#whereas like say back in the 70’s

[sandysapphireother]

why are modern pop songs so overstimulating

[artbyblastweave]

Hey so, thought exercise, how do you think Taylor would fare if she got dropped into the invincible universe? For the sake of mechanics let's say she literally gets dropped in via doorman portal or something.

So one thing about Invincible is that I think it's setting is protagonist-centric in a way that Worm's isn't. To the extent that Invincible's setting has worldbuilding- worldbuilding that isn't, like, ported in from the books's early association with the confederated Image Comics shared universe- it's worldbuilding that exists to convey the impression of a big-two-flavor universe. Here's our spin on the undersea kingdom, here's the riff on the Martians, here are our riffs on SHIELD, on Gotham, on Themyscira, on 70s blaxploitation-adjacent heroes, and so on. This is the entire ethos underpinning the Guardians of the Globe in particular- piggybacking on pre-existing audience affection for the Justice League to convey that it's a Big Fucking Deal when the guardians get blendered in issue 7.

You have flashbacks demonstrating that there was capital-S Superhero Stuff going on in the seventies and eighties, or as far back as the thirties with Immortal, you create the impression of a status quo, a big pond in which Mark is a little fish. And to Kirkman's credit, some effort clearly went into making sure that the non-Mark capes are sufficiently fleshed out that you can believe that they've got other stuff going on in their lives. But at the end of the day, it's the Invincible universe. You don't see a lot of people talking about the Guarding the Globe spinoff. Many of the most interesting characters- Cecil being a big example here- are interesting because of the ways in which they bounce off Mark specifically, the ways in which he chooses to deal with them. The universe is less of a character in the story the way that Earth Bet is- it's just the place where Mark's story, specifically, is happening. If there's a codified setting bible, I'll eat my hat.

Now of course the world of Worm is, in many ways, equally Taylor-centric, because that's what it means to be the protagonist. But owing in part to the themes of the story, and in part to the sheer number of false-start protagonists Wildbow played around with before settling on Taylor, it's very good at conveying the idea that there are many stories happening in this setting and Taylor's is just the one this particular work happened to focus on. There's an actual point to doing OC worldbuilding for what the superhero scene looks like in Wormverse Denver or Seattle or whatever- whereas you can come up with superhero teams for Invincible-verse Denver, but what actually ties them to that universe? What are you getting out of putting them in Invincible specifically, that you wouldn't get from whipping up a barebones MASKS setting to support your OCs? Anyway. This is a really long way of getting to my real point, which is that I think the question is less "how does Taylor bounce off the Invincible setting" and more "How does Taylor bounce off Invincible the character, around whom the setting orbits even when it pretends not to."

This I'm unsure of, because where do you stick her in his life where you get an interesting dynamic? One thing that's interesting here is that Mark's overall character arc already involves learning a lot of taylorisms- the strategic ruthlessness, the shift from a good-evil dichotomy to a helping-not-helping dichotomy-so what about his arc is going to change if they spend time together? Why would they spend time together? Given the different power levels on display, what would differentiate her, in his experience, from the dozens of filler capes that exist for him at the level of "vague acquaintance?" This is assuming she's active as a cape at all, which she might not be if this is Post-GM. Mutual association through Cecil and the Global Defense Agency might be a hook- maybe they're paying for her new arm or something- but would she latch her cart to Cecil's wagon in the first place, barring some obvious crisis situation? Hard to say. If she's depowered, and present in his life somehow in a civilian context, well, that's a fast-track to not being part of the story anymore either, given how Mark's civilian connections slowly fading away was kind of a quiet plot point.

There's some configuration of these pieces that could be interesting, but I'm not quite sure what they are. Soliciting input here.

[aconflagrationofmyown]

Will there be smut between Elvis and Elaine in the 70s/80s chapter of the saga? I absolutely adore the second gen, but i am also really obsessed about the both of them still finding time (to make babys obvsly) but also enjoy eachother soo passionately like in the early years 😍 i am very invested 😂

Oh, oh darling yes there will be and…it just might be my favorite of all their eras. Plenty of fic in the works, and I’m delighted that interests you. Nothing hotter than a couple fused together by time and devotion. Also, this is beyond random but I do envision Elvis getting a bit cuddlier and bulkier into the 90’s…whereas in this AU the 70’s remain about the same health and looks as around ‘74…with some gray allowed to creep in by the mid 80’s. 😏 ALL THAT TO SAY, I find the idea of warm and sturdy Elvis being enamored with his Pilates obsessed wife pretty swoonworthy

There’s a lot coming soon for the 80’s and earlier but for now, how about a little intermediate, plotless, fluffy, wintry smut fest between Grandpa Elvis and his Tink when they’re stuck in a ski lift on their aspen holiday? …it goes something like this (WARNINGS, fluffy smut involving p in v, semi public sex but not observed, tender cum feeding (somehow Elaine made that a thing) and subby older Elvis, 18+:

Sarge & lil Mama blurb, Jan 1995,

|| Snow Bunnies

“When’d I get so damn fat?” Elaine hears her man huff over the rustling sound of their snow coats rubbing together and wants to roll her eyes, amused that Elvis didn’t expect that result from almost nightly burger and shake runs with Shiloh for the past decade.

She does roll her eyes at the thought that he wiggled her snow pants down and her panties, too, before even unzipping himself.

“You’re cuddly,” she retorts with a smile directed down to the ski slope far below them, her hand pressed to the frosting glass of the lift, “as all grandpa’s should be. Nobody wants a scrawny grandpa.”

Case in point is the waft of steaming heat Elaine feels against her bare backside the minute he gets his pants undone, sweaty body heat radiating off of him despite the freezing temperatures around them. Instinctively she arches her back a little and shifts her footing, putting a leg up on the bench to make some room for little Elvis, slotting her ski carefully between the narrow walls. It barely fits.

She thanks God for the fact she’s got just enough height to her that they can do this standing up, have been doing it this way for over three decades now, because if he can’t wait for a private moment and if he must take advantage of the stalled ski lift, then she’s secretly relieved she won’t be the one exerting effort with ten pounds extra of ski equipment hampering her.

As it is, it’s funny how swelteringly hot they both feel besides their barely exposed privates. She can hear the minute Elvis frees himself from his little wounded hiss at the cold air and his pitiful need always did make her run wet.

“C’mon mopey, come to mama.” she encourages and braces her hand on the glass, checking to make certain her long coat covers any frontal view, only the back tugged down and her husband is soon behind her with enough width and padding to hide a dumpster. “Give lil Elvis some shelter.” she tries to reach between her legs to guide him but there’s too much winter bulk in the way and only her fingertips make it to his line of sight.

Elvis moans at the eager gesture anyway, touched by how ready she still remains for him, how willing even when it ain’t her idea or need.

“Keep ya hand right there, Mamas.” he tells her in a conspiratorial little whisper, “Hims gots a little gift for hers.” he says and Elaine grins wildly in delight, trying to anticipate it, beyond the delicious stretch she readies for with braced and booted feet.

She hears the shlick/shlack of him rubbing something, along with the muffled creaking of his nylon jacket and leather gloves, and after a few moments of white breathed puffing behind her she feels a warm drop hit her finger tip.

Then another, and another and then a little string of liquid and she knows it’s his precum, he’s dripping it onto her hand and Elaine closes her eyes against the bright white landscape of an Aspen morning and imagines his drippy pink cock in a sea of leather and nylon, one warm and vulnerable little knob in the harsh elements and she knocks her forehead against the glass wall in mouthwatering craving.

“Oh Elvis!” she groans, curling her fingers as the puddle grows and begins to puddle in her palm, slicking up her own curls down where her hand is wedged so tightly from her barely removed pants. “Put it in baby, mama wants it, c’mon pretty baby.”

“Ok.” The whine and shuffle she hears behind her sounds like a child clumsily but eagerly obeying and that’s rather characteristic of her man. She bites her gloved thumb at the feel of his tip pressing blindly at her folds, poking and prodding the wrong places for entry and strangely it’s terribly exciting, this inhibited Elvis, this clumsy man who wants her so bad he’d try to bonk her in a sky lift with Pillsbury Doughboy amounts of padding striving to keep them apart.

The path of true love never did run smooth.

The jabbing and novice pokes are worth it for his frustrated little grunts in her ear and the way he tries to wiggle on top of her leaning frame, like extra height is going to help matters. She bends a little further with a fond smirk, wanting to chuckle at the way his arm presses across her shoulder and the back of her neck. It’s so desperate it’s comical and Elaine always has a weakness for being overly wanted by him.

His face is hanging over her left shoulder when he manages to wedge an inch into the correct hole and his hot breath blasts her cheek in relief and she spares a gloved hand from propping herself against the glass to pat his squishy cheek. It’s not fair how packing on a few pounds has seemed to erase the age from him, filling out the wrinkles he collected last decade and turning him into something as cute as the grandsons all over again.

Elaine feels like she did when she was freshly married and he was a chubby cheeked baby man. Even now when she can’t really see his face with the positioning, she can imagine it and it makes her heart flutter. She pats at his face and the scritch of his trimmed sideburns is noisy against the leather, Elvis nuzzles her palm.

Before she knows it he’s got her gloved fingers in his mouth and his teeth clamp against the leather at the tips and he starts to pull the glove off. She helps him, yanking her wrist and he drops the glove over her shoulder like a dog depositing a gift.

“Pet me, mamas.” Elvis begs again and nestles into her body a little further, half way in if she were to guess, and after all these years, she’s a pretty good guesser about little Elvis. “M’too fat to get in all the ways.” he fusses, forlornly starting to hump inside her in aborted little fucks like a bunny with his mate.

The mental image makes Elaine chortle, as do the silly little jabs from those famous hips. He’d get more depth violating a jacuzzi jet but Elvis Presley waits for no man and she supposes if the slide is tight enough to drag his little scarf back and forth, maybe it’ll be sufficient. She clenches for him, little rhythmic kegels that remind her of postpartum rehabilitation and his answering moan encourages her. “That feel good, baby boy? Hmm? Is mama warm and cozy?” she asks, her cheek getting sweaty from where his is pressed to hers.

Into their sixties and Elvis still twitches madly under her doting, purring in her ear when he’s being spoiled.

“Ssso’cozzzeeey.” he slurs right into her ear and she shudders in delight, feeling his arm around her waist through her layers of bundling, his hand on her shoulder needy and insistent.

After a decade of peace and over three so intertwined and inseparable, it’s as if Elvis has forgotten they are separate people. Older and less fastidious over timing or moods, when her husband gets a craving for his better half, he indulges it. It’s wholesomely nasty and Elaine doesn’t expect her children or the public to understand but she gets it.

She leans her forehead against the glass, lets her sweat smudge the clear view, and thinks she sees the specks that are their friends and kids below, commenting on the stalled lift no doubt, and she grins at the notion that Elvis can’t get enough momentum to actually make it obvious as to what these two bundles in the sky are doing.

His chubby and familiar cock is rubbing inside her delightfully as do his balls, hanging lower and swollen by age, smack her backside with every lurch, and she lets out a happy sigh at the slick sounds of his sloppy movements. Elaine can hear when he starts to get close, his breathy moans of exertion quicken and he lets out throaty little noises of delighted panic as his climax nears. His hands grasp her hips over the padding and he nearly climbs on her like it’s a piggy back ride, squirming to get a little deeper before letting out a long and loud sigh of contentment as he lets go, a sigh that has begun to crack at the end in a hoarse moan the older he gets.

“You feel so good, Tink.” he groans into her ear and her pussy clenches at the praise and the feel of his wet slop inside her.

The gush between her legs is obscene due to his shallow depth and just when she thinks he’s done with his deposit, Elvis will jerk some more and out sputters another little bit to join the rest slowly leaking out of her and dripping onto the crotch of her ski pants. “Mmm, shit, I made a mess, mama.” he mumbles apologetically at the obvious and easily foreseeable consequences to his actions.

“S’ok mopey,” she reaches back and strokes his sweaty cheek as he burrows his lips into the collar of her jacket and kisses her neck ardently and grateful, “that do it for ya, baby?” she asks, tipping her head back to allow him more access.

“Yeas,” He sighs happily, “m’all better.” he declares and Elaine’s heart thuds like a teenager from his soft, adoring tone, from the way she’s still his cure-all at all times. “But damn is it soupy down there, sorry mama.”

“You’ve been holding that in for a couple days now,” she coos, “been makin’ you grumpy and it must’ve been so hard, bein’ so full and achy and not able to relieve it.”

Elvis sniffles into her neck even as he begins to pull out, the gush of his release beginning to pour out and she quickly cups her hand to her cunt to catch some of it in her palm and spare her pants just a little.

“It’s been verra rough.” he agrees with a pout that no longer reaches anywhere else on his face save his mouth, quite an improvement from the grumpy storm cloud that was Elvis traveling here yesterday in a crowded Bus with kids and grandkids, deprived of his naps and his autonomy, with his bed full of grandkids at night and unable to have his Tink at whim.

Vacations were nice in theory, and suddenly relieved of his more irritable humors -which Elaine was cupping milky white in her palm- they might end up being nice in practice too. He just needed a little dotin’ on, like a vintage car, one can’t expect it to purr constantly without some upkeep. Tink knows this and she smiles back at him sweetly, same way she smiled at him on the bus when his boyish and round face was puckered in a moody scowl that matched Jack’s a few rows behind.

“Yeah, I know,” she’s still smiling but he watches her glance down to the pearly puddle in her palm as she adds, “but we gotta count our blessings we’ve got kids who wanna bug us as much as they do, people dream about families working as well as ours. Nothin’ we did alone, God’s been good to us, I mean -look at those sweet idiots, they’re not even skiing even though the conditions are perfect, they’re too worried for us. Don’t you think most rich kids would be hoping the car falls so they get the inheritance faster?”

Elvis wheezes a laugh and does a little hop to pull his padded pants back up, struggling with the zipper a bit. Slightly thicker around the middle and he acts like he’s nine months pregnant, unable to fasten his closures or put his shoes on, the pink happiness in his cheeks when Elaine offers to help him, betrays his act each time.

“I’ll help ya, if you need,” she offers, her own pants having been pulled up by him as he’s a gentleman, even if he’s a feral one.

“Yeah baby I need a hand.” grunts and his chin has a soft double under it as he looks down to his fly.

“Well, then clean me up so I can help.” she casually presents her cum coated hand and he balks for a brief moment until her unflinching little smile tells him she’s not kidding in the slightest, and he doesn’t need her to remind him she’ll be waddling and skiing all day in the soupy mess he made in her pants. It’s the least he can do, her eyebrow remind, and with a stuttering little whimper of aversion he takes her wrist in his large, gloved hand and bends over it like he’s gonna kiss it with all his Hollywood honed suavity.

Instead he gets to work on his task with only a fleeting grimace at the tepid saltiness of his own release and his compliance makes Elaine shiver and clench. She can feel the warm little kitten licks from his tongue, so reminiscent of other activities she uses him for, and his black lashes fan against his cheeks through the orange visor of his ski glasses as he peaks up to see her approving expression.

“That’s good enough, well done, let me help you now, sweet man.” she sighs dreamily while rubbing her finger against his curling tongue.

Elaine pats her shiny hand on her leather vinyl ski pants and finds it ineffective for drying it but there’s nothing to be done about it and so she dutifully lifts up his jackets and grasps the top of his pants and brings them together, “Suck in just a lil.” she suggests as her knuckles dig into the soft, hairy flesh of his belly, rubbing against his little treasure trail. “There we go.” she clasps it and he lets out a sigh and she steps back and both smile shyly at each other over the pretense of him needing help with something so easy.

“I love you.” it bubbles out of her lips as she sees him bundled and shy in front of her with a face shiny from his exertions inside her.

Elvis’ pink lips gasp a little at the common little declaration and he brings his large hand to the back of her neck, pulling her in for a deep kiss. She tastes his salty spend still on his tongue and moans into his scorching mouth. Her man and his body -always so warm and never more so than when he’s been freshly sated.

The ski lift jolts and Elaine falls further forward into Elvis’ embrace, losing her footing in the clumsy footwear, and he holds her up, looking above them to find the car has begun to lurch in what he hopes is an intentional motion to help the stall.

“Are we about to die?” Elaine asks with a giggle into the poofy padding of his jacket and his own laugh rumbles under her ear.

“Dunno,” he jokes, “but if we are, I want ya to know I don’t regret a damn thing ‘bout lovin’ you, ‘cept that I just left ya hangin’ in our last ron-day-voo like a green boy.”

Elaine smacks at his arm and feels the ski lift start to slide down the cable as it ought to have a whole half an hour before. “Gosh, I think we’re actually going to make it.” she mutters as their skiing party has remained intact for the most part, loathing to split off before the Boss and Boss Lady made it up safe.

When they get to their drop Elvis helps Elaine hop off the lift and he follows after, being swarmed by kids and grandkids and their friends asking if they’re alright. Which they are, of course they are.

A employee from the Resort, no doubt the fella who got them moving again, comes up and apologizes profusely for the inconvenience.

“Say nothin’ of it boy.” Elvis beams and claps him on the shoulder and Jack shares a look with his wife Vic at the quite obvious attitude adjustment that seems to have occurred since leaving the lodge. “Ya never know, one day I might tip ya for stallin’ an elevator or something so I can get this sweet creature alone for a minute.” and Elvis squeezes Elaine to his side like a typical, flirty old man and the poor employee stops chewing his gum in confusion.

“Uh. Well I’m glad you’re not shaken up, these things are quite safe they just stall occasionally.” the guy assures, loathe to get a bad review from the Presleys of all people.

“Yes of course.” Elaine smiles demurely at him and that should be his signal to move along but he’s one of those overachiever types, rules and regulation sorts, and so he persists.

“What can be dangerous is rocking a car in hopes to get it going.” he explains, “If this happens again, God forbid-“

“-better not.”

“-then it’s really important not to rock the thing or sway it too much, that can snap a cable, really Mr. Presley it’s important you guys don’t try that again.”

“We-we didn’t-“ Elvis is the picture of confusion even as Elaine’s face solidifies into diplomatic blankness.

“But we saw it rocking.” Bee, Shiloh’s best buddy and a tag-along to all Presley events, insists she saw what she saw, which was the lift rocking. She had commented as much to Danny despite his arguments that it was the wind before he dragged her off to watch him fail at a misty ski trick.

That’s why his forehead was busted and Elaine stares at the gash partially hidden by his shaggy brown hair with some concern.

“Must’ve been the wind.” Elvis repeats his son’s logic and Bee stares in confusion as they’re all out to ski because of the lack of wind.

Elaine beckons Danny over and makes his lanky frame crouch a little so she can ascertain the damage to his head while elbowing a still protesting Elvis in the ribs.

“We did try hopping a few times.” she admits breezily and as soon as she says it, Elvis stops his lying, quickly clamping his mouth shut, “Just thought we might get the momentum back. I’m sorry sir, we didn’t know we could die, we won’t try it again.” she assures.

Content the employee leaves them be and the various groups split off for the various courses, eager and red cheeked. Elvis and Elaine agree to shepard the youngest kids in the group down the easier slopes with the help of Rosalee and Sam.

On their way to their starting places Elvis brushes by Elaine, grandchild's hand in his on his opposite side and mutters in her ear, “Shouldn't make promises ya can’t keep.”

🥰 I hope y’all don’t mind me tagging y’all in blurbs as well as fics, most of y’all asked to be tagged in “everything” so I took you pretty literally, lol. Let me know and I’ll remove you for future. Xoxoxo

@paradsol000

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[marinas-drafts]

REPOST: Oh, oh darling yes there will be and…it just might be my favorite of all their eras. Plenty of fic in the works, and I’m delighted that interests you. Nothing hotter than a couple fused together by time and devotion. Also, this is beyond random but I do envision Elvis getting a bit cuddlier and bulkier into the 90’s…whereas in this AU the 70’s remain about the same health and looks as around ‘74…with some gray allowed to creep in by the mid 80’s. 😏 ALL THAT TO SAY, I find the idea of warm and sturdy Elvis being enamored with his Pilates obsessed wife pretty swoonworthy

There’s a lot coming soon for the 80’s and earlier but for now, how about a little intermediate, plotless, fluffy, wintry smut fest between Grandpa Elvis and his Tink when they’re stuck in a ski lift on their aspen holiday? …it goes something like this (WARNINGS, fluffy smut involving p in v, semi public sex but not observed, tender cum feeding (somehow Elaine made that a thing) and subby older Elvis, 18+:

Sarge & lil Mama blurb, Jan 1995,

|| Snow Bunnies

“When’d I get so damn fat?” Elaine hears her man huff over the rustling sound of their snow coats rubbing together and wants to roll her eyes, amused that Elvis didn’t expect that result from almost nightly burger and shake runs with Shiloh for the past decade.

She does roll her eyes at the thought that he wiggled her snow pants down and her panties, too, before even unzipping himself.

“You’re cuddly,” she retorts with a smile directed down to the ski slope far below them, her hand pressed to the frosting glass of the lift, “as all grandpa’s should be. Nobody wants a scrawny grandpa.”

Case in point is the waft of steaming heat Elaine feels against her bare backside the minute he gets his pants undone, sweaty body heat radiating off of him despite the freezing temperatures around them. Instinctively she arches her back a little and shifts her footing, putting a leg up on the bench to make some room for little Elvis, slotting her ski carefully between the narrow walls. It barely fits.

She thanks God for the fact she’s got just enough height to her that they can do this standing up, have been doing it this way for over three decades now, because if he can’t wait for a private moment and if he must take advantage of the stalled ski lift, then she’s secretly relieved she won’t be the one exerting effort with ten pounds extra of ski equipment hampering her.

As it is, it’s funny how swelteringly hot they both feel besides their barely exposed privates. She can hear the minute Elvis frees himself from his little wounded hiss at the cold air and his pitiful need always did make her run wet.

“C’mon mopey, come to mama.” she encourages and braces her hand on the glass, checking to make certain her long coat covers any frontal view, only the back tugged down and her husband is soon behind her with enough width and padding to hide a dumpster. “Give lil Elvis some shelter.” she tries to reach between her legs to guide him but there’s too much winter bulk in the way and only her fingertips make it to his line of sight.

Elvis moans at the eager gesture anyway, touched by how ready she still remains for him, how willing even when it ain’t her idea or need.

“Keep ya hand right there, Mamas.” he tells her in a conspiratorial little whisper, “Hims gots a little gift for hers.” he says and Elaine grins wildly in delight, trying to anticipate it, beyond the delicious stretch she readies for with braced and booted feet.

She hears the shlick/shlack of him rubbing something, along with the muffled creaking of his nylon jacket and leather gloves, and after a few moments of white breathed puffing behind her she feels a warm drop hit her finger tip.

Then another, and another and then a little string of liquid and she knows it’s his precum, he’s dripping it onto her hand and Elaine closes her eyes against the bright white landscape of an Aspen morning and imagines his drippy pink cock in a sea of leather and nylon, one warm and vulnerable little knob in the harsh elements and she knocks her forehead against the glass wall in mouthwatering craving.

“Oh Elvis!” she groans, curling her fingers as the puddle grows and begins to puddle in her palm, slicking up her own curls down where her hand is wedged so tightly from her barely removed pants. “Put it in baby, mama wants it, c’mon pretty baby.”

“Ok.” The whine and shuffle she hears behind her sounds like a child clumsily but eagerly obeying and that’s rather characteristic of her man. She bites her gloved thumb at the feel of his tip pressing blindly at her folds, poking and prodding the wrong places for entry and strangely it’s terribly exciting, this inhibited Elvis, this clumsy man who wants her so bad he’d try to bonk her in a sky lift with Pillsbury Doughboy amounts of padding striving to keep them apart.

The path of true love never did run smooth.

The jabbing and novice pokes are worth it for his frustrated little grunts in her ear and the way he tries to wiggle on top of her leaning frame, like extra height is going to help matters. She bends a little further with a fond smirk, wanting to chuckle at the way his arm presses across her shoulder and the back of her neck. It’s so desperate it’s comical and Elaine always has a weakness for being overly wanted by him.

His face is hanging over her left shoulder when he manages to wedge an inch into the correct hole and his hot breath blasts her cheek in relief and she spares a gloved hand from propping herself against the glass to pat his squishy cheek. It’s not fair how packing on a few pounds has seemed to erase the age from him, filling out the wrinkles he collected last decade and turning him into something as cute as the grandsons all over again.

Elaine feels like she did when she was freshly married and he was a chubby cheeked baby man. Even now when she can’t really see his face with the positioning, she can imagine it and it makes her heart flutter. She pats at his face and the scritch of his trimmed sideburns is noisy against the leather, Elvis nuzzles her palm.

Before she knows it he’s got her gloved fingers in his mouth and his teeth clamp against the leather at the tips and he starts to pull the glove off. She helps him, yanking her wrist and he drops the glove over her shoulder like a dog depositing a gift.

“Pet me, mamas.” Elvis begs again and nestles into her body a little further, half way in if she were to guess, and after all these years, she’s a pretty good guesser about little Elvis. “M’too fat to get in all the ways.” he fusses, forlornly starting to hump inside her in aborted little fucks like a bunny with his mate.

The mental image makes Elaine chortle, as do the silly little jabs from those famous hips. He’d get more depth violating a jacuzzi jet but Elvis Presley waits for no man and she supposes if the slide is tight enough to drag his little scarf back and forth, maybe it’ll be sufficient. She clenches for him, little rhythmic kegels that remind her of postpartum rehabilitation and his answering moan encourages her. “That feel good, baby boy? Hmm? Is mama warm and cozy?” she asks, her cheek getting sweaty from where his is pressed to hers.

Into their sixties and Elvis still twitches madly under her doting, purring in her ear when he’s being spoiled.

“Ssso’cozzzeeey.” he slurs right into her ear and she shudders in delight, feeling his arm around her waist through her layers of bundling, his hand on her shoulder needy and insistent.

After a decade of peace and over three so intertwined and inseparable, it’s as if Elvis has forgotten they are separate people. Older and less fastidious over timing or moods, when her husband gets a craving for his better half, he indulges it. It’s wholesomely nasty and Elaine doesn’t expect her children or the public to understand but she gets it.

She leans her forehead against the glass, lets her sweat smudge the clear view, and thinks she sees the specks that are their friends and kids below, commenting on the stalled lift no doubt, and she grins at the notion that Elvis can’t get enough momentum to actually make it obvious as to what these two bundles in the sky are doing.

His chubby and familiar cock is rubbing inside her delightfully as do his balls, hanging lower and swollen by age, smack her backside with every lurch, and she lets out a happy sigh at the slick sounds of his sloppy movements. Elaine can hear when he starts to get close, his breathy moans of exertion quicken and he lets out throaty little noises of delighted panic as his climax nears. His hands grasp her hips over the padding and he nearly climbs on her like it’s a piggy back ride, squirming to get a little deeper before letting out a long and loud sigh of contentment as he lets go, a sigh that has begun to crack at the end in a hoarse moan the older he gets.

“You feel so good, Tink.” he groans into her ear and her pussy clenches at the praise and the feel of his wet slop inside her.

The gush between her legs is obscene due to his shallow depth and just when she thinks he’s done with his deposit, Elvis will jerk some more and out sputters another little bit to join the rest slowly leaking out of her and dripping onto the crotch of her ski pants. “Mmm, shit, I made a mess, mama.” he mumbles apologetically at the obvious and easily foreseeable consequences to his actions.

“S’ok mopey,” she reaches back and strokes his sweaty cheek as he burrows his lips into the collar of her jacket and kisses her neck ardently and grateful, “that do it for ya, baby?” she asks, tipping her head back to allow him more access.

“Yeas,” He sighs happily, “m’all better.” he declares and Elaine’s heart thuds like a teenager from his soft, adoring tone, from the way she’s still his cure-all at all times. “But damn is it soupy down there, sorry mama.”

“You’ve been holding that in for a couple days now,” she coos, “been makin’ you grumpy and it must’ve been so hard, bein’ so full and achy and not able to relieve it.”

Elvis sniffles into her neck even as he begins to pull out, the gush of his release beginning to pour out and she quickly cups her hand to her cunt to catch some of it in her palm and spare her pants just a little.

“It’s been verra rough.” he agrees with a pout that no longer reaches anywhere else on his face save his mouth, quite an improvement from the grumpy storm cloud that was Elvis traveling here yesterday in a crowded Bus with kids and grandkids, deprived of his naps and his autonomy, with his bed full of grandkids at night and unable to have his Tink at whim.

Vacations were nice in theory, and suddenly relieved of his more irritable humors -which Elaine was cupping milky white in her palm- they might end up being nice in practice too. He just needed a little dotin’ on, like a vintage car, one can’t expect it to purr constantly without some upkeep. Tink knows this and she smiles back at him sweetly, same way she smiled at him on the bus when his boyish and round face was puckered in a moody scowl that matched Jack’s a few rows behind.

“Yeah, I know,” she’s still smiling but he watches her glance down to the pearly puddle in her palm as she adds, “but we gotta count our blessings we’ve got kids who wanna bug us as much as they do, people dream about families working as well as ours. Nothin’ we did alone, God’s been good to us, I mean -look at those sweet idiots, they’re not even skiing even though the conditions are perfect, they’re too worried for us. Don’t you think most rich kids would be hoping the car falls so they get the inheritance faster?”

Elvis wheezes a laugh and does a little hop to pull his padded pants back up, struggling with the zipper a bit. Slightly thicker around the middle and he acts like he’s nine months pregnant, unable to fasten his closures or put his shoes on, the pink happiness in his cheeks when Elaine offers to help him, betrays his act each time.

“I’ll help ya, if you need,” she offers, her own pants having been pulled up by him as he’s a gentleman, even if he’s a feral one.

“Yeah baby I need a hand.” grunts and his chin has a soft double under it as he looks down to his fly.

“Well, then clean me up so I can help.” she casually presents her cum coated hand and he balks for a brief moment until her unflinching little smile tells him she’s not kidding in the slightest, and he doesn’t need her to remind him she’ll be waddling and skiing all day in the soupy mess he made in her pants. It’s the least he can do, her eyebrow remind, and with a stuttering little whimper of aversion he takes her wrist in his large, gloved hand and bends over it like he’s gonna kiss it with all his Hollywood honed suavity.

Instead he gets to work on his task with only a fleeting grimace at the tepid saltiness of his own release and his compliance makes Elaine shiver and clench. She can feel the warm little kitten licks from his tongue, so reminiscent of other activities she uses him for, and his black lashes fan against his cheeks through the orange visor of his ski glasses as he peaks up to see her approving expression.

“That’s good enough, well done, let me help you now, sweet man.” she sighs dreamily while rubbing her finger against his curling tongue.

Elaine pats her shiny hand on her leather vinyl ski pants and finds it ineffective for drying it but there’s nothing to be done about it and so she dutifully lifts up his jackets and grasps the top of his pants and brings them together, “Suck in just a lil.” she suggests as her knuckles dig into the soft, hairy flesh of his belly, rubbing against his little treasure trail. “There we go.” she clasps it and he lets out a sigh and she steps back and both smile shyly at each other over the pretense of him needing help with something so easy.

“I love you.” it bubbles out of her lips as she sees him bundled and shy in front of her with a face shiny from his exertions inside her.

Elvis’ pink lips gasp a little at the common little declaration and he brings his large hand to the back of her neck, pulling her in for a deep kiss. She tastes his salty spend still on his tongue and moans into his scorching mouth. Her man and his body -always so warm and never more so than when he’s been freshly sated.

The ski lift jolts and Elaine falls further forward into Elvis’ embrace, losing her footing in the clumsy footwear, and he holds her up, looking above them to find the car has begun to lurch in what he hopes is an intentional motion to help the stall.

“Are we about to die?” Elaine asks with a giggle into the poofy padding of his jacket and his own laugh rumbles under her ear.

“Dunno,” he jokes, “but if we are, I won’t ya to know I don’t regret a damn thing ‘bout lovin’ you, ‘cept that I just left ya hangin’ in our last ron-day-voo like a green boy.”

Elaine smacks at his arm and feels the ski lift start to slide down the cable as it ought to have a whole half an hour before. “Gosh, I think we’re actually going to make it.” she mutters as their skiing party has remained intact for the most part, loathing to split off before the Boss and Boss Lady made it up safe.

When they get to their drop Elvis helps Elaine hop off the lift and he follows after, being swarmed by kids and grandkids and their friends asking if they’re alright. Which they are, of course they are.

A employee from the Resort, no doubt the fella who got them moving again, comes up and apologizes profusely for the inconvenience.

“Say nothin’ of it boy.” Elvis beams and claps him on the shoulder and Jack shares a look with his wife Vic at the quite obvious attitude adjustment that seems to have occurred since leaving the lodge. “Ya never know, one day I might tip ya for stallin’ an elevator or something so I can get this sweet creature alone for a minute.” and Elvis squeezes Elaine to his side like a typical, flirty old man and the poor employee stops chewing his gum in confusion.

“Uh. Well I’m glad you’re not shaken up, these things are quite safe they just stall occasionally.” the guy assures, loathe to get a bad review from the Presleys of all people.

“Yes of course.” Elaine smiles demurely at him and that should be his signal to move along but he’s one of those overachiever types, rules and regulation sorts, and so he persists.

“What can be dangerous is rocking a car in hopes to get it going.” he explains, “If this happens again, God forbid-“

“-better not.”

“-then it’s really important not to rock the thing or sway it too much, that can snap a cable, really Mr. Presley it’s important you guys don’t try that again.”

“We-we didn’t-“ Elvis is the picture of confusion even as Elaine’s face solidifies into diplomatic blankness.

“But we saw it rocking.” Bee, Shiloh’s best buddy and a tag-along to all Presley events, insists she saw what she saw, which was the lift rocking. She had commented as much to Danny despite his arguments that it was the wind before he dragged her off to watch him fail at a misty ski trick.

That’s why his forehead was busted and Elaine stares at the gash partially hidden by his shaggy brown hair with some concern.

“Must’ve been the wind.” Elvis repeats his son’s logic and Bee stares in confusion as they’re all out to ski because of the lack of wind.

Elaine beckons Danny over and makes his lanky frame crouch a little so she can ascertain the damage to his head while elbowing a still protesting Elvis in the ribs.

“We did try hopping a few times.” she admits breezily and as soon as she says it, Elvis stops his lying, quickly clamping his mouth shut, “Just thought we might get the momentum back. I’m sorry sir, we didn’t know we could die, we won’t try it again.” she assures.

Content the employee leaves them be and the various groups split off for the various courses, eager and red cheeked. Elvis and Elaine agree to shepard the youngest kids in the group down the easier slopes with the help of Rosalee and Sam.

On their way to their starting places Elvis brushes by Elaine, grandchild's hand in his on his opposite side and mutters in her ear, “Shouldn't make promises ya can’t keep.”

[spnyouresostupid]

In this essay I will...

Surprise this time there actually is an essay lol

In ‘It’s a Terrible Life’ Dean Smith (Dean Winchester with no memory of hunting) is queer coded. We see him drinking oat milk in a latte he made with the espresso machine he owns. He has a very definite sense of style, and due to a line of dialogue is revealed to be a fan of Project Runway. He cares about how he looks and is self-conscious enough about his desk job making him put on weight that he is shown be on a very specific diet for the duration of the episode. 

I know what you’re going to say (especially those of you born after 2000); you’re just stereotyping him, men are allowed to like all of these things, and you would be right...but we’re talking about film making and visual short hand and with that comes a lot of history.

Queer coding vs. Queer baiting

Queer coding became necessary in the Hayes Code era, writers and directors wanted to include LGBTQ+ but it was literally forbidden. So queer coding came to be, where the film makers wouldn’t be censored as long as it wasn’t explicit text or too obvious in subtext(or if they were a villain but queer coded villains are an essay for another time).

Ultimately queer coding in those days was actually positive and subversive to the puritanical rules of the golden age of movies. So they were trying to make the queer characters as identifiable as possible without being overt, and it would make sense to either focus on or exaggerate more obvious queer traits. The short hand over time became - queer man acts “fruity” or feminine and queer women act butch or masculine. (I’m going to focus on queer men for relevancy)

Visual short hand is necessary for effective film making, and by the 70′s these ideas were deeply ingrained in the industry even though the Hayes Code was abolished. It was expected that audience would know that femme or ‘girly’ men meant gay; and they did. These stereotypes have been challenged in recent years (most of the progress has been made in the last 10 years, if I’m honest).

This is where queerbaiting comes into play. Queerbaiting is not the same thing as coding. Coding was subversive and rebellious in the face of those who wanted to control and censor film makers. Baiting is putting the coding into a character in a time when there’s no reason not to make the character explicitly queer. Whereas coding was made to include queer people in spaces they were being pushed out of, baiting is purposely excluding queer people because the film/tv makers are more afraid of the possibility of losing money than to make their work more inclusive.

Queer coding and visual short hand of queer people are essential to understanding why a viewer might declare a character queer even if it’s never explicitly stated and understanding how queerbaiting is detrimental by denying the audience the truth of what the coding promises.

Now that we’re all on the same page I will say again; Dean Smith is Coded gay/bi.

Yes all the examples as to why this would be true are stereotypes, but  those stereotypes were still the visual short hand standard at the time this was filmed. So Dean Smith has been coded as queer by an industry that very much understands everything I just went over...but he is never explicitly stated as queer which creates a queerbaiting situation. That’s nothing new to Supernatural but it does raise an interesting question:

Why code Dean Smith as gay/bi at all? 

They don’t do the same with Sam, he seems to be just as hetero as he is for the rest of the show. This question becomes even more intriguing and baiting when Zack tells Dean(when he’s back to normal) that all he did was remove Sam and Dean’s memories and plunked them in this office building with vague backstories. So...

What is the point of coding Dean Smith as gay/bi? 

Given the precedent set by the rest of this show it was surly not to defy stereotypes- this show loves troupes and stereotypes. I can only conclude that the writers thought it would be funny because light homophobia was very accepted in 2009 but....

Inadvertently what the writers/director(possibly Jensen) have done, is imply that there is some part of Dean Winchester that IS queer. That whatever same sex attraction that Dean has, was repressed by his neglectful drill sergeant father. Without that, and raised by (the far superior) Bobby and Ellen and free from hunting, this Dean is allowed to be queer. He’s allowed to be ‘softer’ and show interest in things that might be seen as feminine. 

This episode begs me to see Dean Smith as gay/bi and then expects me to believe that there is no queerness in Dean Winchester even though they’re both the same person. That is a suspension of disbelief that even a show about ghosts and monsters can not ask the audience to swallow. It’s just too much.

TLDR; Dean Smith was queer coded as a joke, but by the rules in universe it means that Dean Winchester is also queer 🙃

[carnivoreofthesea]

INSCRYPTION SWAP AU PT.1

i am slightly afraid to be made fun of PLEASE JUST LISTEN FOR THE FIRST PARAGRAPH AND THEN SCROLL IF YOU DONT WANNA READ IT ALL. this is impulsive so expect me to be silly crazy

leshy ---> tech

p03 ---> nature

grimmora ---> magic

Mags ---> death

Why in this way you ask?

Well leshy and P03 oppose each other the most and it felt natural, Still at odds and also keep their personalities. I feel like grimmora and mags would switch though is because death is a very real thing, but magic is fantastical and actively tries to stop death. Grimmora would also be able to keep her more happy attitude with realism with magic as its more of system/skill. Mags would take death and the undead pretty good as well because. bro is just a lil insane all around. Also consider a skull army that he wont stop lying to and say they'll come back to life eventually. OK PAST THIS POINT IM GOING TO GO MORE IN DETAIL BUT THATS THE BASIC IDEA GO AHEAD AND USE/CHANGE TO YOUR LIKING IF YOU WANT, JUST GIVE ME CREDS IF ITS LIKE EXACTLY THE SAME. if you make it your own then you don't need to cred, idc this idea is like really basic imo.

L3sh, Scybe of Technology.

He's still stoic and very immersed in his world, However now with a new technological theming. He makes sure to have the player learn about the intricate details of the tech they use. He's kinda like a happy old I.T. guy, Using all of his tech to its max potential. Its very early and traditional 60's and 70's era stuff, Whereas P03's was futuristic 80's. He tries to make sure that it can be easily grasped for most however most 60-70's tech is just a mess no matter what. He made all his limbs wires that can extend and compress, Expand and slim. So yes he is tall and muscly but also no bro is bobot he aint got shit. This also applies to his hair that flows all the way down his back but he usually doesn't mess with it, In fact the wires there probably aren't even connected to anything he just thinks they look neat. apart from occasionally oh you know. Tearing people apart to try and 'give them a fair playing ground.' he's normal i swear you guys.

ON P0LRIOD/L3SH X phoe

Yes they are still divorced. The same reasons, L3sh is neglectful at times and Phoe can be an asshole. L3sh can be too logical as well and has a rule of 'If you can, So can I. If I can't, then you'll never.' Which can be really degrading sometimes. He would even consider himself better than Peo at times, If not barely an equal. Leshys capability mixed with P03's cockiness makes an occasional asshole. They probably got divorced bc of L3sh's murder experimentation problems and also going weeks on end ignoring Phoe. Bro just check on your husband please.

Unsure of how he makes cards yet, So heres a few options!

-He makes his cards by taking parts of you and tech-ifying you. Your mind isn't necessarily required, As long as he's got like an eyeball and a leg you're fucked. You get transferred once he's finished by 'rewiring and applyinh new hardware upgrades.'

-He still takes a picture, however. its a literal copier. like a fucking business copier but bigger. You know the ones, that are all chunky and shit and have like only 3 buttons and are barely hanging onto life. then you get sucked into the card. This one might be my favorite out of pure hilarity.

-He consumes you with those wires that act as his hair, And then meticulously rips out the most important/cherished parts of yourself out before turning into a card that exits out of his chest plate. This is the most personal out of the options here. and possibly sexual now that i think about it? Have fun dying i guess

anyways ill repost this with the next parts when im done goodbye i am going insane💖💖

[k00295632]

Animation

Reinvention in story telling

Three Blind Mice, Epic/Historical, Space Age (1957-present)

Week 3, 22-28/04/24

Monday

Did a zine workshop during the morning, I made a sad little zine with some bits of rough potential visuals for the project.

I then jumped straight into creating concept art and trying to figure out how to combine natural cave formations with architectural features. What I ended up doing that day was creating this rough pencil of some stalagmites and drawing arches and doorways on top of it.

Using this as a starting point I went off and photocopied it a few times, which I then cut up and collaged together on a page to gain a rough idea of what this metropolis could look like.

This is what I ended up with. I love how the buttresses came out but the perspective of the piece looks completely wrong, making it look cluttered without purpose. I tried colouring parts blue and pink to separate it a small bit, but I think the main issue is that all of the structures are the same size even at a distance, in future I'll have to make the ones in the back larger and more hazy looking whereas the ones in front smaller and more detailed. This was just an experiment so its not too important.

Later that evening I did a colour study of scenes from Akira to develop my understanding of cel shading, I also watched a few videos on the production of Akira. It ended up being very useful and I found myself very surprised with Akira's colour palette. I quite literally colour dropped the colours from the scenes and and did rough drawings of the scenes using them, I was really surprised to see that the colour I dropped was the same as the one in the scene. It was absolutely fascinating.

Tuesday

I further looked into combining architecture with cave structures by doing a quick study on Antoni Gaudi's building designs and did a study on different stalagmites.

Looking at Gaudi's designs was interesting as he uses lots of organic shapes that almost look like they're melting in a way, and in other works like the Sagrada Familia he has lots of towers with unique features.

I tried combining these features to the stalagmites I studied to gain unique structures that would be believed to have belonged to an underground metropolis. I ended up with some nice designs, I worry a small bit that they might be too detailed but overall I'm happy with them, I still think these designs would have to be further developed but I don't have the time to do so.

At the moment my plan is to individually recreate these digitally and then photoshop them together in different ways to gain the illusion of having more designs than I do.

The photo is a small bit fuzzy but this was the first structure I recreated digitally. This took me around 6 hours to do, which was mainly because I've never done a proper digital piece before, so it took me a bit of time figure out what worked best and what short cuts I could take. I actually drew on top of a picture of my original paper sketch instead of redrawing it.

I created this solely using the air brush tool, and I love how it turned out, it looks so drippy. The only thing I can say really is that I wish I got it done a bit quicker, and that the values were much darker on my personal monitor.

I used the background from Akira as a reference for the colours.

Thursday

I made 4 more structures, significantly much more quicker too. While I spent too much time on the first one it gave me the experience needed to bang these ones out quickly and more efficiently. These were also done using the airbrush tool. For the backgrounds we actually made it a point to solely use airbrush as a way to commemorate the animations from the 70's/80's.

Since most of my pieces were done I got started on piecing them together. I tried making the buildings further back bigger and transparent and the ones closer to the viewer bigger. This was as far as I got on Thursday. If I'm being honest I'm not happy with the layout. I was using the Akira background as a reference but then realised it wouldn't work as the light source in the background is from behind, in my background the light source is from the front. I knew I definitely had to redo the layout.

Friday

We did a pitch workshop with Paul and Yvonne and then as a team discussed how we would go about our pitch . We discussed who would say what, what we thought a funder would want to know before investing in a project, we worked out costs, how many episodes, how many animators it would take to animate it in a year and ect...

We also did a few rehearsals in the studio improvising our lines and timing ourselves to get a feel for it. We decided that I would open and close our pitch, introducing our Nursery rhyme, genre, & time period while also setting the scene for our animatic.

Before work I managed to redo my background, I thought this one turned out way better. The perspective looked way better than last time too. I feel like with more time I could develop this further but I don't have that time so this is what I have and I'm happy with it.

Sunday

I made the presentation for our project, and the team went on call to rehearse our pitch. We did this twice.

[frostyreturns]

Frosty Ruins The Lord Of The Rings (1978)

This will be my first time ever watching this version of Lord Of The Rings, I didn't even know it existed until fairly recently. So this review is based on total first impressions.

To start with it opens like an old film serial and looks kind of janky. You could tell it was from a time where a lot of people probably didn't even know what Lord Of The Rings was, back when it was a far less mainstream property, back in the days where Robert Plant could slip plot details from the book into a song and expect that nobody would really take notice.

I'm not sure if the opening is live action or is rotoscoped like parts of the rest of the movie but it looks like they just filmed actors but did them all in shadow so they didn't have to design quality costumes. The voice over is classic 70's and is vaguely the same as the opening of Jacksons Fellowship Of The Ring, which becomes a theme.

The movie differs from the books and the Peter Jackson movies because it puts the scene of Smeagle murdering for the ring in with the introduction. However you can also see that Jackson obviously took a lot of inspiration from this version rather than just using the books as source material.

You can also see the ways that Jackson made it better, there are elements of the storytelling that to me are missing in this version. For example in this version as the nature of the ring is being revealed by Gandalf, he knows coming in what the ring is and begins the conversation by saying it is evil. Whereas in the movie there was some additional tension added by Gandalfs uncertainty, and there was a bit of a fake out and a moment of false relief. There's also the way Frodo just casually slips in the line about wishing this wasn't happening in his time…but it hasn't yet been established just how dire the situation is so the line falls flat.

As the animated portion of the movie takes off, you kind of see also that originally the story was marketted more exclusively to kids. The art style is a lot more cartoonish than I would have guessed, it's like studio ghibli crossed with an 80's cartoon like He-man. The voice over also sounds cartooney and is done in that same 80's cartoon manner. While I don't enjoy it as much as the live action which to me was near perfect…it's not terrible. The character design isn't my favourite but the art style is still very good even though the realistic live action animation rotoscoping doesn't mesh well with the cartoonish simpler animation or look all that great, but it is interesting, very well composed. The backgrounds look like they would all make good paintings that I would frame and hang around the house. The movie looks like it's a product of its time so I can see there being a dedicated fanbase for this version but I can also see people saying it's cheesy and dorky.

Speaking of bad character design. I hate what they did to most every character especially Sam, they made him look and sound like a little effeminate homunculus. Saruman the white they for some reason depicted in a red cloak. The Nazgul looked less intimidating and more zombielike, they had the movement of lurchy hunchbacks that would have been reminiscent of old 30's horror movies. Aaragorn also looked so frumpy and plain, almost native american looking. Elrond looked so plain and looked more like Kevin Nealon than the animated Kevin Nealon from 8 Crazy Nights where he played the mayor. The orcs and trolls looked like smudgy incoherent blobs, the only reason you can tell it's supposed to be a creature is the glowing eyes. Even the balrog looked weird and less intimidating…and they didn't really build it up in the Moria scenes like the books and other movies do. Although one interesting thing about the characters is I thought the voice actor for Frodo was excellent and actually sounded a lot like Elijah Wood, to the point I wonder if that effected his casting at all.

There are moments compositionally that seem amateurish, for example they introduce Merry And Pippin by having them simply walking behind the main characters without introduction, and then they threw in dialogue about them agreeing to follow them as far as Bree…but the audio sounded different and it sounded like the voice actor rushed the line to make it fit into the scene before it changed. Seems like they made a last minute change because they had to cut the scene where they introduced the characters or because they realized they forgot to explain who they were. Then it cuts to a shot of them doing a weird little dance and then the scene changed again…very strange and makes the whole thing looks less professional.

One other complaint I have is that the visual depictions of magic use are not well done at all, and if I did not already know what was happening I would have no clue what I was looking at. The duel between Gandalf and Saruman was just flashing lights, and there was a prolonged scene with the black riders where the background kept shifting in and out and it looked like they were in the sky one second and on land the next. And they just held out their hands and Frodo just seemed to stand there watching them point at him for no reason at all. Knowing the story I know what is happening but without the context of the books or the Jackson movies this scene would have been very confusing.

The action is also underwhelming. The way they swing their swords makes them look like less effective weapons than a twig, they hit enemies with a sword like they're using a blunt object, it's hard to describe what I mean but it just looks wrong.

The other main issue I have with the movie is that because it squeezes the whole story into one two hour movie a lot is missing, a lot is glossed over and many of the scene changes seem abrupt. For example they talk about going through Lothlorien and then cut immediately to talking with Galadriel. The biggest problem with this version is that so much is missing. It's only half the story with Return Of The King completely missing because of a cancelled sequel. But even much of the parts they did show were greatly cut down and much was ommitted.

One thing i liked about this version is that they never really explain in the Jackson movies how Frodo kept gollum in line. The idea that he could threaten to use the ring to command him as a thrall was never in the movie but it was in the books. So for all my complaints I can't say it wasn't a faithful adaptation. It was an interesting one time watch and for parts of it I did enjoy it, it is still Lord Of The Rings so it can't be totally bad. I'd certainly rather watch this than anything Amazon shits out. Overall though it wasn't good and it's enjoyablity depends on how much you enjoy anachronistic cartoons about classic fantasy literature.

[uc1wa]

Ok, so, it's the middle of the night and I have some thoughts about the beauty of accents that I need to share, this is probably be ranty and unnecessarily long so bear with me (or don't it's your blog, right!)

I'm Canadian but i listen to this band from Japan and I have for 17ish years, the lead singer sometimes sings in English and I love his accent. Most of the time he sings clearly and I can understand what he is saying even if he pronounced something incorrectly and sometimes I can't because it's a metal band and I probably wouldn't fully understand without reading the lyrics even if he didn't have an accent.

So, while listening to them tonight it got me thinking about accents, like jjk happens in Japan so obviously they would speak Japanese, I watch in English because I don't know Japanese, but I was wondering what Geto, gojo, and the rest of them actually speaking English would sound like. Obviously they wouldn't sound like the English VAs.

Accents tell you so much about a person that most people don't even realize. More than just where they are from. Accents come from languages having different sounds and different cadence in speaking. For example, there is no "L" or "th" sound in most Asian languages. So those are difficult sounds to make when learning english. Like, the singer in the band I listen to sings a line in English "gasp for breath" but it sounds like "gasp for bress." If you pay attention to where your tongue is in your mouth when you make a "th" sound compared to a "ss" sound it's not very different but if you didn't grow up moving your tongue that way or haven't specifically been told where to put your tongue you're not going to make the sound like a native speaker. Same with the "L" sound coming out as an "R" sound, very minor differences in tongue position. And to be fair even if you know where to put your tongue and have a minimal accent, if you speak too quickly you'll naturally go back to moving your tongue the way your muscles are used to and your accent will come back. On the flip side Swedish uses almost the exact same set of sounds as English so while learning either language is still a difficult task, pronunciation isn't and when most Swedish people speak English they have very minor accents. (I'm one of your hockey anons and my team has had a LOT of Swedish players over the years so I looked into why they didn't sound like Swedish people you see in movies, it's because Swedish people don't actually talk like that at all 😂) So the language(s) you grew up speaking affect the way your muscles move.

Language also affects the way you perceive the world. For example, the Inuit have between 40 and 70 words for snow! Imagine knowing the difference between that many types of snow! Like I said, I'm Canadian and I can only think of snow with adjectives in front of it (packy snow, frozen snow, fluffy snow) but it's still all the word snow. But it goes deeper than that. There is a stereotype that Asian people are amazing at math so "they," I don't remember who at the moment, ( the moment being 1:38 am) did I study on it, and they found that students in Eastern Asia consistently could remember more numbers when given a list of numbers than north American students could. But Asian students in North America were a mixed bag. They realized the Asian students in North America whose numbers were comparable to the east Asian scores weren't native English speakers, their first language was an East Asian language. Whereas the Asian students whose first language was English had numbers comparable to the rest of the English speakers. Most east Asian languages have a very simple way of counting, like Japanese, from my minimal understanding, the number 84 would be spoken as eight ten four, whereas in English each set of ten has it's own name which causes a longer processing time in your mind. (84 in french is 4 20 4, you have to do math just to count! I assume that would make french speakers even slower at math than English speakers, insert that video of the new York cabby going off about french numbers) also the individual numbers tend to be a single short syllable and that also quickens processing time. This allows east Asian native speakers to remember more numbers than native English speakers. Being Asian doesn't make you better at math, being a native Asian language speaker does. It's not race, it's language.

If you think about it the laws of the universe are defined by physics, and what is physics but math in motion. So, your language literally affects the wiring in your brain and your perception of the world around you.

You can hear the way a brain is wired from the way someone's tongue moves, how cool is that? AND, it can change depending on where you grew up, even with the same language! I tongue from Scotland will move differently than a tongue in Oklahoma! And you can hear it and I love it! I love accents so much. 😩😩😩

Back to jjk, would Geto put in the effort to minimize his accent? I don't think so, honestly I don't think cult leader Geto would even attempt learning English since Jujutsu is mostly in Japan, why would he want to talk to monkeys? (Also, Naoya? Not learning English either, too proud of his family line and honestly not willing to be bad at something, like everyone is at the beginning) Gojo on the other hand, I think he would learn English (to annoy more people) and know lots of words but not necessarily speak clearly, he's the best at everything right? Why wouldn't he be the best at English? So he puts no effort into minimizing his accent, doesn't think he needs to, spoiler he does, haha. I think Yuuji might learn for fun or to understand Jennifer Lawrence interviews, I think he'd have a decent accent but speak clearly.

Anyways, do you have thoughts on this? This being accents in jjk (or any anime) Or am I deliriously tired and not making sense.

finally answering this now that i can give this the attention it deserves. beforehand note, this is such a coincidence bc i took an anthropological linguistic class last sem! also HELLO ONE OF MY HOCKEY ANONS!! MISSED U!

in terms of jjk! most (besides kyoto ppl) are from northern jp, miyagi i think!! i'm from the osaka-hyogo area so there is definitely a different dialect in comparison to miyagi! i do speak more similar to that of kyoto ofc since it is closer. but, just like any city, there are sayings that are foreign in one and the ssame in another.

Most east Asian languages have a very simple way of counting, like Japanese, from my minimal understanding, the number 84 would be spoken as eight ten four, whereas in English each set of ten has it's own name which causes a longer processing time in your mind.

this part was crazy^^ to me. honestly, as somebody who speaks japanese, i never thought of this on my own though it makes perfect sense. saying this as a data science major who grew up being trilingual HAHA

gojo... i honestly think he' grow up speaking english. coming from the most notorious clan in all of jujutsu, i feel like it would just come natural to him and his clan to speak both jp and english. yuuji w the jlaw interviews made me LOL btw.

so, something funny ab naoya (specifically naoya cuz he;s fucking crazy ofc) is he speaks the kansai dialect (this is what i speak as well so ab to clown myself in the process. yk how in english there is like a "valley girl" way of speaking? kansai is the jp version of that. so naoya the all and powerful speaks japanese like a socal valley girl would speak english.

anyways, i loved reading this! language and anthropology in general is so interesting to me. its so cool learned about different people and what makes them... them!! another silly to imagine, when i was little i would sometimes accidentally use an accent from one of my languages when speakig another. imagine a 5 year old xi speaking spanish in a japanese accent lol

[doom-nerdo-666]

I remember an r/Doom post saying Doom TDA would be "Sword and Sorcery" whereas 2016 was pure sci-fi and DE pure fantasy.

Something to do with genre labels.

To me, i sort of disagree because of how i view "Sword and Sorcery".

(note: could be getting stuff wrong)

It's like a type of fantasy that i'm not sure if it could apply to even LOTR.

I associate it with those cool fantasy covers from 70's novels and Frazetta paintings with muscular barbarian guys and all.

With barely some other elements from other types of fantasy, specially with new fantasy works in regards to style, designs or story/worldbuilding.

To me, Sword and Sorcery Doom would be the Barbarian Slayer skin used primarly and without the extendable Doomblade or equip launcher and a generic sword instead of the Crucible.

There could be no Sentinel tech.

It's like a type of fantasy that is meant to be primitive in its context, limited even.

One that is not so surprising people moved away from, if they wanted to do more with fantasy.

(or sometimes, people bring that back but ironically)

Kinda like writing a story labeled as cyberpunk where you have the advanced mega-cities with better tech, worse lives, authoritarian laws but then in that same setting you move away from that to write about space marines shooting aliens from other galaxies or something.

(again, could be wrong)

I see "Sword and Sorcery" in stuff like Golden Axe and Heretic/Hexen.

Or maybe i'm thinkin too hard on stuff like modern art styles and worldbuilding.

[finitevoid]

my syntax + your vocab = gundham

people having a weird fascination with me but my complete inability to form meaningful relationships with people is a gundham point. He seems a bit tortured with whether he wants to have friends or not as well. ultimately pushes people away but still feels bad when he doesnt get to hang out. He cant figure out where he wants to be in regards to maintaining character and his own tolerance for other peoples presence

Sonia point for you. People really dont find me attractive (in this country. I got hit on in argentina and. That time in the plane heading to el salvador i was getting hit on by the woman and the man sitting on my sides. What the fuck? i am also attractive in europe in an exotic way for them ! Lol! White americans dont fetishize me as much because they are actually rather tired of seeing my people whereas europeans travel to cusco for sex tourism. Now if we’re talking colombian women thats another situation with american men. it is not the type of latina beauty i lean into) ive only ever gotten like one hermosa from a (non hispanic) individual walking past, one pedophile on the metro, creepy looks from older latino men, and two human trafficking moments that dont necessarily mean the people trykng to get me in the car with me want to be with me . it means i am potentially profitable. If i shaved my hair my non existent attention would be the same. Otherwise yes i … ahh maybe sonia point for me because the people interested in me are kind of kazuichi. But they tend to be somewhat private with me about it. Its not externalized in the way i think your admirers tend to? Besides perhaps dilo but that was more in a way to contact me in the first place through creative means which was not kazs case. Sonia for you

Actually now that I think about it like this we kind of had a sonia gundham moment in tati vore. Like you were the weird one and I was seen as comparatively normal but being with you brought forth such a drastic shift in weirdness that people almost couldn’t wrap their heads around it. Like they weren’t sure I could contain the multitudes to be weird with you but normal-er with them . Do you get what I’m trying to say. Like I was always weird but being around you makes this obvious. So that’s a sonia gundham point respectively

White supremacy affects beauty standards . How often would you say you got hit on in Argentina vs europe. And yeah the fact that you can count the number of times you’ve been hit on is. Yeah I couldn’t even begin to. What’s interesting about this is that I get hit on a lot less than I used to think I did. Back when I was crossdressing a lot and my hair was long there was a really noticeable uptick in the amount of (cis) male attention I got, and at the time I was so vexed like I was saying I was getting hit on all the time?$!? but I realized recently that compared to people who perform femininity better than me I didn’t hit on much at all. Emily swears up and down she gets hit on Every Day by at least one customer and that sounds fake as hell to me because even in my most conventionally attractive era I was only getting the creepy old man treatment maybe once or twice a week. my friend lexi does get hit on at least once a day and I know because I hear it. all the guys who hit on me seem to be into the fact that I look 8 . All the guys who hit on her are super weird. all the guys who hit on emily are in their 70s. What does any of this mean

My admirers are definitely more open about it. Rather than pursuing me directly (which is definitely what yours do) mine like to stake weirdly public claims of possession (like josh). whereas you get nerd guys who confess to you in discord dms. I get nerd guys too but I get the ones who want to groom me for some reason . But I still feel like you get more dogged pursuers than I do. Or at least more persistent ones . Kaz reminds me more of shima than he does josh . But there is still the publicness of kazuichi’s pursuit. So idk

[thisaintascenereviews]

Goodbye June - Deep In The Trouble

Something that always is a disappointment to see is when a band starts to operate on auto pilot. That’s when they just make the same music they’ve always made, but there’s a lesser quality to it, or a lazier quality to it. It sucks, because you might love this band, but they just fall into the same pitfalls that many others do. They feel stagnant, and just not interesting, let alone good. I felt that way with rock band Goodbye June’s last album, 2022’s See Where The Night Goes. I reviewed it when it came out, and I didn’t like it, namely for being so bland, generic, and lifeless, so it was hard to listen to.

I loved their debut from 2017, and I wasn’t crazy about their sophomore LP, although it was pretty good, just continued what they were doing (only not as good). If See Where The Night Goes was your first impression of them, it wouldn’t be a bad first impression, but as someone that was following them for the last five years before that, it was such a letdown. I had no idea they were dropping a new one, but I was surprised to see Deep In The Trouble a couple weeks back. I was willing to give it a listen, especially with the new Zach Bryan, and Nathaniel Rateliff albums coming out, going along with the southern rock, country, and Americana themes. I was interested in it, because despite their last album not being anything worthwhile, it was passable, at least.

Deep In The Trouble is a record that’s immediately better than its predecessor at the jump, but I won’t pretend it’s anything unique or special. That’s not a dig at the album, but it’s a pretty straightforward rock album with some blues, folk, and soul. They have a 70s southern rock sound, but their last album leaned into AC/DC levels of generic and repetitive, whereas this album switches things up from time to time. There are some slower cuts and some groovier and soulful cuts that add some life to the album, but when the album rocks, it truly rocks. At a brisk 39 minutes, it isn’t very long at all, but it feels like that’s exactly how long it should be.

I wouldn’t say this record is the best of the year, or even among them, but it’s a solid rock album that should appease fans of the genre, especially if you want something relatively straightforward. They’ve somehow gotten their energy back, and like I said, it could be from going independent, but this is a big step forward for them. It’s the best they’ve sounded in years, and they have some life and versatility back into their sound that I really love. Definitely one of the best rock albums I’ve heard this year, and a must if you want something in that vein.

[piperslovebot]

You deserve a nice message after all the hate asks, so I just wanted to say that even though I haven’t even set up my blog yet I am glad you’re here! Fun challenge if you choose to accept it: which Hogwarts house would you sort all of the That 70’s Show and That 90’s Show characters into?

Omg tytyty! So happy to see you in the fandom.

T7S characters for Hogwarts houses:

Eric: Gryfinnpuff

Jackie: Slytherin

Donna: Ravenclaw maybe

Hyde: Slytherin (tho I don't see him as super ambitious personally, but the other qualites fit)

Kelso: Honestly I don't know. He has qualities of a Gryfindor and a Ravenclaw (arrogant, curious), but I can see him as a Slytherin but I feel like they're more malicious, whereas Kelso's just a dickhead.

Fez: I don't know honestly. Early on, he could be a Hufflepuff, but that's all I know.

T9S characters for Hogwarts houses:

Made a post about this a while back, but I think some things could've changed.

Gwen: Slytherclaw

Nikki: Slytherclaw

Leia: Hufflepuff

Jay: Gryfinnpuff

Nate: Hufflepuff

Ozzie: Ravenclaw

[resmarted]

one of the perks of this work is meeting people with interesting stories and personalities and learning about these fascinating love stories. so many women who have been scorned by previous men in their lives meet one that changes the game and make them believe in love again.

can't stop thinking of one older woman recently who was so sweet and said i don't know if this is tmi but when we're intimate together i've never felt more beautiful in my life than when i'm with him. i felt so happy for her and wanted to cry.

one woman was a writer in her 70's living in an apartment she bought in nyc like a single sex and the city character and had this tumultuous relationship with a guy who chose a woman with money over her when they were in their 50's who "castrated him" according to her. now as the wife is dying or maybe passed, he is still in love with her. she said she isn't interested and likes her independence and besides, he is a catch for new york bc all these younger women want an older man with money, but he still calls her and wants to be with her again. it was a really intriguing reminder that life doesn't end for several decades longer than you think and people evolve and change so much over time. i told her he has really been learning some big lessons over the last couple of decades and was going to do everything he could to convince her to go back with him so they could live out the rest of their lives together in the country. i think about her all the time.

this is also very exhaustive work. it involves talking nonstop for hours on end and does a number on your voice. it is a performance on it's own, albeit sincere in nature, at least for me. i can't pretend one way or the other and imagine people who do must be so much more tired from their own performances faking it the whole time.

as much as i am not interested in doing this for the rest of my life, i do like a lot of aspects to it. specifically these older women who find hope in love again and being able to see the way men truly do change for the better.

i just don't know that i have the stamina to keep this going forever and am mostly just in it because it's considered the family business at this point.

i am considered very good at what i do but feel like a fraud in the sense that i was born into this and sort of just tumbled into doing it as a last ditch effort for employment. other people who enter this business spend a lot of their time and energy to build up their skills and respond to their own calling for this work. my mom had a very specific calling to do this whereas i tend to treat it like flipping burgers at a drive-thru. it can often feel like grunt work and nothing more than a day job.

that being said, i still don't know what my Calling is. i can never truly care about any one specific thing for long enough. i like to hold babies and make people laugh and sing sad little songs but i wouldn't say any of it is my One True Passion.

it's also hard to take the things you like and turn them into work. once they become commercialized efforts the weight of participating in it can feel very different.

i am scared all the time and never know what direction my life is going or if i even have a clear path of my own. life is very frightening in a myriad of ways and this world is so hell bent on making us lick boots for small fractions of the cost of living. i hate it and want to fight it but am also very tired and undereducated. i once felt i could inspire the masses to revolt but lately i want to hide in a cave and remain unseen for the rest of my days.

it will probably all be fine.

anyway. love you bye

[scottwbeattie]

Review: Iron Man Epic Collection 15: Doom

Not the Ending You’d Want for Layton and Michelinie

Bob Layton and David Michelinie’s two runs on Iron Man are, in my opinion, the definitive take on the character, so it’s disappointing that the final volume of their second run isn’t stronger. Doom begins with the final six issues of the pair’s run, picking up where the previous volume ended; Tony is paralyzed from the waist down after having been shot by his sort of-girlfriend, Kathy Dare. He’s spending nearly all his time in the armor since it’s the only way that he can move freely.

This is a really interesting status quo, but Layton and Michelinie make the surprising decision to have Tony discover a cure within a few issues. This really feels like the kind of idea that could generate at least a year’s worth of stories (and Byrne essentially does in his run), so I don’t know why they cut it short. It’s possible that they knew their run was ending and were simply putting the metaphorical toys back in the box for the next writer.

Their run ends with the double-sized #250, which is kind of a sequel to the story that they also wrote in #150 involving Iron Man, Doctor Doom, Merlin, and King Arthur. It’s not as strong as that issue, but it is fun, and I like it as end to their time on the character.

Mirroring the writing, the art is good but not as good as what came before. Here Bob Layton is penciling, whereas he had previously finished Jackson Guice’s breakdowns. I’m a massive Layton fan, and I’m always happy to see him in any capacity, but I will admit that I like him best as an inker.

The next seven issues are the transitional period between Michelinie/Layton and John Byrne. A series of rotating creative teams (including Layton on his own) come on for an issue or two at a time. I don’t blame the creators, but these all feel like filler meant to stall until a permanent writer comes to the title.

If Iron Man 15 didn’t already feel somewhat like filler, then the presence of 3 (!!!) Annuals cements the feeling. Annual #10 kicks off the “Atlantis Attacks” storyline, which I know many people are attached to, but it’s the devil as far as I’m concerned, because it taught Marvel editorial all the wrong lessons. After the success of this story, Marvel would repeat this same gimmick of telling a story through the various Annuals over and over again. Iron Man Annual #11 and Captain America Annual #9 are part of the “Terminus Factor” storyline and demonstrate the results of going back to the same well . Personally, I will always prefer the Annuals of the 70’s and 80’s which guest-starred another hero and used the extra pages to tell a fun team-up adventure.

In a ideal world, the Crash Graphic Novel in the previous collection would have been swapped with #245-#250 from this volume so that Layton and Michelinie’s run could end in Iron Man 14. I do realize that doing so would have left Iron Man 15 with no selling point and ensure that it was only purchased by die-hard Iron Man completionists like myself. It makes sense from a sales standpoint but also makes for an unsatisfying reading experience. Given how much I love Layton and Michelinie’s run, I won’t say that any of their Iron Man Epics are skippable, but I will admit that this is as close to skippable as it gets.

[rawiswhore]

Leif Cassidy x Fem Reader- "I'm a Wanker"

Teenage boys are infamous for being very horny, that's a characteristic that comes with puberty.

While many professional wrestlers don't exactly have teenage gimmicks, in 1996 Marty Jannetty reformed his previous Rockers wrestling duo with Leif Cassidy---who would later play Al Snow during the Attitude era.

Leif Cassidy's gimmick seemingly was being a 1970's teen heartthrob stuck in that decade (hence his name being a mashup of 3 popular teen idols from the 70's), even though the man who played Leif wasn't even a teenager.

Even though the World Wrestling Federation was mostly family friendly and kid friendly still in 1996, they still had tidbits of naughtiness and edginess that year.

Stone Cold's Austin 3:16 promo, Brian Pillman pulling a gun out on Stone Cold at the end of the year, The Ultimate Warrior using profanity, Sunny wearing thong bikinis and Goldust giving blatantly gay vibes.

On a "WWF Superstars" episode that aired in 1996, before Leif began growing facial hair, you walked through the WWF building trying to look for Hunter Hearst Helmsley.

You walked down the hallways, and you stumbled by the men's locker room.

You didn't literally stumble by the men's locker room, as in trip on your feet, but you did come across it.

When you walked into the men's locker room, you came across Leif Cassidy standing in the middle of the locker room with his back turned in front of the camera, where his singlet was pulled down around his waistline, and one of his hands was placed in front of his crotch and motioning and pretending to masturbate his penis.

He wasn't really masturbating, it was just implied.

His long hair was hanging down throughout this moment, just the way you like how he looks, not to mention he thankfully didn't grow any facial hair yet.

Your eyes grew wide and your eyebrows raised while your mouth gasped, whereas Leif turned his head sideways and looked behind you, where he became startled, his body slightly jumping a bit and his feet stumbling, but thankfully he didn't turn his body around and show us his penis.

His hands grabbed his singlet and pulled it back up until it covered his crotch.

"What are you doing in here?!" Leif asked angrily.

"I'm so sorry!" you apologized.

"This is the men's locker room!" Leif stated and reminded.

"I'm know, I'm sorry" you repeated. "I was just looking for Hunter!"

"He's not here!" Leif snapped angrily.

Leif is usually not angry, but this time he is.

"Why were you doing that in the middle of the locker room?" you asked him.

"I was thinking of Sunny" he purred with a smirk on his face, his mood changing from surprised to smug.

"I thought you'd say that" you said.

He wasn't just thinking of Sunny, but also thinking of you, he just won't say it.

You turned around and walked out of the locker room, where as you walked, you disappeared out of the camera.

His eyes could look at the camera with a smirk on his face and admit he wasn't just thinking of Sunny, but you, too.

This moment was definitely edgy---especially in regards to the New Generation era, but it's pretty tame by today's standards.

It probably is a moment that they couldn't get away with in today's WWE due to the PG rating, but the WWE's infamous PG era has gotten away with a lot of edgy stuff.