.
“You’re still a good person too.”
Those words linger in the air.
You lose track of time as you sit there, running your fingers through his hair, this man who you’ve never met, who invited himself into your home, but has bared the darkest corners of his soul to you all in one night. Grimes had made his way over at some point, staring at Price with a concerned tilt of his head. He never did like when you cried, and you can tell he’s desperate to try and comfort this strange man in his home. He lays besides him, paws outstretched, inching forward ever so slowly.
“He doesn’t like that you’re upset.” You mumble, watching the way his eyes snap over to Grimes. “Even though I terribly upset his mama earlier?” He mutters, he and Grimes staring at one another.
“Grimes has always been a big softy. Dixon is the one who’s gonna hold a grudge.” An answering ‘boof’ comes from beside you, Dixon plopping his head back on his paws after making his stance known.
Grimes scoots forward until he can rest his big head on Price’s lap, nuzzling down and looking up at him expectantly, and Price gives you a hesitant look. You just nod, smiling gently. “You’re gonna be staying with four of them, better get yourselves acquainted.”
“What in the bloody fuck did I miss?” A drowsy voice mutters from the doorway, and Ghost stands there, taking in the sight of Price kneeling before you, still clutching your sweatpants, and you can see the downturn of his lips through his mask when he notices the dried tears on Price’s cheek.
You gently pull Price’s hands off your sweats, and he looks as though you just took away his favorite treat. “I’ll go grab some fresh blankets.” You hum, face warming when you can feel both of their gazes on your back as you walk up the stairs.
“Wait, does that mean-“ You hear Ghost start, and you’re shocked to hear it so soft, but their words are lost as you turn down the hallway. You slip into the bedroom at the end of the hall, making quick work of dusting off the dresser and small TV, gently stacking a pile of clean sheets and towels. This room already had two beds, you just hoped they were big enough for these giant oafs.
You just about scream when a pair of hands grip your waist, and you whirl around. “Price you have got to stop grabbing me now- Oh.”
It was Ghost, eyes unreadable as he stares you down, and you clear your throat, loosening your grasp just a bit but still attempting to push him off.
“You scared me, you need to stop-“
“Thank you.” He interrupts, and your eyes widen as he pulls you closer.
“I- Well you’re welcome, I couldn’t just-“
“Yes you could. You could send out right back outside, hell you could get a goddamn brigade of officers here and you would be justified for it.” He shrugs, but you frown, shaking your head.
“No. From… from what Price told me, you all made your own choices to help those the governments deem lesser than them. You helped people who have watched law officials let them down again and again.” You state firmly, wincing slightly as you feel Ghost dig his fingers into your hips. “Easy.” You scold, and he immediately eases up, but doesn’t let go of you, keeping you pressed to him and your heart skips.
“I’ll just finish-“
“Whoever divorces such a sweet little bird must have absolute shit for brains.” Ghost states, quite confidently, and you can’t stop the shocked giggle that slips past. “Absolute fuckin idiot.”
“You can’t win me over with flattery you know.” You huff, but he sees right through you, dark eyes taking in your flustered expression, and you feel heat burn your cheeks as you avoid meeting his eye.
“Mmm, we’ll see about that. Think it’ll get me pretty damn far.” He grins, and you smack his hands before pausing.
“Wait.” You mutter, prying his right hand off of you and lifting it up, inspecting.
Your teeth made a pretty gnarly imprint, already scabbing. “Ah don’t worry about that. I deserved it.”
“C’mon you big idiot, before you let that thing get infected.” You order, pushing him towards the bathroom and he lets out a loud laugh, the sound causing butterflies to seize your stomach.
“Yes ma’am.”
#cod#call of duty#cod x reader#call of duty x reader#simon riley x reader#john price x reader#kyle gaz x reader#johnny soap mctavish x reader#tf 141 x reader#cod john price#cod gaz#cod ghost#cod soap
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Imagine you go to buy some furniture with Jason (or dick), and all they can think about the entire time is how easy it'd be to fuck you. Would he be able to bend you over that counter over there? Would it be too high? Too low? Would you somehow get hurt?
The idea for this was instant. Like a fever dream.
“Nah,” Jason says, patting his palm against the kitchen island you point out to him. With each option, he spends a full two minutes pacing around it, bending to inspect the countertop, the cabinets—how thorough he is would be admirable if he actually liked anything.
Hands in his pockets, he strolls back over to where you’ve been waiting for him to decide. “That one’s too tall for you.”
Almost ready to give up, you half-heartedly point to the one next to it. “What about this one?”
“C’mon, baby,” he scoffs. “That’s got wheels.”
Incredulous, you ask, “Why can’t we have wheels?”
“You’ll get hurt.”
“Huh?”
“Can’t have you slipping on me,” he tuts, already strolling away. “Broken jaws aren’t sexy.”
You stay right where you are, growing more confused by the second. “I’m not going to break my jaw while I’m cooking, Jay.”
He pauses and turns just enough to look over his shoulder. His eyes glint with an I know something you don’t know sort of mischief, and one half of his mouth twitches into a shit-eating grin. “Didn’t say anything about cooking, kitten.”
You blink. Your cheeks grow warm. Oh. Oh. Oh, God.
“Jason Peter—”
“No wheels, less than three inches higher than your waist, no pointy door pulls, and I think you’d look nice against a white quartz top,” he interrupts, firing off wish list items like bullets, as if he’s not talking about the ideal qualities for a kitchen island on which he plans to rail you. “Let’s keep looking, baby; might have to bend you over a couple of these to see how comfortable they are for you.”
#jason todd x reader#jason todd smut#red hood x reader#red hood smut#🌸— mine.#🌸— jason todd.#💌— letters for the gardener.#💋— anon.
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i love these tags this person is so right
actually, can you imagine if dave was raised by B1 roxy?
i wanna get into this actually
(ok i had to spend a few hours rewriting this because IT DIDNT FUCKING SAVE AFTER FIVE HOURS OF WRITING WHEN MY COMPUTER UPDATED WHILE I WAS AFK so it would mean a lot to show this post some appreciation. i LOVEEE hearing what other people have to say)
even though these things mom does are presented in an extravagant, kitsch, jokey way, her intentions always came from a place of sincerity. she is simply Funnie
but rose reads too far into it and assumes things that aren't there, that her mother is passive-aggressively feigning interest in rose's interests simply because the things she does are so extra. "why do all of this if not to mock me"
im telling you right now if dave lived in this household he wouldn't assume antagonism, he'd go,
don’t forget who LITERALLY patented tangible jpeg artifacts as their post-scratch adult self and scattered shitty scummed up statue of liberties all over the planet. theres no way some of that overboard artful shit wasnt post-ironic / circling back around to genuine funny sincerity
dave's natural state is funny sincerity like roxy. he's had the natural capacity for this type of humor from the start and this is the direction he goes towards when he grows out of his brother's shadow by the end of the comic. dave and roxy share an earnest “so bad its good” type of humor
(lots more under the cut; the length of this meta analysis just got unwieldly with all the pictures and whatnot)
despite the alcoholism, roxy is a supportive mother. she's not the ideal guardian but hells of a lot more supportive of her kid than bro is. if she knew dave's interests she would totally indulge in them with some over the top silly goofy haha shit as a genuine gesture simply because she loves him
rose isn't too keen on it though. but she is more similar to dirk in her natural state of thinking of overthinking shit and assuming the worst, like the tags said
and yes dave got the sweet cuddly yet sometimes backhanded ouppy gene from roxy, probably even moreso lol
roxy's even said rose "sounds like girl dirk"
side tangent here, but this is something i wanna talk about.
i dont think bro should ever be in custody of children ever but if theres anyone who would be up to the task it's rose probably. i know she'd be able to keep up with him. not only does she have a defined personality (dave is more malleable and absorbs his environment like a sponge), if anyone can pick apart B1 dirk's batshit brain and probably be right on the money it's her. lil cal has been pumping patriarchal nonsense into bro's head and rose would be able to bring the fucking facts to the table without losing her own and being a living example of a badass little girl. i also don't think bro would try to force masculine roles onto rose like he did with dave, seeing as she is a girl, so she would actually have more of a leg up and get some passes that dave was never afforded. and rose wouldn't stand idly and accept any bullshit; she is no doormat. and i think this would earn bro's respect
but anyway, from this, couldn't we conclude roxy "sounds like girl dave"?
yeah okay. we havent even gotten into their penchant for funny typos or misspeaks, deliberate or otherwise
so, dave's environment
the sentiment "god you hope you can be as good as your bro at this some day" might have been genuine at the time when he idolized bro but of course he's not able to express that in any sort of sincere fashion because he's in dirk's fucking household. and this level 10 irony shit isnt doing dave any favors
his role models were the Internet and a vague idea of what Bro was like. So he built up his facade based on irony–not the literary definition of irony, as Rose might be quick to point out, but a popular concept of irony based on the idea that things that didn’t make sense actually made sense in some roundabout way. As a master of irony, Dave probably reasoned, he could see in a way other people couldn’t why a world that was scary and didn’t make sense really did make sense, and could therefore convince those people that he was superior to them. And he would wield his knowledge to maintain the appearance of superiority by calling everything ironic and pretending he didn’t care about things that didn’t make sense, and he would use walls of vaguely rhyming words to keep everyone at arm’s length so they wouldn’t discover his insecurities (source)
roxy's style is the embodiment of post-irony. being raised by mom lalonde would be like being raised by joel vinesauce ok
what can i say ….. (getting meta about this actually, hussie got these jpeg wizard wallpapers from a spyware website. link takes some time to load because internet archive)
rose is quick to read post-irony as actually being a joke/insincere, which in bro's case would be true. but i believe dave's natural instinct, outside of the influence of bro, is to read post-irony as genuine, which is exactly how mom serves it. we see this as early as act 3 from him; he understands her motives better than rose does herself:
and in act 6 intermission 2 i think it's pretty clear
but the thing is, it's always genuine from her. dave wouldn't have to second guess it because he's not one to naturally second guess someone's sincerity; that was learned due to his bro being virtually unassailable
there two types of ironies at play here:
seems like a joke, is actually genuine (roxy)
doesnt seem like a joke, is actually a joke (dirk)
you can make the argument that the second is is more psychologically destructive because it makes you question the reality of what is genuine sentiment and what isn't. dave never knew what was genuine and what was irony so he just sort of existed in this sincerity-ironic limbo and always did the opposite of what he genuinely felt on principle even if it always did originate from a genuine place.
"it just a joke bro i was just being ironic i dont actually x" is so much more trust-breaking and psychologically damaging than "wait are you being serious" / "i am being so fucking fr rn davy gravy" / "ok thats actually pretty fucking awesome. giant ass wizard statue" / "RIGHT"
how much about dave would change do you think? his character arc would be completely different for one thing, i think he'd have it good aside from mom's alcohol issues. he'd be left with the sweet and funny parts of him that we see at the end of the comic. the fake coolguy stuff is out, but this remains. this is dave in his element and we see it as early as act 1
he'd probably have no shades growing up in the lalonde residence* either cause those were given to him by bro straight out of the crater as an extension of his own cool image. and john gave dave ben stiller’s aviators for his 13th birthday to replace them so he could “spread his wings”
dave said he was wearing them for the ironies but i kind of doubt it. maybe post-irony but there was some reacharound to it being genuine because dave never put those pointy anime shades on his face again.
*though... it’s kind of hard to imagine him without his shades at all? B2 dave still got stiller’s shades from stiller himself so maybe getting them is a universal constant. i can imagine mom getting him them as a birthday gift cause shes pretty wealthy and probably could buy it out in an auction. but also itd be cool if john still gave him it as a gift
dave is actually a lot more genuine and easy to read than he lets on even when grappling with his upbringing with B1 dirk (again, see this post). this can be seen all throughout he comic but a good example is the evolution of thoughts about his interest in the preserved dead things in his room:
if B1 roxy was dave's guardian he probably WOULD have pursued paleontology because she wouldve indulged him in it and probably find it cool and worthwhile to pursue, instead of allowing dave to flounder under ironic detachment, being poisoned by irony to the point of gaslighting himself into believing he doesnt actually believe he thinks this shit is cool. even if it was indulged in this such a way; a superficially kitsch and ironic appearing presentation, it comes from a genuine place and inspires genuine interest. just read the comments.
basically, i think if B1 roxy raised dave, their relationship would have a surface level appearance of being bizarre or over-the-top but they’d have an unsaid mutual understanding that it’s completely in earnest and just build on each other's funny and absurd gestures of affection. rather than seeing it as one-upping each other, it'd more like collaboration of some silly bullshit that you take a step back and look at full and just say, "fucking incredible"
speaking of paleontology, mom had the proto-ectobiology lab. maybe they'd be able to use the equipment to appearify paradox ghost imprints of the dead shit to create paradox clones of things from the cambrian era??? sounds like a fun mother son bonding activity. and theyd actually put the sciencey shit in the household to use
oh god i know exactly the kinds of music shed listen too also growing up as a teen in the 80s. she on that (post)-punk/art rock/new wave/new romantic mtv stuff. XTC shit fr. this is a B-52S HOUSEHOLD. maybe the associates for the campy melodramatic flair. so he gets to keep the record on his shirt cause he is an enjoyer of the shit in her vinyl collection. dave would still gravitate towards musical expression and music itself but of more variety outside of just rap, with an 80s-90s, even 70s flavor due to mom’s influence. see this for perhaps a glimpse. she probably visited new york city a lot for business trips and because the music scene was cool as hell around that time, imports came straight from jfk airport, she probably got in on that a bit and have remnants in the form of vinyls and cassettes. in this way she could be distributing void to dave (influencing him with forgotten / presently irrelevant music). now he can REALLY rave about bands none of his friends have heard of. “hey davy grvay watcha listenin to” (he holds up vinyl cover) “omg snakefinger”
btw dave lalonde would look like this to me
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