#what is even my tag structure again?
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I've been doing a lot of reflection as of late, especially after this past class.
This past class was about the Torah and Tanakh in general, and the way the rabbi talked about the commandments (specifically the ten commandments) has made me really reflect on how I interpret them, specifically the fifth commandment, or honoring your mother and father.
This is a commandment I have wrestled with for a long time - in fact, it brought me away from g-d at multiple times. I was severely abused when I was incredibly young by my mother, and I used to feel insulted at the implication that I were to honor her while she got to live a better life. It was hypocritical, in my eyes.
But this rabbi surmised that this particular commandment was because parenthood is an act of creation, something that is like the g-d from which we come from. My realization is this: I don't think we're necessarily meant to take even these commandments literally.
I this particular commandment is more of a call to honor creation - creation is a gift, and like any gift, many people simply will not like it and will discard it. The person who abused me created me, but she did not honor creation. She didn't honor me, but I can still honor it.
I have started to honor creation much more. I'm too young, too unstable, not mature enough to be a father (though I fantasize about it), but I create all the time. I create relationships, I create with my hands through crochet. I create memories, I create my world. And I can honor who I am and where I came from that made me who I am. I've been learning one of the mother tongues of my family (Italian, since part of my family originates there) and it was judaism that inspired me to do this.
I don't think g-d wants me to honor my abuser. I think He wants me to remember the Holy action of creation. When I am a father, that act of creation will be Holy, and indeed, I am already joyful about the thought.
I have seen many people struggle with this particular commandment, but I think this perspective helps me personally. I don't think I ever have to forgive my abusers (plural), and I don't think I am commanded to simply because they happened to be family. I am commanded to recognize the holy, to elevate the mundane. In doing so, I will remember g-d. Through creation, I honor g-d and everything he has done for us, for me, and for our collective people.
#jumblr#jew by choice#jewish conversion#personal thoughts tag#abuse tw#i am not sharing this for the sake of pity and i also ask not to be told to divulge my abuse story. that isn't relevant#i have been needing to engage with this topic for a long time though and judaism has helped me a bit in navigating healing#but i decided to share this publicly in the hopes it will help other survivors specifically of familial/parental abuse#i know how it feels (in general). it's so lonely and you can really harbor (understandable) baggage about this particular commandment#i have a meeting with My Rabbi (sponsoring rabbi) and i might bring this up. we've only spoken once face-to-face (zoom)#so that might be really Intense to bring up to him but he is very kind and i trust him (which is why he is My Rabbi)#and he has already told me that he WANTS me to wrestle with g-d and His word *with* him#again i am posting this publicly so i can document my thoughts and keep them straight but also with the hope it MIGHT help others#if it even *casually* inspires another survivor i will feel so grateful (though it is THEIR achievement and not mine to claim)#i want us to survive. i want us to eat well. i want us to smile#i will say that this must be a very sudden whiplash in tone from my last post about sex. from sex to awful horrific abuse#my stream of consciousness is just Like This though in the sense that i have very sudden realizations and tonal whiplashes#so you're just getting a very frank look into how my brain is structured and what my brain thinks are important enough to think about#if i seem much more verbose it's because i needed to write this on my laptop which makes typing and more importantly yapping even *easier*
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Everyone says they love a devastatingly painfully slow burn romance until I, It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia—
#macdennis#iasip#it's always sunny in philadelphia#text#pay no attention to the tags behind the curtain hashtag normalcore hashtag silly#meme#anmmbposts#*girl who still has faith in them and trusts the structure in spite of it all*#*girl who has thoughts on the tragedy of stagnation in the sitcom format and parallels and contrasts to waiting for big mo in the themes of#change and what must happen first in order for such a lasting change to occur*#meant to say waiting for g*dot but anyway#ignore my tags look at my post#it wouldn't be the gay gay*ss love story for the ages without the excruciating wait because of who they are and what the show is#and what they're trying to break and subvert#as long as there is eventually follow through which i again do still have faith in/think they're legit building towards even if it feels#like a tease because of how many ways other media has burned us but they still have time to make the build up mean something
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Every week someone makes a post about how annoying it is that Dick Grayson fans don't acknowledge his flaws, and every week someone replies with an explanation that the flaws OP listed are entirely fanon and inconsistent with canon as it actually happened and at this point I have to assume that none of those explanations are ever going to stick because clearly some people just want the fanon to be true.
Anyway, I'm just putting this here for me to edit and add relevant-to-the-topic links later so I'll have them nicely at hand to read and sooth my frustrations when it gets real bad out there. (Echo chambers are good when we use them to drown out character mischaracterizing fanon.)
#dick grayson#canon vs fanon#yes this is about 'dick was a bad brother to jason' yet again#😮💨#super problematic how dick didn't pack up his life & become a devoted big brother to the new son of a man who had already disowned dick#like in-universe he is respectfully supportive of the kid who's wearing his name and uniform#but he was also a 19 year old living in a different city and not given any indication that he was a member of bruce's family so...?#dc comics#this fanon tendency to try to cram nuclear family dynamics and angst onto relationships that do not fit that mold arghhh#add to that how real-world knowledge makes it extra ridiculous to act as if 'omg dick was such a jerk for not being there for jason!!!'#yes their interactions were minimal - I'm pretty sure that keeping dick as a titans character was the entire reason jason existed!#let's be real about jason: his character & what led to him being robin were completely different pre-crisis + his post-crisis run was brief#understandably there are 'flashback' stories to flesh out his time as robin. the worst of these disregard characterization from that time#but even with flashbacks the worst that canon actually shows would be that they weren't close? which...okay?#idk what kind of expectations some people have for the former-ward so sort of foster kid who was explicitly kicked out of bruce wayne's lif#apparently he should've 1) begged his former guardian to acknowledge him as family & 2) assumed the role of bestest big brother either way#i'd ask people to stop and really think about the 'family' structure that existed in this time period where they insist dick was the bad gu#but at this point it's clear that people who want him to be the bad guy truly don't care about why we think it's absurd#anyway i'll end this with a reminder of what I'm pretty sure were the ages etc of the parties involved:#jason (12) gotham. adopted son of bruce.#dick (19) nyc. former ward of bruce. fired from role as partner to batman.#bruce (30+) gotham. raised dick as his ward → fired dick as a partner → never indicated dick still had any place in his life → adopted jaso#oh so my tags just cutting off the final letter like that? i will not be correcting them 😡
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I’d need to watch it again to confirm this, but I’m pretty sure that Thomas Becket is the only character who independently initiates touch with Henry?
There are plenty of people whom Henry touches, and it’s almost always possessive or threatening: the villager woman in the first flashback scene, the Saxon peasant girl (and possibly the old man? I think he prods at both of them with his riding crop), Gwendolen (holding her shoulders/neck), the French prostitute (kissing, leaning over, sitting on, slapping her butt), his sons (pushing and kicking them), the bishop (strangling), his barons (clutching onto one, tapping one’s head to indicate his vapidness), and Thomas too—(clasping his shoulders when he realizes Thomas is hurt, holding his hand to put on the chancellor ring).
Interestingly, I don’t think we ever see Henry touch or be touched by his mother or his wife. There’s the moment when he grabs/kicks their needlework, and later on he knocks all the plates off the table, possibly vaguely in their direction—so there are two physical interactions which are violent but still sort of… distant? And still the direction is just Henry to them (in terms of physicality, anyway—verbally, they do initiate conversations/fights with him).
Does anyone touch Henry? There are the monks who whip him in the end, but Henry has ordered them to do it. Likewise, there’s the servant/valet/page who begins to wipe him dry in the bath scene, but again, that’s someone performing a duty. Thomas Becket though, cuts in and takes over the drying, and the dialogue tells us explicitly that he’s not expected to do this, and doesn’t have to (“You’re a nobleman—why do you play at being my valet?”) but Becket seemingly wants to do it, and he knows Henry likes how he does it: enthusiastically, confidently, warmly, and freely (“No one does it like you, Thomas”). He towels Henry’s head, helps Henry put on his boots, and then casually uses Henry’s legs to push himself up to stand.
There’s the scene in Henry’s tent, after the French prostitute has left and the two of them are sitting on the bed: Becket sort of leans in and briefly clasps Henry’s arm where it’s lying in his lap, casually and warmly.
There’s also the getaway horse ride, where Becket is holding onto Henry, arms wrapped around him, and they’re both laughing and smiling. Henry’s shirt actually falls open a little and Becket’s hand winds up on his bare torso.
And then there are the thwarted attempts at touch, after the split: the two scenes where Henry accuses Becket of not loving him. Both times, Becket moves toward Henry and reaches out to touch him, and both times, Henry moves away and tells him to keep his distance.
They’re quick little things, but if they are actually the only instances of anyone touching Henry affectionately (or even of their own volition) that we see over the course of the movie, it does support an impression of Henry as fundamentally isolated—maybe there is truth to his claim that Becket is the only person who’s ever loved him.
What’s tragic is that 1) Henry doesn’t really know how to express love himself (see: Henry expressing nothing but violence and entitlement to everyone else around him, and even to Becket for the most part), and 2) Becket’s love, albeit huge in Henry’s world, is conflicted and unfulfilling—for both of them.
Becket might be the only person who’s dared to reach out to Henry and meet him on something close to a human level, and Henry loves him for it, but why does Becket do it? Part of it may just be an instinct of Becket’s to fulfill a need where he sees one, if he can, and if it benefits him. I think it’s so interesting that Henry seems obsessed with the question of whether Thomas really loves him, when it seems the truth might be that Thomas actually doesn’t know; maybe it’s an unanswerable, even nonsensical question to him. Like, what else could he do? I don’t know. “Insofar as I was capable of love, yes I did [love you].” But the fact that his last words, unwitnessed and private, are, “Poor Henry.” Fuck me up.
Ok, that last paragraph got away from me and now I can’t stop. Tempted to draw comparisons to “Beauty and the Beast” (this is a sad version where no magical transformation happens… unless you take a particular Catholic stance and consider that both of them maybe took real solace and meaning in Thomas being made a saint and that Henry maybe found real absolution through his penance).
I also want to compare all of this to “The Lion in Winter”, where it feels like, rather than a story about one lonely monster in a castle full of people he sees as objects, it’s a whole microcosm of traumatized and power-hungry people, reaching out for power and security and love and stabbing each other in the back, over and over. (Like, of course his mother and wife and kids have complex feelings for him—some of which involve love!) I think that depiction is better and less myopic, more true to life and probably a more accurate portrait of the historical figures involved (even when it comes to Henry and Becket—Becket was of that world too, after all), but I think I’ve rambled enough about all of this, so I’m going to end this post now. I’ll just say that there’s something nevertheless appealing about the boiled-down fairytale melodrama of “no one else ever loved me but you!”
#this entire post (tag ramble and all) was in my Drafts for like 3 months. it’s a lot of words that don’t say much but I’m setting it free ->#and now a new epiphany#henry is just the fucking phantom of the opera again isn’t he lmao#the original blorbo#(for me I mean)#which makes thomas christine and god… is raoul.. :/#maybe it’s a hot take to call becket a simple fairytale melodrama lol#it has its complexities… there’s… spirituality and politics#(although idk if the film is actually that interested in the matter of the separation of church vs state)#there’s the entire thing about oppressive hierarchal social structures and whether love is possible within such a structure#and if it’s not possible to escape and not possible to love in it then is love even a meaningful concept? is this becket’s issue?#in the dvd commentary peter otoole was so unconcerned with / unaware of a marxist and feminist reading of it that I was baffled#and had to realize that I was seeing that by default but that it’s not like. actually the default or Correct meaning#the co-commentator tries to go down that direction talking about Henry’s mistreatment of Becket and Gwendolen#and then he asks otoole if he thought that was reading into it too much and otoole is like ‘yes lol’ so .#his take seemed almost existentialist? like the tragedy of henry and thomas is that they are bound to different Roles in the world#and that they simply couldn’t be otherwise even though parts of them wanted it to be different#because they’ve chosen different paths different meaning to fulfill (but are aligned in a way by becket’s death/ascension)#and that is definitely a huge aspect of it#becket’s line: ‘we must do—absurdly—what we have been given to do’#hmm#anyway clearly I’m fucking insane now so#have this I guess . or don’t lol. goodnight#I’m giving myself a d+ for this tumblr.com paper#becket#peter o’toole as henry ii cinematic universe
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I was teaching Ophelia’s death scene this week and one of my classes spontaneously giggled when she died (because they are 16 years old and emotionally immature) and I said, in a shocked voice, “it is NOT funny” and they all insisted that it was and so I let it go but then the next day I showed them some Ophelia art, made them think about how sinister it was that her death happens offstage but is still described in such detail for the viewer, which tells us she was WATCHED but not HELPED as she died, and then played a clip from Branagh’s Hamlet of Kate Winslet singing a mourning song for her father and when I tell you how satisfying it was to hear a total and complete hush fall over the room
#teaching tag#Obviously I cannot control their emotions and I don’t try to. but I love to lay all the right groundwork for them to be moved#even if they don’t understand or forget it a second later#I can do that!!! let them have their moment of silly little reaction and then clear it away and make them look at the moment again#giving them all the context and support they need and don’t have on their own#and I have no idea if it works on a personal or individual level because it depends on what they let into their little hearts#but as a class i KNOW that it works. because of that signature hush#the same thing happened when I read the proposal scene from David Copperfield out loud#it’s happened with the end of the inferno. P&P Pemberley scene. teaching twelfth night#it’s my favorite thing to do in the entire world#to just sweep everything away and then re-build how to look at a scene#and the thing I LOVE about teaching high schoolers is that there’s the immaturity and the boredom etc. etc.#But underneath that there is a great stupidity ready to be taught#that is so much better than pretentious college age kids or hardened adults who already ‘know’ what it’s about#they have that grain of stupidity (more than a grain lol) that o’Connor talks about#that is the secret to letting things in#and I’m so passionate about showing them and I’m just getting better at clearing the ground and knowing what tools to show them when#and also —-this is A new thing I’m learning —-how to hold back my own emotions or reactions so as not to cloud it#whenever I start talking very matter-of-factly and very quickly and almost dispassionately about the structure of a moment#that’s so much better than me having the emotion because it gives THEM room to have the emotion#and that’s simply how they’re hooked#ANYWAY. as I said lots of thoughts thanks for listening wldkdkejejjejejejehe
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if you draw enough monster ocs, when you go back to drawing a human character, it feels like "sameface syndrome" everytime, by virtue of their face being. human.
#toy txt post#or maybe i am just sameface syndrome#but also different face syndrome#two characters will have the same face but then the next time i draw those characters its a different face than they had last time!#i know part of it is being out of practice but also there is definitely an element of feeling constrained by human facial structure lmao#the monsters have Their Own Problems but like. no one has a face like bokrae no matter how inconsistent i am about drawing her#her features are iconic enough to her that you can tell everytime#birdie???? i faceclaimed eartha kitt for her and im still struggling cos i feel weird about faceclaiming as a concept#but even then 😭 one time i was trying to give headloose a face and someone was like wow he looks like birdie!#me 😭😭😭😭😭 what!!!!!! hes not supposed to!!!!!!!!!!!!!#i need to practice. features#you know the worst part about coming up w a bunch of fuckin Scenarios in my brain for ocs is that i have even fucking Drawn them yet#to give them like. iconic staple features and figure out what their faces look like. which feels like it would really help to have that#knowledge and muscle memory before i jump into trying to draw intense scenes with difficult poses!!#not to mention. listen. i can do the monster faces. somewhat. the bodies??????????? well for one. theyre too big everytime#im convinced i could be trying to draw bokrae on like a full ass wall size paper like a mural thing and run out of room. it just keeps#happening. i have no sense of scale for them either. by which i mean i struggle w scale already and also cant decide what i want it to be#and ive tried to handwave it away by being like ohhh uh. birdie casts spells on them to change their sizes for convenience but also#no. perhaps that explanation works for other ppl. @ myself tho its not good enough i Know Better!!!!!!#agh!!!!!!! i really need to figure out bokrae's Teeth also. like i dont. i coukd get away with it. but i should. and i want to.#anyway all this to say that i need to give these characters faces and body designs (actually the body designs for humanoid ocs is the easy#part. the faces are whats stumping me? well. i need more practice w all the body types again but like i Know what im Going For at least.#for the most part anyway. havent fully figured out heights. struggling w characters that i want to make short but give imposing tall energy#on occasion? birdie can be short all day long no problem. I want Alasdair to be short enough that he has a bunch of short boyfriends that#feel tall around him? bytte was going to be like 6ft max but then i thought about making her taller and like. what if i made her taller#headloose is not that /short/ but he is Not Tall and prolly pretty lean? twink build for sure#and of course all these short /tall distinctions come with a bias of relativity to my own height which i categorize as medium height#but short ppl call me tall and insist its not average and tall ppl call me short. (5'6) and then i have to factor in how the gender changes#the dynamic of a height like my height is Short For A Man but medium to tall for a Woman. which id argue is medium height bc mens heights#are socially held to high standards (hehe) and also i know ethnicity/race is also a factor? but im out of tags. rip. bye
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having very very vague thoughts about dhmis and the family as the site of violence
#YES even the non-normative family they have#it’s still a Certain Type Of Structure Imposed By A System On Them#and the dynamic that their ‘family’ has to have is one where certain harmful power dynamics must always be maintained between them#the narrative requires that they all play certain roles in the family and those roles inform how they interact with and even inflict horror#much like how our world’s normative nuclear family teaches us to internalize power structures that play into other oppression#so what i’m saying is that maybe#them defining what they are as a family after seeing the horrors that ‘family’ can imply might be intended to be troubling?#while still standing on its own outside the larger context of dhmis as a message that family does not always have to be the nuclear family#two readings can be true at the same time and especially in dhmis#am.txt#dhmis analysis#dhmis#these thoughts are really unformed rn so they’re in the tags sorry#anyway this all comes back to my ultimate reading which is:#the only way for them to truly break free is to come to see each other as equals and as PEOPLE instead of pieces to fill a role#quotes hell is other people but so is heaven again
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Soo about the translation for Se Telefonando you mentioned in your author's note... is it too much to ask? 👀 (and am I setting myself up for more heartbreak by sending you this?)
kdskdhk ok I'll be honest. I was waiting for someone to ask because I've actually written a full-blown literary analysis for Se Telefonando and I have to share it here. My friend, I hope you don't mind if I use your ask to share my essay :')
Let's do this: I'll write my own translation down here, and I'll add my many, many notes (both on the translation itself, and on how it relates to the fic) under a cut. You can decide for yourself if it's heartbreaking or not :)
Ready?
Here's my translation:
The wonder of the night, opened wide over the sea,
Caught us unawares while we were still strangers, you and I
Then, in the dark, your hands suddenly on mine:
It’s grown too quickly, this, our own little love
If I could tell you goodbye just by calling, I’d call you
If I was certain you wouldn’t suffer seeing me again, I’d see you again
If I could tell you to stop while looking you in the eyes, I’d look at you
But I can’t explain to you that our newborn love is already over (x2)
Notes under the cut:
Alright, just a bit of context first. Se Telefonando was written in 1966 by De Chiara and Costanzo, two notable Italian pop music and TV personalities, and arranged by the world-famous composer Ennio Morricone. It was written specifically to be sung by Mina, a legend of Italian pop music with a unique voice (who, in fact, gives a wonderful interpretation of the song!). So: big names for the lyrics, big name for the melody, big name for the singer. And it shows!
Let's take it from the top.
Lo stupore della notte spalancata sul mar
The word stupore evokes in Italian the same feeling that wonder evokes in English: something that can be child-like, a special kind of surprise that leaves you speechless. This feeling is caused by the coming of the night, spalancata [= opened wide] over the sea: the word spalancata is used when doors are opened completely and (often) suddenly. So, all in all: the night opens without warning, like a portal to another world, over the sea, and surprises the two lovers (we'll meet them in the next verse, don't worry). Quite the start, huh?
Ci sorprese che eravamo sconosciuti, io e te
The verb ci sorprese (whose subject is the aforementioned night) could be literally translated as surprised us; I preferred a caught us unawares to convey, once again, the feeling of unexpectedness and wonder that overcomes the pair. The romance the singer shares with her lover happened quickly and unexpectedly; so much so that they were still sconosciuti, strangers, when they fell in love. I love the juxtaposition in the second half of the verse, here: the singer says they were surprised by their feelings when they were still strangers, but then immediately adds io e te, that is you and I, which communicates a strong familiarity to me -- yes, we were strangers, but we were also you and I. So familiar and intimate I don't even have to use any other words: we're the only people in our whole world.
A short note on the fic: the idea of the Girls being surprised by their bond is actually canon (Dorothy says it out loud in the finale: the Girls' friendship is a gift she never expected at that point in her life). I liked the parallel with this verse -- the Girls learned to know each other (ie became you and I rather than strangers) through the lens of their quick and deep friendship, and I've always loved that. (In the particular universe of the fic they didn't properly analyze what their actual feelings were, but we'll get to that in a moment.)
Poi, nel buio, le tue mani d'improvviso sulle mie
I love the intimacy in this verse. The theme of surprise is still there (d'improvviso = suddenly), but the real gem is the figure of the lover's hands on the singer's to indicate physical intimacy. Using the hands as a shortcut to suggest a physical relation (as part of their love) makes it delicate and romantic, while still clearly conveying the intimacy of the act. It doesn't even say they hold hands, or intertwine fingers: a very simple your hands on mine is all that's necessary.
Note also that this happens nel buio [= in the dark]: here's the full uncovering of the metaphor that carried us through the first two verses, ie the night (or, more in general, the darkness) as a placeholder for the feelings that caught the pair by surprise.
È cresciuto troppo in fretta questo nostro amor
There's the first crack in the picture. We've lived in dream land until here: the coming of the night, the softness, the intimacy, the sweet (almost lullaby-like) music... but here comes the reckoning: the love between our two characters è cresciuto troppo in fretta, has grown too quickly. Before we move on to examine the consequences of this hurry in the chorus, there's one small moment of tenderness left: questo nostro amore, literally this, our love. The literal translation doesn't convey just how soft and intimate the phrasing sounds in Italian: it's a love that's specifically ours, to be cherished, to be protected, to be nurtured (to be grown -- albeit too quickly). Hence the inclusion of own and little in my translation -- it felt like the right way to evoke similar feelings in English.
Se telefonando io potessi dirti addio, ti chiamerei Se io rivedendoti fossi certa che non soffri, ti rivedrei Se guardandoti negli occhi sapessi dirti basta, ti guarderei
Ah, the chorus! Finally. The first line here is the title of the fic, and what inspired it in the first place: the idea of someone not being able to call because they can't bear actually saying goodbye to their lover was just too delicious not to explore -- and since the theme was phone calls, it made sense to only tell the story through said phone calls (and it made for a fun challenge, too!).
The repeated if/then structure in this chorus is amazing. The stakes are increased after every line: the first verb, se telefonando, is almost impersonal (it means if just by calling generally, not if by calling you specifically), and yet it's already juxtaposed with potessi dirti addio, ie I could tell you goodbye (and addio is a proper, forever goodbye, not just a see you later!). Then we have rivedendoti [= seeing you again] in the second verse, and guardandoti negli occhi [= looking you in the eyes]; progressively more and more intimate actions. This is the desperate plea of a woman who knows she has to part from her lover (although we don't know why; the reasons are never explained) and begs him to see on his own that their relationship is over, because she doesn't have the strength to tell him personally. She longs to see him (as testified by the growing intimacy in the actions she describes) but at the same time she can't even call him on the phone, because she knows she'll capitulate if she does; she knows she has to tell him, but she also knows she's not able to bear it.
Note that this is also underlined by the music: the theme becomes much more dramatic than it was during the first stanza, the three verses are sung in crescendo (Mina was a powerhouse of a singer!), and the melody is transposed higher and higher at each verse. One really gets the sense of urgency and helplessness in the singer's plea: she needs to say all these things, she must say goodbye to her lover and their encompassing, surprising love, but she can't.
You can see why I was so inspired to use this for the Girls, can't you? :)
Ma non so spiegarti che il nostro amore appena nato è già finito
And finally -- the last line, and the moment of peak tension. The chorus has upped the ante with every line, bringing us closer and closer to the precipice, and now we're on the cusp: the music resolves, and we fall down. The song until this point was still suspended, in a way; we could feel the desperation in the singer's voice, we knew what was hiding behind all those hypotheticals, but it's only now that the truth is out in the open: I can't explain to you that our newborn love is already over. Game, set, match.
First of all: non so spiegarti literally means I don't know how to explain to you -- but that sounds almost whiny in English (to me, at least). What the lyrics are trying to convey here is a feeling of helplessness: the singer has no words to explain to her lover that their story is over (hence why she can't even call him on the phone).
And then the kicker: our newborn love is already over. The image of a newborn love fits the motif of child-like wonder and love growing we already encountered in the stanza: it's a sort of juxtaposition between the innocence of feeling (love, in this specific case, that makes one feel open and light again) and the cruelty of real life (that forces the lovers apart). This same juxtaposition is found in the music as well: I've already mentioned that the melody is almost lullaby-like in the stanza, it becomes much more dramatic in the chorus, and the song ends with a trailing tail of la-la-la that would not be too out of place in a children's playground (which, to me, only serves to further drive home the divide).
The idea of a newborn love is not exactly what I was going for in the fic, but it's still closely aligned: I figure in this universe the Girls were just about to have their oh moment when Dorothy got her chance to run away and left them all heartbroken. Sophia even comments on it in her voicemail message: she thought they were days away from it. You know that common sapphic experience of being very, very close to one of your friends, and then she starts dating someone else, and you feel heartbroken even though you two were never really in a relationship (and maybe you never even realize you had feelings for her until a decade later)? That's the vibe I was going for: being almost there but never saying anything explicit, so that when it all crumbles down, it falls spectacularly. Not a newborn love, but an almost-born love, in a way. An almost-born love that is over before it had a chance to begin.
And that's it, I think! My lit teacher would be proud of me. It's been a while since I had the chance to analyze anything in *this* much depth and I had a wonderful time. Hope you enjoyed reading this far -- and I'm always open to questions, if you have any!
#thank you *so much* for the ask. it made my night!#this got... long lmao but it was a lot of fun to write#i'm still convinced that if this show had been made nowadays blanche would have confessed at the end of 'journey to the center of attention#(if not much earlier)#'dorothy you sing like an angel you're so beautiful you light up the room. no homo tho'#like GIRL you should not have looked at her like a lovesick puppy if you weren't about to confess!!#but i digress. man i missed lit analysis! this was so much fun!#there's more to this song than what i wrote i'm sure#(especially more specific stuff about the music. im not an expert in that field)#but im satisfied with this atm#i hope it's as fun to read as it was to write#hugs and kisses for you my friend! thanks again!#writing#personal#golden wives#... what even is my tagging system? this has no structure at all
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trying to find diplomatic but firm ways to articulate 'hey man this is really fucked up, please reconsider' about wan/derhome--or whether to make a post about it at all--because its creators seem like the types to approach it in good faith, but i have no idea how it would go over or if they'd even see it at all. but i finally decided to take a look at it after getting it in a charity bundle last year, and as a disabled mentally ill trauma survivor god that was incredibly hurtful and upsetting, holy shit. days later i'm still not super okay over it, let alone that it won awards and is considered a masterpiece in the medium
#the crit files#there are literally content warnings for disabled people to make it easy to censor them out of your game ~to keep it lighthearted~#in an entire section of the book so aggressively segregated that it is structurally excluded from random rolls during character creation#they literally made six other categories of traits so that the '''traumatized traits''' (yes that is the official label used in the game)#won't fit on a d6#that does not even begin to scratch the surface of how much fucked up shit there was in the <half i managed to read before i had to tap out#i just. christ dude. what the hell#ugly laws are not ~cozy and safe~ they are violence.#cutesy ghibli-but-redwall aesthetic and performative gestures toward inclusiveness#do not make something less hateful and hostile toward disabled people; and mentally ill people; and trauma survivors.#they just make the poison go down easier.#also the section about safety tools and consent includes the phrase 'no one can make you do anything without your consent'#which i hate with my entire fucking soul and never ever ever want to see again#ableism cw#anti-survivor cw#ttrpg tag
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Watched all of Rubius’ r/place videos while pounding a bottle of wine I’ve been trying to get rid of for ages and MAN. MANNNN. I really love Rubius. r/place was such an incredible experience, and watching his videos reminded me of just how hype and fun the r/place phenomenon was
#i talk#mcyt talk#I guess#Rubius is NOT a mcyt-er but I don't have another ''catch all'' tag for this so whatever#also to be completely transparent: this wine is like 50% juice because I keep tossing juice I can't finish in there#because like what else am I gonna do - waste juice? heck no#always drink responsibly#but anyways HOOO BOY THAT WAS SO MUCH FUN#was feeling a bit ''agh'' because I'm going back into the office tomorrow for the first time in ages#and that always stresses me out even though I work remotely 90% of the time#but I feel a bit better after watching all that#even though I know I'll be suffering in a few hours because No Sleep#it is what it is I suppose#hashtag worth it#I really do feel like my spanish is - somehow - becoming better#I think it's a mix of me translating stuff for KarmaIand's english community#and translating words I don't know over and over and then remembering them after the 10th time or whatever#I'm someone who Really Can't Learn Languages outside of a (well-structured well-taught) class#but this is more progress than I've made in ages and it makes me feel good#I'll always be grateful to Quackity for helping me feel more comfortable trying to learn again#without feeling ashamed that I didn't already know Spanish#anyways#I'd love to do more translation stuff for KarmaIand#been learning even MORE fun new sony vegas tricks thanks to my shenanigans on the other blog so that's been fun#night y'all#r place#rplace
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I always find it kind of funny what some other ppl consider "slow burn". Like I've been reading a fic that the writer repeatedly said was slow burn, but some 40k words in and they've had their first kiss...
I'm not complaining, but that just doesn't feel like that slow of a burn to me lmao. But Then Again, this is coming from the person who writes some of the slowest of burns... not the slowest, mind you, but like. In discacc, I'm pretty sure their first kiss happened around... what, 400k words in? Something like that. And they hadn't even officially Met (in person) until like some 70k words in.
And Then there's ITNL. Currently 74k words, and Wolfwood hasn't even officially entered the story yet.
We're in for the long haul, y'all :]
#speculation nation#itnl shit#discacc shit#sure i'll tag it. this post has me remembering writing it :')#but yea like. hm. i dont think it'll take as long in ITNL as it did in discacc for the relationship shit to happen#if i had to estimate... maybe around 200k? for the first kiss at least. based on my plans for it & all.#keeping in mind that ITNL as a whole could be 400k words. or more...#im notoriously bad at properly estimating word counts though#as seen by my 'im 150k words into discacc and halfway through the game so Surely the fic will be 300k words'#and im sitting pretty at 500k and still a good third of the game left. whoops.#i say it's not the 'slowest of burns' bc one of my fav fics ever is at... what... 600k? 700k? i havent looked in a while actually#so i dont remember. but after all of these words the protagonist still doesnt even realize he's got FEELINGS.#they held hands Once. easily made up for with everything else in the story. utterly fascinating mysteries. so on so forth#for the intersection of fandoms of ppl who know p5 and my shit. itnl rly is inspired by Marigolds.#the short and sweet summary that really tells you very little (so u have to tell via tags what it is)!!!#the time travel and years passed before even MEETING the other person again#im not going as in depth into it but the inspiration is there. im still just utterly enamored with Marigolds years later#and this is a trope so common in p5 fandom (the NG+ style of time travel) yet i hadnt seen it at all in t.rigun#so. yeah. maybe i moved to a new fandom and am taking inspiration from one of my fav fanfics ever#but to be fair discacc has been largely inspired by Marigolds too. just more with characterization than story structure.#anyways. dont worry ITNL readers there will be vw from like the moment they first meet. flirting inevitable.#but the actual resolution will take a while. Emotional resolution even longer than Physical resolution lol#if u read this far into the tags then xoxoxo love U. hope u enjoyed the hints of the planned structure for ITNL
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It’s been a rough couple of weeks. Anxiety run amok. Tried to distract myself by playing through Super Mario Bros, but I’ll be honest, that was stressing me out pretty bad trying to get through some of those levels. Unrelated but coincidentally (tangentially?), after an intense bit of playing, my anxiety flared up majorly. Heart racing, skin painfully prickled, lungs failing me. Oh well. That’s what drugs are for. So instead I started Death Stranding, which my little brother gifted me for Christmas a couple of years back but I just never got around to committing to. Much better choice. It feels like the perfect distraction for me right now. Frankly, I’m lonely. I feel cut off from the world. I’m scared and anxious and I have no idea what the future holds for me, but it feels bleak. So it’s nice to pop into this little world where you’re trying to make connections and explore the world, even if it is just a video game. It’s giving me something positive to focus on right now.
I just thought I’d make a text post. Mention a game I like. Just folded some laundry, I’m on my 3rd bowl of cereal right now, and I’ll do some dishes when I’m done. Trying to keep on moving forward. More bullshit in the tags.
#my anxiety has cleared up quite a bit these past few days#but now I’m trying to go without klonopin so we’ll see how that lasts#and I have an audiologist appointment tomorrow so that might be a big source of depression and anxiety#can’t wait to roll in there at 8:30 in the morning just to be told AGAIN that my hearing is just fucked and can’t be helped#which… is what I expect… I just wish there was more… empathy? sympathy? something soothing behind their words.#I also finally scheduled a therapy appointment but it’s not for a couple of weeks 😕#taking care of yourself sucks!#anyway things are okay right now right here in this moment. I’ll deal with the rest as it comes I suppose#I was getting way too serious with super mario#I play on a snes mini and even with custom save states I was getting too stressed out. it was bad for my health.#which sounds like an over exaggeration but it just wasn’t fun after awhile#but Death Stranding is awesome. even just the walking parts I love#I love seeing other players’ contributions to the world. all the random signs and structures they put up.#I don’t know what else to add to all of this#I really thought I’d have more exciting tags than this#this isn’t important#you can ignore this#text
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[id: the first image is a reply by @.demilypyro that reads: That doesnt sound very cis
the second image is a reply by @.homosexualmorelikehomiesexual that reads: respectfully adding to this in agreement with op: i think its true that no, it DOESNT sound very cis, but thats bc according to the very same gender system that sucks so much, anyone who disagrees or complains about it is Other, and i think thats......part of the exact problem op is talking abt..? so yeh idk. speaking as a trans person myself- op youre valid youre right and you should say it i support you go cis boy go
#this is what i call cis+ #youre cis but youve seen the void. the truth. and then you pulled back and went Ok Got It. Keeping My Gender Though #which i think is just as respectable. like amen #consciously opting into your assigned gender when you know you don’t actually have to..... #thats cis plus. cis prime. cis upgraded. you feel? /end]
I’m a cis man sure but i also wanna opt out of the gender binary. None of that shit is my fault or my responsibility and i don’t want any part of it
#text#lgbtag#may actually add something to the post eventually but it's late so just putting some thoughts in the tags#saying this as a trans genderfuck person . it's incredibly reductive to tell anyone who questions the gender binary or desires to break it-#-down that they Have to be trans to do so#you see it a lot with gnc cis people but tbh . applies to even gender conforming cis people and even non-queer cis people !#because in doing so you reinforce that trans people are Magically Different than cis people and that we're the only people who want to-#-question and break down the gender binary#but like . if you want to acknowledge that the gender binary is made up & people have complex relationships with it that fall outside of-#-the socially dictated binary & that ''man'' and ''woman'' are socially created categories not based in biology#and that there's no concrete definition of what a man or a woman or someone who's both or neither and etc beyond personal identity and-#-social category / cis-enforced societal roles#... you also have to realize that some people will break down the concept of the binary and recognize all of that . and still identify with-#-their assigned gender and be cis#expecting anyone who breaks down and rejects the gender binary to automatically also be trans not only cuts us off from cis allies who want-#-to help trans acceptance and break down those social structures#but also ignores intersectional groups who have complicated experiences with gender based on those identities while being cis!#(ex as a white person with privilege i don't feel confident speaking on it on my own but reading about black perspectives on gender and how-#-black women especially have historically been treated by largely white feminist movements how black women are degendered how the sex-#-binary has been leveraged in a racist & eugenics-based way etc imo is really important for breaking down the gender binary even when it's-#-discussing specifically cis people. bc discussions on marginalization are never in a vacuum)#and there are plenty of people Esp queer people who may not solidly fit in a cis or trans box esp when it comes to gnc people!#ex the amount of butch lesbians and fem/me gay men whose connection to womanhood or manhood is through being a lesbian/gay man#but who have more complex relationships with their gender and expression than Just womanhood or manhood#idk long rant and none of this is to say that there's a Cisphobic Trans Agenda to Force Poor Cis People to be trans bc a woman likes suits-#-or a man thinks the gender binary sucks#just . again as a trans person who experiences a lot of joy from my relationship to gender and being trans#i love seeing cis people who can find joy in their gender through breaking down the binary!#gender is complicated and i think accepting it as something Anyone can have a complex relationship . cis or trans . is a big part of-#-accepting that gender is a social construct and not a biological fact
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i am probably my neighbors' Naked Neighbor... whatever it takes to live titties + pussy out
#btw i wanna change the tag to my personal posts#right now its#make dark academia personal again#ofc i havent cared for aesthetic categories for a long time#(tho im not changing my username i <3 it + am surprised no one had even used it)#anyway what should i make my new personal posts tag#ok its gonna be#brain translations#inspired by that post that said that the existence of mindreading would not mean we could understand other ppls thoughts#bc of the extremely particular + idiosyncratic diff ways everyones thoughts are structured#so im trabslating mine into sth more understandable when i put them into words#ok thats it bye <3
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through the night
ABOUT
| 18+ | smut | explicit |
characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader
pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader
word count: 4.2k
description: zoro comes to the reader's room during the night. sex ensues.
tags: smut, female reader, oral (receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, kissing (a lot of it), soft zoro, first time together, confessions (kinda), fluff, no use of "y/n", banter, pwp (lowkey).
author's note: consent is sexy and so is zoro
i have up to now only watched 2 episodes of OPLA and have never consumed any other type of one piece media. expect him to be ooc. also it's my first smut fic help
It was nighttime on the Going Merry, and the dull kiss of the setting horizon drifted lazily through the single window in your room. You were lying on your bed, leaning against the headboard as you flipped through a book you’d picked up the last time the ship had been docked. It wasn’t too interesting, but it was something to pass the time with, so you stifled a yawn and flipped to the next page.
There was a knock at your door, and you glanced up, watching as the shoddy metal hinges slowly creaked open. Zoro was standing in the doorway, his broad frame blocking out nearly all the light coming in from the hall. He was still dressed in his daywear, which reminded you that you needed to change—the loose shirt and trousers you wore were, although clean, nothing near sleepwear.
“Zoro?” you asked, watching as he started into the room. You clicked your tongue before he could step another foot inside, though— “If you’re going to come in, take your shoes off.”
Zoro scoffed but obeyed, pausing by the mouth of the room to slide his heavy boots off. He tread lightly to where you lay, climbing up to sit on the edge of the bed beside you. “What’s up?”
“Can’t sleep,” Zoro answered. You moved aside to allow him some more room, centering yourself on the bed. Zoro didn’t move, though.
You raised your eyebrows. “That’s possible?”
He looked unimpressed, propping his arms under his head and leaning back so his head was splayed against your thighs. His three matching earrings glinted in the light. “Luffy and Nami are being loud. Your room’s the farthest away.”
“Your elbow is digging into my gut,” you said, turning back towards your book. Zoro rolled his eyes, but readjusted his position, pulling his arms down to instead lay folded atop his stomach. “Are you just going to nap there?”
Zoro shrugged, and you had to stifle a giggle, the sensation vaguely ticklish. He’d never been a man of many words, so you lowered your book again and went back to reading. The light in the room was dim, though; after a few minutes, the glow from the light at your bedside no longer sufficed, and you were too tired to strain your eyes to squint at the page. You could, of course, just turn on the cabin lights—but Zoro was asleep by now, and you hadn’t even liked the book that much anyway.
You set it on your nightstand, gazing down at the slumbering man in your lap. Despite the glare he so often sported, Zoro looked near-angelic in his sleep, his face all smooth planes and straight lines. Those dark eyes of his were hidden like this, black lashes splayed across his cheeks as shadows emphasized the hollows of his bone structure.
He really was beautiful, an ever-comforting presence within the Straw Hats that your eyes had always strayed to. There was a certain kind of fondness you held for him that none of the other crew members could quite compare to, although if you voiced those thoughts Luffy would probably end up giving you a lighthearted scolding. You could already imagine the teasing from the other members of the crew—Usopp and Sanji particularly—making fun of your little crush, which is why you kept your lips firmly sealed. A secret was a secret, and this was yours to keep.
You finally tore your eyes away, focusing instead on getting out of the position you’d gotten stuck in. Somewhere in the back of your mind you liked the idea of Zoro sleeping in your lap, but the clothes you wore were getting increasingly uncomfortable. You carefully slipped out from under him, cradling his head so as to support him as you gently lowered him to the mattress. Thankfully, he didn’t rouse, and you slipped to the other side of the room to open up your wardrobe, satisfied knowing you weren’t disturbing him.
You made deft work, first brushing through your hair and rinsing your face with some clean water before focusing your attention on changing your clothes. You removed your trousers, instead donning a pair of shorts. You were halfway through peeling off your blouse to replace it with a softer, silk one, when Zoro coughed from behind you.
You froze, daring to glance behind you whilst still topless. Zoro had awoken, eyes having lost all trace of sleep as he slowly sat up, staring at your figure across the room. He coughed again as soon as your eyes met, dropping his gaze. “Sorry,” he said very carefully, voice hoarse and grating.
“No, it’s okay,” you managed out, but you were still frozen. Your thoughts were on the dark look that’d been in his eyes the split-second before he’d looked away—surprised but sharp, cutting like just his gaze could pierce through your soul. Gooseflesh had prickled up along your arms.
“I’ll just… go,” Zoro muttered, already having gotten up as he started shuffling towards the door. You jolted into action, nearly dropping the shirt still in your hands as you turned towards him.
“No, you can—” your words softened, seeing his gaze flicker rapidly around your figure before finally landing on some spot by your cheek. “You can stay.” You paused, hoping your words weren’t too direct. “If you want.”
“You should put your shirt on,” Zoro said, almost choking on his words, like they were too big to fit in his mouth.
Your gaze dropped down before a steady blush started climbing up the sides of your face. “Right,” you started, but it was like you’d lost control of your hands. The shirt still hung limply from your grip.
“Or you could…” Zoro paused, lips parted as he sucked in a soft breath. Carefully, he moved back towards your bed, the only sound in the room a soft thump as he sat back on it. “Not.”
You swallowed. You could barely feel the lax of grip as your fingers released the shirt, letting it fall to the floor in one pathetic heap. You took a tentative step towards Zoro, and then another, until you were right in front of him. The soft night breeze through the window caused chills to erupt down your spine. Or maybe that was Zoro’s expression—nearly studious in his attentivity, eyes grazing across your chest and torso like he was taking in information for a new, particularly high-paying bounty.
“Zoro,” you started. He finally glanced up at your face, and you shuddered, biting down hard on your tongue. “I, um—hi.”
“Hey,” he said carefully, like he was testing the word on his tongue. Your gaze flickered down to his lips. He seemed to notice, but he didn’t say anything; rather, he raised one of his hands, pressing it against your side until his fingers tightened against your waist, a present, ever-pulsing rush of warmth. “I think my chest is bigger than yours.”
You flushed, a quick rush of crimson gracing your cheeks as you turned away. Zoro’s grip on your waist tightened, and a low laugh escaped the bottom of his throat. “That was mean,” you whined. Zoro’s other hand came up to your face, fingers pressing against the underside of your chin. He carefully angled your face down, so you couldn’t look anywhere but straight at him.
“It worked to calm you down, though,” he said easily. You were about to protest against the fact that you had been calm in the first place, but then Zoro was kissing you.
Zoro was a lot less aggressive than you’d originally expected, but as you sunk deeper into the kiss, it started to make sense. Zoro was all clean lines when he fought, practiced and perfect—no space for sloppy lines or scribbles. The way he kissed was similar; he applied pressure, but not too much pressure, and his thumb traced firm circles into the skin of your waist.
He angled your head with the hand firmly propped against your jaw, so you didn’t have to do a lot of the work—just press against his lips and move against the gentle rhythm he’d set. His teeth scraped carefully against your lower lip, and he tugged, letting a soft gasp out from your throat.
Zoro took the opportunity to pry your lips apart with his tongue, the fingers splayed against your chin coaxing your jaw open until he could slide his tongue against yours. You let out a soft whimper, hands scrambling to his shoulders and running along the muscles of his back. Of course you’d known he was well-built, but the firmness of his body forced another squeak out of you—one he was more than willing to swallow up.
Eventually, Zoro’s hand dropped from your jaw, skimming along your body line before coming to rest on the underside of one of your breasts. You gasped as he started to massage the skin with his thumb, accidentally biting down on his lower lip in the process. He groaned, the sound low as his rhythm sped up, the hand cupping your waist dropping down to your hip.
And then he was hoisting you up and onto his lap. “Oh my God,” you muttered, causing him to break away, eyes glinting with amusement.
“What?”
A heady rush had blossomed along your cheeks again. “Nothing. You.” Somewhere in the back of your head, you wondered how strong Zoro had to be to lift you off the ground so easily with only one arm—granted, it hadn’t been that far of a lift, but still. “Kiss me again.”
Zoro laughed but obeyed, his hand still working at your breast as the other dropped to your thigh. Your fingers interlaced with his short hair, tangling within the moss-green locks as his tongue ran along the ivories of your teeth. His teeth scraped against your lip as he moved away, lips instead following the line of your jaw and moving down to your neck.
You dropped your arm from his hair, hand pressing flat against his upper back. Zoro’s muscles flexed as he chased down your throat, and you sighed as he pressed gentle kisses along the line of your vein.
“Been—wanting to do this for a while,” Zoro panted between kisses, placing a final one kiss at the junction of your collarbone before glancing tentatively back up at you. You met his mouth in another kiss, a smile you hadn’t felt rising bright along your cheekbones.
“Me too,” you whispered, and a look of relief flashed across his face before he was ducking his head again to press more kisses along your neck. You let out a laugh—you could feel the rumble of his lips against the sound as it left your throat. Carefully, you ran your finger along his earrings, soft clinks filling the room at the action. “What was that? Did you think I didn’t?”
“Dunno,” Zoro muttered, and you laughed again before he nipped at your skin, teeth scratching in a gentle bite. At your chest, his hand squeezed your nipple, and you gasped.
“That was mean.”
“Mhm.” Zoro didn’t seem appeased, his kisses turning sloppier—open-mouthed, full of bite. He never pressed down hard enough to hurt, but your mouth was full of soft gasps and whines, and your hand had come down to clench against his bicep. God, his arms. “I don’t hear you complaining.”
You nudged him, meaning only for it to be a slight press. But Zoro let the action guide him, falling onto his back with you pressed against him, flat against the bed. He stilled, both hands dropping to your hips as he gaze lifted to drink you in.
You were certain you were a mess—blushing, lips probably swollen, bruise blossoms that would purple by morning scattered all along your neck. But the way he looked at you made it seem like you were all dolled up—like you were outfitted in a flowing gown, eyes sparkling and hair perfect instead of the mess it most undoubtedly was.
“You’re pretty,” he murmured, almost too quiet to hear. Actually, you were certain you weren’t supposed to hear it, because before you could respond, he was pulling you across him, fluidly rolling you onto your back. His forearm pressed against the mattress beside your head, caging you in. Zoro seemed to like this angle, moving down your neck to your chest with more gentle kisses.
You were content to let him take what he wanted, eyes not moving from his face as you watched his lips brush over your breast. His tongue was hot against your skin, and you sucked in a tight breath as he swirled it along your nipple. Zoro steadied you with a firm grasp, hand pressing against your side before pushing up to attend to the breast that his mouth wasn’t. You squirmed, a soft pool of warmth sitting in your lower belly as he worked. A tight knot had formed somewhere inside, and you let out a breathy gasp.
Zoro’s gaze traced lower, hand leaving your breast in favor of skidding down your figure to rest at the hand of your shorts. He paused, eyes flickering upwards to meet yours. Hastily, you nodded, and his fingers dipped below the cloth, head lowering to press another kiss by your hip bone. Your hands clenched against the bed sheets as his fingers skimmed the rim of your shorts, coaxing them down inch by inch before they finally slid down to your knees. You kicked them off insistently, and Zoro laughed, one hand coming to stroke your thigh as if to make you stop moving.
Even though you’d partly expected it, you hadn’t been ready for the soft kiss he pressed against your inner thigh. His hand hooked around the side of your panties, dragging them down as he kissed up your skin, and you took in a sharp breath that he wholly and entirely ignored. His movements became more insistent as you squirmed, open-mouth and biting, tongue darting out from between his lips to languidly swipe up your thigh. Finally he reached the junction of your thigh and core, mouth pressing a feather-light kiss that dragged an entirely shameful sound out from your throat.
Zoro pushed your panties all the way off your hips, letting them sit by your knees even as you squirmed to kick them off. “Shh,” he murmured, and you stopped, heart pounding as the sound sunk deep into your bloodstream. The tight knot in your lower belly had only grown tighter, and your breath caught in your throat as you watched Zoro, his eyes flickering all around your exposed core.
He ran a finger along the side of your slit, and you shuddered, watching as he experimentally traced it across your folds. He lowered his head to your hips, pressing a kiss onto your clit. You were barely able to suppress the buck of your hips as Zoro’s hand came to rest on your thigh, pinning you down as his other hand worked along your core.
His finger found your vagina, carefully sinking between your folds as his tongue worked languid circles around your clit. You let out a moan, voice stuttering against your throat as his finger slipped deeper inside you. It only took him a few moments to push another one in, the soft scrape of his cut fingernails eliciting sparks that drew another breathy moan out of you.
“Isn’t it a little—unfair that I’m the only one not wearing anything?” you managed out between breaths, and Zoro stopped his motions, head lifting and eyes glancing up at you from under his lashes. One of his eyebrows arched in question, and his lips were glossy with your fluids, causing your core to squeeze around his fingers. Somehow, he didn’t even seem to notice the motion.
“Oh, that’s what you want to focus on right now?” he murmured, all low and throaty. He always spoke low-pitched, vocal chords all brash and grating from the back of his throat, but his voice hummed even deeper now, although that didn’t seem humanly possible. Your muscles clenched again, and Zoro’s gaze dipped down to where his fingers were still pushed inside of you. He fluidly pressed in deeper, fingers curling inside your body before pulling out and working back in. Your retort was lost as you moaned again, the tight feeling of your gut slowly unwinding as he moved back and forth inside of you.
His mouth lowered to lick at your clit again, and you cried out, barely suppressing a scream as his fingers dug, more insistent, inside of you. He pressed one final kiss against your clit, and then sat back, eyes fixed on working at your core instead. His fingers pumped in and out, steady and fluid. Your breaths came out breathy and broken, climbing closer and closer to your climax until he finally reached the summit inside of you.
“Come,” Zoro whispered, the hand not taking care of you running reassuringly along your thigh. You came suddenly, hips stuttering from where’d they’d lifted off the mattress, a cry ripping out of your throat. Zoro slowly slipped his fingers out of you, rubbing soothing circles into your inner thigh as you ran out your climax. Your breaths evened out, becoming less deep, less frantic; Zoro watched all the while, a glossy shine over his eyes and the faintest of smiles pressed along his lips.
You tilted your gaze down to his face, catching him just as he started to move again. The fingers drenched in your fluids came up to his mouth, and he licked them clean. Your stomach dropped, somehow already turning you on despite having come just mere seconds beforehand.
“My turn,” Zoro said softly, sitting up to start unbuttoning his shirt. You hoisted yourself up, hands skimming along the sheets beside him, uncertain of whether he wanted you to touch. You glimpsed a stiff tent in his pants as he sat up, and swallowed hard, eyeing the pull with apprehension.
“Do you want me to—” you tried gesturing down to his hips, but he caught your hand swiftly, pressing it against the buttons of his shirt. “What do you want?”
“Sex,” Zoro said. Nothing else. You held back the choke that dared to escape your throat, and a sheepish grin crossed his face. It was lopsided, nearly a smirk, if not for the genuine warmth glimmering at his eyes. “Sorry. That was vague.”
“It’s okay,” you assured, stifling a laugh. Your hands worked fastidiously at his buttons. It took far longer than you felt it should’ve, fingers all clumsy as you tugged them through their holes, unlooping them from where it fixed the cloth together. Soon enough, though, Zoro was stripping the last of the fabric off, tossing it carelessly across the room before pulling you into another kiss.
He was sloppier now that you’d come, more comfortable in his element—you could taste the tang of yourself on his lips, and you let out a sigh, hands moving down his figure to work at his belt. He had to stop kissing you to tug at his pants, pushing them down his legs before finally kicking them off fully.
You ducked your head to press a kiss at his navel, eyes tracing the length that jutted out from his hips. Your breath caught, gaze fixed to a pale vein running up the line of his length. “Up,” Zoro murmured, and you glanced up. Zoro pressed a long kiss to your mouth, one hand skimming around your butt to pull you up by the headboard. He ran a hand over your core, as if to ascertain you were relaxed enough for him.
“Do you have anything for it?” he murmured, lips sending chills down your back as he pressed a soft kiss at your jaw.
“I’m on the pill, yeah,” you huffed out, arms winding around his torso. Zoro hummed his response, fingers running up and down your thigh as he adjusted, hips sliding against yours to meet your core.
You sucked in a breath, but he was gentle with it, pushing in slowly, hand running along your lower back and coaxing you still. The sensation sparked tingles all over your body; up your spine, along your hips, down your legs like Zoro was electricity himself. You let out a little sigh as he pushed up to his hilt into you, hips stuttering against his as you both paused for breath. He brushed a ghost of a kiss along your lips. “Okay?” Zoro murmured.
“Perfect,” you answered, arms clutching tighter around him, fingers digging into his back. You hoped it wasn’t too sharp, but considering how big Zoro was, it was likely he barely felt the pressure—the crescents of your fingernails were probably just pinpricks to him.
Zoro started moving, then, his actions soft and fluid at first, fingers pressing reassuring circles into your waist and hips. He was nearly tender with it, motions languid and slow, like he had all the time in the world. Your breaths came out easy, soft and just barely edging towards gasps.
He started thrusting with more insistence soon, though; Zoro’s hips bucked against yours, and your grip tightened along his shoulder blades as he pushed in and out of you. Soft gasps and whines left your throat, in stark contrast to the heavy groans and grunts that barely stuttered past Zoro’s lips.
“Like that,” you said, barely able to let out words of encouragement as he hit your sweet spot, buried deep inside of you. You let out a throaty moan as he moved faster and faster, thrusts becoming harder and more aggressive. You knocked your head back, one of your hands reaching to grab Zoro’s from where it propped him up by your head. He welcomed the invitation quickly, fingers interlacing with yours, coaxing your palm open into a kiss of your hands. His thrusts worked harder than ever, and you stopped chasing the friction, letting your hips buck up against his as he shoved into you.
A low groan erupted from his throat as he hit your spot again, mouth coming down to bite into your shoulder as he suppressed the cry that tore from his mouth. You swallowed, gasping hard for breath as you felt him come inside you, your walls clenching tight around him before you also felt the familiar burst of pressure. You let out a gasping moan, mind buzzing with sparks and tingles. Vaguely, you felt Zoro’s hand against your hip, moving up and down in calming strokes.
It took a moment for you both to recover, coming down from the blissful high after long seconds ticked by. Zoro removed his mouth from your shoulder, carefully prying his jaw off from your skin. He scrutinized the marks he’d left—crescents of teeth, undoubtedly—before lowering his head again to press an apologetic kiss to the bite. You laughed in surprise.
“I can be a gentleman,” Zoro protested lightly, though his words didn’t hold much of a fight as he carefully slid out of you. He did it slowly, inch by inch, leaving a hollow sensation in his wake when he eventually parted from you. “You okay?”
“Lovely,” you answered honestly, eyes grazing up his chest before meeting his. “You?”
“I’m good,” Zoro answered, a vague smile on his lips. It was soft, tender; maybe not as big as ones you’d seen when he was laughing with the crew, but special nonetheless. He studied you for a moment, and you took the opportunity to trace his face with your eyes. His pupils were blown, slowly receding back into small dots of shadow, and his lips were kissed red, swollen over and glossy with your saliva. “Want me to draw a bath?”
“No,” you said, content just to watch him like this. “We can clean up in the morning, it’s getting late.” You hesitated, suddenly uncertain, teeth tugging at your lower lip. “Unless… you want to go?”
Zoro snorted. “No, I think I like it here,” he decided. He sat up, reaching to pull the blankets over your figure so the gooseflesh you hadn’t even noticed on your skin would subside. “Too tired to move, anyway. Might stay here forever.”
“Dramatic ass,” you mumbled, wrapping a hand around his wrist and tugging him closer to you. Zoro obeyed, sliding beside you, one arm moving to wrap around your waist. “Go to sleep, you big dummy.”
Zoro’s breath was light against the shell of your ear. “That was unwarranted.”
“Sleep,” you insisted, and Zoro huffed, reaching the arm that wasn’t around you to the nightstand. He flicked the lantern off, then turned back towards you, finally settling down. His lips pressed a soft kiss along your shoulder, and you smiled, your hand reaching down to meet where his was splayed along your belly.
“Good night,” you whispered.
“Night,” he mumbled back, the end of the word tapering off into a soft, tired breath. You could feel his chest move, up and down in a steady, soft rhythm. You buried your head into the crook of his arm, letting out a contented sigh before finally closing your eyes to drift off to sleep.
© halfvalid 2023
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He’s Not Actually That Cool - Hobie Brown x Black!Reader
Based off of this post
Part 2 bonus bonus ii
Masterlist
Imagine Hobie, the undeniably coolest person in the Spider Society, is a virgin nerd with a big dick
Tags: Hobie is a pathetic virgin loser, 18+, a lil smut, Oral (m receiving)
"How are you even cooler under your mask?"
"I was this cool the whole time."
A scoff behind the both of them. It's you shaking your head in your mask.
Hobie smirks at you. "Something funny there, love?" You don't say anything, just pretending you don't hear him and looking away innocently.
Hobie was the reason you were a part of the Spider Society. He and Miguel had captured the anomaly in your own universe with your help, of course. You knew Hobie had immediately took a liking to you what with the way he stared at you through his mask when he first laid eyes on you, frozen in place, color palette pink.
You liked him the moment he ripped his mask off when it was all said and done. He looked real good with his wicks, his sharp facial structure, wide-set nose and even larger lips. You actually believed him when he said he was briefly a runway model, emphasis on the briefly.
He invited you to join them and pulled you into the portal before Miguel could even say anything. You two have been inseparable ever since.
As you met more people, they all told you of their opinion of the man who seemed to be your best friend. Everyone says the same thing, that he's effortlessly cool and it makes him a little obnoxious. It always made you tilt your head.
You've seen the anime action figures in his room ranging anywhere from Naruto to Tokyo Ghoul.
"Oi, don't touch my things. You're the only person I trust to let in here, don't ruin it."
He's talked your ear off about the intricate lore of FNAF (he HATES MatPat btw)
You've groaned at how many times you've heard the name 'Afton' leave his mouth.
"So the place shut down again after the victim lost their entire frontal lobe"
"And that's the bite of '83, right?"
"No, that's the bite of '87. Thought I told you about '83?"
He probably did but he talked about it so damn much that you forgot. "It's cool, I'll tell you. So the bite of '83..."
This man is a fucking nerd but the BIGGEST misconception everyone has is that he's probably great at sex.
He has a reputation of "running through" everyone who wants him at the society...and yet no one has actually done anything with him. Everyone whispers about it, but no one has ever come out and admitted to having sex with him.
He's without a doubt your closest friend, so you asked him about it while you were chilling at his, watching him strum his guitar.
"So I heard you been running through the Spider Society like a tomb raider."
He cackled, "Yeah, that's what they all believe, innit?"
"It's not true?"
He shook his head. "I haven't got bottle, luv. Don't know what the bloody hell I'm doing."
"Oh really?"
He stopped strumming to look up at you, his smirk falling upon seeing your sultry and mischievous face. He grew a bit nervous, but was more excited if anything.
"What's that look about?"
"Would you like someone to teach you?"
He dropped his pick from how badly he was shaking. Hobie gulped and slowly nodded his head. You walked over to him and slowly lifted his guitar off his body, then pushing him back into the couch and sitting on top of him.
That's how this current make-out session started with you doing most of the work, taking off yours and his clothes feverously.
Hobie just sat back and let you do whatever you wanted. He especially loved watching you strip down to your underwear, blood shooting to his dick as soon as he watched your breasts bounce out of your shirt. He watched you pull your panties off of you leaving you completely naked and him only in his boxers.
He shifted in the couch to relieve some tension. You giggled at his starstruck face.
"You good?" You asked him. He nodded. "Do you need me to pull it out for you?" He nodded again.
You laughed, but was quickly shut up by his long, curved shaft slapping back onto his stomach. His underwear did him no justice, nothing could have prepared you for this.
He shyly looked away and bit his lip, not wanting to admit that he liked the way you gazed at it. It fueled his ego, but he didn't know how to tell you without stuttering.
He was actually shaking pretty bad, and it worried you. "Are you okay?"
"Y-yeah...I just..." he gulped and looked back down, his dick jumping upon looking into your eyes. Just like his, yours were a deep brown. Your eyes were furrowed in concern, and your full lips were parted. His breathing got deeper.
"You really want to have sex? With me?"
You deadpanned him, then leaned your head down to his base. Hobie gasped when you stuck your tongue out and licked all the way to his tips. Your played with it for a couple seconds, leaving him a shuddering mess. His precum leaked from it and you licked it all up reveling in the salty taste.
"O-oh..." he moaned when you grasped it gently and began to pump. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, so glad that he didn't have to imagine it was your hand beating his dick. He humped into it a little, and he looked so sexy crunching his abs that you couldn't help but to enclose your mouth over him.
"Oh, fuck," he exclaimed. He threw his head back up and gazed upon your form. You were giving him the sloppiest top he had ever seen, (he only watched BJ and missionary porn and you were much better than those girls)
God, he couldn't wait to get you under him and hump into you like's he's thought about for so long. He's used his hand, his pillow, he even looked up how to make his own flesh light because he would never be able to hide a real one from you. It was gross but fuck, how else was he supposed to get his rocks off? If he didn't do any of those things, he would have no control around you.
"Fuck, babe. Please keep going~" Hobie was drooling - actually drooling - out the side of his mouth. He panted and clenched his hands. You had to reach out and move them to your hair.
The poor thing panicked, he had no idea what you wanted him to do. He gently pet your small afro, more concerned that he was close to cumming down your throat.
You stopped and popped him out of your mouth, laughing a little at how cute he was.
You didn't notice how stressed he looked, him sitting up a little more in the chair. "Ngh, wait, no-" he whispered.
His dick bounces with each spray of his cum with him letting out a string of moans and curses as it lands on his stomach and chest. "Ffff...uh...uck..."
"Oh, I'm so sorry," you say, watching his fucked-out face. His head bounces with each deep breath he took.
"Why...did you...stop?" he asked in between pants.
"Why did you pat my head?" you asked, standing up, begrudgingly putting your clothes back on despite the ache between your legs.
"What was I supposed to do?" Hobie stares at your ass lustfully, feeling the blood rush back into his dick from how it moved.
"You were supposed to grab my hair and choke me with your dick, baby."
He gulps not being able to take his eyes off of you. "Oh."
You turned after putting your panties back on and froze. His dick was standing straight up again, the head glistening with thick white liquid. He stared at you embarrassingly, hoping that you would just come back over and kiss it.
"You could have said something before I started putting my shit back on."
"Sorry," he said, not being able to contain his excitement when you walked back over to him. His smile went away when you instead hovered yourself over his lap. His cum was still on his stomach and his dick. "W-Wait-"
"Yeah?" You whispered sensually, grabbing him again and pulling your panties to the side to line him up with you.
"I'm still-, I still have-, Is this okay?"
"I'm on the pill."
He starts getting nervous again, but he doesn't know why.
"You scared?" She asks.
He looks at her and rests his hand on her hip. "I don't want to hurt you. Or make you uncomfortable."
You giggled again. "I promise you I'll be fine."
"But, I still got my cum on me, babe."
"I know." You leans over to his ear and lick it. He shivers. "Isn't that so nasty?"
Hobie moaned as you begin to sink yourself onto him. You moan too, Hobie splitting you like you never imagined.
"You really want to shag a virgin?" He finally asked her, his voice wavering.
She rolled her eyes and sighed in frustration. "Virginity is a social construct. Don't be ashamed. Now shut the fuck up."
Definitely making a part 2 and a lil bonus and another bonus (ii)
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#across the spiderverse#hobie brown#spider punk#spider punk smut#hobie brown x black!reader#spider punk x reader#hobie brown x you#spider punk x black reader#spider punk x reader smut#black reader
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