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magiturge · 2 months ago

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okay.. go my sheriff/hank ( individual and pairing ) headcanons / thoughts this is going to be really long, careful when you open it.

each dash is its own thing. for hank ( he / they / it / she is reserved. ) :

- hank is G01 / generation 1 grunt, but a particularly strange one in the sense that they are not a grunt. hank is a script. i headcanon hank as being the cannoneer / cannoneer script in the original marshmallow madness and how they are shown in the magiturge arena mode ending. i am on purpose ignoring that he was mentioned to be a G02 by swain.. hank is a script and as such behaves differently than everybody else because they were never intended to be a person or an entity. hank as the cannoneer script was intended to just be that, a placeholder with a face in the very early stages of nevada's creation and the nowhere. i started to lean into this headcanon a lot more when i saw a clip of krinkels answering a question regarding why the maker scribbles out hank in the cave drawings, with him saying "because he's a strange one. he's a very strange one. not really a.. not really a one with the identity as the maker understands it." ..i just think it'd be funny if hank was never meant to have an identity in the first place and was a function first before being a person. it's why hank is so down the straight and narrow about getting the job done, you gave him something to do and he will do it. i like to describe hank as being an extension of the machine itself as a script.

- hank's height, width and depth changes subtly to drastically with each time he dies and comes back. i like to keep his base height at 6'2" but if you were to linger around them for long enough, you might notice every so often that he seems a bit shorter than usual or a bit taller, or he has a bit more or less muscle somewhere. it's just a result of supply of material to sew him back together.

- hank harbors no sense of physical attraction to anybody in the sense of finding anyone 'hot', 'cute', 'pretty', 'sexy', etc. they see absolutely nobody as attractive in that sense and the most you will ever see in terms of complimenting appearances is with how much 'cool factor' there is to something.

- hank sees red. for them there is not really a black and white, a good vs evil, a grey area. everything is red in that everything and anyone can be a tool. it's not really a 'sees red and gets angry / violent' thing. everybody looks the same to it on a moral / alliance / loyalty point. it has no issue turning on you if you get in the way or alligning with you if you can work to the same goal it has.

- for awhile, hank behaved very npc like or average grunt like before the whole punching the boombox guy. a whole lot of no particularly violent activity until that incident and it being like the switch flip of 'oh wait. i dont really know why but i think ive done this kinda killing people thing before ( marshmallow madness ) but im really really enjoying it,' like it might be a natural thing hank knows to do. - almost all of hank's outfit is a diy project it works on when it is bored, parts are stolen during missions ( homes / clothing stores ) or straight from the garbage. in a sense that's how hank is gradually building an identity for themself.

∙ hank has no issue with dying itself, but it's a matter of what circumstance and how they die that will determine if that irritates it enough to come back. ( i.e some stupid rug pulling bullshit or getting a kill stolen by dying to something stupid. )

- much of hank's skin is discolored or outright not the same shade or tone as their original skin since they're a hankenstein of various people's body's now ( haha ). they're also missing some certain parts that don't particularly bother them. its more like accessory and so long as they have the necessary parts that won't cause them complications, it frankly doesn't give a shit if something is gone.

for sheriff ( he ) : - go my transgender bear. - sheriff self medicated with alcoholic and as a result, over the years became a functioning alcoholic. this is entirely based on the line of 'pass the whiskey' he has and also the whole.. debacle he's been put in. he smells always vaguely of whiskey as a result of this. he feels a bit braver drunk but y'know.. reality backhands him in the face again and he focuses.

- sheriff and jeb are not friends. at best they are aquaintances, allies by circumstance not by goal. sheriff is afraid of jeb and worries about pissing him off as it might mean he loses an ally and potentially gains an enemy if he doesn't comply with his orders ( i.e assisting jeb in plans like lending his men to deal with hank ). at this point in time, jeb seems wildly unstable and too zeroed in on his savior bullshit for sheriff to feel comfortable speaking up at all about not wanting to deal with this stuff anymore. sheriff was a normal guy first that had no intention of getting involved with this stuff in the first place until jeb pulled him into it with fear as a motivation. jeb isn't a friend, just a 'friendly-face'. - sheriff has gotten better at hiding his fear / non-fighter nature at least with the way he talks. the fear and the desire to live is always there but the way he presents himself feeds into how he is perceived. at the end of everything, sheriff is always running away from the site of conflict if he's in an unsafe spot or at a disadvantage. covering up his fear makes him appear very cocky and arrogant - sheriff's hair is long as well as his beard, it is like a mane. it's his pride and he tries his best to keep it well maintained but he's.. too stressed to keep it up all the time. there are some curly and wiggly looking hairs ( i don't know the right term for it ) sticking out, and some parts tangled and thick. he feels weird if he were to ask anyone of his men to brush it out. - sheriff is a lot better at fighting and defending himself at this current point in time ( mpn2 and ahead ) but he is held back by the fact he is worried about dying or getting injured in general. he's afraid of taking a risk and would much rather use traps and a whole lot of walls in the way. - sheriff likes to hum, whistle and sing quietly to soothe his nerves. unfortunately, given his desire to uphold a strong image, he overthinks that being heard humming or singing, even quietly, around any of the MERC units will have him perceived as too soft or an oddity. for this reason, he is usually found whistling little bits when he's actually roaming the MERC buildings and his humming and quiet singing is for when he's patrolling the industrial sector walls on his own. - he carries a level of care for the MERC under his leadership but has a confused relationship with his individuality and being a part of a group. he was a guy first and foremost and because of the responsibility that was put onto him by jeb to protect these people he feels an obligation to forego his feelings and emotional needs. as a result he doesn't really.. interact with them on a super friendly level as much as he would say, a stranger with a friendly chat. he sees them as just people to be protected, a group and not individuals. he can separate himself from them but he also cant. - the nutrient slop in a can he's been eating for so many years has dulled his sense of taste a bit. if you gave him something that tasted real, even as greasy as a goddamn burger his face would light up. hot food does things to your mind and you dont realize it until you've had it again. - sheriff and the industrial sector represent each other. with large walls and many defenses to protect himself but with unfortunate cracks and weak points created over time. there can be so many barriers but many pathways, many vents for someone to crawl through and find the weak point.

ok. go my old man yaori.

their entire relationship is a push and pull. - their relationship (?) is a secret for as much as they are capable of keeping it a secret. sheriff desperately wants to keep it a secret because he fears that his men ( MERC ) finding out could potentially get him exiled or worse killed for being a 'traitor'. he also doesn't want to lose that sense of safety and togetherness, a stable foundation for him to stand and walk on. it's why he kicks himself in the head about the whole thing because he knows he shouldn't be getting involved like this. - as i mentioned before, hank feels no physical attraction to anybody and that applies to sheriff as well. it feels nothing in terms of 'wow he's cute' or 'he's hot'. the times that it can be mistaken that hank finds something about sheriff that is cute in terms of physical appearance is for different reasons. for example.. sheriff blushing and hank responding positively to that is not because hank finds that image to be cute but because he understands that image to be a positive thing. if : sheriff is blushing, then : i did something good, since i understand blushing as something that happens when someone is flattered. it elicits a positive reaction from hank because he understands it as something good and beneficial, rather than it being found personally cute or pretty. - hank thinks that sheriff did have a sort of glow up and that he looks 'cooler' now ( i.e you don't look like a wimp anymore ) however he thinks that the absolute layering of clothes, body armor and ammo looks tacky as hell. he gets why sheriff is wearing all that but it could have better days. they do find the leather chaps sheriff wears to be the one thing that kind of look cool, so it has taken the liberty of messing with them a bit, with permission, to make them look a bit cooler. it likes leather. on the topic of what sheriff wears, hank also doesn't like what he's wearing because it makes sheriff obnoxiously annoying to fight in close combat. it'll swing at sheriff and feel the padding and get a bit irritated because he really is just layered in protection, no satisfaction that it normally gets from feeling the injury caused in a fight. ..hank knows that it'd be better to leave not too many injuries, but that doesn't stop it from being irritated when they trade punches and it can feel a bruise on the highway while sheriff likely hasn't gotten something so serious. it's the kind of bullshit it doesn't like. hank wears body armor and padding too but not nearly as much. - they're both at around level terms of fighting capability, it is their personalities and style that make the difference. hank does not like sheriff's style of fighting in the presence of other people watching whatsoever as he thinks it's cowardly and unengaging. he's always at a distance, rapid fire, itchy finger. it's like dealing with a turret with self awareness and a mouth to run insults at you. the bullshit bullshiiiit he doesnt like. it's why hank prefers the little spats they get in. - hank's biggest upside in their situationship is how direct and to the point they are, it really hates the dancing around the topic sheriff does. if sheriff is being particularly dodgy about something or acting differently or avoidant, hank asks directly what is going on. it figured out relatively fast that sheriff's cowardly avoidant nature applies to just about anything and it has to adapt to that. sheriff's biggest downside is his reluctance to vocalize his needs as he doesn't entirely perceive hank as a person yet, still seeing him partially as the man in the posters, meaning he doesn't believe hank is capable of accommodating, being affectionate, or being considerate of his needs.

- sheriff hates vocalizing or articulating anything that seems like proof to the world or himself of his affections towards hank. something simple as wanting to have an embrace, he does not want to say it. it's acknowledgement of his affections, and he doesn't want to acknowledge it. he would rather outright go for the hug or for hank to initiate it first. on the same note, neither of them say i love you to each other. hank doesn't particularly care.. it just sees it as another expression of affection and it doesn't find words to be as fun as actions. sheriff doesn't say it for the reasons above and it feels way too intimate for him anyway. it's like saying 'yes, hank j wimbleton most wanted person in nevada who has killed many many and killed me once as well, i lovey wovey you'. he feels stupid saying it. it's 3 words but he hears a lot more. - sheriff still maintains a grudge for having been killed by hank many years ago, it's sort of shallow now though. he already got even with hank at the start of this snowballing situation, as they had a spat and he shot them dead. - hank is the grounded one in the situationship, more mentally stable and.. decisively stable than sheriff. he often has to be very blunt so sheriff stops rocking around, thinking too hard about something. - they don't talk to each other that often but on the chances they do, they do have some.. detailed conversations on things. it can range from something mundane as guns, what attachments they like on theirs to .. more delicate topics.

- hank often returns to sq hq smelling faintly of whiskey and sheriff often returns to MERC warehouses smelling vaguely of rotting bodies and blood. they both have smelled each other and they both think they both smell like shit. when possible, sheriff will continuously nudge that hank go and bathe, though that means sheriff has to as well. - hank thinks sheriff is a bit.. like crazy? or at least not making the smartest decisions sometimes. he wonders why sheriff maintains really long hair even though he works around machinery a lot. hank thinks that he's beign a bit ridiculous for being such a worry wart and not doing anything about the glaring issue in his wardrobe. it has vocalized this issue and are usually met with sheriff giving him a bit of a dirty look. at the least, hank does like to touch his hair. sheriff doesn't particularly care that much about hank touching his hair, just that he doesn't cut it. it likes to feel the texture and pick out tangles, it gives hank something to do in a mundane slow time. - sheriff has one of hank's black bandanas. it let him keep it when sheriff as gotten a bit of a nasty slash during a spat they had together, hank had tied it around the wound and he let sheriff keep it. sheriff now uses it as part of his outfit from time to time. it alternates usually from 3 places : a hair tie for a low ponytail, tied around his arm, or most unseen, in his right back pants pocket. aaha. hheh. heh. ok i'm tired, there's more but big man wants to eat his damn ass food.. idk uh, my writing somewhat properly is escaping me

#my art #madness combat #big man ( me ) i srambling #and talking #about shit he like #ok #sherhank #sheriffhank #marshmallowpie #sheriff #hank j wimbleton #gif

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tonydaddingham · 9 months ago

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Just whacking this out there, but I mean, much as I do think the "past exploits" comment serves as a warning about Heaven's rules/standards, and reach, and the fact that they've exposed Aziraphale's 'crimes' - sort of a 'you know what we expect from your conduct, and you've been continually stepping way out of line, and we're choosing to overlook it for now, but know that we know, and that we will know about future missteps as well, that we don't approve and could still intervene' flung out there for no immediate particular purpose, just to serve as a reminder - by and large, I find the whole restoration offer thing much more bribe than threat, and, well, frankly, personally, I'd consider a bribe of such proportions more concerning than any threat could have been, no?

hello lovely!!!💕 i think ive shared my thoughts on this in dribs and drabs over multiple posts but no harm in going over it again, fuck it-

essentially, i completely agree with you. splitting those two parts of the conversation into two, i definitely see the first part as a warning, and simultaneously an unspoken threat:

what particularly speaks to me is how the metatron hesitates over both 'previous exploits' and 'partnership', as if he's specifically searching for the right turns of phrase. trying to make light of it, keep it friendly and unassuming. but the small, smirky, private smiles, compared to aziraphale's reaction of flitting eyes and tight lips - it feels like metatron is playing a cat-and-mouse game... the guise of it being that it's all a great opportunity, but truthfully they both recognise the unspoken threat is there

(but - to clarify - i don't think the metatron realises that aziraphale has seen it as a threat. ie the metatron thinks he's being slicker than he actually is, when aziraphale is very much able to read between the lines).

i remember making the comparison in a meta somewhere but it just simply strikes me that - if we're continuing with the 'sleeper/secret agent in the height of the cold war' allegory - the metatron is playing the part of the seedy villain that is doing the 'i've been watching you all along, i know precisely what your pressure point is and why' bit that we all know and love from any kind of dramatised espionage story.

essentially, as you said, "we could still intervene" - ie. 'dont think that i haven't seen every single thing, because i have. i know how deep this 'partnership' runs'. there doesn't even need to be an allusion to what metatron could do with this breadth of knowledge - just simply that he has the knowledge is enough, and aziraphale can draw his own horrific conclusions quite easily, even if they never come to fruition.

(on an intertextual level, metatron kinda reminds me of how i'd imagine karla to be - from the john le carré novels... a little bit, idk.)

now as for the second part; the restoration thing:

i completely agree - this absolutely feels like a bribe. 'i know crowley is your pressure point, and you'll fight tooth and nail coming back without him in tow, so im going to offer it to you - this amazing opportunity that you can graciously bestow upon him! "go tell your friend the good news!"'

the metatron may well be disguising a threat in the exchange, but i do think that he believes aziraphale to have taken the offer to return to heaven at face value, in earnest, and therefore he believes that he has aziraphale squarely under his thumb (and none the wiser for it). however, i personally think aziraphale may be constructing his own hasty game - ie. using the offer as an opportunity to "make a difference" as he and crowley would see fit... but the spanner in the works was that crowley refuses to come with him to play on 'their side' in this little counter-game he's trying to devise.

in terms of functionality of bribe vs. threat - absolutely, a bribe promises a greater yield. threats only work so long as it's a) inescapable enough, b) serious enough, and c) the threatened person is sufficiently scared enough that they won't toe out of line. which may well be effective in getting someone to comply, but the problem with making people scared of you or hate you, is that then they all secretly want to see you ruined or destroyed.

bribe someone, however... give them something that they might have always wanted (or, as i think is the case for aziraphale - gives them the opportunity to give another what they've always wanted), and you have a greater chance of having an ally in them forever, someone forever indebted to you.

i definitely think this is where the metatron's reasoning lies. instead of threatening crowley's life, so to speak, he's offering him the chance essentially to defect - and that's way more appealing to aziraphale and likely to get him to fall in line.

for me though, it's all a gross underestimation of aziraphale on the metatron's part. i will die on the hill where aziraphale sees through what the metatron is saying - has indeed read between the lines where he doesn't have a choice one way or another - but chooses to play the part that the metatron expected him to play (of marginalised-angel who is actually the-very-kind-of-angel-heaven-needs, and therefore very-grateful-to-given-the-top-job-thank-you) so that the metatron will keep underestimating him. bribe or not, aziraphale did not want to go back to heaven... but if he doesn't have much of a choice regardless, he's going to make it work for him.

now this ask has led me to another thought: i do wonder if the restoration is actually a thing? ie. the metatron wasn't bluffing, it's actually possible.

the metatron is putting an awful lot of bank on crowley saying no, when by all accounts - even if the metatron was directly involved in crowley's fall - the metatron doesn't actually know him... right? he likely knows that crowley is resentful and angry still at having fallen, and the unfairness of the whole shebang, but does that guarantee that crowley wouldn't want to take the restoration offer? id hazard no - so the metatron has to have a failsafe for either eventuality.

either crowley says no, and aziraphale is left broken-hearted/rejected, and that suits metatron fine because then he has aziraphale ridden of crowley's influence. alternatively, crowley returns, and is restored!

...but is restored to the same position as he was when he fell - essentially like restoring a backed-up file where the last save point was ~millions of~ years ago... and that would suit metatron fine also, because then crowley is simply not crowley anymore. plausible deniability on the metatron's part too, for the latter option - 'restoration has never happened before, didn't know what to expect, but you've gotten what i promised you!' idk, interesting thought

#good omens #said it in an earlier post but i'll say it again: i feel like heaven (and the metatron) are terrified of aziraphale -#what he represents and what he could do to heaven if he were so inclined)#(regardless of bribe or threat they're sufficiently scared enough that the only viable option is to secure aziraphale within heaven)#(also to add to the karla thing - ttss: “karla is not fireproof because he's a fanatic... that lack of moderation will be his downfall”)#(and in the film: “a fanatic is always concealing a secret doubt”)#feral domestic/final fifteen meta #metatron spec

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cybercritterinyourcomputer · 5 months ago

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writing this on a whim because my brain is torturing me about it for some reason and i figured what better place to go than tumblr [this is somewhat sarcasm]. i do not particularly know why i am writing/asking this but im chucking it out there to ease the thoughts so i can go to sleep

to any systems or whatever or really anyone reading who found this through the tags i put here, how did you know you were a system. or plural or how did you start questioning it how did you figure it out. bear with me its past 2 am my writing is atrocious . how did you know if you never knew before?

i dont think im plural, but something wormed its way into my brain today or yesterday and i dont know why or when and and its not the first time this has popped into my brain i think. the thought of what if what if what if but im me. its my me it there its me its my thoughts and there is no other people in my brain just me myself and i. its not quiet it never is but it is just me

i think a clearer question i want to ask is: how can you tell if something is just dpdr[because i fear i may have that, unfortunately it is very likely] or this? this as in osdd or did or whatever

it would appear simple but unfortunately for a lot of my life my sense of self has been so broken and so messy because. fuck all everything happening i guess but its just me, truly. i talk to myself, i draw different versions of myself together, i split myself into many parts to cope with things, to highlight the different parts of me, variants. the wolf, the puppy, the robot, the hermit, the hollow, the dragon, and whatever the Me is i dont know who or what i am when im so many things and nothing at the same time. i didnt completely think about this but also how heavily i relate to certain characters in media but this may just be a nonhuman thing. i see so much of myself in certain characters and so much of them in me sometimes to the point where i dont know where i start and they end. but again i think that is just a nonhuman thing or a coping thing. because its still just me here

where does the age regression and nonhumanity start and where does it end when i rely on my creations of myself to keep me afloat. i only talk to myself through thinking and drawing, i dont talk to anybody else in my head, its all me. and unfortunately theres a pattern where i learn of something and i think about it and i go, "oh, no, no no, that is absolutely not me, never would dream of it! even thinking that i could be that is a crime to all the ones that truly have that!" and then it ends up being too true. the depression, the adhd, the age regression, the therianthropy, the hard denial of abuse, the hard denial of possible autism. my friends speculate i have ptsd or cptsd. i dont want to go down that line of thinking with this, i *know* i dont have it, but the fear

its annoying because ive never really been here present in my body im never really here and the horrors dont end and theres always been something wrong with me but i know its other things. i wont share the details, but the situation ive been in the past 8? months has been horrible horrid no good on my brain i hate being awake. and it feels like someone else took the reins but im still feeling the hurt i still have the memories but they dont feel like mine. my memories have never felt like my own but theyre mine and i have to write everything down or i will forget. i go to work i listen to family shit on me i go to work i do something all day but its not me im still in my room playing a game in my pjs but that was almost a year ago but im still there but i went to work but it wasnt me

because my mind is empty, its just me. it really truly is just me. i think im just lonely. and hoping someone could take me away from everything im always going through or for someone to be there. in my head

there was never anything to make me think this before, a couple times i have but years ago, for no reason, im quite sure its just me. i had imaginary friends as a kid which is normal for kids. i still kind of do but its just me talking to me, im saying two things. i think i just have a lot of possible trauma[i dont believe im traumatized but my friends are quite firm that my entire life has been a shitshow since i was born] and a lot of coping mechanisms plus the fact that i have to pretend for my family and me being trans and me being nonhuman and me so its mostly just that

i dont really know what exactly im even asking. i think im just throwing out a bone and praying for someone to go "yeah dude thats normal youre fine, youre normal" and for my brain to stop ruminating and its annoying. or for someone to ease my curiosity and fear and dread. im throwing out a bone, im begging for someone to glance my way, im begging for someone to tell me its okay. not the begging to be okay but to say that my brain is okay and that my life is okay

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moonie-presence · 1 year ago

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canvas, wardrobe, & alternate for the oc ask game ?? any character(s) of your choice!! :3

omg hi!!! Ty

canvas: Does your OC have any scars, piercings, tattoos, or other markings? Do they display or cover them up at all?

Du Vide, unless im misremembering, is my only oc with tattoos. They span his entire body, neck to toes, and he did them himself, sewing needle stick n' poke style. I doubt he'd have trusted any one else to ink them.

Since du vide is an upcoming ttrpg character and my fellow players follow me i wont go into detail regarding why he has them by he definitely has them for a reason, relating to his work in experimental machinery/technology. Any good mad scientist tests things on themselves first, obviously.

As for covered up or not, he doesn't make any real effort either way, due to the size of the tattoos. he's usually pretty covered, but he doesn't care if they get seen, theyre not secret. as for why they don't show up in the art usually is because i hate drawing them. weeps

wardrobe: How big is your character's wardrobe? Do they wear things threadbare, or can they afford new clothes often? Are they any good at mending and repairing their own clothing?

Courtland is a notable character wardrobe-wise because i designed him to be so unredrawable due to my madness

pictured: madness

Courtland's wardrobe is relatively large but most of his clothes look the same. The clothes he's wearing up there are his work uniform, so it's what he's usually wearing day to day with a few changes.

however he does have other clothes in line with what you'd expect from an aristocrat, like day clothes, outing clothes, outrageous party clothes, etc. Courtland's got *very* extravagant party clothes. he doesn't get the opportunity to wear them often and isn't very fond of them anyway.

as for when his clothes get fucked up, he's very good at repair. sewing and the like is one of his favorite hobbies!

here's him under all that fabric;

alternate: What would your OC's alternate universe look be? If they're a fantasy character, what's their modern look? If they're sci-fi, what's their fantasy look? What AU would you want to see your OC in, and how would they dress themself? Bonus: Prompt an AU!

when it comes to AUs, the one i end up landing on a lot for the earthshakers is the classic "what if it all never happened"/"what if they lived"

theres exactly one post on here (or the art blog i dont remember) explaining what the deal is with purgatory so heres a quick rundown: In the spaces between realities exists a vast, wild, metaphysical plane referred to occasionally as purgatory, which is a roiling melting pot that chews people up and spits them out as fantastic monsters. getting there is extremely difficult, but the hands down easiest way is to die, and fall through a weakness or crack in your reality when transitioning from life to afterlife.

Since the creatures in purgatory are always changing to suit their needs and there is no true ceiling for what can happen to you, occasionally a particularly strong-willed individual will grab unmatched, omnipotent power and become something called an earthshaker, the highest most feared echelon of purgatorian life. not gods, but damn well close. The earthshakers i've designed are Wellium (aka Lux, or the White Light), Videns, and Seleen.

(psa: this is a creative project? headworld? thing? ive been working on for literally upwards of 6-7 years now. I consider it my special interest, but its kind of nebulous and wordy and i get Too Excited about it so i end up rotating it around in my head a lot instead of talking about it)

Each of the three come from wildly different places/settings, and each has a grisly death, leading to their conquering of the endless voidplane. It's a fun thought to think about, about where they'd be if they just never died at all.

Wellium was once a soldier, a test tube baby/experimental weapon used in an intergalatic war. Eventually after a life of training to kill the unfamiliar, her life was considered inconsequential enough to be selected to guide and activate an experimental bomb to attempt to wipe out their enemy. Videns was a child born with select supernatural powers, and out of fear and superstition was drowned in a river by a mob of villagers after a life of living on the run. Seleen, a magician, was born with too much magic, and died when her body couldn't handle the strain anymore.

like. Videns could have found a place where she couldve flourished and been accepted. Seleen couldve pursued other paths in life instead of obsessing over her own impeding death and the use of the very thing that doomed her. Wellium couldve gone home.

their deaths are tragic, but theyre what set them on the path to kinghood and make them the creatures they are now. however, due to the way their universes work, there are realities where they did live, and lived full lives. got the chances to become people. its fun to think about!

what is and what was.

again ty soooo much for the ask! sorry that this post is dashboard destroying lol

#purgatory setting #lux / wellium #du vide #courtland #ask game #long post #videns futura #seleen moramor #holy fuck a reason to talk about earthshakers #i am. so emo. about them #if you count it a lot of the stuff i draw about them being silly and the like is an AU bc #a lot of the ''canon'' stuff is just brutal!

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yuukei-yikes · 2 years ago

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any thoughts on remind blue?

currently, it is my favorite kagepro song (this changes like every week but i digress...) and i really want to make a pv for it but i lowkey have no idea where to start

your analysis/ramblings on things is really interesting to read and see, so also just wanted to let you know that i love all the content you post!! :D

I LOV remind blue. like every kagepro song makes me want to rip my face off ♥️♥️♥️ but this one is one of those that make me feel so strongly that i cant listen to it ♥️♥️♥️ cuz i do that btw. i cannot listen to kagepro songs without preparing myself emotionally and it has to be when i am alone in my room. i could never listen to them in public. that'd be weird. im drawing and suddenly a kagepro song comes on in my playlist and im like this is so fucked up who put this here (<- i did)

songs like summertime record, lost day hour, remind blue and ayanos theory of happiness specifically i basically never listen to because it causes something in me both mentally and physically. im normal though.

TOTALLY support the idea to make a pv!!! i wouldn't know how to start either tbh💔 who would u make it be sung by?? like the song is so good but for the lyrics im like meh like str is already a thing. idk it sorta has the same vibe. its like summertime record and lost day hour's lyrics had a little baby together. which is why i always liked to interpret it as a haruka song but fuck it ig its shintaro's.

i also liked the idea of it being seto's or hibiya's. i think they'd deserve a song like this, especially hibiya!! tho for hibiya the whole "adult" thing is different LOL and even seto, he's just 17... ive always loved haruka being the punchbag for the "im an adult wtf" feeling because he goes from living his whole life thinking he will die and then he doesn't. or well he DOES die but then comes back, and suddenly he finds himself with his whole life ahead. like haruka and his early 20s crisis abt i did NOT think id be alive this long and now i gotta deal with everything those feelings bring me but at the same time i have to pay rent and worry abt what to make for dinner soooo erm fine ig. that's also what i think lost day hour is about, i know jin describes it more like a song abt old friends but girl idk it rly only has a couple lines abt that as opposed to all the rest of the song... erm. what was i talking about again.

i just think it was rly funny how we were all like ok remind blue uses "boku" so it's seto kano hibiya or haruka (or konoha). and then jin was like hehe. shintaro♥️ SHINTARO DOESNT EVEN USE BOKU whatever im pretty sure he also said it can fit anyone and its more a general mekakushi dan song. but tbh so is summertime record sooooo. sorry im sidetracking a lot

i dont particularly care for remind blue so much (LIKE THE SONG SLAPS im still talking about lyrics) bc it's very heavy on the shit abt like growing distant and stuff sortof??? like kagepros ending/str is implied to have the mekadan not grow apart but kinda do their own thing while still meeting to hang out, bc kagepro is also about growing up and with growing up comes maybe growing distant from these friends you love, but they will always be important and one of a kind in ur life and when u meet its like time hasnt rly passed between you. not to mention the whole thing about combining eyes and how all the snakes will always end up gathering by the queen no matter what, meaning the dan will always be bound to make their ways back to each other no matter what, and are connected to one another by the literal narrative that theyre all actually sort of aware of a little bit (they always refer to their tragedy as a "story"..kagepro is a little meta lol). and like that's all so beautiful but also fuck it. they all meet for pizza nights every week. erm. the passage of time am i right

ALSO TY FOR READING MY POSTS:///3 I LOVE KAGEROU PROJECT A NORMAL AMOUNT AND IM A NORMAL PERSON

#ask tag #kagenalysis #a little bit ig idk

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3liza · 3 years ago

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talking about flters and real beauty vs fake beauty and cultural standards etc always makes me think about all the victorian and edwardian novels i read, where the things that people thought about beauty were recorded at length. recently ive been reading a lot of Thomas Hardy (best known for Tess of the D’Urbervilles and Jude the Obscure) and there’s so much discussion of the beauty of people, particularly love interests, both men and women. and these writers, and their eras, and the culture of the eras, was of course obsessed with beauty and youth and also artificial beauty (being the eras of the really transformative corsets, not to mention some of the earliest industrialized or modernized beauty products or processes), as all human societies are to a greater or lesser extent in their own ways, but the thing that sticks out to me in reading these books is how beauty is not the singular or even the most important aspect of a person’s overall attraction. if someone has a beautiful face or figure, it is mentioned, but never to the obsessive, fixated extent that physical beauty is isolated from and elevated over all other features in modern american/western culture. there are plenty of protagonists or love interests in these books who are described as not young, or not remarkable, or not pretty, or even ugly or frightening, but nevertheless compellingly sexy and attractive, or simply interesting, or worthy in some way.

its weird that the cultural consciousness has become seemingly ignorant of non-physical attraction. like that anon that was in my inbox talking about how they were “normal looking’ and therefore “needed” filters in order to “compete” with attractive people. it’s a weirdly mercenary and capitalist view of the social economy, first of all, which absolutely is not zero-sum no matter how badly the social networks want to convince us that it is. but there was never a single mention from that person about their ability to charm or entertain or attract using anything except a fake photo of themselves. wild. im fuckin worried about them! im worried about every young person how has brain worms

when i was about 4 and starting to become aware of how much adults were obsessed with my appearance because i was dainty and blonde and could do a passable shirley temple imitation, my parents gave me a very serious lecture about what physical beauty actually meant: i didn’t work for it (yet, i mean i do a lot of work now as an adult), it was given to me genetically. and someday, maybe sooner or more suddenly than anyone could predict, it would be gone. if accident, illness, or hardship didnt get me, old age eventually would. so with that being a certainty, i had better build a life and a personality on something other than my looks. and i said, ok. every day i get older im more grateful for that advice and the fact i decided to take it to heart instead of trying to gamble on Being Hot for long enough to get job security. which is also a valid career choice but it’s a risky one. always better to have a fallback just in case.

im of an age rn where a lot of women in my peer group are starting to get a very hunted vibe about the impending end of their youth, which is valid. theres nothing foolish about it, its not their fault, theyre not stupid or somehow lacking because this is an issue in their lives. but im noticing that i am significantly less freaked out by, idk, how long ago the 90s were or whatever, because i have been expecting to get old since i was in kindergarten. and i had adults around me who were just like “hey this is what old people look like and what bodies do over time. its not a big deal. everything on tv is fake btw”. i didnt get out unscathed, ive had eating disorders and all sort of weird brain-body problems.

my advice i guess if i have any is to go outside and really look around you. notice how almost every single woman, and most men, has at least some cellulite, even if its just when theyre sitting down or whatever. notice how everyone has blemishes and zits. most people have some dandruff. if someone is wearing makeup, it’ll be cakey or balled up or smeared or uneven or clumpy even if it’s just a bit. everyone over the age of about 20 will have stretch marks somewhere, even if they aren’t visible except in certain light. i was under the impression i didnt have many until one time seeing a picture of my butt in FULL natural light and finally saw the entire surface of both cheeks was covered in straitions, they just were hard to see most of the time because im the color of drywall and scars tend to be light. it’s really easy to spot hair extensions and wigs and fake nails and fake tans and shapewear once you figure out how to see it. and none of these things take away from someone’s character.

there’s a strong argument to be made that when corsetry was the norm, no woman was expected to simply be the shape of the corset unless she was actually wearing it. photographs and drawings of women in the 19th and early 20th century were retouched a bit as all photos have been, yes, but they were not retouched to make naked women appear to be corset-shaped. THAT is new. people are now getting surgery to be corset-shaped. and like, i dont think anyone should not be able to look however they want if they want to have that surgery. that is one meaning of cyborg feminism, probably. what i dont want, is for anyone to ever think that’s a normal way to look (except for veryvery tiny mathematical outliers, the Barbie Hips Georg of instagram) WITHOUT surgery or shapewear. which i see a lot now. i saw an instagram fashion designer with a very obviously surgically-altered body answer a question in her inbox about how she maintained her figure with some nonsense about diet and exercise. so now some (probably young) person out there is thinking that if they just do intermittent fasting enough, theyll look like a woman with butt and boob implants, a BBL, fillers, etc. that person probably thinks that if they arent able to diet and exercise good enough, they will fail at looking that way through their own laziness and lack of work ethic or whatever. i see that mindset constantly, especially in young women.

the surgery isnt the issue. the look itself isnt the issue. the filters themselves arent the issue. the issue is that on none of these images, is there an indication of what has been changed or how. the brain damage effect of filters would be lessened, i think, if everyone KNEW which images had been altered and how. so maybe thats the answer? mandatory labeling? i dont know. what’s terrifying is that the average adult human in america cant tell from a glance what has been altered in a photograph, no matter how clumsily, because they simply dont have a template for what a real human looks like anymore. the false images have supplanted the real images, the actual memories of alive humans that you know and have met or lived with.

if you go into any of the shittier men’s spaces online you will find threads for posting pictures of “beautiful girls”, and it is page after page after page of teenagers in full makeup, hair extensions or wigs, circle lenses, facetuned, bodytuned, surgery, etc, and then hundreds of men yearning and fanning themselves over her “natural beauty”. dont go looking for this stuff, it will permanently fuck you up to know what a basic guy on the bus is thinking about women every day. dont do it

but i also seriously predict a backlash into “natural” looks after this current madness, similarly to how the 1960s saw the rise of the hippie girl with swingin titties, pit hair and no high heels after the consumer beauty madness of the 50s. of course the 60s beauty ideals were in some ways just as fake, but there was some authentic yearning towards a freedom from capitalist bodies as well. so when that happens send me $20: paypal.me/3liza. should be in like the next 4 years or so. thanks

#filters #blog #hell world #long post

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grapesodatozier · 3 years ago

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so close to the real thing (closer than you think)

rating: explicit

word count: 6.8k

summary: Eddie's been pining over Richie for as long as he can remember. He loves everything about Richie; especially how much Richie loves touching him. It's a little inconvenient, though. Eddie copes with his pent up sexual tension by constantly checking a porn blog he's obsessed with on tumblr. This guy has the same type of body as Richie, he talks like Richie, his name is even Richie! It makes it all too easy for Eddie to pretend it really is Richie while getting himself off to all of the blog's content.

You'll never guess what he finds out when he starts sexting this stranger named Richie from his anonymous porn blog.

tags: friends to lovers, porn with feelings, love confessions, dom/sub dynamics, bi dom top richie, gay sub bottom eddie, the most oblivious pining idiots in the world lol we love them

notes: this is one of my more ridiculous ideas but I had so much fun with it lol. also as a note you probably should not approach people on the internet the way they do in this fic, but they're just v enthusiastic and everything here is v consensual!! still tho definitely don't take this indulgent fic as a guide on how to approach real people online lmao. okay have fun!!

read on ao3 or below!!

notsfw under the cut

Eddie Kaspbrak’s friends were his entire world; time spent with them meant everything to him. But he also really valued his alone time. He’d always been the sort who needed time to just sit on a grassy hill and watch the trains go by, to catch up on comics in his room, to get lost in Netflix shows or even just his thoughts as he moseyed around his apartment—one he live in by himself, for when these moods hit. He needed time to himself to unwind. And sometimes he unwound by scrolling through some porn blogs on tumblr with his hand in his pants.

There was one blog that he was particularly fond of. There were other blogs more catered to his personal interests, namely blogs that didn’t feature women like this one did. But there was a good balance of genders represented, so Eddie figured he could just scroll past those posts. This guy was worth it. His pictures were ridiculously hot, and his dirty talk was even hotter.

Also, his name was Richie. Which Eddie refused to acknowledge as part of the draw.

It was harder to ignore tonight. He’d been out with the losers, and Richie had just been so touchy. And there was something about the way he'd been talking; his voice was lower than normal, slower in a way that made Eddie’s stomach flip. And his touches had lingered, his hand squeezing Eddie’s hip slow, then lazily brushing against his ass as he dropped it. Eddie could hardly take it. He brushed it off as Richie just being tired from work, but god, Eddie wanted it to mean more. The hardest part was hiding how much he wanted Richie to keep doing it.

There were so many things Eddie wanted Richie to do to him. He wanted Richie to touch him harder, to grab him by his hips with both hands. Richie’s hands were so big; Eddie just knew Richie could manhandle him so easily, so roughly. He wanted to know what it would feel like to have Richie’s hands all over him, grabbing at his ass and his thighs, holding his wrists down, making him feel so small. While Eddie would never admit it, huffing at every short joke Richie made, but he loved being shorter than Richie. He loved how safe he felt when Richie held him. And he was dying to know how small he would feel with Richie looming above him, or sitting in Richie’s lap, bouncing on his cock. He wanted to hear Richie talking to him in that low, slow voice, with that condescension Eddie did his best to pretend not to be affected by. He wanted Richie to whisper in his ear and call him all those pretty names he always dropped so casually, all those sweet ones and also ones that were a lot meaner. He wanted Richie to want him.

But it was easier to think about it than to ask for it. He knew Richie had way more experience than him. Well, okay, maybe not way more necessarily, but they were starting their third year of college, and he hadn’t wasted any time. Eddie, on the other hand, hadn’t done anything more than hand stuff with someone else. The guys he’d hooked up with were nice enough, and hot enough, but they just… weren’t Richie.

He supposed this guy on tumblr wasn’t Richie either, but at least he was everything else Eddie wanted. None of his hookups had been so, well, dominant, and that was this guy’s whole thing. He was dominant and a top and into guys that looked like Eddie. He even kind of talked like Richie, and he was apparently pining over his best friend, just like Eddie was. It had him completely smitten. Plus, internet-Richie’s crush had brown eyes like Eddie, and he ran track, just like Eddie did. Internet-Richie had posted once about his dick getting hard watching his friend at his track meet, and Eddie had come so hard that night, his track shorts around his ankles, imagining his Richie thinking those things about him.

Eddie was in bed now, in nothing but his boxers and one of Richie’s old shirts that had been Eddie’s for a while now. Still reeling from the way Richie had been acting that night, he logged into his porn account on his phone and scrolled through his dash for a grand total of thirty seconds before going immediately to internet-Richie’s blog. A thrill went through Eddie’s body when he saw that he had just posted. He’d written, “god my friends gonna fuckn kill me with that ass, i wanna plow him so bad” then reblogged it and added, “reminder that my asks and dms are always open if any pretty needy little subs need help getting off. please come be sluts in my messages.” Eddie’s breath caught in his throat when he saw that there was a picture, too, one of him gripping his hard cock, his boxers pulled down just enough for Eddie to see the dark hair around the base of his cock. Eddie moaned at the sight. His cock was so nice, so long and thick and pink. And fuck, his fingers. They were so long and slim, almost as nice as his-Richie’s.

Eddie scrolled a little farther down, his heart racing. There were a lot of reblogs, but some original posts here and there, things like, “what i wouldn’t do to have a pretty guy drooling all over my cock rn,” and, “in the mood to get someone dick drunk. wanna fuck a someone so hard they forget their own name.” One that made Eddie nearly choke said, “want someone i can pump my come into whenever i want, over and over again. want a sub i can keep full of my come all the fuckn time.” That post had Eddie getting out his lube.

It also had him thinking about internet-Richie’s most recent post, his post about his DMs being open.

Eddie bit his lip and thought about it. He’d sent internet-Richie some asks before from his porn blog (his blog didn’t have his name on it, just the teddy bear emoji, since he privately thought the teddy/Eddie rhyme was fun and clever, and also it was cute), and he’d seemed plenty happy enough to respond then. Still, it felt like a much bigger step to DM him, to talk to him just one on one. But the more he read his posts, the more he thought about his-Richie and how he’d touched Eddie that night, the easier it was to convince himself to shoot his shot with this stranger.

Eddie just messaged him a simple, “hi,” with a heart emoji. It was innocent enough, but his heart was still racing.

Internet-Richie responded a lot faster than Eddie was expecting. Honestly he hadn’t been expecting a response at all. But he said:

hiya cutie (; ive been hoping youd message me

Eddie flushed. He couldn’t help but hear cutie in his-Richie’s voice—especially given how often Richie used the nickname. really? he typed back.

fuck yes, ur cute little messages make me so hard. i can tell ur a pretty little thing just from the way you type

Eddie was blushing deep. Pretty little thing. That was hotter than it should’ve been. He wanted his Richie to talk to him like that, in that deep, sleepy voice.

there’s no way you can tell that from some messages :P, Eddie sent.

His heart stopped at the next messages internet-Richie sent.

oh, u dont think so?

why dont u send me some pics to prove me wrong (;

Oh my god, Eddie thought, his breath coming short. His head swam at the thought of sending this guy nudes, of showing himself off to someone who clearly wanted to see him, who would know how to take care of him and fuck him the way he liked, a guy with his crush’s fucking name and body type and hands. It had Eddie’s cock hard and leaking, and he slowly slid a finger inside of himself.

But just because the thought turned him on didn’t mean he was gonna send this stranger what he wanted so easily, even if he desperately wanted to.

you’d like that, wouldn’t you?

He fingered himself open as he waited for a response, working his way up to two fingers. It was nearly impossible to ignore his cock, but he didn’t want to come before the conversation even had a chance to start.

fuck ya i would, internet-Richie responded. Then, in a second message, whats wrong baby? you shy? ill show u mine ;)

Eddie's breath caught. God, this guy even made stupid shit sound hot, just like Eddie’s Richie. This was unreal.

i’ve seen yours, Eddie pointed out.

ya and you musta liked it if ur messaging me rn

Eddie bit his lip. ...maybe

aw thats cute sweetheart. u know i can see all the needy little tags you add when u reblog my stuff right?

Eddie blushed. He’d kind of always hoped he’d read them, but he never thought he actually did. i didn’t know you read those

oh ya, read them, jerk off to them. bit of a size queen, aren’t you? ;) it’s cute. makes me so fuckn hard when u talk abt how u want me to fill you up

Eddie whimpered out loud, sliding a third finger into himself. Fuck, he wanted that cock inside of him so bad. But right now one of his toys would have to do, once he was stretched out enough. He sped up his fingers, getting impatient. Gathering up all of his horny courage, he sent, show me.

what, no please? only good boys who use their manners get dick pics babydoll

Eddie pouted and whined to himself, making quick work of sliding his hot pink vibrator inside of himself—well, as quickly as he could without hurting himself. He moaned as it filled him up, making pleasure spread deep through his body. Slowly pumping it in and out, he reached for his phone. please, he typed, please let me see? wanna know what to picture while i fuck myself with my vibrator. He even added the wide eyed pouting emoji to really milk the whole begging thing. He knew he’d been playing a little coy, but now with the way internet-Richie was talking to him he was getting desperate.

well fuck baby since ur begging ;)

Eddie held his breath as he waited for the picture, slowly rocking his toy in and out, savoring the feeling. He wished it was Richie doing it, wished it was his cock. The lines between which Richie blurred; he wanted to get fucked by either of them, both of them.

What Eddie received when his phone lit up was not a picture, but a video. It was short, just a few seconds of Richie’s hand dragging wetly, smoothly over his cock, but it had Eddie drooling. The room was dark, so he’d used a flash, and it made the mix of what Eddie assumed was precome and spit glisten as the swollen head of Richie’s cock disappeared and reappeared from behind his fingers. Eddie must’ve played it at least five times, fucking himself a little faster, before remembering to say something back. And to take a video of his own. fuck, I want you so bad, want you to fucking ruin me, he wrote back. A part of him couldn’t believe how openly desperate he was being, but he found that he liked it; he liked the way it made him blush, he liked the way it felt to beg, to ask for what he wanted.

Richie’s response came fast: show me kitten. show me how you want me to fuck your pretty little ass.

Eddie moaned at the pet name; casual little nicknames were such a weakness for him. He was already so far gone, just picturing Richie’s cock inside of him, picturing him stroking his cock to thoughts of Eddie. The attention had his cock hard and leaking as he thrust his vibrator even deeper inside of himself, pumping it in and out a few more times before rolling over and getting on his hands and knees. It was hard to take a video from this angle, but he wanted to show off his ass and hide his face. Plus, there was something so hot about having his ass in the air and his face shoved in his pillow, looking like the perfect image of someone desperate to be fucked. He loved the way it made him feel, loved the thought of being so open for someone. For Richie.

He ended up shooting a short video as well, about ten seconds of him sliding his vibrator slowly in and out of himself, letting out soft little moans. He was pretty pleased with the way it turned out, his hole pink and smooth and wet as it stretched around his toy. The angle was a little weird, showing a lot of his room once or twice when his hand slipped a little, but overall he thought his ass looked amazing, if he did say so himself. He sent it and said, feels so good. do you want me to go faster?

As he sent it, he got settled on his back, forcing himself to go slow as he fucked himself while he waited for internet-Richie’s response. It was taking longer than before, and Eddie was getting antsy; it was so hard to drag it out, to not get ahead of himself. But whatever Richie was doing, Eddie knew it would be worth the wait. Still, he pouted as his cock ached, begging for attention.

He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a knock at the door.

He groaned to himself and stayed put, fucking himself even slower as he waited for whoever it was to leave. But then the knocking continued, loud and incessant and obnoxious, and Eddie knew exactly who it was. He also knew he wasn’t going to go away any time soon, which honestly made him smile and blush. Richie had terrible timing, but Eddie would never be upset to see him.

Reluctantly, he slowly slid the toy out and pulled on his shorts, leaving his shirt off. He still had a pretty obvious boner, but his horny brain did not mind the idea of Richie seeing it. So he strode lazily down the hall, shouting a performatively annoyed, “I’m coming!” Finally, he opened the door, cocking his hip to the side and giving Richie an expectant look. “Can I help you?” he asked, a small smile dancing around the corner of his lips. He had to fight off a smirk at the wide eyed look Richie gave him as he ran his eyes over Eddie’s body.

“Fuck,” he muttered lowly, his eyes trained on Eddie’s cock, which was getting even harder the more Richie stared. Eddie bit his lip and grinned a little, making doe eyes at Richie. But Richie didn’t meet his gaze—instead he brushed past Eddie, his mouth still hanging open as he made his way urgently toward Eddie’s bedroom.

“Richie?” Eddie asked, a little let down that Richie’s hands weren’t all over him right now. But hey, if he was heading to Eddie’s bedroom he figured that was at least the right direction. He closed his front door and followed Richie into his room, where he found him staring at the bright pink vibrator on the bed. As confident and horny as Eddie was feeling, that still made him blush. He was only human. Crossing his arms, he said, bashful now, “I was kind of in the middle of something.”

Richie looked over at him, his cheeks bright red under his freckles. Then he got a glimmer of that trademark shit-eating grin on his face. “Eds, you fucking slut,” he said, sounding both delighted and breathless. “You are so fucking hot.”

Eddie flushed and tried not to squirm, but he couldn’t help but press his legs together, his eyes brightening. Fuck, was this actually happening? Shit, he needed to think of something witty to say. “You gonna do anything about it?” Okay, that kinda sounded like a corny porn, but he had to give himself credit for even being able to form words just after his lifelong crush and personal wet dream had just admitted his attraction to him.

“I think I already have been,” Richie said, still grinning.

Eddie cocked an eyebrow at him. He couldn’t help but smile back. “Oh yeah? How do you figure that?”

Eddie was expecting a confession. He was expecting something along the lines of you think I don’t notice how you look at me? or did you really think those were casual touches earlier? What he was not expecting was for Richie to unlock his phone and hold it up, showing Eddie the video he had just taken, the video he’d sent to internet-Richie.

Oh. Oh. Oh fuck.

“Oh my god, that’s you?” Eddie cried in disbelief.

“You’re telling me you didn’t recognize this dick?” Richie asked, swaggering over to Eddie, clearly enjoying himself.

“How did you recognize it was me?”

Richie nodded toward the Thundercats poster on Eddie’s wall, then to the model train that sat on his dresser. “What other guy has decor like that and the ass to match?”

Eddie grinned and shook his head. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Well pardon me for not being especially eloquent when I’ve just learned that the guy I’ve been masturbating to since I learned how to and been in love with for even longer has been masturbating to me too.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide, all thoughts of getting fucked leaving for a moment. “You’re in love with me?” he asked, his voice as soft as his smile.

Richie was not a bashful person, but the little laugh he let out just then was close to it. “Have been my whole life, but thanks for finally noticing.”

Eddie shook his head and stepped closer, until he had to crane his head up to meet Richie’s gaze. “I love you too.”

Richie’s eyes widened behind his thick frames. Eddie had only seen that look in Richie’s eyes a few times before, but he never wanted to lose sight of it again. He always wanted Richie to look at him like that. But then Richie was closing his eyes and leaning down. It only took Eddie a second to get with the program, drinking in the moment just a little longer before letting his own eyes fall shut as he pressed his lips against Richie’s.

It started gentle enough, if deep and passionate and intentional. But then Richie’s hands were on Eddie’s bare waist, skin against skin, and Eddie was gasping into Richie’s mouth, his hands coming up and resting against Richie’s chest. He curled his fingers into Richie’s shirt as Richie ran his tongue over Eddie’s lips, just before pulling away. He laughed at Eddie’s indignant little whine.

“Oh, you mean you don’t want me to take off my shirt right now?” he smirked as Eddie tried to pull him closer by the offending fabric. Huffing, Eddie conceded and let go long enough to let Richie pull the shirt off over his head.

“Oh,” he said softly, his voice a little, awed moan as he drank in Richie’s chest. It wasn’t like Richie had never been shirtless in front of Eddie before, but Eddie had never felt like he was allowed to really look at Richie all those times. But now he could; now he could touch. And he did, running his fingers over Richie’s smooth, warm skin, over his acne scars and blackheads and freckles. “Fuck, Richie,” he sighed before pressing his lips to Richie’s collarbones, trailing them all over Richie’s beautiful chest.

Richie gave a breathless, almost shy laugh as he stroked Eddie’s hair. “Damn, Eds, never pegged you as a tits guy.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Eddie giggled, bringing his lips back to Richie’s. They both smiled into it, getting lost for a moment as Richie’s hands slid slowly down Eddie’s sides. His hands lingered on Eddie’s hips for a moment before he slid them further down and grabbed at Eddie’s ass, making him gasp.

“Is that any way to talk to the guy who’s about to rail you ‘til you can’t walk?”

“What’re you gonna do about it?” Eddie asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Spank me?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Richie smirked. He gave Eddie’s ass a playful smack, making Eddie gasp again and fall into him, needing more. Richie’s voice was dripping with adoration as he purred, “Little brat,” and pulled Eddie against him, kissing him again. Eddie went with it easily and happily parted his lips to let Richie lick into his mouth. Richie had one hand gripping Eddie’s jaw and the other on his ass, touching him in a way that exuded a command Eddie was desperate to follow. God, Eddie knew Richie had big hands, but they felt huge on him like this. It was dizzyingly hot. And the way Richie’s tongue was teasing his had Eddie’s knees going weak. His dick was throbbing in his shorts, aching to finish what he’d started, what had been interrupted. When he thought about it all—about playing with himself for Richie, about the video Richie had sent him, about all those things Richie had said about filling Eddie up—he felt himself clench down on nothing, desperate to get fucked. Desperate to feel Richie’s cock so deep inside of him.

“Richie,” he whined into the kiss, pulling on Richie’s belt loops, “please.” He pressed himself urgently against Richie and rutted shamelessly against his thigh.

“Fuck, you’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?” His voice was cocky and teasing, but there was an apparent undercurrent of wonder there as well.

Eddie shoved his face into Richie’s neck and whined, grabbing onto Richie’s wrists without even knowing what his goal was. “Richie,” he whimpered, sounding pitiful and ruined already.

“What do you want, baby?” Richie’s voice made it clear that he was enjoying seeing Eddie this wrecked, and that just made Eddie even harder. “Come on, tell me, use your words.”

Eddie squirmed as Richie held him close, but still not touching him in any relieving way. “I need you inside,” Eddie said, his voice high and soft as he squirmed in Richie’s grip. “God, please, Richie, need you to fuck me. Fuck me so hard I can’t even think. Fuck me like I’m your little toy.”

Eddie could hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth, and judging by the gasp he heard Richie let out, he’d caught Richie off guard too. But if the hard bulge in his jeans that brushed up against Eddie was any indication, he was apparently just as turned on as Eddie was. Besides, Eddie knew from his blog that Richie was really into that sort of thing too—and, apparently, really into the idea of doing those things with Eddie. The realization that Richie had been saying all those filthy things about him had him grinding against him with even more fervor, kissing his neck with a heated confidence. Richie moaned, and Eddie could feel the warmth of it spreading through him. “Yeah, sweetheart? You want to feel me inside you? You think you’re ready for me?”

“Yes,” Eddie sighed, looking up at Richie with wide, desperate eyes. He shivered at the new look in Richie’s eyes, the blue nearly entirely eclipsed by how wide his pupils were. He looked hungry for Eddie; Eddie wanted to feel it. “‘M ready, Richie, please, so open for you.” He looked to the toy on his bed pointedly, but Richie only gave a deep laugh.

“Oh honey, that’s cute that you think that little thing is gonna have you ready for my cock.” Eddie’s breath caught; that toy wasn’t small. Before he could gather his scattered brain enough to react, Richie was scooping him up and tossing him on the bed, the toy falling forgotten to the floor. Richie moved Eddie onto his back, and Eddie went happily, pliantly. Richie’s fingers were cool against Eddie’s burning skin as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of Eddie’s shorts, slowly dragging them over his hips and down his legs, tossing them to the floor. Eddie’s cock was dripping with precome, his chest flushed a bright red as he squirmed under Richie’s gaze. Eddie been dreaming of Richie manhandling him like this for he didn’t even know how long; he couldn’t help the way he reacted. And he especially couldn’t help the pleased little sound he made when Richie murmured, “God, you’re gorgeous, Eds.” Then Richie was grabbing him by the ankles, gently but firmly spreading Eddie’s legs, and Eddie let out the most pathetic, genuine moan he’d ever heard. “Fuck, baby, you sound pretty. You like when I spread you open?” Richie asked. He was smirking down at Eddie, but Eddie could see how flushed he was, could see the thrilled awe in his dark, hungry eyes as Eddie nodded.

“Richie, please,” Eddie whimpered. “I need you so bad.” He sat up, reaching for Richie’s belt, but Richie easily pressed him back against the mattress with a large hand on the center of his chest. The confidence in Richie’s dominance took Eddie’s breath away, and he stayed right where he was, nice and obedient, as he watched Richie get off the bed and slowly undo his belt, then his button and zipper. He took his time dragging his jeans and boxers off, enough time to let Eddie’s eyes linger on the reveal of the dark hair under Richie’s waistband. Then Richie’s cock was bouncing up against his stomach, hard and flushed and fucking long. Eddie moaned at the sight and fisted the sheets underneath him. He wanted so badly to get his mouth on Richie, to breathe him in and be nice and good for Richie on his knees. But he was also desperate to get fucked; his hole clenched down on nothing at the thought, and then it was all he could think about again. “Richie,” he repeated, whining now as he reached for him. “Stop being such a tease.”

Richie laughed as he moved easily out of Eddie’s grip and climbed on top of him. Eddie gasped softly at the sight of Richie above him, his dark curls surrounding his face, his full, pink lips pulled into the most beautiful smile Eddie had ever seen in his life. He ran his hands over Richie’s chest and sides, marveling at the fact that this was really happening. Then, his eyes flickering down, he tentatively brought his hand to Richie’s cock.

“Oh, fuck,” they said, both at the same time, making them giggle together.

“Fuck, Eds, your pretty little hand looks so cute wrapped around my cock,” Richie teased in a low, rough voice. Eddie shivered; he couldn’t tell if Richie was praising him or degrading him, but either way it made his head fuzzy.

“‘M not that little,” Eddie grumbled out of habit. But he was clearly breathless. He’d never been good at pretending not to like Richie’s compliments, however teasing.

“Aw, but you are, baby,” Richie cooed, nuzzling his nose against Eddie’s and pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. “You’re so cute and tiny for me. I don’t even know if we’ll be able to fit my cock inside you.”

“I can,” Eddie whined, both indignant and impatient. He bucked his hips up, but Richie held him down. He gasped when he felt the warm, soft skin of Richie’s cock press against his stomach. Looking down, he saw that Richie had his cock lying on Eddie’s stomach, showing just how deep he would be once he was inside Eddie.

“You sure about that, babydoll?” While the teasing note was still there, Richie’s voice got noticeably softer as he said, “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Eddie’s chest swelled at that. Cupping Richie’s face in his hands, he insisted, “I can take it.” Then he reached down and took Richie in his hand, glowing with pride when Richie let out a low moan. “Richie, please, I want you so bad.”

“Okay, baby,” Richie agreed, turning his head to kiss Eddie’s palm. “Fuck, I want you, too.” But he stalled. “Have you ever… like, been fucked before?”

Eddie flushed. “Well, not by someone else, but I have some toys. I’m not gonna break, Richie.” He huffed, but the way Richie was looking at him soothed any ruffled feathers.

“I’m your first?” His smile was soft, and while his eyes glittered, there was nothing teasing about his tone.

“I didn’t wanna do it with anyone else,” Eddie mumbled. He tried to look away, but Richie pulled him into a kiss.

“Fuck, I never thought you’d want me,” he chuckled. “Sorry, that was depressing, I just mean I can’t believe we didn’t do this sooner, you know?”

Eddie beamed, a small, giddy giggle dancing on his lips. “Well it’ll happen sooner if you stop talking so much.” But his smile, and all of the little kisses he planted on Richie’s freckled shoulders told Richie that Eddie never wanted him to stop talking.

“Alright, alright, sheesh, I know I’m hot but you don’t gotta rush me.” Eddie was still giggling when Richie kissed him, and he could feel that Richie was smiling too. “Where’s your lube?”

Eddie stretched his hand out and patted the bed for a moment, searching. After what was probably only four seconds but felt like an eternity, he finally found the bottle and handed it eagerly to Richie. “Oh, right,” Richie smirked, “you’re already wet for me, aren’t you?” Eddie moaned as Richie swiped his fingers over Eddie’s slick hole, pressing in just a bit. His fingers went in easily, and he pumped them slowly, drawing little, breathy moans out of Eddie. Richie’s fingers were a lot longer and thicker than his own, and they felt amazing, but they weren’t what he wanted in that moment.

“Richie, fuck me,” he whined.

“Aw, no please? Again?” Richie tsked and shook his head, curling his fingers against Eddie’s prostate, making him cry out. “I told you, sweetheart, only good boys who use their manners get fucked.”

“Please,” Eddie cried. He rocked his hips and grabbed at Richie’s shoulders, at his arms, not even sure what his goal was there other than to get Richie closer, to get his attention, to show him how desperate he was. “Please fuck me, please.” He sounded pathetic begging like this, but that just made him harder. And it made Richie’s pupils even wider as he slid his fingers out of Eddie and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Good boy,” he purred. Eddie moaned and arched into Richie’s touch, but he only gave Eddie one more kiss on his cheek before pulling back and covering his cock in lube. Eddie watched, entranced, as Richie’s hand moved smoothly over his cock, glistening and slick. Then Richie was gently spreading Eddie’s legs even further and pressing the head of his cock against Eddie’s hole.

“Yes,” Eddie whimpered brokenly, grasping at the sheets beneath him. “Richie, please.” Meeting his gaze, he said softly, “I need you.”

“I’ve got you,” Richie assured him in a voice that made Eddie feel like he was glowing. Richie took Eddie’s hand in his and entwined their fingers, using his other hand to guide his cock inside of Eddie, who gasped at the feeling. God, he couldn’t believe this was happening. He couldn’t believe his first time was going to be with his favorite person. He couldn’t believe he was finally getting exactly what he wanted. Love flooded through him, warm and perfect, somehow both soothing and electrifying as he watched Richie’s face. Eddie’s mouth dropped as Richie pressed into him, deeper and deeper and still fucking deeper, until finally Richie let out a low moan and Eddie felt absolutely breathless. The stretch was intense, and he held onto Richie tightly as he caught his breath. “Are you alright?” Richie asked. His voice was strained, but the care and concern in it was clear. “You don’t have to take all of it if it’s too much.”

Eddie wanted to laugh at the remark or roll his eyes, but with how breathless and dizzied by pleasure he already was, he had to admit Richie had a point. “Just need a minute,” he gasped. Richie ran a soothing hand over Eddie’s skin, helping him even out his breathing and relax. The feeling of Richie’s cock twitching in anticipation inside of him had him letting out little moans as he adjusted, getting more and more used to the feeling until he felt comfortable enough to tell Richie he could move. Richie kissed him before he did, his lips soft against Eddie’s, a reassuring weight. Eddie breathed in sharply as Richie pulled back, grabbing at Richie’s shoulders.

Richie immediately stopped. “You okay, baby?” he asked, caressing Eddie’s face.

Eddie wanted to melt. Richie was always touching him, always jokingly flirting with him, but this unabashed concern and, well, love had previously been reserved for dire situations, like panic attacks or injuries. Eddie couldn’t help the dopey smile that bloomed on his face as he tilted his chin up and kissed Richie. “I’m okay,” he said breathlessly. “It’s just a little different from my vibrator.” They both gave a shaky laugh as Richie nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s.

“Better, I hope?” he grinned.

“Can’t tell yet,” Eddie retorted. Another snarky comment was on the tip of his tongue when Richie pulled his hips further back, effectively sucking all the air—and attitude—from Eddie’s chest. And then Richie was pushing back in, and Eddie let out a moan he couldn’t have faked if he tried, relaxing back into the mattress as his eyes fell shut. It was the best thing he’d ever felt, pleasure and relief flooding through his body. They’d been building up this tension for years; Eddie had figured it would feel good to break it, but it really felt magical, like something had just clicked into place. Feeling Richie inside of him, rocking his hips carefully, feeling Richie twitch as he tried not to lose control had Eddie’s head reeling. Eddie’s eyes fluttered open, focusing on Richie above him, on how flushed his face was. When Richie met his eye, pressing in deep, Eddie let out a small, “Fuck.”

“Yeah? Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

Richie was smirking as he said it, but there was something else sparkling in his eyes. Something giddy and awed. Something that made Eddie sigh dreamily, “I love you.”

Richie’s eyes widened for a moment before he pressed his lips firmly against Eddie’s, his hands roaming over Eddie’s body like he couldn’t choose where to put them, where to touch him. “I love you so much,” he beamed, pressing a few more kisses to Eddie’s cheeks. Eddie giggled at the feeling, but then Richie’s hips moved just a little faster, pressing him in just a little deeper, and he was back to melting under Richie’s touch, clinging to him as he rocked his hips with Richie’s. “Fuck, you’re so amazing, baby, so fucking beautiful. You look so good like this, holy shit.”

Eddie smiled almost drunkenly at Richie’s ability to ramble even when blowing Eddie’s mind. “Feels so good,” he moaned, his voice breathy and just a little bit higher than normal. He wrapped his legs around Richie’s waist. “Please, Richie, please.”

“Fuck, baby, wanna make you feel like this all the fucking time,” Richie groaned as he picked up the pace. Eddie whined in pleasure at the change, and that just spurred Richie to go faster, harder, until he was well and truly fucking Eddie, both of them moaning with every thrust.

“Oh my god,” Eddie cried, “ohmygodohmygodhmygod, oh fuck, Richie, please.” It felt so amazing, Richie fucking into him like this, but he needed that little bit more. His cock was throbbing desperately, achingly hard; he needed to feel Richie’s hand on him. “Richie, please,” he whimpered, “please, please touch me. I need you, I need you so bad, please, Richie.” Eddie was pouting now, grabbing aimlessly at Richie, his legs still wrapped tight around him.

“Fuck, you’re so hard for me,” Richie marveled, his voice sweet and condescending as he wrapped his hand around Eddie’s cock. Eddie nearly screamed at the contact, his back arching off the bed. Richie laughed a little, which just made Eddie even harder. The way Richie spread his precome over his cock, twisting his wrist just so as he stroked him had that familiar tension coiling in his lower stomach. “Aw, does that feel good? You gonna come on my cock, kitten?”

“Fuck, yes!” Eddie screamed. He gripped at the sheets as Richie stroked him, his voice washing over Eddie, mixing with the pleasure of Richie’s touch, of his thrusts. “Yes, yes, yes, please let me come, please, please, please.”

“That’s a good boy,” Richie purred, and Eddie could feel himself tipping over the edge at the words, at how low and affected Richie’s voice was. He groaned out, “Come on my cock like a good boy, princess,” and pure pleasure crashed over Eddie like a wave. He arched his back and cried out as he came, his moans filling the room as he squirmed under Richie, grabbed at him, at the sheets. It was fucking ethereal. He felt somehow so in tune with his body and yet so detached, like he was floating. He was barely cognizant of what Richie was saying, but when he put the sounds together and realized Richie had just said, panting, “Fuck, baby, gonna come,” Eddie felt like a live wire again.

“In me,” he said urgently. His mind was still a little too scattered for full sentences, but he knew what he wanted. God, he felt like he needed it. Like he needed to feel that connected to Richie. “Richie, come inside me, please.”

Richie apparently didn’t need to be told twice; he let out a moaned, “Oh, fuck,” before burying his face in Eddie’s neck, his breathy moans like music in Eddie’s ear. And then, as Eddie was coming down from his own high, he felt the holiest thing in the world: Richie’s cock, twitching inside of him, then his warm come filling Eddie up. It was unreal, being this close to him. Richie clutching at him as he came. It was even better than the little fantasies Eddie occasionally allowed himself. Richie was here, in his arms, pressing kisses to his neck as he caught his breath. Eddie was stroking his hair and rubbing his back as Richie nuzzled into him. Richie’s skin pressed against his skin, his legs wrapped around Richie’s waist, then falling to his sides, but still pressed to him. Still keeping him close. There wasn’t a single thought in his head that wasn’t about Richie.

Richie pulled him from his dreamy haze with light kisses pressed up his jaw, then over his cheeks. Eddie giggled at the onslaught of affection, still reeling from how fucking hot and euphoric what they had just done together had been. But he happily accepted Richie’s kisses, his heart bursting, then racing as Richie pulled back to look in his eyes. “Holy, fuck,” Richie beamed, his face flushed and blue eyes hooded from the weight of his orgasm, even as they sparkled.

“I know,” Eddie said, returning Richie’s grin as he basked in the surreality of having Richie on top of him, his dorky yet charming smile framed by lips that were red and swollen because of Eddie. His glasses were knocked askew, and Eddie instinctively reached up to fix them. With a sense of wonder, he realized that his touch was allowed to linger this time. He ran his fingers down Richie’s cheekbones, over his jaw, cupped his cheeks. “I love you,” he said. The words spilled out over his lips like he couldn’t stand not to say them. And while it made his heart race a little to say it out loud now that the adrenaline and tension was all worked through, it felt even better this time when Richie’s face softened and he nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s.

“I love you so fucking much.” Richie’s voice rarely got that soft, that sincere; it felt like a blanket wrapping around Eddie. It felt safe, secure. It felt like a promise. And if there was anyone in the world Eddie knew he could trust, it was Richie. That feeling of everything coming together came back to Eddie as he lay there under Richie, their lips moving together, feeling light as a feather now that everything was finally out in the open.

#reddie #notsfw #reddie smut #reddie fic

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chispas-and-broken-bindings · 3 years ago

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Lmao 🤣 I know to which post you are replying about them being besties . That scene always gave me more ominous vibes than actually something that would ignite friendship . Also the title of " Usurper's Dog " isn't something @ry@ is going to take lightly .

Ha! I actually didn't have any particular post in mind. The Dany/Arya friendship is just something that I see float around the fandom from time to time and it drives me absolutely bonkers (not fanon. feel free to explore all your platonic dreams with these two in fanon. Go wild. You do you.)

If we are talking canon though, I can't think of a single character that has more anti-Targ foreshadowing in their chapters than Arya (even Jon comes in second place). I actually started pasting bits of Arya's chapters into a word document awhile ago, because I couldn't believe how much GRRM uses her POV to detail the horrors of fire and burning...it's almost comical how heavy-handed he is with it.

And yet...

After I saw this ask in my inbox, I looked at the Arya Stark tag and immediately found a post about Dany and Arya being best friends.

So.

Here we are:

A Storm of Swords - Arya I

Later they passed through a burned village, threading their way carefully between the shells of blackened hovels and past the bones of a dozen dead men hanging from a row of apple trees. When Hot Pie saw them he began to pray, a thin whispered plea for the Mother's mercy, repeated over and over. Arya looked up at the fleshless dead in their wet rotting clothes and said her own prayer. Ser Gregor, it went, Dunsen, Polliver, Raff the Sweetling. The Tickler and the Hound. Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, King Joffrey, Queen Cersei. She ended it with valar morghulis, touched Jaqen's coin where it nestled under her belt, and then reached up and plucked an apple from among the dead men as she rode beneath them. It was mushy and overripe, but she ate it worms and all.

That was the day without a dawn. Slowly the sky lightened around them, but they never saw the sun. Black turned to grey, and colors crept timidly back into the world. The soldier pines were dressed in somber greens, the broadleafs in russets and faded golds already beginning to brown.

Hot Pie opened his mouth and closed it. He did not fall off his horse. The rain began again a short time later. They still had not seen so much as a glimpse of the sun. It was growing colder, and pale white mists were threading between the pines and blowing across the bare burned fields.

A Storm of Swords - Arya III

That night they sheltered in a burned, abandoned village.

A Storm of Swords - Arya IV

The next night they found shelter beneath the scorched shell of a sept, in a burned village called Sallydance. Only shards remained of its windows of leaded glass, and the aged septon who greeted them said the looters had even made off with the Mother's costly robes, the Crone's gilded lantern, and the silver crown the Father had worn. "They hacked the Maiden's breasts off too, though those were only wood," he told them. "And the eyes, the eyes were jet and lapis and mother-of-pearl, they pried them out with their knives. May the Mother have mercy on them all."

A Storm of Swords Arya VI

"Please," Sandor Clegane rasped, cradling his arm. "I'm burned. Help me. Someone. Help me." He was crying. "Please."

Arya looked at him in astonishment. He's crying like a little baby, she thought.

Clegane tried to stand, but as he moved a piece of burned flesh sloughed right off his arm, and his knees went out from under him. Tom caught him by his good arm and held him up.

His arm, Arya thought, and his face. But he was the Hound. He deserved to burn in a fiery hell. The knife felt heavy in her hand. She gripped it tighter. "You killed Mycah," she said once more, daring him to deny it. "Tell them. You did. You did."

"I did." His whole face twisted. "I rode him down and cut him in half, and laughed. I watched them beat your sister bloody too, watched them cut your father's head off."

Lem grabbed her wrist and twisted, wrenching the dagger away. She kicked at him, but he would not give it back. "You go to hell, Hound," she screamed at Sandor Clegane in helpless empty-handed rage. "You just go to hell!"

(Okay, so she's not exactly sympathetic to the Hound's plight here, but still...another reference to burning, and a pretty graphic one at that)

A Storm of Swords - Arya VII

Jack-Be-Lucky, Harwin, and Merrit o' Moontown braved the burning septry to search for captives. They emerged from the smoke and flames a few moments later with eight brown brothers, one so weak that Merrit had to carry him across a shoulder.

The septry soon collapsed in a roar of smoke and flame, its walls no longer able to support the weight of its heavy slate roof. The eight brown brothers watched with resignation. They were all that remained, explained the eldest, who wore a small iron hammer on a thong about his neck to signify his devotion to the Smith. "Before the war we were four-and-forty, and this was a prosperous place. We had a dozen milk cows and a bull, a hundred beehives, a vineyard and an apple arbor. But when the lions came through they took all our wine and milk and honey, slaughtered the cows, and put our vineyard to the torch.

A Storm of Swords - Arya XI

"Dead," he shouted back at her. "Do you think they'd slaughter his men and leave him alive?" He turned his head back toward the camp. "Look. Look, damn you."

The camp had become a battlefield. No, a butcher's den. The flames from the feasting tents reached halfway up the sky. Some of the barracks tents were burning too, and half a hundred silk pavilions. Everywhere swords were singing. And now the rains weep o'er his hall, with not a soul to hear. She saw two knights ride down a running man. A wooden barrel came crashing onto one of the burning tents and burst apart, and the flames leapt twice as high. A catapult, she knew. The castle was flinging oil or pitch or something.

"Come with me." Sandor Clegane reached down a hand. "We have to get away from here, and now." Stranger tossed his head impatiently, his nostrils flaring at the scent of blood. The song was done. There was only one solitary drum, its slow monotonous beats echoing across the river like the pounding of some monstrous heart. The black sky wept, the river grumbled, men cursed and died. Arya had mud in her teeth and her face was wet. Rain. It's only rain. That's all it is. "We're here," she shouted. Her voice sounded thin and scared, a little girl's voice. "Robb's just in the castle, and my mother. The gate's even open." There were no more Freys riding out. I came so far. "We have to go get my mother."

(heart: broken)

Look, there is a lot to say about fire and about rain in Arya's chapters, particularly in A Storm of Swords. I don't have the energy for it, so I'm just dumping quotes. Draw your own conclusions.

This collection is by no means exhaustive, and I'm sure there is someone more dedicated than I am, who has written something about this symbolism. (If anyone has it, send me a link).

All I'm saying is that GRRM isn't throwing all this devastation by fire and blood into Arya's chapters as positive foreshadowing for how she'll feel when a certain conqueror cross the Narrow Sea with her dragons.

#Arya Stark #dark!dany #my asks #dark dany #dark daenerys

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pluviophile-imagines · 4 years ago

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LOWI CONGRATS ON THE FOLLOWER MILESTONE!! 🥺💞💞💞 u deserve it and so much more!! for the kiss prompt could i get 18 with shinsou ?? 🥺👉👈

TYSM SOFFFF so uh. I’ve been fuckin stupid dkfnskfb my dumbass rlly wrote Shinsou correctly on my master post like a week ago and then still managed to write for Shigaraki instead when it came to the actual piece 😳 so thanks to my handyman brainrot you get two—that’s right, two!—characters for the price of one ur welcome ♥️ I cheated a lil bit so shinsou;s not sitting in the reader’s lap it’s just his head but i think its cute 🥺 also Shiggy’s is like twice as long as ive been trying to write them oops i rlly like the jealous reader premise 👉👈 it’s under the read more bc of that and bc of kiiiinda spoilers? if yall arent caught up to the manga you won’t get it but if u are it’s canonical. Whew that was a lot! Enjoy!

Kisses where one person is sitting in the other’s lap

Shinsou

To say that your relationship with Shinsou is new would be an understatement. You’ve been friends for years—ever since the third year of high school when you’d been assigned to him as his support—but you’ve never been particularly close until recently when you’d once again found yourself working on his hero costume and support items.

He’d only asked you out yesterday after nearly two months of tension-filled glances and fleeting touches. Now, the two of you are watching a movie at your mutual friend Kirishima’s apartment, sitting quite awkwardly on a loveseat and pretending like you don’t want to get closer to each other. You haven’t told your friends yet about your new relationship status, but that’s not entirely what’s holding you two back. If anything, it’s run-of-the-mill first date awkwardness (if watching a movie with six of your closest friends around can be considered a date), too afraid to initiate anything.

The movie’s dull; the two of you have pulled out your phones to snark at each other through text, a strategy you’d begun weeks ago after being hushed one too many times by Kaminari because you were talking too loudly. The bright screens probably aren’t all that much better, but you two are in the back anyway; nobody can see it unless they turn away from the TV.

You risk a glance up and end up locking eyes with Shinsou. Your face heats up, heartbeat quickening, as he gives you a charming smile. You watch him glance around the room, unsure at first why he’s doing it until he turns his attention back to you and slowly, silently, moves over across the loveseat into your personal space.

Your legs are touching now, faces so close your nose is nearly brushing his. One of his hands has come to brace against the armrest you’re leaning on, allowing him to stay leaning in.

“Hey,” he says, little more than a whisper and clearly hushed so the others don’t hear.

“Hey yourself,” you respond, earning yourself a low snort.

Instead of vocally responding, he pushes himself back up to a sitting position and then moves his hands to maneuver your legs until you’re no longer curled up against the couch’s backing but sitting like a normal person.

Then he lays down, head resting on your thighs, and turns to face the movie.

You’re grinning uncontrollably. All possible self-conscious thoughts of the others seeing you are dashed from your mind; you like the weight of him in your lap too much.

You spend much of the rest of the movie like that, easily over half an hour. A few minutes in he reaches down to find your hand and bring it to his hair, encouraging you to stroke it. It’s even softer than you’ve imagined in the past, fluffy and thick and genuinely nice to run your hands though. There’s a surge of contentment that rushes through you, and maybe a little bit of pride at the knowledge that you can do this pretty much any time you want now.

By the end of the film, you’re pretty sure Shinsou’s fallen asleep. He gives you the scare of your life, however, when he grabs your arm as you’re trying to pull away. His eyes open, purple irises trained on you.

What happens next you blame on grogginess, him still not quite being awake. He blames it on you; whenever you mention it, he says he saw you and had become consumed with an overwhelming desire to just lean up and kiss you. Whatever the reason, it’s nice for you.

His hand comes up to the back of your neck, tugging you down just as much as he lifts up. It begins soft, kind of sweet, just lips as the two of you melt into each other—but it doesn’t stay that way for long. Within moments the two of you morph the kiss from a quick peck after a movie to a very passionate makeout, and frankly you’d be more concerned if they hadn’t interrupted the two of you.

You pull away when you hear Kaminari’s wolf whistle, left sitting on the loveseat with a burning face and your boyfriend in your lap, still half asleep.

Shigaraki

You’re not jealous.

No, you’ve been dating Tomura for months. You can’t be jealous when he’s, well, yours, and has been for quite some time. You’re his first relationship, his first everything, and it’s frankly foolish of you to feel this insecure just because some floozy is simpering at him from across the enormous room where you and the rest of the League are scattered about. It’s not like she really wants him, or even knows him; he’s just the hew big-shot leader and she’s decided being his lover sounds good. Too bad that role’s already taken.

Still, there’s a sinking feeling in your chest—an ache in your heart, a burning lump in your throat—that says now that Tomura is Grand Commander he’ll drop you for someone better.

You don’t realize you’re glaring daggers at the woman until she catches your eye. She has no business looking that smug; the only reason she’s allowed in the room is to give Tomura reports. You’re the one lounging next to him as she approaches; he has your legs over his lap, his thumb absent-mindedly rubbing circles on your thigh.

And when she bends down to drop the report on his lap (as if your damn legs aren’t there, you want to scoff) she draws the eyes of every League member except the one she wants, because you’re the one who has Tomura’s attention.

He’s wearing Father, but you’ve long passed being afraid when he looks at you from between those lifeless digits and you can see the expression beneath; those lips tugging down slightly in a pout, brow furrowed, eyes far softer than they have any damn business being while hiding behind the severed hand of his old man. He’s concerned, and a little confused.

Tomura plucks the report from your legs and sets it aside, reaching to pull you fully into his lap. To your surprise he takes Father off, too; he buries his face into your neck to prevent the outsider from seeing, lips just brushing your ear so that you can hear him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Hm?”

“You’ve been pouting ever since the secretary came in, brat.”

Like hell you’re saying anything in front of her. You remain stubbornly silent.

He doesn’t like that, you can tell, but while the secretary’s interest is lost on him he knows you well enough to tell that you’re uncomfortable with her. Presumably that’s why he doesn’t press the issue and kisses you instead.

You don’t expect it. Tomura’s not exactly one to shy away from PDA (you’re sitting in his lap in front of the whole League, for fuck’s sake), but intimacy is something he’s never wanted to take beyond closed doors. When he’s in a sour mood you’ll kiss him sometimes, even in public (he’s invigorated by your affection in many way, but never anything you’d call heated.

This kiss, though, is. It’s anything but chaste, perhaps even downright lewd. He’s all but initiating a makeout with you while Miss Secretary is standing right there. Maybe his affection-motivated ways are rubbing off on you, but it helps more than it probably ought to.

You’re dazed by the time he pulls away. The sound of the door slamming closed snaps you from your trance. The secretary, ploy foiled simply by your annoyed expression, had left. It doesn’t matter. None of this was ever really about her in the first place.

“There,” Tomura says, audibly quite pleased with himself. “She’s gone. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

You sigh, leaning in to tuck your own head into his shoulder. Your voice is muffled when you speak, quiet so that only he can hear.

“It’s dumb.”

“It’s bothering you,” he says simply. There’s an underlying statement there: tell me so I can destroy it for you. In many ways, Tomura is a predictable man.

You know he’s not going to drop it, so you accept your fate. “She was making a pass at you.”

He tenses beneath you, holding you closer. You risk lifting your head from where it’s buried to see the way his nose is scrunched up. “She wasn’t.”

“Yeah, she was.”

There’s a pause, like he’s processing everything you’re saying. Then, seemingly finally registering what exactly is bothering you, his hands move to grip your hips and maneuver you to straddle him, sitting fully on his lap facing him. “Fine. Why’re you pissed about it, then?”

You lean in again, arms coming to wrap around his neck as you bury your face into his chest and try to ignore the tears that are coming. You’d never be able to live it down if any of the others saw you crying over the fucking secretary.

But you know more than anyone thanks to many late nights assuring your boyfriend he’s the only one for you that Tomura can empathize with this insecurity. It’s a little strange how the script has flipped.

“She’s a high ranking MLA member, she probably has some crazy strong quirk. I’m quirkless. I dunno. I guess I’m scared you’ll drop me for someone like her. Like I said, it’s dumb.”

He doesn’t speak for a moment. You sit there, listening to his heartbeat and matching your breathing to his. Then he speaks.

“Your emotions aren’t dumb. It’s okay that you’re feeling this way. Thank you for telling me.” He’s parroting you, you realize; this is what you tell him every time he comes to you for comfort when he’s gotten in a mood. You feel a little fuzzy, warmth flooding your chest. “But I think we both know they’re irrational.”

“Tomura… I—”

“I’m not interested in some lame-ass NPC,” he interrupts, no hesitation and entirely sincere. He doesn’t even need to think about it. “You’re my player two, my endgame. The only thing in this world worth protecting. You really think that secretary can hold a candle to you? I didn’t even notice her. Why would I when you’re here?”

You can’t help it, you surge upward and kiss him, just as passionately as he had you mere moments before. His right hand traces up your spine to find the back of your neck and pull you closer, sending a thrill through your body as your own arms tighten around him.

“Oi! Horndogs! Get a damn room, don’t make us see that!”

You break away at Dabi’s words, panting slightly, and if the sincerity of Tomura’s little rant hadn’t convinced you that his words were true, the look of utter adoration he’s regarding you with would have.

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firewoodfigs · 4 years ago

Note

Hi!! Could you do "It was a hospital bed, and A slipped in carefully to lie beside B all night" for a Royai fic from that prompt list? Thank you!! ❤️❤️

hello anon!! thanks for the prompt aaaah I had a lot of fun toying with it in between work and the other shenanigans that have been cropping up this week <3 I hope you don't mind the somewhat unusual ending ahaha I dimly recall writing a few other fics indirectly responding to this prompt (here and here!) so I wanted to try something slightly different from my usual fare 👉🏻👈🏻 part of this was also originally from a two-shot I'm working on, tweaked to fit the prompt hehe. I hope you enjoy!!! 🥰

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Riza can think of a million reasons why hospitals are awful.

First, the food. She’s not sure if it’s as nutritious as they make it out to be; there are times when she wonders if it’s even edible. She’s had worse, of course - hospital food isn’t as bad as ration bars - but she’s quickly getting tired of eating plain yoghurt and bland porridge every day, for every single meal.

Second, the stench. Riza hates that every inch of the place smells like a victim of obsessive cleanliness; she has to resist the urge to upchuck every time the door opens and the smell of chemicals and antiseptic filters in like an unwanted guest.

Third, the fact that she’s sharing a room with a man who, at this point, is behaving more like a cat on hot bricks than a disciplined soldier is quickly driving her insane. She’d readily agreed to be his caretaker, of course; Riza doubts there’s anyone else capable of dealing with his antics and ever-growing anxiety. But after hearing him sigh and toss and turn in his bed for the fifty-eighth time that night (she’d counted, because she was bored out of her wits, and there was nothing else she could do other than sleep or stare at the ceiling, per doctor’s orders), Riza decides she’s just about had enough.

She looks at him from her bed. He’s presently engaged with twiddling his thumbs, thinking out loud.

Riza sighs and rises from her bed quietly. She brings the IV stand along with her - an unnecessary inconvenience - and carefully slips into his bed once she’s made sure that the tubes and wires connected to them are tangle-free.

“I never pegged you as an opportunist, Lieutenant,” he murmurs, despite her best efforts to be discreet. “Sleeping with your commanding officer while he’s blind?”

“You could always court martial me later, sir,” Riza deadpans. “Now scoot over.”

Luckily, he obliges without much retort.

“Your wish is my command.”

Riza huffs. She adjusts the thin, scraggly piece of linen that the hospital justifies as a blanket - another downside of this shitty place - and makes sure he’s probably covered, warm.

“Three words,” she mutters.

“Eight letters?”

“Twelve, actually.”

Roy raises a brow. “What could it be?”

“Would you like to wager a guess, sir?”

“Not really.”

“You’re an idiot,” she says. Roy laughs, and it’s a tiny little sound that is so discordant with his current mood, but it’s at least genuine. “Now go to sleep.”

“Alright, alright.”

He stops fidgeting, for a while. Riza closes her eyes and attempts to fall asleep - and she actually does, for a while - at least until she hears the sheets rustling again, the movement and tension coming from beside her. She groans softly.

“You should sleep, sir.”

She feels him stiffen. Roy smiles sheepishly, looking right through her like she’s not there. It still unnerves her how this is probably going to be their new normal: him without his sight. Her as his eyes.

“Sorry.”

Riza frowns. An apology is not the answer she wants. What she wants is for him - or them both, actually - to sleep and rest and properly recuperate so that they can have a speedy recovery, so that they can get out of here as soon as possible.

“Bad dreams?” she asks, because it’s the exact same thing that’s been haunting her. (She’s lucky her throat makes it impossible for her to scream or kick up a fuss; she’d hate for Roy to stumble blindly through the room in what he probably thinks is an act of chivalry and/or heroism.)

He shrugs.

“Then and now,” he offers. His smile fades, and he lapses into an unexpected moment of vulnerability. “Hard to differentiate between day and night nowadays, too.”

And because Riza doesn’t know what to say, she simply brushes her knuckles against his.

Roy returns the gesture, drawing indiscernible patterns on the back of her hand with his bandaged one.

“Well, it’s almost midnight now, sir.”

He lets out a small laugh, but it’s painfully hollow.

Riza shifts slightly. It’s a bit of a tight squeeze - hospital beds are clearly not meant for two persons (or anything inappropriate) - but it doesn’t bother her all that much. She just wishes there’s more she can do, to comfort him. Make him feel a little less gloomy.

“It feels like I’ve been sleeping for years.”

“If it helps reduce the incidents of you falling asleep during office hours, then you should get more sleep now, while you can.”

Roy turns, like he’s searching for her, even though there’s not much closer she can be at this point. He exhales shakily. She feels his hand trembling against hers, and responds with a gentle caress. (She knows he’s still feeling guilty, probably berating himself internally about their predicament, about what transpired beforehand. And to be fair, there’s a part of her that’s still angry about all that's happened underground. They’ll probably have to talk about it, at some point, but probably not now — not when they’re both still drugged up and only half-lucid.)

“Humour me, Lieutenant.”

“What?”

“I can’t sleep,” he confesses. Dimly, Riza notes that his voice has taken on a somewhat petulant edge — like a child complaining about their bedtime, but she doesn’t comment on it. Being nearly bedridden for a week is enough to drive her nuts, too. “I’ve tried counting sheep and all that shit, and it’s just — it’s not working.”

Riza sighs. She’s tired, yes, but she’s also aware that she’s probably not going to get any sleep at this rate. She tries to think of ways to stave off his restlessness. Reading is one — she can probably bore him into sleep with a Xingese recitation (she’s gotten pretty good at that lately), but she’s technically not supposed to be talking much. Alcohol is another, but neither of them are supposed to be drinking (and besides, the only form of alcohol available in hospitals isn’t meant for human consumption). Maybe chess, then. She’s not particularly keen on playing a game of chess, now (because she just wants to sleep), but she thinks it’ll help exhaust some of his boundless energy.

“We could play a game of chess, if you want. Breda was kind enough to drop a vinyl board here in the afternoon.”

“I can’t see —“

“I’ll tell you where I move my pieces.”

He frowns, clearly not liking the idea. “You’re not supposed to be talking much, Lieutenant.”

“I’m fine,” she insists, turning to pour a cup of water for herself before continuing. “I won’t have to speak much — unless you’re being a nuisance or a cheat or a fraud.”

He laughs. “I’ll be none of those things, Lieutenant.”

“Good.”

She sets up the board on his bed and helps him sit up. Riza lets him play white.

“It’s your move, sir.”

“You’ve made yours?”

“No. You’re playing white.”

“Tough. It’ll be more embarrassing if I end up losing.”

Riza smiles. “Well, we don’t know that yet, sir.”

He opens with pawn to e4. She helps him move his pieces and parrots her movements back to him. Pawn to e4, too. Pawn to d4. Same here. A closed game, not quite like his usual aggressive style of playing.

Riza watches as he frowns with intensity. It’s probably more a test of memory than strategy for him at this point. She wonders if there’s a way he can adapt to chess, to the military’s utilitarian (and frankly unsympathetic) demands now that his sight’s impaired.

(Life is so unlike chess, Riza thinks, in spite of Roy’s silly metaphors that postulate otherwise. The rules are never fixed, and the universe is always rife with uncertainty. It’s not like chess, where you can predict your opponents’ moves if you get good enough. Neither of them had expected that he’d be here right now, losing sleep and contemplating life over a chessboard while blind.)

He clucks his tongue, reciting a series of movements from memory. The Blackmar-Diemer. Riza smiles indulgently.

Still as aggressive as ever, sir.

Of course.

The game quickly becomes a round of blitz, and though he manages to open his lines and mount a rather decent attack, it’s clear that he has trouble recalling after the eighteenth move. It's still an impressive feat, though. Better than the average layperson.

“Check,” Riza announces, conversationally. Technically, she’d had the advantage, both on the board (and in real life). It shouldn’t really count, and besides, checkmate isn’t her objective — it’s to get her commanding office to sleep.

“Well-played,” Roy hums. He’s strangely still in his bed as he closes his eyes, rubbing at his temples — presumably to ease off an oncoming migraine. It happens a lot, when he’s in deep thought, when he’s over thinking. Thinking too much for his own good. “I need to work on my recall, I think.”

“I think so too, sir.”

He laughs, but the sound is again empty, foreign. It is so at odds with his usual smirks and unbridled laughter (when he’s laughing at someone else, or a joke made at somebody’s expense), like there’s an ache beneath the surface that she cannot reach.

Roy turns slightly, bumping into his dethroned king as he adjusts himself on the bed.

She blames the sudden, uncharacteristic urge to cry on her drugged-up system.

(Riza doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to how uncommunicative his eyes are. He’s always regarded each and every one of his subordinates with respect and meaning and gratitude, but he’d simply looked over the unit as if taking inventory when they had come by earlier.

But she’ll make do, Riza thinks. She has to. She’s always known him in a way nobody else has, in a deeply intimate way, like a book she’s memorised by heart.)

They fall silent for a few minutes. His lips part a little - she knows he’s about to say something - but it snaps shut again, like he can’t bring himself to say the words.

Riza simply waits for him, like she always has; holding onto his held breath like it's the last thread of hope. She leans into his touch a little closer than necessary.

I’m right here, even if you can’t see me.

Roy smiles.

“I hope I won’t forget your face, Riza.”

#royai #royai fanfic #royai fic #sorry my lunch break is almost over so I gotta go back to work LOL but I will come back and edit this later AHAHAHAH #my new brand is 'excessive usage of chess metaphors' and man. it shows.......#lovely anon <3 #have a great week anon!!! mwahmwahmwah!!!!!!#reblogs and comments are always appreciated :")

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hermannsthumb · 3 years ago

Note

hello i adore your fics <33 could you write something during the war where newt & hermann sleep/cuddle in each other's beds whenever they're stressed (but are still incredibly repressed)? no pressure obv!!

SURE THING!! getting back in the prompt game!!! been working on longer fics and some regular work this summer so sorry ive been spotty with writing 👀 I'm aiming to get through a bunch of these at 1k words each

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Newt isn't necessarily expecting the knock on his door a little bit past midnight, but he can't really say it surprises him. Hermann was more on edge today than usual, getting pissed at Newt for stupid little things (like finishing off the coffee creamer that Hermann doesn’t even like in the lab fridge, or humming along a little too loudly to his iPod), discreetly taking ibuprofen for what Newt knew was a bad headache, swearing under his breath and erasing his entire chalkboard every time he made the tiniest calculation error. It’s the culmination, Newt knows, of a majorly stressful week—another kaiju attack, multiple mandatory Shatterdome personnel meetings about the kaiju attach, reports on the kaiju attack and the mandatory meeting due, Hermann hoarding the weight of where the deployed jaeger failed and pushing himself to fix it all, immediately. Newt’s not sure he saw Hermann have a full meal (ie, something more substantial than black tea and a cigarette) once all throughout all of it. He’s not sure he saw Hermann sleep somewhere other than his desk either, or even change his clothes.

So, no, Newt isn’t expecting it, because expecting it means it’s something they do (which they one hundred percent don’t), but he showers early that night, and he changes into a big t-shirt along with his boxers instead of just the latter, and he makes sure his spare pillow is fluffed and placed delicately on his bed. Just in case. And all of it in time for the timid knocking at 12:13 am.

Knocking which isn’t even finished before Newt swings open his door. “Hey, dude,” he says, leaning casually against his doorframe.

Hermann stands in front of him in pajamas, his pillow tucked under his right arm, his toothbrush clenched tight in his left fist. His pajamas are old and clearly well-loved: blue plaid, hanging slightly off his frame, missing the third button from the top. He hasn’t worn this pair over to Newt’s bunk yet. Newt recognizes his thick wool socks, though. He teases Hermann for wearing socks to bed every single time. (Not that Newt is keeping track of what Hermann wears on the super and totally random times he comes over.) “Good evening, Newton,” Hermann says with a terse, polite nod, like they just bumped into each other on the street, or it’s pure coincidence that Newt happened to be behind this very door that he decided to knock on. He peers around Newt into his bunk. “Oh, have you tidied up?”

“I picked my dirty laundry up,” Newt says, by which he means he dumped it all onto his desk chair to deal with later.

“It’s a sight better than it usually is,” Hermann says. "I can actually see your floor."

He clears his throat.

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” he continues. “I know it’s rather late.”

“Nah, not at all, I’m always up now," Newt says. It's kind of a lie. He's asleep by now on normal nights (barring when he really needs to pull an all-nighter in the lab), but he kind of had an inkling he'd need to stay up an extra hour or so. It's weird how well he knows Hermann sometimes.

"I was taking a walk and thought I might stop by," Hermann says.

Hermann’s eyes drift over Newt’s shoulder, over to Newt’s bed. Newt made sure that his sheets were fresh, too, and he's stripped his bedspread back enough for them to peek out invitingly. Newt’s become shockingly more hygienic since this became a whole totally not-thing. Hermann shifts his weight a little more heavily to his cane. “Very good,” he says. “Er. Well. Considering we’re both awake, I wonder if I might come in to—talk. Or some such thing. I’m having…difficulty sleeping.” He clears his throat again. “Insomnia.”

Newt feigns surprise. “Oh, man, really? Of course, totally come in!” He opens his door wider. “My electric kettle is already boiling if you want tea or something. I mean—I turned it on so I could have tea, but there’s enough water for two people. I wanted a lot of tea,” he adds.

(Newt bought the kettle for Hermann after he almost had an aneurysm when Newt tried to heat up water in the microwave for him.)

“Tea would be nice,” Hermann says.

While Hermann shows himself in, Newt steps over to his bookcase and begins rifling through his tea collection for some of the herbal decaffeinated stuff he keeps on hand for the completely random occasions Hermann drops in. Honestly, though, all of Newt’s tea collection is also kind of for Hermann. Newt is generally more of a coffee sort of guy (barring boba tea, which rocks), so his tea collection kind of just sits there gathering dust when Hermann’s not there. He quickly fixes a cup of herbal tea in Hermann’s favorite of Newt’s mugs (a sturdy old MIT mug, big enough to fit two regular cups) and turns to find that Hermann has already made himself at home in Newt’s bed. “Thank you very much,” Hermann says.

Hermann is taking up the right side of the bed, his own pillow and Newt’s spare propped up beneath him, his cane propped against the wall. It’s the side he always takes. Newt has started thinking of it as Hermann’s side, actually, and has stopped bothering to return items that Hermann routinely leaves on the bedside table because of it—his spare glasses cleaning cloth, a half-finished book he’ll let Newt read along with him over his shoulder, a notepad he’ll sometimes scribble random equations down in. Newt’s own stuff (a lamp, his alarm clock, his glasses) looks barren without Hermann’s at this point. Newt’s kind of afraid to decide what that means.

He hits the light and slips into the left side of the bed. He tries very hard not to look at Hermann's delicately crossed ankles, because it's cute and it makes him feel disgustingly warm and affectionate inside, which is totally not how he should be thinking about his fussy lab partner. “Did you want to talk about anything?” he says.

“Mm,” Hermann says. His arms are crossed across his chest, too, very prim-and-proper. “Not particularly. It’s been a miserable week, is all.”

He drinks his fill of the tea, then sets both his mug and his glasses onto Newt’s side table. Newt doesn’t have to be asked to pull back the bedcovers for him or to gently drape them over Hermann when Hermann makes himself sufficiently comfortable on the mattress. He especially doesn't have to be asked to wind his arm around Hermann’s side, nudge his knee between Hermann's legs to prop up his left, and draw him snug up against his chest. Hermann showered, too—he smells like the same PPDC-standard soap Newt uses, and his short hair is still damp and tickles Newt’s nose. Immediately Hermann sags against him, like all the tension is leaving his body. Newt feels him sigh softly. A moment later, Hermann squeezes his hand. “Thank you, Newt,” he says. It's so quiet Newt thinks he imagined it for a second.

“Sure,” Newt says.

Maybe they’ll talk about it eventually—Newt knows they probably won’t—but the truth is that Newt never sleeps as well as he does with Hermann in his bed, too.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag

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archer3-13 · 3 years ago

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figured it was better to save my thoughts on character outfits for three hopes until we had gotten to see them all. my initial impressions when we just saw edelgard, claude and dimitris designs was that three hopes was looking to be a refinement of designs from houses itself but like most things regarding three houses quality it seems the answers a lot more... down the middle in terms of quality then it first appeared.

blue lions

dimitri: love this design more then his original ts design. i feel thats because dimitris original ts design was made with more thematic purposes in mind but his new design is just made to be appealing to look at.

dedue: not much has really changed but not much really needed to change. still, the beard is such a natural fit for dedue that i cant help but consider it highly.

mercedes: again not a design that changed much at all and not really one that needed to change much at all. i will add that ive always actually liked her original ts hair contrary to a lot of people, but the new bob is probably more appealing to a wider number of people.

annette: i feel like her new design better captures her personality? not that annette cant have depth mind, just that shes very much defined as a go getter kinda quirky young girl which her new look better evokes in my mind.

ashe: i feel like they didnt know where to go with this one? its not bad, its just such an odd shift from his original. still it feels like something ashe would wear to me, hes aiming to be a knight after all.

felix: as opposed to dimitri whos design went from a more thematic to a more aesthetic design, felix feels like hes going in the opposite direction from a more aesthetic design to a more visually thematic one. and i find that incredibly fascinating, like, why are you wearing your dads cloths felix? are these glenns cloths actually? are we gonna get something more directly confronting the fact that felix is written to be incredibly hypocritical/not as insightful as he thinks he is? this one whets my story appetite.

sylvain: sylvain channels his inner lewyen and gets a scarf time? its different flavored but nice in its own way not much more to say other then his hair could have stood to have a bit more height to it if that makes sense?

ingrid: like sylvain theres not much to say, its different but very nice in its own way. hair could stand to be an inch shorter or so but other then that another solid design overall.

black eagles

edelgard: in a weird spot because i actually do like her new ts design, but it also feels like its even worse at conveying the idea of an armor unit then her original design was. there are definitely some interesting implications to draw from that mind, but it doesnt changed the fact that every edelgard design ive ever seen just feels off for one reason or another.

hubert: apparently someone saw how people thirsted over hubert and decided to double down on the wet rat bastard idea hard this time. whether it was to make him less appealing or infact more appealing i cant quite decide, but i dont think theres anyway to get past how hubert looks like a discount version of himself.

dorothea: thats certainly dorothea. ive never been particularly fond of her or her designs so i cant particularly comment, but this feels about the same as her other designs to me. boring if effective at provoking the image of a high society lady.

bernadetta: proof if proof be needed that bernie was always intended as more of a gag character then anything serious. im not gonna waid into the debate on that, but i will note that it must be someones fetish on the design team as theyve seem to have doubled down hard on shut in neet bernie this time.

ferdinand: theres something about the outffit itself i like more then the original, it feels more ferdinand if that makes sense, but the hair really infuriates me this time as it only looks good at certain angles. when it looks shorter then it actually is, ferdinand looks his best.

caspar: the design that feels the most like a mid tier evolution before hitting fully evolved caspar to me. i actually rather like it overall including the short spiked hair.

petra: idk this one feels like a dud to me. individually a lot of the design elements would look pretty good in an outfit designed entirely with them in mind, but as it stands it feels like they mashed several competing designs together without much thought on the cohesiveness of it.

linhardt: femboi linhardt? idk what the case was intended for here, but overall like annette i feel this design better captures linhardts personality and character then his original ts design.

golden deer

claude: i like this design a lot more then the original but not because i strictly think its a better design but more so because this design has most of everything i like in character outfits. another case id say of less thematic intent more visual intent.

hilda: another perfectly serviceable design that looks different but still good. cant decide which hairstyle i like more for hilda but im leaning more towards this one as it feels more like one she'd actually wear in a war setting.

lorenz: looking dapper and fine overall lorenz, people can make fun of his hair all they like but he really makes it work and i like how this feels more applicable for a mage/dark knight which lorenz is primarily geared towards being.

raphael: raphael decided to show off some more muscle which im always down for. the bandana helps bring it together giving him a more worker look which i feel works for him.

ignatz: love the colours a lot more this time and i vastly prefer this compared to his original outfit which just confused me. only thing i dont like about it is the breatsplate, that doesnt fit ignatz as much as it fits ashe and hed have been better off with a more cloth based look there.

lysithea: like claude i like this outfit more not because its a strictly better outfit and more because it just has more design elements that appeal to my tastes then her original look did. i will say i lean to this also being a better fit for lysitheas personality as well though.

marianne: and your gonna hear me roar oar a a a a a a oar like mercedes its a case where the outfit hasnt really changed because ya didnt really didnt need to change much about it, but the hair style has changed to something im not personally more fond of but recognize as a good visually appealing hair style.

leonie: i like her original ts outfit more really but this one looks nice as well and has a bit more individual flair and personality to it then before when she was more so cropping elements from jeralt.

#fire emblem #fire emblem three hopes

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hitoshisbabygirl · 4 years ago

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Author's Notes ♡: Hello hello! Welcome to my first JJK fic for our free for all Valentine’s Day collab! I had fun with this free idea , I always wanted to do an AU like this so it gave me a bases for future ideas! Enjoy~ bunny ❥

Warnings : None! Some heavy kissing and such but nothing too explicit , Yuuji and Sukuna are twins ♡

Word count : 3.8k

Paring(s) : Tattooist!Sukuna x F! Reader

Enjoy ♡

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Sukuna couldn't stand it, the girl his brother brought over to his shop plagued his mind. Wide eyed and just as happy as Yuuji it was infuriating how energetic the pair was in the tattoo shop. He was used to the sound of his brother asking for him but once he hear a second voice his hand twitches , eyes moving from the drawing in front of him as his appointment in front of him practically was begging fro his attention, occasionally trying spark up a conversation as he drew out a rose, planned for her collarbone “So, did all of you tattoos hurt?” The girl asked, pushing herself closer as he continued to stech, not paying her much mind. “No, I guess i've always had tough skin though.” He said as the girl hummed and giggled continuing her talking “I've been afraid of needles for as long as I could’ve remembered, but maybe this'll get me over my fear huh?” she questioned as all he did was hum, finishing the small design. “Maybe. Is this okay?” He asked her as she gasped, her giggling increasing to his dismay

“Omg i love it! You're a good worker with your hands” She said as he started to get ready, popping off his rings as he put on gloves, running up red and black inks for the rose to be. “Your right shoulder, right?” Sukuna asked as she confirmed, moving her shirt a bit too low to try to entice him. Pushing more of it back up, Sukuna placed and got the stencil ready, finally looking up to the girl “Tell me if there's anything wrong okay ?” He said as she gave him an almost hungry look “oh please i sure will” And with that he started the tattoo, the girl he was tattooing letting out small cries and gaps. Every one of the sounds made him stop, checking on her as the girl tried to act differently but he knew she was in pain. Once the girl stopped in a crying spell and was able to calm down from the help of the giant tattooist “s-sorry i didn't know my collar bone was so sensitive” she said as he said she was okay, starting to go back to her tattoo once everything was better with the girl. Once finished , she started to pay when she started to hit on him again “ I'm still sorry for that whole thing , how about I get you a drink for the troubles huh?” She threw at him as he gave her a small smile “I have more clients later, and i'd rather not drink, don't really like to unless its special'' Sukuna responded as the girl admired her new rose that covered a small portion of her chest and collarbone “ How about we go celebrate my new tattoo? And the fact you helped me through it huh?” She suggested. Before he could respond he heard the high pitched sounds of laughter. Looking up to his door he saw his annoying brother but with one of the most beautiful girls he ever saw. Once finishing the payment with his client and her sliding her number on a piece of paper his brother came up with his friend “Hey Su! I want you to meet my bestfriend [ ]!” his hyper twin brother Yuuji said as Sukuna looked at the girl in front of them. She looked to be their age , shorter than him with a few tattoos and dyed hair herself. “Nice to meet you young lady”

Sukuna said as he took her hand, giving it a kiss. [ ] giggled as Yuuji fake choked, his brother rolling his eyes at him “ What? Not my fault you've never brought her around me, she's a lady, gotta give her a proper introduction right?” Sukuna teased as Yuuji grumbled causing [ ] to laugh “Well nice to properly meet you Sukuna , ive heard so much about the woman lure bad boy whos the polar opposite of his sweet and innocent twin” She teased as he gave her his own smirk “ Yet i know nothing of the cute little girl standing in front of me” Sukuna lashed back as [ ] felt her face heat up, a laugh coming from her. His brother pouted he stood in front of his brother , giving him a knowing look. “I brought her here for a tattoo, idiot” He said as Sukuna gave him a raised eyebrow, looking at the girl beside him “Is that right doll? Came here for a tattoo?” He asked as she gave him a shy smile back “Well erm, i kinda wanted to start a sleeve with you if that's alright?” with widened eyes Sukuna and Yuuji were surprised together, the strawberry blondes both looking as the girl gave them a confused look back “What? Is that bad?” She asked as sukuna kicked in “Nah, i'm surprised that you'd choose me ,i'm not the usual girly tattoo sleeve maker” He said as she gave him a smile, “And i'm not your usual girly girl who just wants flowers and shit as my tattoo” She retorted back as he gave her an impressed smirk, ushering her to the back of his studio room “You can come too twerp” he said to his brother as yuuji ran to join them, headed to the back room.

This became a recurring theme as over the next few days and even weeks , Sukuna and [ ] met to talk about her new additions, adding and removing elements as they started to get a good picture of what they both thought looked the best together, some ideas being saved for other single tattoos. “So how do you like it so far sweetheart?” Sukuna asked as [ ] gave him an enthusiastic squeal, moving over the turned drawing desk as she fell forward to hug the tattooed covered man. Shocked by her random falling grasp he chuckled, catching her so she wouldn't hit her hip on the swerving table and half giving her a hug back as they laughed together. [ ] pulled back some as she started to notice more differences between the twins. Starting with Sukunas face ; it was more clear and sunkissed, small freckles adorned his cheeks from the sunshine. Unlike his twin, she noticed how more stocky and strong his body and face was compared to Yuuji. The twins were pretty much identical , except for how they acted, the fact that Sukuna had tattoos and the sometimes usual differences between twins, like style and other small discrepancies. Unlike the bright and colorful yet athletic look Yuuji had , Sukuna tended to be more of a dark artsy look, usually black clothes , ripped jeans , rings and chains. He tended to give off the usual bad boy vibes, someone who you wouldn't want your parents to meet.

But under his hard exterior he was very personable , just as sweet as his twin. As she was lost in her own thoughts , her hands pushing off his chest he snapped her back to reality, a finger going under her chin as he gave her a gentle smile , catching the girl in midthought of her tattooist “Aren't you something….what's on your mind [ ]” He rasped out as her eyes widened, realizing how close they were. From the standing mirror she could really see it ; one of her thighs was in between his spreaded ones, the other in his right arm. From her arms wrapped around his neck her face was close to his, the two of them slightly chest to chest. Her body felt hot as the male in front of her smirked, meeting her eyes in the mirror as he looked at the scene in front of him too. Eyeing her in the mirror he could imagine the work to be put atop her skin, and how pretty she'd be in his work, the thought gave him a sense of protectiveness and overall close bond with the girl he was around for more than he'd had before. Spending hours a day , almost everyday except his super packed days had gotten him a closer bond with her and even with his twin brother, the group of them and their other friends relaxing and enjoying time together. The little things that they all did together made him realize how much he enjoyed taking a break. And how much he'd fallen for his new client.

Coming from his own thoughts he pulled her right leg higher onto his lap, causing her to fall forward as she gasped, their faces impossibly closer. “Hm...youre pretty when youre flustered..” he said absentmindedly as he looked back to them in the mirror ,wrapping an arm around her waist as he gave her a sly smile, moving back into the chair he sat in “S-sukuna?” [ ] questioned as he hummed, sliding his eyes from the mirror to her questioning ones. Tracing the hand on his chest he rose a brow, a silent sign to continue. “I-I can get down. I'm sorry i was a little excited-” She continued as she started to move. With quick ease Sukuna kept her in place, rubbing the back of her thigh as he leaned in, pulling her closer by the backs of her thighs “I like you here. You don't have to move unless you're uncomfortable” He said as she ran a hand through his messy hair, sliding it to his cheek as he laid his head in it, kissing her palm. With the small caring action she squeaked , making the male chuckle “Am i...moving too fast” He said , his voice barely a whisper as he tightened his grasp on her waist, eyes searching hers.

“N-no i'm just...surprised?” She half questioned as he gave a knowing smile, shifting her weight to completely have her in his lap. With a high pitched squeal and giggles [ ] landed comfortably , her calves hanging off as her thighs tightened around his waist. “See, isn't this more comfortable?” He asked as she shyly hid in his neck, overwhelmed by his random acts of affection “Sukuna...are you trying to just make me embarrassed” She whined as he stroked her back, putting her face deeper in his neck “Mh..no not particularly..kinda just...thinking” He said as he pulled his phone out. Facing the mirror he took a silent picture, a smirk on his lips as he looked it over. her body was perfectly flushed with his , her arms around his neck as the tattoo down her side was more prominent in the picture. From the way it looked was just a couple taking a handsy photo but for Sukuna, it was a seal for how he felt. He wanted to take more pictures like this, but with them being together. Mirror selfies, clothes or even more explicit for his own gallery ; he loved the way they looked together. Noticing how quiet he was [ ] sat up looking at the male as he set his phone up facing the mirror before squishing her face “Everything okay?” She asked with a squished face as he laughed , releasing her cheeks “I love this..” He admitted as she gave him a wide eyed look , his warm ones looking away from hers

“I know..all of this could be seen as a very lewd way to admit my feelings but..honestly i'm used to just having women want me for free tattoos and well..yknow..my talents'' Sukuna said as he gave her a crooked smile, a laugh coming from [ ] as she understood what he meant, but the fact that he's admitting feelings for her made her heart flutter “S-so you like me?” She asked warily as he let out a light sigh, leaning up to put their faces close again “Hey [ ]...i know this is awkward and embarrassing...for me at least...but..may i kiss you?” He whispered over her lips as she silently shook her head, letting her eyes feel heavy as he got closer, rubbing their lips faintly together. As soon as she tighten her arms around his neck he pushed his record on his phone, sealing their lips together. As the two started to make out he tightened his hands around her waist, a low hum coming from his throat as he bit her bottom lip, sliding his tongue in. the more heated it got the more she whimpered, pulling her kiss plumped lips away from his. Groaning he chased her lips, crashing them against his as they started to kiss again. Letting her nimble fingers move up from his neck she tugged at his hair at the back of his nape, making the male growl as he rocked her closer to him, his larger arms wrapping over her waist.

Once again she whined and pulled away, putting her head against his “Sukuna...I..geez you-” trying to catch her breath he gave an airsh laugh. Ending his video. Catching him touch his phone [ ] reached for it “What did you do?” She asked as he held the phone above his head, watching them kiss again as he grinned “Oh nothing..just wanted my confession is all” He said as she gave him a look “[ ]..i really do like you...god i could say i'm almost in love…” “Almost?” She whispered as he kissed her lips again “More like i am but..i dunno how you feel about me” He said as she gave him a soft look, kissing his cheek “I love the time we've spent together, and well, if you'll have me i'll be yours” She responded. A wide smile on his face as he leaned back in to kiss her, the new couple giggling through the sessions as they finalized the rest, starting on the masterpiece they had crafted together.

Starting on her sleeve was one of the most enjoyable things she had done. Every few weeks to a month depending on the healing time she was adding her next piece. As she finished all of her linework it came to coloring her colorful bits. For the next few months again she finished it, all while spending time with her tattooist boyfriend and friends. As she was to the final stretch of heer coloring she knew valentines day was coming up more and more. Her and Sukuna had been dating for around a year now, just a few weeks shy of it. As she came to the shop she waved to the receptionist, giving him a smile “Hey Megs, how are you?” Megumi, the inky haired boy looked up from his journal and gave [ ] a rare smile, “Hey [ ]! I'm good ,how are you today? Sukunas is in the back if youre ready for him” He said as she gave him smile “That's good! I'm so excited my tattoo should be done just in time for valentines day! Speaking of, do you have an idea of your valentine this year?” She teased as he gave her a shy look “Ah...not particularly but maybe once it came i would” He said as she gave him a nod in understanding. Hearing his girlfriend talking Sukuna came out, a grin on his lips “Hey babe” He said as he gave her a kiss to her neck, causing Megumi to groan as she giggled “Cmon dont make him uncomfortable with your affection, lets go big boy” She joked as she took her strawberry blonde to his room “Ah okay babe let me see your arm” Sukuna started as she took of his jacket, revealing her sleeveless crop top and work of art on her left arm. Turning her arm some he looked over her lines and color deposits , making sure everything looked right. “Its coming along nicely [ ]..i just have this little pieces on your forearm and we'd be done with piece” He said happily as she gave him a soft smile “I love it...just as much as i love you” She said as he looked up from her arm , giving her a shy smile “I love you more [ ]”

Sukuna said as he leaned up, kissing her lips as he set up his inks and machine, snapping his gloves as he started to finish her last pieces. As the buzzing of the machine lulled her comfortingly she caught the determined and concentrated look on his face as he tattooed away “Where do you wanna go on valentine's day...hypothetically speaking” Sukuna asked randomly as she started to fill in lines. Blinking comically, she looked down at her boyfriend. “Anything youd come up with” She said as he hummed, finishing up the last color as he wiped it clean, starting to clean up the ink and smaller tears in her skin hidden by the fresh ink. “Princess...thank you for letting me be the one that did your art…” He said as he traced her hand , kissing her fingertips as he flashed her a smile. “I love you more Su..” [ ] whispered back as she leaned forward, kissing his forehead.

As the two sat there in his studio and talked [ ] drew up a heart with their names in it , giggling as she showed her boyfriend “Look babe!” She said as he stopped cleaning his desk, analyzing her work “I like it, a lot. You did a great job sizing wise, and i always loved your cursive” he said as he ran a finger over the art again “You said you wanted to get better at tattooing, right?” Sukuna asked as he still looked over the design “Yeah i did, what about it?” [ ] asked as he stretched , reaching over as he pulled out his darkest black ink and vibrant red. Soon he picked up two pairs of gloves and one of his various machines “Ill let you do this on me, and i can do it on you if youd like” He said as she gave him a happy screech, starting to make the transfers “Really Sukuna, youd let me do that?” She asked as he nodded, prepping an empty space on his arm “Ill help you, make sure its deep enough but i trust you, you did a good job with the smaller ones on yourself. Youre good sweetheart im here “ And thats what he says the whole time she tattoos him, her lines were straight but she felt like her red names were lacking. Tracing them again the darken, showing up beautifully as she focused, holding his skin apart as she smiled at her work, wiping the access ink and covering it in ointment like he did earlier “I did it!” She jumped happily as he gave a satisfied grin, looking at her energetic girlfriend. ‘I love her’ he thought to himself as he thought of what hed do for her in the coming weeks for the day filled of love

On valentines day [ ] was at home, talking to Nobara as she heard a knock on her door. Telling the girl she'd call back, [ ] started at the door and opened it, seeing a giant bouquet of flowers as she took them nicely from the delivery boy “Uhhh miss [ ] correct? The sender also wanted you to have this” The boy fumbled with a note, handing it to the girl as she thanked him , watching him leave as she let out a happy squeal, reading it.

‘Dollface, I hope you're ready for tonight, I have a lot in store for us tonight. How about you wear that cute little black dress you got last time we went to the mall hm? I'll be over at four-SKR”

Giggling at his note she looked at the time, noting it was 2:00, she went to the back, starting to get dressed as she was excited to see what her boyfriend had planned for them. She took the time to curl her hair, setting them as she worked on her makeup. After taking the time she saw it was around 3:45. She smiled as she got a text from him, saying he was on his way. As she happily ran around her apartment , trying to get rid of the jitters she had for the night planned with her boyfriend. Soon she heard a knock on the door. Skipping to the dor she opened it to her tall boyfriend leaning against the frame, looking down at his girlfriend “Hi darling” Sukuna said as she stood on her toes , giving him a peck against his lips as she giggled “Hi” She responded as he wrapped his arms around her waist , kissing the crook of her neck. “Missed you..” He whispered as she hummed, rocking with him as they stumbled into her living room, Sukuna shutting her door behind him as he picked her up. Laughing , [ ] held onto him, looking down to her well dressed partner. He was in a black vest, adorned with red decals and black pants. Despite him wearing nicer clothes it had the same grudge feel to it, ringed fingers and pierced ears filled with glistening metals very promedent in his attire. As she gave him a glance over from being held in his arms he rose a brow and placed her down, giving her an uncharacteristic shy look “Do i look alright?....tried something new since ill be taking you out” He asked as she kissed his cheek, giving him a content smile “I love it. You still have that edge I fell in love with laced through and through” [ ] said as Sukuna felt his heart jump, a warmth creeping up his neck and face as he kissed her face, taking her hand “Well then...i'm very thankful with a woman like you in my life...thank you [ ]..you ready to go?” Sukuna softly asked as he outstretched a hand to her, making [ ] playfully laugh. Taking her ringed at tattooed lovers hand the duo set off, starting their first Valentines Day together.

Once night rolled around most had been finished [ ] and Sukuna found themselves on a hilltop, overlooking a city as they ate a snack basket that Sukuna prepared. Not only was he a tattooist but he could cook, and cook very well. “If I didn't have the urge to tattoo every square inch of my body with art maybe i'd be a cook” He laughed as she constantly complimented his cooking, laying her head on his shoulders. “This is wonderful Sukuna..ive really enjoyed today” [ ] said as he gave her a look before peering back at the city “I know how much you hated today so...I wanted to do something for you to love it” Sukuna said as she moved up, looking in his warm eyes as he reached out of his pocket, his phone showing their first accidental mirror picture they took together evident as his lockscreen. As he pulled the next thing to it, a shiny ring filed with her birthstone “This is for you, a promise to you” Tilting her head she took the beautiful ring and placed it on her finger, watching it glisten in the moonlight “A promise for what?” she asked “Ill never leave you, and one day...maybe...we could make that promise permanent” He said as he took her hand in his , pulling her in his lap as he sealed that promise with a kiss.

#ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #tattoo artist sukuna!#f!reader #jjk au #ryomen sukuna x reader #circus dome collab!#the circus dome collab

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dateamonster · 2 years ago

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ive thought abt it ive meditated on it and i do like x significantly more than i thought i would

my first impressions led me to believe it was going to be an """elevated horror""" take on a bog standard slasher, with the adult film angle mainly being used as a gimmick to shock and tantalize while paying some lip service to the (s)exploitation history of the subgenre. from the trailer alone you could see it was heavily referencing slashers past (mainly texas chainsaw) but it was hard to get a sense of the movies identity outside of that. with how obsessed the genre (and all genres really) currently is with stealing the moves and iconography of more recognizable and nostalgic IPs, paired with the fucking lightning quick release of a prequel, i kinda wrote x off as a sales strategy dressed up like a movie. and idk i still stand by like parts of that. ive heard that pearl is the wildly superior movie (planning to watch that next) so it makes me wonder if x was just like a means to drum up interest in a movie that otherwise wouldnt have been as marketable. if that is at all the case, i have to give it up to the creators because that is such a bold and honestly kind of hilarious strat and funniest of all it seems to have totally worked. this is all still speculation of course.

but x on its own is a pretty strong movie. idk if its an especially good horror movie, but it is a good movie, and i feel like that sorta takes precedent. the characters were all well-defined and interesting. there was a good mix of likable folks that made you want to see them survive and assholes with satisfying deaths- the two prime forms of slasher victim imo. most importantly in my opinion, the story engaged honestly and meaningfully the subjects of sex and sex work. the way the genre typically treats sexuality has historically been... less than progressive, and though its still ultimately a story about sex workers being killed by repressed octogenarians, which is gonna be what it is no matter what, i felt pleasantly surprised by the treatment of the characters and the subject matter.

it doesnt feel like an arbitrary gimmick either. more i think the conflict between the elderly antagonists and their lodgers represents the conflict between the free love and sex positive movements of the 60s and 70s and the rise of christian conservative moralism in response to it, ominously foreshadowing its crest only a few short years after the events of the movie during the hiv/aids crisis.

i interpreted the movies thesis as this idea that hostility towards sexuality particularly between generations stems from this repression and agonized frustration at the loss of sex, beauty, youth. the movie draws all these interesting visual and narrative parallels between the two conflicting parties, particularly between maxine and pearl, which is obviously heightened by the fact that mia goth plays both characters in either movie respectively, which seem to suggest that pearl is a version of maxine who never got to live her superstar dreams, who is deeply burdened by regret and the passage of time and takes it out on those she sees as flaunting their privileges. its a phenomenon we still see in real time today: "why does this sheltered, soft younger generation get to have it so easy, when i had it so hard." clumsy as the execution felt in some places, the core premise is strong.

the places where x doesnt work for me or mostly in its desperation to make moments feel scarier than they are with ominous sound design and erratic editing. it doesnt not work, i guess, but the result feels undeserved. the actual horror part of this horror movie is its weakness. its the first time i can remember where i was engaged up until the middle of the latter half where the killing actually takes off. it just didnt do it for me, and the way the elderly couples bodies and sexuality were exploited to try and provoke horror and disgust felt especially like it was just trying too hard. i cant deny those scenes were uncomfortable, but not for the reasons the filmmakers seemed to think, and never to the point of fear or dread.

my favorite parts of x were the moments that explored the relationships between the young movie makers. i honestly feel like that in and of itself couldve been the whole movie and i wouldve been just as happy. bobby-lynne i think was a delightful, undersold character, with her marilyn monroe looks and quiet, profound emotional intelligence, as well as the unflinching pride in her career of choice. jackson i wish couldve been a focus more, if only because i feel like media is so afraid to talk about male sex workers and especially the way that role intersects with race. the film their making itself is predicated on a really loaded racialized dynamic and i know focusing more on that would probably totally take focus off the main story but its still really interesting and it feels strange just sort of letting that hang in the air.

the subplot regarding rj and lorraine is incredibly interesting and frustrating to me. x just fucking nails it with this one. lorraines sudden desire to join the movie felt a little forced to me but im overlooking that because it gives way to this sharp, incisive character moment, revealing that rj, for all he likes to talk about porn being art, looks down on its participants. his supposed sex positivity only holds out as long as he can retain a clear mental distinction between the good girls (chaste, but not too prudish, of course) and the dirty sluts. its just such a succinct and accurate roast of the divide between person who benefits/profits from sex work vs the actual worker, and how thats informed by sexism, racism, classism. rj and wayne die horribly again challenge <3

anyway thats all i have to say for now i think. there were hits, there were misses, but i do think i absolutely get the hype now, even if i dont necessarily agree with it in absolutely every aspect. mia goth put in an amazing performance, obviously, as did the rest of the cast imho, and im very excited for pearl.

#[posts without proofreading] lol 🤪#x (2022)#horror

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dindjarindiaries · 4 years ago

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10 Underrated Quotes from Season 2 of The Mandalorian

As previously seen with season one, I’m here with another list of underrated quotes from The Mandalorian—this time, from season two. I’m going to highlight some of my favorite quotes from the season or quotes that stick out to me and why I think they’re noteworthy.

I don’t own any rights to content from The Mandalorian and, if you haven’t watched season two yet, potential spoilers are ahead!

1. “Pay attention when a superior addresses you.” (Chapter 15: The Believer)

While this scene certainly isn’t underrated, I believe this line spoken by Valin Hess when he finally catches Din Djarin’s attention by the Imperial terminal deserves some reflection. It’s interesting to think about how responding to Hess’ first call of “Trooper” is something Djarin just... wouldn’t think to do, or is something he thought he could get away with. It seems that Mandalorians, while they value their leadership, don’t focus on hierarchical structures in their society, so Djarin isn’t used to having to obey orders like that. It’s even worse that he has to deal with this unfamiliar situation without his helmet for the first time since he was a child. It really draws our attention to how little Djarin knows about the Empire and other organizations outside of his covert.

2. “This is the Way.” (Chapter 11: The Heiress)

I think many of us can agree that the first time this statement is uttered in this episode, we’re less than pleased about it, thanks to Bo-Katan’s ridiculing tone. When it happens later on, however, there’s so much meaning packed behind the words. First, from Bo-Katan, who has witnessed Mando’s bravery firsthand and has likely realized how wrong she was making assumptions about him based off his covert and his traditions. In return, Mando’s response of the phrase is strained. Why? Well, it’s up to interpretation—but to me, I think it’s because Mando’s in awe of the idea of these Mandalorians who have already proven their abilities to him actually coming to respect him and the Way he’s known ever since he was a child. It was a great moment of reconciliation.

3. “Is he speaking? Do you... understand him?” (Chapter 13: The Jedi)

Something I love about this line in particular is the way it’s delivered. There’s such desperation concealed behind Mando’s modulator that tells us so much about what he’s been thinking while pacing the forest floor nervously. This desperation also tells us how eager he’s been to communicate with his child. Mando and Grogu have been together for a long time, now, and we know they’ve had plenty of one-sided conversations. I’m sure Mando has longed to know what Grogu’s been thinking in return, and now that he might have an opportunity to, we can really hear that sheer curiosity and desperation in his voice with this line he offers to Ahsoka.

4. “Jet back, you’re faster that way.” (Chapter 12: The Siege)

I’m sure we all have our mixed opinions about the season one Nevarro crew, but this moment in particular really strikes the depth of their friendship and companionship. Once they’ve all heard about Moff Gideon’s return and his request to get the child once again, there’s no doubt in anyone’s minds that Mando wouldn’t be going back for him immediately. Even though the job isn’t completely done and Greef, Cara, and Mythrol all still need a way out, they don’t even try to ask for Mando’s help. Instead, Cara insists that he gets back as fast as he can, even if that means the three of them don’t make it out themselves. I really love how that shared understanding and dedication to the child in all situations shows their deep friendship amongst the trio (and Mythrol).

5. “I’ve spent much time on Tatooine. I never saw a Mandalorian there.” (Chapter 9: The Marshal)

Mando’s response to Gor Karesh insisting that he knows of a Mandalorian on Tatooine could potentially be telling us more than we’re aware of. As far as we know, Mando’s only been to Tatooine once—and it was only for two days, tops. But here, he’s saying he’s “spent much time” there, which means it’s possible that Mando lived on Tatooine for a time while the Bounty Hunter’s Guild still operated out of there. If you think about it more, Mando knew exactly where to go for some work in Chapter 5, another hint that there’s more to Mando’s time on Tatooine than we’re aware of. The same thing could be said about his knowledge of Tusken and his friendship with the Sand People. Any time we get a potential hint of Mando’s backstory, I’m excited about it!

6. “Am I under arrest?” (Chapter 10: The Passenger)

This line comes quickly in the midst of Mando’s conversation with the New Republic pilots in Chapter 10, but I really love it. These few words say a lot about Mando’s character and how he responds to praise. He’s just been told all about his heroics in Chapter 6, when he risked his own life for Lieutenant Davan and reprimanded Mayfeld, Xi’an, and Burg—and when asked whether it was true, Mando offers no confirmation. He doesn’t even own up to his good acts. Instead, he simply acts this question, remaining the practical man we know him to be. This truly shows us the humble nature of Mando and how he tries his best to focus on the present rather than dwelling on things he’s done in the past, good or bad.

7. “... talent without training is nothing.” (Chapter 16: The Rescue)

On the surface, this seems like a very practical statement that many Jedi make throughout the series (see Ahsoka talking to Mando in Chapter 13 and Obi-Wan talking to Luke in Episode IV: A New Hope). When you think about it more, especially in context, you might be able to see Luke hinting at something much deeper. Luke heard Grogu’s cry for help from the Seeing Stone where it’s very possible Grogu was talking about his desire to protect his father by strengthening his abilities. Luke knows all too well what happens when you abandon training in an attempt to protect those you love—as for him, it didn’t go well. Yoda tried to warn him but he didn’t listen. Now that he’s learned his lesson, Luke can offer this wisdom to a Grogu who wants to keep his father safe. He knows that training first will then allow Grogu to protect himself and his father to his heart’s content, just as Luke was better able to protect his friends in Episode VI after he finished his training.

8. “Okay, I’m gonna protect you.” (Chapter 14: The Tragedy)

The scene in which this line is delivered is what truly establishes this episode as a tragedy. Mando’s tried three times to break through Grogu’s Force-field—not because he wasn’t thinking, but because he was so desperate—and now he has to come to terms with the fact that he’ll only hurt himself more if he keeps trying it again and again. Mando’s voice is pretty shaky if you listen to it closely enough in these lines, reluctant to leave his child atop the mountain alone but eager to protect him somehow. We know Mando doesn’t like to feel helpless, but we can sense he feels that way in this moment. He doesn’t even know if Grogu can hear him, yet he keeps speaking to him with such fierce protectiveness and reassurance. This is a promise he doesn’t fall through with, even if Grogu does fall into the Imperials’ hands for a time.

9. “Give it to me.” (Chapter 15: The Believer)

This is the moment where we all really knew what was about to go down. What I love about this quote is that Mando says it with no remorse. He says it firmly, insisting upon doing whatever it takes to get those coordinates and get to Grogu. He’s already made up his mind. Despite the fact he gave his word earlier about not showing his face, Mando’s going to do what he has to for his son. The firm way this line is delivered proves that, especially when he shifts from taking a backseat to Mayfeld to taking charge again as he pulls the data stick right from Mayfeld’s grip. I just really love Mando’s determination in this scene, despite the circumstances.

10. “I’ll see you again. I promise.” (Chapter 16: The Rescue)

Do I particularly think this line is underrated? No, not the direct meaning of it. But when you watch Star Wars Rebels and think more about the genius of Dave Filoni, there’s a whole new layer of meaning attached to these words. For those who may not have watched the show yet (you definitely should!), Kanan and Hera are two people who care very much for each other (wink wink) who once had to exchange a goodbye very similar to Mando and Grogu. Kanan was about to go on a very dangerous mission without Hera, unsure of what would happen to him, when he delivered these words: “We’ll see each other again. I promise.” This is almost exactly what Mando says to Grogu in the face of their temporary separation. The good news is Kanan and Hera did get to see each other again—but Kanan was changed forever. Will this happen with Mando or Grogu? It’s possible. But it’s just another one of those moments that makes me yell “FILONI!” in Darth Maul style.

#idk i just love the mandalorian and star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian season two #star wars #meta

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