#yet it acts like it's groundbreaking

[lakemichigans]

man i was actually excited for barbie but it felt like the equivalent of a "she believed she could so she did" wall decoration from hobby lobby marked 75% off

[reasonsforhope]

"The Hague made international headlines for being the first city in the world to approve legislation prohibiting marketing of fossil fuel-related products and services. This major ruling, issued earlier this month, seeks to limit the promotion of items with a high carbon footprint, such as gasoline, diesel, aviation, and cruise ships. The ban, which goes into effect at the start of next year, will affect both government and privately funded advertisements, including those on billboards and bus shelters throughout the Dutch metropolis.

This groundbreaking legislation establishes an important precedent in the global fight against climate change. Other cities have attempted to limit the reach of high-carbon items through council ordinances or voluntary agreements with advertising operators, but The Hague’s prohibition is the first that is legally binding. It is a major step forward for cities around the world that want to reduce carbon emissions and combat climate change head-on.

A response to global calls for action

The prohibition comes after UN Secretary-General António Guterres called earlier this year for countries and media outlets to take tougher action to combat fossil fuel advertising, citing parallels with existing tobacco advertising bans. Guterres stressed that, as with the tobacco industry in the past, fossil fuel businesses are contributing to a worldwide public health crisis—in this case, climate change. Governments can help change public behavior and prevent the normalization of high-carbon lifestyles by limiting their capacity to market.

Several cities have already made tiny moves in this direction. Edinburgh, for example, approved a council vote in May prohibiting fossil fuel-related ads in city-owned venues. The Scottish capital also prohibits enterprises that sell these products from sponsoring events or developing partnerships. However, unlike The Hague’s legislation, Edinburgh’s ban is voluntary and only applies to council spaces.

A legally binding first

The Hague’s new law is significant since it is legally binding. The restriction affects not only specific items, such as gasoline, diesel, and fossil fuel-powered vehicles but also businesses such as aviation and cruise ships. However, the rule exempts fossil fuel firms’ political advertising or efforts supporting a generic brand, allowing these businesses to keep prominence...

The impact of advertising on behavior

Advertising’s impact on consumer behavior is well-documented, and many experts say that fossil fuel marketing undercut climate legislation by encouraging unsustainable behavior. Thijs Bouman, an associate professor of environmental psychology at Rijksuniversiteit Groningen, stated that “fossil fuel advertising normalizes the use of high-carbon products and services, making it more difficult to change consumer habits.” ...

Catalyzing change worldwide

The Hague’s move may have repercussions beyond its borders, spurring similar actions in other cities around the globe. Cities such as Toronto, Canada, and Graz, Austria, are already launching campaigns to outlaw advertising for fossil fuels. In the Netherlands, both Amsterdam and Haarlem have outlawed marketing for climate-damaging products like beef, but these measures have yet to become legislation.

Sleegers believes that The Hague’s move will act as a spur for other towns to follow suit. “More cities have a wish to implement the fossil ad ban through ordinance, but they were all waiting for some other city to go first. The Hague is this city,” she said, predicting that more local governments will now feel empowered to act...

As the world grapples with the rising costs of climate change, The Hague’s pioneering move provides a potential model for other cities looking to minimize their carbon footprints. With cities like Toronto and Amsterdam keeping a careful eye on things, this legislation has the potential to start a global campaign to prohibit fossil fuel advertising. 

More cities may follow suit in the coming years, hastening the transition to a more environmentally friendly and sustainable future."

-via The Optimist Daily, September 26, 2024

[n0vazsq]

Love shot | MV1 x Reader

pairing . . . hitman!max verstappen x mega!rich!reader

summary . . . You never suspected to fall in love with your assistant, but when he tells you something groundbreaking, you don't know what to believe

request . . . no!!

word count . . . 1.4k+

warnings . . . none!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . i feel so bad for reader omg like girl you dont deserve that?? also yes i am acting like i didnt write this shit

. . . You had never been one for grand parties or society's shallow circles. You were the heiress to a vast fortune that seemed to grow larger every day, yet it never seemed to fill the emptiness inside you.

After your father’s passing, the inheritance came with a weight you never asked for, pushing you into a world of power and danger you barely understood.

The mansion where you lived, nestled away from the prying eyes of the city, was meant to be your sanctuary, but it often felt like an extravagant cage.

You preferred the solitude of your home, away from the pressures of high society and endless obligations. That’s when you had started to notice him, the quiet figure in the background.

He wasn’t like the others. While your estate was filled with a rotating cast of servants and security, there was something different about Max, or as you had come to know him, Marcus.

He introduced himself as a personal assistant, a new hire who would help with the day to day operations of the house. His professional demeanor and neatly pressed uniform made him seem like just another cog in the machine.

But Max, Marcus, wasn't like the others. He moved with a practiced ease, slipping between tasks without drawing attention to himself, yet somehow, you found yourself drawn to him.

At first, you thought it was just the feeling of having someone new in your otherwise quiet world. But the more you saw of him, the more you began to notice things that intrigued you.

There was a quiet strength about him, an air of mystery that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. He never stayed long in any one place, his presence often fleeting, but you caught glimpses of something deeper when his eyes met yours, something more than just professionalism.

It was on a chilly evening, weeks after Max had started working for you, that the first real conversation between you two happened.

You had been sitting by the fire, absently flipping through a book when you heard footsteps approaching. Without looking up, you assumed it was just another of your staff, but the voice that interrupted the silence made you glance up.

"Is it too late to bring you something warm, Miss? Tea, perhaps?" Max’s voice was soft, almost hesitant.

You smiled, gesturing to the seat across from you. "Tea sounds perfect."

As he moved to prepare the tea, you watched him carefully. The way his hands worked with precision, the way his body language was always so controlled; it fascinated you.

He wasn't like any of the other assistants or servants you had encountered. Most of them treated you with a kind of cautious respect, but Max seemed different. His eyes, though polite, didn’t shy away from meeting yours.

They weren’t filled with the usual fear that people often had when they dealt with someone of your status. There was something in his gaze, something that made you wonder if he saw you as more than just the heiress of a fortune.

After a moment, he placed the tea down in front of you with a small, respectful nod. "I didn’t mean to intrude, Miss. But I thought you might enjoy some company."

You looked up at him, surprised by his words. He had always been so reserved, never seeking attention or conversation. It was strange, and yet it made you feel a little less alone.

"You don’t have to be formal with me, you know," you said, offering him a soft smile. "I know you're just doing your job, but I appreciate the company."

Max paused, his eyes flickering toward the fire before looking back at you. There was something about his gaze that was softer now, less guarded. "It’s… not a bother. I find it nice, talking to you."

The words hung in the air between you two, and you both fell into an easy silence, the crackle of the fire filling the space where words would’ve been.

Over the next few weeks, your interactions with Max grew more frequent, and you found yourself looking forward to his presence.

It was subtle at first; a quiet conversation over dinner, a brief exchange in the hallway, the occasional shared look across the room when you were in the same place. But it wasn’t long before you began to feel a connection with him, one that went beyond just the formality of employer and assistant.

One evening, as you both worked late into the night, you looked up from the papers spread across the table to see Max standing by the door, watching you. His gaze was focused, his expression unreadable. You couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking, what he saw when he looked at you.

"Max," you said softly, your voice breaking the silence. "You don’t have to stay this late. I can finish up myself."

He shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I don’t mind. You’ve been working hard. Besides, I… enjoy being here."

The words left you with a flutter in your chest. There was something so genuine in his voice that it made you rethink your previous assumptions. He wasn’t just a hired hand, he was different, and you felt it.

Days turned into weeks, and with every passing day, the space between you two seemed to shrink. He would find ways to help you with little things; bringing you coffee in the morning, offering quiet advice when you were stressed, and sometimes even staying to talk about things that weren’t about work at all.

You learned small details about him; how he liked to keep to himself, how he didn’t share much about his past, and how his eyes seemed to soften whenever you spoke to him.

In return, you found yourself opening up to him more than you had to anyone else. You shared your fears about the empire your father left behind, your loneliness, your struggles to fit into a world you never chose.

In those moments, you didn’t feel like the heiress; you felt like just a woman, speaking to someone who didn’t look at you with judgment or expectation.

And then, one day, it happened. You were sitting together, talking about your father, when he asked, almost out of nowhere, "Do you ever wish things were different? That your life wasn’t so… tangled up in all this?"

You stared at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his voice. You had never expected Max, of all people, to ask such a question. But in that moment, you saw something in him, a depth that you hadn’t noticed before.

"I wish things were different every day," you said softly, meeting his eyes. "But I don’t know how to make it stop. How to be free of all of this."

Max’s gaze lingered on you, and you could feel the weight of his unspoken thoughts. He opened his mouth to say something but then hesitated, his expression clouded with something you couldn’t quite read.

"Max, what’s going on with you?" you asked, your voice soft but firm. "You’ve been acting different lately. What’s on your mind?"

For a long moment, he said nothing, and then, almost reluctantly, he spoke. "I… I never meant to get close to you. That wasn’t part of the plan."

Your heart stopped. The words hung in the air, and you could feel a lump form in your throat. You didn’t know what to say. Was this the moment you had been dreading, the moment he would reveal the truth about why he was really there?

"I was hired to watch you," he continued, his voice barely a whisper. "To make sure you didn’t become a problem. I was supposed to kill you."

The world seemed to freeze in that moment. All the warmth, the connections, the late night talks, the quiet laughter; it all felt like a cruel lie.

"You…" you whispered, trying to process his words. "You were hired to kill me?"

Max’s eyes were filled with regret, but there was no way to undo the truth. "I didn’t expect any of this," he said, his voice tight with emotion. "I didn’t expect to care about you."

Silence settled between you two like a heavy fog. The world around you seemed to collapse, leaving you with only the bitter reality of his confession. You had trusted him, you had opened up to him, and now you didn’t know who he was anymore.

"I don’t know if I can trust you," you said, your voice shaking. "How do I know that you really care about me? Or if this is all just part of your plan?"

Max stepped closer, his expression softening. "I never meant for it to happen like this, but I do care. I swear to you, I do."

Your heart pounded in your chest, your emotions a tangled mess. You wanted to believe him, but could you? How could you be sure he wasn’t lying?

But before you could ask another question, you heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps; heavy, purposeful, coming down the hallway.

Max’s face hardened. "We don’t have time for this."

He turned to face the door, and you realized that whatever came next would change everything.

And as the sound of approaching footsteps grew louder, you knew that your life, your future, was no longer in your hands.

 taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaa ,, @httpsdana ,, @paucubarsisimp ,, @justaf1girl ,, @awritingtree (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

[the-scandalorian]

Mine

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader Rating: Explicit, 18+ Word Count: 4k Content Warnings: anal, ass play, rimming and oral (f-receiving), spit as lube, threatened violence against the reader (not by Joel), canon-typical violence Notes: Endless gratitude to both @frannyzooey and @oscarseyebrow for the help, literally would not have finished this without you two gems xx

He wants it—has wanted it. 

He wants the claim. The utter possession.

Whenever he puts you on your hands and knees, Joel settles a splayed hand on your lower back, and it always slips down, his rough palm sliding further and further the more he loses himself in the pleasure. It drops along with the register of his groans and the steady slap of his hips. He lets his hand shift until his thumb is tucked between your cheeks. And when he’s grunting low and deep, about to pull out so he can come—so he can paint himself in warm streaks across your skin—he’ll press the pad of that finger firmly against your asshole. 

Not inside, not yet. He doesn’t go further than that.

He’s waiting for you to say it. He wants to hear those words, begged so pretty and desperate in your breathy whine. He wants you to plead for it when you can’t wait any more.

He wants you to tell him to fill you in the way he can’t—won’t—risk with your pussy.

He wants you to ask him to make you his.

He dreams about it.

Please, Joel.

*** You’ve been waiting for him to say something—to act on it. You know he wants it.

You’re used to Joel taking what he wants. Never forcefully, not with you. You revel in the privilege of being a singular exception in that way—in being the one type of relationship left for him that isn’t ruled by violence. When he wants something from you, he doesn’t hesitate or hedge or waver. He just says it, lays it out.

Like that first time so many months ago when he fixed those serious brown eyes on you—on you—and said, “Come home with me.”

A statement, not a question. An invitation for you to take or leave. 

Take.

This, for some reason, seems different though.

He’s waiting on you to ask for it.

It’s not some groundbreaking thing that precipitates it. What happens is wearily commonplace in the QZ.

A stupid kid, some nineteen year old with the power trip of a pistol in his hand, gets the jump on you. You’re alone, and he sneaks up behind you in an alley.

The cold barrel is pressed to your temple before you can react.

“Stay quiet,” he breathes, his hot breath reeking of alcohol next to your ear. It has the heady bite of too much ethanol, something he made cheap and easy.

You do mental calculations as he walks you to a brick wall, crowding you up against it until your cheek is pressed to the cool, rough surface. A groping hand reaches into your jacket pocket. He just wants your ration cards, and it’s probably easiest to let him take them and turn tail.

But then he steps back, the steel of the gun moving to press between your shoulder blades, and you can feel the rake of his eyes down your body.

“Well, you’re pretty, aren’t you?”

Your gut fills with lead. The air in your lungs tightens as his intentions shift. You’re about to move, to reach for the switchblade in your inner pocket when there’s a yelp—the pressure of the gun disappearing from your back—the scuffling feet on asphalt and a low grunt—

You turn, and Joel has the guy hauled up against a half-collapsed chain-link fence, his cheek pressed into a tangled coil of barbed wire. He disarmed him in the same movement, the butt of the pistol visible over the waistband of Joel’s jeans, holstered at his lower back.

Joel, who had come looking for you when you ran late.

He seems perfectly calm when he meets your gaze, but you know the tightness in his shoulders, that muted threat in his blown pupils. He’s agitated. Uneasy. Mad at himself that you were alone. You catch it when his eyes flick down and up again, surveying your body for injury.

“Yes or no?” he asks.

You consider for a moment, appreciating the raw fear in the young guy’s eyes—how quickly Joel turned him from a predator to a shifty-eyed, skittery little rabbit. His breathing is a shallow, frantic pant.

“No,” you decide.

Joel nods and shoves him away, and the kid stumbles. When he glances back over his shoulder, you can see fat tears of blood oozing from the shallow cuts below his eye. He’s too shocked to speak, to do anything. He just staggers into a run and disappears.

Your eyes slide back to Joel, and something clicks into place as you watch each other—you realize just how utterly and completely he has you. That he’d burn the world for you if you asked. And you’d do the same for him.

He approaches you with quiet steps. A warm hand settles on your waist.

“Alright?” he asks, looking down at you, his thumb stroking the cotton of your shirt. 

Tension is a precarious, taut thing between you, like a spring-loaded trap ready to bite.

You nod and say, “Take me home.”

*** His apartment is flooded with afternoon sun. Golden beams of light streaming in between the half-closed curtains are shot with suspended motes of dust. Everything always feels still within these walls, like he really can shut out the rest of the world when he closes the heavy door behind him.

He’s on you as soon as he does, his hand coming up to cup your cheek and his mouth on yours as he guides you backward toward the bed.

You both need the reassurance of touch.

You need more than that: you want him to accept the control you're offering with willing hands and take.

As you move together, you let the lingering hum of adrenaline in your bloodstream pull the words—the ones that might have otherwise gotten stuck in your throat—out of your mouth. 

You whisper against his lips: “I want you to fuck my ass.”

He goes rigid for a moment, his breath a pant against your lips, and then he dips his head to your ear. 

His voice is something else entirely now—no more veiled fear behind his rasp, just a honeyed growl of pure desire: “Say it again.”

You bury your face against the hollow of his throat and smile.

“Go on, I want to hear it.”

You squirm and slip a hand into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Be a good girl and say it for me,” he prods, dragging the tip of his nose up your cheek. He slips his hand down your back and over the swell of your ass, pulling your hips forward into his, and squeezes. 

You give him what he wants, what you both want: “I want you to fuck my ass.”

He hums his approval and takes a long, slow inhale to savor the thought of it. He’s just as pleased as you’d hoped he’d be. More, maybe.

He moves his hand inward, tracing the middle seam of your jeans with a light touch.

“That right? You gonna let me in here?” 

His voice is smug, a cocky drawl, but when you look up into his eyes, there’s a hint of desperation skulking behind his dilated pupils, like he’s not quite sure what he’d do if you said no. Like he needs you to want it. 

“I know you want it,” he says, his breath hitching. He tries to convince you, even though you are already won—were won, long ago. “I feel the way you press back against me, just begging for it—I see how quick you come on my cock when I touch you right here.” 

You press a kiss to the taut lines of his neck. He’s right.

He slips his hand down the back of your thigh and hitches your leg up, rolling his hips against you. Once.

“You gonna let me come inside your tight little ass?”

Twice.

You lean away to brush a hand over his crotch, over his fly where you can feel the thick roll of him straining against the denim, and nod up at him. Joel’s gaze is barbed with desire, with a heat so tangible it burns.

*** He lays you out on his bed, strips you bare, and kneels over you. His shirt is quickly discarded on the floor, his belt buckle left open. His lips pull to the side in a casual smile as he looks down at you—surveying the luxurious lines of your body on display for him—but there’s a feral glint of need in his dark eyes as he settles into a familiar position over you, his hips caught between your spread thighs. 

You reach up to run a hand through his silver-flecked hair. 

Joel sucks two of his fingers into his mouth, and when he pulls them out, he leans down to kiss you just as he slips those two shiny, spit-soaked fingers down between your thighs, past where he usually settles them, until he finds that tight ring of muscle. He groans at first contact, pressing lightly, testing the resistance. 

He’s eager. Getting right to it. Your body is tense with the newness of it—with anticipation, with want—but you know he won’t rush it. You trust him to set the pace.

“Relax for me, honey,” he murmurs against your lips. 

The low, husky twang in his command is like a sedative. In and outside his bedroom. It’s easy to surrender to someone who never lets you down—to someone who protects you with bared teeth, white knuckles, and no quarter.

His mouth claims yours again, his tongue dipping past your teeth. Joel asks for a lot when he kisses you—always has. He takes a lot. It’s deep and needy. Possessive. The scratch of his facial hair against your skin is familiar, the smell of him overwhelming when he’s so close.

Clean laundry, warm sun, a light hint of sweat from working outside. Joel.

He kisses down your neck with an open mouth, cloying and distracting, as he massages his wet fingers over your asshole. 

He teases. Pets. Coaxes. All the while, his mouth does the same—on your throat, your chest, your breasts. Hungry and wanting. Joel moves at a leisurely pace, dropping himself down to nip at your ear lobe, pinching and rolling your nipple with his other fingers. 

He’s working you up, making you ask for it, and it’s effective.

When you start to writhe and whine, he finally shuffles down your body and takes up his rightful place with his head between your splayed thighs.  

Joel watches you when he goes down on you, his eyes flicking up to your face and back down to where you’re aching for him—constantly. Always assessing. Studying. Devouring. Gauging how hard or how easy to push you.

He spreads you open and dips his head to lick your clit with the broad sweep of his tongue, taking you apart as he works you open. He’s well-practiced in the art of dismantling you.

He gradually increases the pressure—of  his tongue and his finger—ratcheting up the pleasure, until your legs are shaking around his ears. Until one of your hands is fisted in his short, thick hair. Until you’re canting your hips up and up and up to fuck yourself against his face.

You drag your arm over your eyes, overcome—

Joel looks up—his hot mouth leaving you cold—and tsks, pulling your arm away from your face. “Let me see you.”

His lips shine with your arousal.

Your stalled pleasure has your mouth dropped open, but Joel resumes the steady sweep of his tongue and the firm press of his nose against your mound right away, catching you midair and dragging you right back to the brink of an orgasm. Your heels slip down the sheets, your head pressing back into the pillow as you moan and ride it out.

Joel grunts when he feels it, when it spreads through your veins like lightning.

You meet his eyes as you pant through the aftermath—his brow is creased deeply, his lips parted just a little when he pulls away, his breath barely audible—and while you’re mellow and unwound, he presses his finger inside. He squeezes his eyes shut against the pleasure, reveling in the warm pull of your body, and you arch. A heavy hand settles on your chest.

“Easy,” he says, his voice low, “easy now.”

He waits for your muscles to relax, for you to give him an encouraging nod, and he works that finger a little deeper in your ass, thrusting it shallowly. He can feel your body responding to it—acclimating to, asking for it.

“Turn over for me,” he says, his voice even gruffer than normal. “Get on your hands and knees so I can see it.”

You flip for him, situating yourself on your elbows. The bed creaks as he slips off it behind you. There’s the metal sound of a zipper and the rustle of denim, and then the mattress dips again as he settles behind you.

He leans down to purse his lips and spit. It drips, warm and wet as it slides between your cheeks, and he catches it with two fingers, smearing it over where he’s started working you open, where you feel warm and ready for him, inviting—where you glisten with it. You expect him to press one inside you again, but instead, he leans down and his tongue takes it place.

Your hips jerk forward reflexively at the foreign feeling, at the press of the wet muscle against sensitive skin, but as soon as your mind catches up, you shift back to chase the sensation, that warm, slick slide—the welcoming heat of his mouth. A series of sloppy kisses, wet and open.

Joel’s hands spread you as he tastes you. He licks and laps, his tongue exploring every inch of your puckered rim, and the feeling unfurls over your skin slowly—hot and syrupy and decadent—dispatching a delayed shiver down your spine. The pleasure crackles and spits, your nerves a circuit of live wires.

You moan into the feeling, letting your body arch, and shove yourself against the fervor of his mouth. You wonder why you didn’t ask him—beg him—for this sooner. 

It’s brief. He wants to stay there—you can tell by the low sound he makes against your body, the sound that deepens when you push back against his mouth, so deep it vibrates—but he’s impatient.

Impatient to be inside you.

He spits again, another rush of warmth, and pulls away to say: “Touch yourself, honey.”

You obey, settling a cheek on his pillow, one hand between your legs. His first finger returns. A second one joins it, and you whine at the stretch when he edges them inside.

“I know—I know it’s tight, baby.”

He soothes you with a heavy hand on your back, rubbing it up and down your spine reassuringly.

“I got you.”

He spits one more time, a generous, wet lubricant for his thrusting fingers. He collects the moisture and presses them deep.

You can feel his lips on the back of your thigh, his tongue and the scrape of his teeth. He moves up, working his mouth gently over the curve of your cheek. His hand smooths over your hip, the other working his fingers deeper in a slow rhythm, the movements careful and fluid. He won’t give you more than you can handle. 

You feel full with just his fingers moving inside you, but when you start to move your own fingers over your clit, you find that the fullness feels good.

He answers your pleased sounds: curling and stroking you from the inside out. His fingers scissor and stretch.

His other hand leaves your body, and you can hear him fisting his cock behind you—pausing to spit into his waiting palm and slick it over himself. You know exactly what that looks like, the storm of desire brewing in his dark eyes and the roll of his muscular shoulder as he pumps himself. A pearl of precum likely glistens along his slit, disappearing as his shaft is swallowed by the circle of his fist.

The image of him, one you’ve seen countless times, never fails to arouse you.

The command, the intention—the intoxicating need. 

In the beginning, you had to look away from it. It was too naked, too vulnerable—it was the only time Joel would drop the front and let himself be more than just leashed rage. The only time he’d cut the tether and let himself want what he wants—let it show on his face, stark as day.

Now, you live for it. You recognize it for the rare, precious gift it is.

You can’t help but peer over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of that furrowed brow and taut neck. That is the Joel who loves with his whole chest. Who loves with teeth.

He looks up from where his hand is moving to meet your gaze. He eases those two fingers out of you, and you whimper at the loss.

He moves closer behind you, his broad frame looming tall over you, and settles. Your legs are spread as wide as they go in this position, his bracketed between them.

“I’ll go slow, yeah?” 

You press your cheek back into the pillow and breathe. 

You can feel the fat head of him notched against you, the heat and the slickness, where you’re drenched and shiny. He drops his hips and rubs the tip up and down, once and again. The anticipation—the knowledge of his size—has you tensing, but he pets your hips and talks you through it.

“Relax and let me in.”

Joel eases his hips forward, and as much as he’s prepared you, as much as he’s coaxed your body open to accommodate his fingers, the stretch of him still burns. He’s been so careful, taken such good care of you, but the size of him aches. You can’t help but squirm, a whine spilling from your lips, as he enters you.

He reacts to your hesitation right away.

“Drop your hips for me,” he says, a heavy hand on your lower back.

He guides you down, and you all but collapse, almost prone on the mattress. He blankets your body with his own, his warm chest and the softness of his belly flush against your back, and reaches around you, snaking a hand into the few inches of space between your hips and the bed, to massage your clit with the pacifying rock of one finger—to where your hand had been a second ago, before it dropped away to fist in the sheets. 

He’s heavy draped over you, his body a grounding weight. If it weren’t him—if you didn’t have that steel-cast trust between you, it might feel smothering. This prostrate position, vulnerable.

Instead, safe. 

He breathes hot and slow down the side of your neck then sets his teeth against your shoulder, a blunt bite—not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to mute all other sensation, just a little. 

He’s giving you something to hold on to. 

He murmurs praise between light, plush kisses and little nips, as the blunt tip of his cock slowly—so slowly—breaches the tight ring of your ass.

You key into the words—honey, baby, sweetheart—and the hot trail of his mouth. And breathe, slow and steady, to let your body welcome him deep.

When his hips are cradling your cheeks, he stills.

You’re full; you’re so fucking full. 

It’s almost unbearable in sensation. The thick, rigid length of him is throbbing inside you. You need—you need something—

Your thoughts are slow, eddying and pinwheeling like curls of smoke that refuse to coalesce into something tangible. 

His finger is still pressed tight to your clit, and as you settle together, you adjust. A realization creeps up the back of your neck, shy. Move, you think, the link between your brain and your mouth suddenly faulty. You need him to move.

You arch and start to shift back into him, to encourage him to fuck you.

Joel growls in your ear, the hand between your legs jumping to your throat. “Stay still for me. Just—stay still, alright? Let me—” 

You tense with the effort of it, all of your muscles tightening, contracting around the thick intrusion of him, and his words are cut short by a low groan and the subtle flex of his hips forward. The movement draws a whimper from your throat—a pleased sound.

It’s taking all his control not to move, not to thrust into the tight, molten clench of your body. 

“Let me—let me just feel you like this for a minute,” he finishes. His voice cracks with the effort of staying still. The hand caught around your throat trembles and tightens. 

He’s savoring it. Savoring you.

And trying not to let the exquisite grip of your body undo him too soon. It’s dizzying, knowing that.

He shifts back a bit, braced on a locked elbow by your side, so he can see where he’s splitting you open, and runs a reverent hand along your curves, up your thigh and over your hip—a rough, calloused palm turned tender in the moment. His breathing is labored.

You peer at him over your shoulder, your neck straining. His mouth is dropped open, his tongue peeking out between his lips, and his eyes are hooded. They flick down to meet yours. 

Understanding passes between you.

He drops himself over you again, and his hand finds a home on your shoulder, holding fast. Then he eases his hips back, gently withdrawing before starting up a slow cadence. Testing.

You moan when he thrusts forward, and his own low sound matches yours. His hips start to move faster, his thighs colliding with the backs of yours.

“You gonna come with my cock in your ass?”

You nod against the fabric of his pillow case, your hand returning to the apex of your thighs. It doesn’t take much—a few moments of gentle fingers passing over your aching clit, and all of your muscles are tightening.

“Fuck, yes,” he growls. “Let me feel it.”

His rhythm kicks up to a rapid slap slap slap of skin against skin, as you spasm and quiver against the bed, your open, panting mouth leaving a wet spot on the cotton. You clench around the crowded feeling of him until your brain is fuzzy with a haze of pleasure. Until your limbs go completely slack.

“You’re taking it so good for me. So fuckin’ tight.”

You feel sated and warm in the aftermath, your body fucked out and sluggish. You can tell Joel is close by the uneven staccato of his thrusts and the tightness in his voice.

“Oh fuck, baby,” he pants. “You’re gonna make me come—make me fill this tight little ass.”

You moan—waiting for it, wanting it. 

But he wants to hear it first.

“Is that what you want? Hmm? Say it,” he demands, his words punctuated by the surge of his hips and the press of his thighs. “Tell me where you want me to come.”

You barely manage to get the words out, twisted in your raw throat—

“Please, Joel—inside.”

—before he does.

The sound he makes is low and feral, a gasp and a growl clawing their way out of his chest. He grinds himself deep into the tight heat of your body, his hips stuttering in sheer relief, and his cock twitches as he spills inside you. A flood of warmth, pulses of pearly cum fucked deep.

Again and again, until he’s spent.

He pulls out, leaving you empty. You know he wants to see it.

Sure enough, he thumbs between your cheeks, admiring the place where he’s marked you—feeling the sticky warmth of himself in your body. Like he’s always wanted to.

After a long moment, he collapses next to you on the bed and pulls you into his side. 

“Come here,” he says, gathering you up in his arms. He presses a kiss to your forehead and swipes soft fingers over your cheek. You’re boneless in his hands.

He doesn’t say it, but you know. 

Mine.

[hotvintagepoll]

Donald O'Connor (Singin' in the Rain, Francis, Call Me Madam)— LOOK AT HIM. Those giant blue peepers. Those tappy tappy little feet that don't quit. The ears that stick out like little wings, ready to lift him up to goofy heaven. The way his face contorts into the strangest yet most endearing expressions. His ability to sing and dance alongside the hunk that is Gene Kelly and yet pull all attention away with his big-eyed buffoonery. The way his energy is unmatched in songs like "Make 'em laugh" - bouncing off the walls and tumbling through the air straight into my cold cold heart. Who else but a true scrungly lil guy would sit upon the witness stand and defend a talking mule with all the love and affection in the world - staring out into the court room with his bright wide eyes and eternally mouse-like expression, openly admitting that the mule is his best friend?!??! I see him and I want to pull him from the screen into my hand and just squiiiiiiiiiiiiish with all my might. I want to pinch his cheeks and have him bat those eyes at me. He just makes me go "eeehehehehehe" every time I see him and his silly little self. He is pure chaotic, ridiculous, scrungly perfection!

Mantan Moreland (Mr. Washington Goes to Town, Cabin in the Sky)—i love mantan moreland SO. MUCH. and he is the pERFECT scrungly little guy!!!!! like a lot of black actors at the time he was always getting sidelined into small parts, but unusually he also managed to become a star in his own right and was almost one of the three stooges! he was a groundbreaking comedic actor known for his distinctive stare (very good for the horror movies he did), and he always is way more fun to watch on screen than anyone else. he had a famous double-act where he perfected this technique of non-conversations (where both people keep finishing each other's sentences before any actual information is conveyed). a lot of his movies are free on youtube and i really enjoy seeing him do his silly little guy thing in all of them!!! anyways yeah please include mantan he deserves some recognition as peak scrungle

This is round 3 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you’re confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Donald O'Connor:

My silliest little guy. My funnyman. My horsie. I have watched many a bad movie for this man. The scrungliest fact I know about him is that he was supposed to star as Danny Kaye's role in the iconic White Christmas (1954), as he had known Bing Crosby since he was a child, but couldn't because he caught a mule disease while working on those Francis the Talking Mule films Universal endlessly made him do. I wouldn't exactly recommend those movies, but Don's character getting psychologically tormented by a sardonic mule does make for quite a good movie night, if you know what you're getting into. Are You With It? is another one I don't exactly recommend, but it does open with Donald as a math genius actuary who is about to kill himself over a displaced decimal point before getting taken in by a traveling carny instead. His more well-known and beloved roles have plenty of scrungliness too, in my opinion. This man slapsticked so hard he wound up bedridden for his physical exertion! Rather than submitting Make 'Em Laugh, which the electorate has likely already seen (I hope), I'm submitting an underrated dance number of his, where he explains maths through tap dance. That movie is Not good, but god do I love him in that role.

I think it's arguably very scrungly to seemingly be a real life cartoon character made out of rubber, as proven by how slapsticky the list of scrunglies is so far. In which case, Donald O'Connor? He scrungles supremely. He even played Buster Keaton in a movie (that apparently can't be recommended, but still).

Mantan Moreland:

here's his double act in action!! [editor's note: Benson Fong cameo too!]

He just had a scrungly look about him and he played big with his roles so any of it became especially scrungly. Plus he was very funny in the way only scrungly people can be.

the FUNNEST GUY TO WATCH ON SCREEN. he was an immensely gifted physical comedian, able to convey loads with his eyes, and while some of his parts are so sad and cringeworthy, I feel like he always brought a humanity and humor that lifted them beyond cheap stereotype.

[navsink]

tangerine sweet kisses ft suguru geto/reader

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ boyfriend!Suguru bites your lip too hard

an: this man aaaaaah, hope you enjoy! i certainly did. unpublished draft that i will never finish.

tags: heavy fluff, a little heavy on insecurity (geto things), shy lovesick idiots, female pronouns-- not really gendered, i rarely mention sugurus name you can replace it for your fav character, a little short, and slight nsfw mention (crossed out)

"you've seen the movie three times already. it's not gonna end any happier." he sighed, his forehead resting against her temple. The small groan he lets out against her head sends vibrations down her nape.

"and we'll watch it three more times." she sighs "You just don't get it like I do. Can't you find it gut-wrenching how he built their dream house and all for nothing 'cause poor dude ends with dementia?"

"Yeah the first time I watched it."

She sighs and rolls on her side to face him. A slight stitch sewing her brows together as she gently balls her fists on his shirt's collar.

"you act as if your boring black and white films movies are any different. spare me, by the way, Citizen Kane? please, a movie about a guy whining over a sled? how groundbreaking."

a hearty chuckle erupts from his mouth, the defined adams apple bobbing with each roar. as the corners of his eyes spread in a line, he closed the space between their faces and bumped noses with her. their silence was notably thicker than the couch they were laying on.

"go on, you haven't described the best part yet, ran out of wit to pick apart my noir films yet?"

her words stumbled and her eventful sigh of defeat fished another chuckle out of him.

"ya, it's "innovative," if by that, you mean a bloated ego trip where you pity some rich guy's midlife crisis."

the way their noses touched meant her loud voice could turn to a gush of whisper. his face warmly received the warm breath with a tingling smile.

proximity to a couple of newly-dates was the flint to their steel. his lips shyly settle on hers and their bodies take part to feel eachothers warmth.

"fuck you" she said between hesitant pecks of kisses.

"fuck me" replies the now confident smartass, who in the prescence of this hopeless romantic in front of him melts into a puppy dog.

as their little bickering sparks flames, his intensity only seemed to provoke that string of desire. their exchange--now a tug of war, has him biting down on the satin petals, cautiously asking her pouty mouth for more.

the whole scene of her paradisiacally tangerine flavored and idyllic custard lips interlocked with his was in sum, his wet dream. was either of them awake at this point?

as she takes a deep breath, he feels his body melting and savoring into the custardly sweet lips of his lover. a note of vanilla-tangerine fighting tooth and nail to imprint on his black wifebeater. breath regained-- shes tugging at the messy manbun, impossibly tightening their embrace. phew. good thing she had her nice panties on.

but ohhhhh how her curious little yelp of surprise only grows his fervor, his troubling self-restraint been challenged by this enchanting deity he found himself enveloped for.

his curiosity - or his insecurity - has been climbing the ladder to the back of his mind. a woman like her surely had plenty of options, yet she picked broke-frat-boy-wannabe-suguru.

she picked him.

him who could only offer her entretainment and unwavering devotion.

him who changed any and all habits to impress her.

him who actively read snobby old money bullshit books to have something to talk about with her.

him who turned beet red when he realized she had no idea what he was talking about.

him who fought tooth and nail to show her he was worthy.

him who created toothrotting playlists he would never share, for her.

him who looked for her face in every crowd.

him who's now fervently holding her by the waist in his tiny living room loveseat.

him who's silently growing a tent as this escalates

finally, him who after a year, asked her out.

Poor guy got stuck in a cycle of rememberance and reminiscion. his mind-- like a rainforest, humid with the taste of her lips, every glance they shared and every night he stared into her eyes, every version and stage of her he had met flushing into his active recall. this man absentmindedly scouring his long past, and now presently taking breaking the flow of their melting lips with a reckless bite.

her high pitched sqeak almost sent her rolling down to the living room carpet. if it werent for the aching hands holding her waist and the back of her neck, it'd be a different story. Like a snap of a magician's fingers, his trance was broken and instinctively tightens his grip.

"hey, what... what happened?" he squeezes her waist and lookes at his lover's glossy eyes. His eyes dash to and from her lips to her eyes, frantically searching for a sign of hurt. the scanning done finslly pinpointed its target. the close corner of her lip, swollen and angry, unlike its owner, who's glossy and melting in expression.

the dazed look she wore as she looks up at him could pull any guy into a coma.

"you bit into me." she retreats her hand from his neck to pull at her lip, flipping to a red thumping inner corner lip.

he sighs and puts his hand over hers, an apologetically silent peace offering of his.

"i'm sorry" his hushed voice carries deep regret, as does his wrinkled forehead. this man, now even more silent then ever is internally panicking because what else is he supposed to do?

as she hums to his apology, his thumb traces over the mark on her lips, in such a gentle fashion that it tickles. like a fox towards a hare, cautiously sprinkling kisses around her mouth.

"how can i ever forgive you for an offense like this?" the melodious and saccharine smile he associates with profound serenity erupts again. bingo

in the end, all he wants is for you to grant him the light of day.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ A/N °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

waddup horny, gay, chronically online peopleeeeee

ngl im only piggy backing off the fact that geto is popular, if it were for me id write for yuuta, he fits more the vibe im going for. but yeah idkw im doing this if i know im an inconsistent little shit of a writer. i hope yall enjoy no wc bc im lazy and im typing from my phone. tumblr mobile is shitty for posting.

[coraniaid]

Reverse Unpopular Opinion: Season Four of BtVS

[Reverse unpopular opinion meme.]

I’ve been (very, very slowly) rewatching Season 4 on and off all year (and occasionally writing Tumblr posts complaining about this very process about the episodes I’ve been watching), and I think it’s fair to say that this is definitely not the best way to enjoy any season of television.  

That being said, I feel I’d be lying at this point if I pretended this was my absolute favorite season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  In hindsight, the show was in a strange transitory place this year: having lost some of the grounding framework that the high school setting gave the first three seasons of the show – as well as having suddenly lost some of its actors and writers to the new Angel spin-off – and not yet having quite figured out what it was going to do instead.  One can imagine some alternate reality where the show ended up taking a very different direction after this season.

That being said, here are five things I like a lot about Season 4, with as few caveats as I can manage:

I think the opening four episodes of this season – The Freshman, Living Conditions, The Harsh Light Of Day, Fear Itself – are as strong as, if not stronger than, the first four episodes of any other season of the show.  Every other season has at least one dodgy episode in this opening block – in fact Season 3, my favorite season of them all, manages to have two of them! – but where is the bad episode here?  The Freshman is a criminally underrated season opener.  Living Conditions is a fun character episode and a great showcase for SMG to act in ways she doesn’t normally get to on this show.  Fear Itself is the best Halloween episode the show ever did and it’s not even especially close.  The Harsh Light Of Day is my least favorite of the four, for reasons I guess it would be against the spirit of the game to go into, but I certainly wouldn’t say it was a bad episode by any means.  Perhaps none of these episodes would trouble my personal top ten, but they are four very solid episodes nonetheless.

While Anya had of course appeared in a handful of Season 3 episodes, I think Season 4 is the point where Emma Caulfield really makes the role her own.  This season’s version of the character – a blunt-speaking outsider whose romantic struggles are often deliberately contrasted with Buffy’s own [in the aforementioned The Harsh Light Of Day, for example] and who is inexplicably attracted to Xander Harris – could easily have come across as a fairly lazy attempt to replace Cordelia Chase, and I think it’s largely to Caulfield’s credit that she doesn’t.  Anya feels very much like her own person this season, and an increasingly integral member of the group.  It’s a performance that retroactively redefines the character: of course this is who Anya is.  Of course she always acted this way. It's only when you back and rewatch The Wish or Doppelgangland that you realize she didn't. And I think it’s pretty obvious, for example, that when people [e.g. people like me] go back to write Season 3 fanfiction where Anya features more heavily than in canon they [again, meaning me] invariably end up writing the Season 4 version of the character instead.  Anyanka might have appeared for the first time in Season 3, but Anya belongs to Season 4.

I really like how important to the show Willow has become at this point and how much of this season is all about her.  Just go back and look at the first season, in which Willow is arguably the member of the Core Four the writers cared least about – when she existed mainly to nurse a sad unrequited crush on Xander and to be good with computers when the plot required someone to be – and then compare that to this season, where she is Buffy’s best friend and roommate, unambiguously the second most important Scooby, and the center of a – genuinely pretty groundbreaking for the time – .season long subplot about coming out as a lesbian.  And of course Amber Benson is great as Tara too.  I’ve criticized the character of Oz for being very transparently written just to be Willow’s Nice Supportive Boyfriend and never becoming much more than that, and on paper you could level the same sort of charge at Tara.  And sure, obviously she was written to be Willow’s girlfriend and it’s impossible to seriously pretend otherwise.  But I think Tara manages to become a more rounded character than Oz very quickly. Even in this season, when she doesn’t yet have much connection to the others (she will, later, go on to become a key member of the group and a friend of Buffy's in ways I don’t think Oz was) she feels a little more complex than he did.

Faith is in this season!  I don’t just mean in the two parter This Year’s Girl / Who Are You? either. Of course, both of these episodes are great: the scene in the church in Who Are You? In which Faith (in Buffy’s body) breaks down while fighting Buffy (in Faith’s body), -- screaming repeatedly at her own reflection that she’s “nothing”, “disgusting”, and a "murderous bitch" -- is one of my favorites in the whole show.  But Faith feels like a real presence in the show even in the episodes she’s not actually in herself.  Unlike Kendra or Jenny in previous seasons, or even Cordelia the season, the other characters still talk about her and remember she existed when it’s appropriate that they do so (and in a way that they won’t really do again until … well, until Faith comes back in Season 7’s Dirty Girls).

Finally, Restless is possibly the best episode the show ever did, and certainly one of its most creative.  Willow’s dream sequence in particular is fantastically well done. I think this might be my favorite single act in all of Buffy.  Why this all works for me – apart from the fact that the show now has years of history to fall back on and reference – is that it’s an example of the show being utterly unafraid to play to its strengths.  Characterisation, dream sequences, dialogue, foreshadowing, oddly striking visuals, random moments of comedy … these – rather than tightly written plots or rigorously consistent world-building or anything that requires a working knowledge of world history or how the US military functions or what capitalism actually is – are the show’s strengths.  So Restless embraces all of these elements, and just doesn’t bother with anything else.  And the result is a season finale that – by virtue of not really being a season finale at all, at least according to the usual rules – is not quite like any other season finale the show ever did.  Which is, on reflection, a pretty fitting end to Season 4, a season of the show not quite like any of the others. 

[junkdyke]

It's the way men blatantly and utterly do not respect wlw relationships. I went to a kickback last night with a girl i've dated previously. She wanted to go, but not alone because she wasn't sure what the vibes would be. So I took her, and there were 5 women there total, including the 2 of us, the rest a bunch of film bros. Most of the girls left early.

My date and I had our arms around each other most of the night. Hers clearly around my neck, mine clearly squeezing her waist, holding her around her stomach. But 2 of these men repeatedly flirted with and obviously hit on her, right in front of me while we are connected. Play fighting trying to touch her any way they can, taking pieces of the cookie she had, trying to corner her to look into her bag when she took some snacks. I literally had her hand in mine trying to pull her away, while she's uncomfortably trying to shy away from them. We were facing each other, both hands together talking, when one of the again comes up to rest his head on her. She was so clearly disinterested in general, and so clearly with me. But it didn't count, because they don't fucking acknowledge lesbians or female homosexuality as anything serious. She's bisexual, but the female attracted part of that is just for funsies, not real, it doesn't matter. She mentioned being queer so many times throughout the night. Yet at no point did they even ask or acknowledge our connection there.

I know this isn't anything new or groundbreaking, just documenting yet another instance. They're rarer for me now since I'm hardly ever around straight men like this, in this kind of environment. Lesbophobia in the form of disrespect, as if there's no way our connections are real or worth acknowledging. And this is why men trying to claim solidarity in love for women with lesbians will NEVER be fucking true, we do not love women the same, they don't even see us as equals. Had a man been holding her the way i was, they wouldn't dream of acting the way they did, unless they were looking to get knocked tf out. So anyway, I need to start knocking more men out.

[ecoterrorist-katara]

I’m so tired of wlw background ships in mlm fandoms.

mlm shippers almost never develop wlw ships to the degree that the audience feels invested in them. The conflict and character development and love story rely on tropes rather than actual narratives, yet fandoms act like they’re doing wlws a favour by shoehorning in this shitty “representation” when it’s just golden retriever x black cat over and over and over again in different fonts.

To be clear I don’t blame anyone for not having big wlw ships, because most major media out there do not have two fully fledged female characters you can ship together. If you want to write mlm ships, good for you! If you want a lazy wlw ship in the background, that’s fine! But don’t act as if the fandom actually cares about them, or that anyone did the legwork to make them characters that you can care about. Most of these female characters are never properly developed in the canon source material, and they’re almost never properly developed in the fanon material either. You can always tell by how these women are like, one archetype + gay (sporty gay, feisty gay, slutty gay etc, like some kind of gay Spice Girls). Yet fandoms just love to act like these background wlws mean so much & have the best love stories & everyone just should ship them. It’s all so performative.

wlws are not an aesthetic. wlws are not 2D happy couples to round out your queer utopia, a queer utopia that somehow still manages to foreground men. Women are always treated as 2D characters in narratives, except now there’s a subgenre where these 2D women are gay. Groundbreaking.

[bibibbon]

You know? It's kinda of funny how LOV fans treat the whole "I want to be a hero for villains" of Shigaraki as something groundbreaking, when the same concept was already introduced in the series (and was done better) with Nine.

Unlike Shigaraki, Nine literally meet his team members when he saved their lives. In Chimera's case it was when a bunch of racists were about to execute him just for being a mutant.

Nine also was a hero for them in a more thematic level, as he not only save their lives but actually give his team mates a reason for live and fight. He offered them the chance to fight for create a better world. For me it's quite remarkable how Nine despite being a homeless and chronically ill person, go for save people he view as equally oppressed by the world.

He was selfless enough to sacrifice his own health using his quirk to save Chimera despite it was destroying his body, and without expecting nothing in exchange for share a dream Nine a hand to people at their lowest point.

That's much more of an "All Might for the villains" or whatever Horikoshi tried to make Shigaraki in the final moments. Or hell Nine even acts better as a foil to Deku in the sense both are selfless individuals who fight despite their bodies are crumbling, just for the save of the persons who are important to them.

How ironic is that Nine, the original movie villain that was supposed to be just a prototype for the "final villain" of MHA, ended executing the same themes way better than Shigaraki.

Hi @nyc3 👋

A main reason as to why people treat shigaraki's I want to be a hero for the villains ideology better than nine's is simply because I assume a lot of people forgot the plot of the 2nd movie or haven't read the one shot manga chapter mha leauge of villains undercover. All of this is a shame because I heavily agree that nine's version of I want to be a hero and hope for the villains is executed and built up 10000x times better than shigarakis and nine had a fraction of the screentime that shigaraki got which is saying a lot.

Actually rewatching the film and rereading the manga one-shot has showed me that nine and shigarakis arcs are pretty similar with nine's having a better execution and shigaraki having more wasted potential.

The movie sets it clear that nine and shigaraki are supposed to be foils for one another so it makes sense that they would share parallels. However, you would expect that by the time nine is defeated that shigaraki would naraatively prove to us that he is ultimately the better character but in truth he doesn't and nine's downfall by shigaraki ends up being quite disappointing to me.

Another problem within the narrative is also the lack of interactions that nine and shigaraki have. I think that nine is essential to helping shigaraki and start to infulence him to realise that he is just a puppet and should develop a goal outside of just destruction. If shigarakis goal stays as destruction then the destruction of what? Everything? And how would that benefit anyone including him?

Nine like you said meets his teammates and saves them. He sees his teammates suffer like him and chooses to help them and they choose to help him. There is a clear relationship being developed and all the characters come together for the same goal, with similar backgrounds and varying styles yet they work.

When nines team see him in distress they run to help him and vice versa. The team has trust and overall everything that a lot of the leauges dynamics and development lacks.

Nine seeks destruction but his path is clear. He seeks to liberate and let nature flow its course with the strong overtaking the weak and finally being leaders instead of feared and abused because they don't fit into the small little box that is the mha's status quo. Nine plans to get stronger while being fully conscious and knowing the consequences. He makes a logical and heroic decision where we see him realise that he is trading his own autonomy and agency in becoming a lab rat all in exchange for power and a slim chance at achieving his goal.

This is all contrasted with shigaraki and his actions. We don't see his goal of destruction develop into a much more consistent and precise idea like destroying the giver and status quo. We don't see shigaraki fully conscious to come to the conclusion that yes the doctor is evil but he needs power. We lack everything from shigaraki and the information of chapter 419 just makes his character worse as shigaraki was a lab rat through and through.

Horikoshi tries to make shigaraki the better character but nine outclassed him in every way possible from the traumatic beginnings, to the developed flawed goal and to the final bitter end where we see nine crumble due to various factors 1)shigarakis decay and 2) his illness whereas shigaraki dies due to afo still being a lab rat that fulfills his purpose.

All of this reminds me of the ask that said mha's manga ending is a sloppy edited 2nd movie ending (except I was only looking at it from a hero perspective but it even applies to the villains)

Nine deserved better!

[bringthekaos]

are you gonna keep writing jayvik now that viktor is confirmed straight?

Gunna answer this one diplomatically, even though this ask was clearly sent with malice. Warning for Act 2 spoilers (and possible Act 3 spoilers, since the footage used in the "The Line" music video is most likely from Act 3).

First, when I continue to write Jayvik, it will probably have to be an AU anyway, because I have about 2% confidence that both of them make it out of this show alive.

Second: he is still not confirmed straight. He was depicted taking Sky's hands as she fades away for a second time. This means nothing, romantically. It means he regrets this is happening, he knows it's his fault, and he wishes to bring comfort to her in her last moments.

And that's if it even is her, and not a manifestation of his guilt, given that she doesn't look like herself at all in his hallucinations, or whatever it is. Her eyebrows are thinner in the hallucination, and her hair is wholly different: not as high on her head nor as tightly bundled or curly. This points to a suggestion that this manifestation is his best effort of representing her in his mind, and it is wrong because he didn't know her well at all.

Not to mention, in the very few interactions that they had (before Jayce's Progress Day Speech and when she asked him to walk home together), he was shown just... not receptive. It could have been read as disinterest because he is gay (which obviously many people did), or just that he has a very one-track mind on his research at the time, and isn't even cognizant of the missed social interaction. But either way, there was no foundation for connection, intimate or otherwise, between them. Certainly not enough for the heavy-handed and forced connection depicted in season 2.

THAT SAID, I am a very ship and let ship person. I have certainly fabricated ships from less. Hell, I've shipped characters that never even interacted in canon. And I have no problem with the SkyVik ship, given that his sexuality was never confirmed one way or the other. Honestly, if it had been built up better in the writing, there is potential there! Both of them being from Zaun, and clawing their way into the Academy, which as Jayce said has a success rate of 3%. But it is not groundbreaking or even remotely incorrect to say that this ship is fabricated (and not in a negative sense. It's just fact). There wasn't enough to support it. He brushed her off multiple times. And he only seems to give her the attention after she is dead, which again points to a motivation of guilt: he wishes he'd gotten to know her and her aspirations and dreams before her life was cut short by him. But it's too late.

And lastly, the thing everyone needs to understand is this: Jayce and Viktor were released in League in 2012, and Jayce was specifically built as the mirror to Viktor. It was honestly quite a poetic "formed from the rib" kind of release for Jayce, who came 7 months after Viktor. These two had no canon romantic involvements in that time beyond mere speculation, so naturally they had very queer undertones for almost ten years before Arcane came out. And I don't think it's much of a leap to be disappointed when the producers and distributors of the show decided that they couldn't make their show "too gay" for mainstream audiences. Especially when the pre-established League fanbase consisted of 87% men (source), and a lot of cishet men are threatened/disgusted by/afraid of gay men, yet fetishize lesbian sex. So yeah. The Jayvik shippers get understandably disappointed when their 10-year old ship gets no-homo'd at the finish line.

So to answer your original question. Yeah. I am probably gunna continue to write Jayvik. Yes, even if they're both "confirmed" straight. I will hit them both with the bi hammer. And I will tag my stuff accordingly, and "stay in my lane" so to speak, and everyone is welcome to block me if they don't wanna see it. I'm not gunna go around harassing SkyVik shippers, just as I have never harassed MelJayce shippers. And I'm sure this will be called "misogyny" by many who'd like to assign a moral high ground to their attempts at eradicating the JayVik ship. Trust me, if I could have my ship without disregarding two amazing women, I would do it. But I can't, because someone at the decision making table decided to give two characters who never had any romantic involvements in League the no homo treatment.

And of course, as always, the season is not over. Some of this could change. But my love of the JayVik ship won't. Block me if you don't like it.

For obvious reasons, anon is now off ✌️

[obliviouskara]

top 5 supergirl episodes?

full disclosure i haven't seen the entirety of supergirl (ive literally only seen like 7 eps & its all season 1) so this list will probably change over time (bc im starting to painstakingly watch the show - imagine slowburn but watching a series) however ive watched like a ridiculous amount of supercorp edits so im going to base my choices on the parts where supercorp exist ha!

5. Season 1 - Red Faced

this would probably be the only none supercorp related yet still somehow my personal fave for a few reasons. i love this scene in particular bc it shows that cat grant cares for kara and what cat says here is very relatable. no matter how harsh cat can be at times, cat was a girl's girl here. she gave an advice which was helpful to both supergirl and kara. she had every right to rip kara viciously apart but instead she took a completely different route. i like the line she says here.

"You really need to figure out what's really bothering you." "You really need to find that anger behind the anger. And you really need to figure out what's really making you mad."

i think this was also the ep where kara acknowledged where some of the anger was coming from. even with zero dialogue and with mel's incredible acting skills she was able to convey so much emotions during that scene where she releases all her anger towards the red tornato. From losing her parents, losing her planet —her home, for losing everything and maybe even angry with her parents for the choices they made for her. it was such an incredible and very emotional scene.

im putting the rest in read more bc of how unnecessarily long this post has become

4. Season 2 - "The Adventures of Supergirl"

this should be easy. this was the first time kara met lena and changed the trajectory of every queer person watching this show and lena first delivered the first of many many questionably fruity (gay) lines fjlkajdla

"You couldn't have fooled me."

also bc of this scene thank you very much

3. Season 2 - "Luthors"

if there is one particular scene that convinced me to even give supergirl the time of day its obvs this one and lena "suspiciously straight" luthor delivered one of the most iconic lines on television in my opinion and now forever engraved in my mind. let's not forget lcorp CEO lena luthor took the time of day to fill catco employee kara danver's office with flowers like it's a regular tuesday but oh well

"now you'll have someone to stand up for you. always" "supergirl might have saved me but kara danvers, you are my hero."

screaming, crying, throwing up

2. Season 2 - "Exodus"

tada! i mean, look at it! how heroic! i also find it funny how grateful and confused lena was that kara danvers was having coffee with supergirl late at night but still

Season 2 - Ace Reporter

so this isnt at all groundbreaking bc honestly, 5 isn't enough and anything that has supercorp will be my favorite even though again i havent seen the rest of supergirl yet but we're ignoring canon so we're ignoring that fact too. i think this was the ep where kara was comforting lean about jack's death. i personally have a love and hate relationship towards this scene for many reasons but im a sucker for supercorp and there was a clip where kara hesitated and looked like she was about to plant a kiss on lena's head but then hugged her instead and i think its beautiful and im a sucker for kara leaning in towards lena

BONUS:

im too lazy to figure out where these clips are from which episode but this. i love every scene and its more like these below are my reasons for watching supergirl and has nothing to do with being my top 5 bwahaha

oh did i mention i also happen to have a weird obsession with superrojas i will not rest until i reach the ep where andrea rojas exist

[lurkingshan]

Japanese QL Corner

One show ends, another continues to be a banger, and we have some exciting new stuff heading our way. These shows are on Gaga unless otherwise marked.

Living With Him

Welllllllllllll. Okay, listen. I have been going easy on this show because it's such a nice unassuming little guy, but this finale, after the last few weeks of wheel spinning, was not it. This should have been a simple and cute if not groundbreaking show, but they tried to stretch out the story in some truly lazy ways and turned it into a bloated mess that ultimately didn’t keep the emotional through lines in place. Some of the scenes in this episode worked fine in isolation, or would have been great if they'd happened, say, two episodes ago, but as a follow up to the content that came before them and an ending to this story? Not so much. On the bright side, the epilogue material was adorable and the cast in this was fantastic all around. I really hope we get to see them in other shows.

At 25:00 in Akasaka

Another great episode, and we learned so much about Hayama. I love it when a flashback episode actually tells us new information that recontextualizes things we've already seen while also making perfect sense. Hayama having a narcissistic and emotional fragile mother? Of course. Being drawn to Shirasaki out of genuine respect for his character and acting skills? Yes. Admiring him from a distance and never saying a damn word about it all through college? Checks out. The way he describes being near Shirasaki? "I feel like my shell is being peeled off." MY GOD, what an evocative line.

Having seen this, I now totally understand why Shirasaki would truly have no clue that he is the person Hayama has always liked. Hayama is so contained, so concealed, so affectless with others that he gave no outward signs of his interest to anyone who doesn't already know him very well. And now the two of them are stuck in awkward hell and they have to film a love scene. Bring the pain, show, I am feasting.

Bonus: Ossan no pantsu ga nandatte ii janai ka

In case you haven't seen yet, @isaksbestpillow has begun subbing this Japanese drama about a middle aged man who becomes friends with a gay student and broadens his horizons. As Sirii notes, it is not ql, but it's a drama featuring queer characters and I'm so excited to get a chance to watch it. Check out her post for more info.

Tagging @bengiyo to add a manga update.

[alovelywaytospendanevening]

I would love all your thoughts on Maurice!

Hey, @renaultphile, sorry for the delay.

People often focus on the topic of homosexuality when discussing Maurice, which is a fair thing to do, since it’s the biggest and most obvious theme of the novel. However, I also like to talk about the other social aspects of the story, which are often overlooked. It’s actually been speculated that Maurice inspired D. H. Lawrence to write Lady Chatterley’s Lover, which makes a lot of sense when you think about it, since both novels feature romance between different social classes (for a start).

Yes, Maurice Hall is gay. And he’s also a snobbish, classist and misogynist middle-class man. Forster deliberately wrote him this way, well aware of his flaws — he never tried to normalize them. Maurice never really tried to work his situation up with his family; he never considered those women worthy of his personal respect. His change of heart towards working-class people happened solely because of Alec, and only because he knew that the chance of finding a solid relationship like that was very rare to come by. And yet, despite this, we all root for him, because he’s so human in all his flaws and yearning that his coming-of-age journey transcends these period-typical restraints. I love the wonderful paradox that Forster constructs: Maurice, the typical regular guy, ends up making a radical decision, while the once-rebellious Clive settles into monotonous conformity. I like to see the whole story as a way of showing that even a completely ordinary person like Maurice Hall is capable of wonderful acts of courage when placed in some specific situations.

As I said before, I think literary critics in the 1970s looked down on Maurice because they thought Forster's happy ending was just activism. But the novel is a very intriguing and self-aware Edwardian time capsule, a real glimpse into English nature. Not a “minor work” by any means!

And Merchant Ivory’s film adaptation is also great, of course. Quite faithful to the source material. The way they used Risley’s fate to justify Clive’s decision was clever, and it makes more sense than what happened in the novel (but that’s the risk of producing groundbreaking stuff, something can end up a bit too dated).

[ninadove]

Hi Nina! Why transmask Felix and not transfem? Or you are fine with transfem too?

Hi Anon! Hope you’re having a wonderful day! 💖

I do like transfem Felix! In fact, I originally leaned more towards this option. The Senti-lore is extremely queer by nature, and I think it’s wonderful so many people can see themselves in the kids.

Really, it comes down to personal interpretation. Some notes below:

1. Colt Fathom is a massive douchebag.

Nothing groundbreaking here. We been knew. At first glance, you’d assume he would want a male heir for Toxic Masculinity Reasons™; but I think he would prefer a daughter, also for Toxic Masculinity Reasons™.

Colt is the kind of person who wants to elevate his own status in the world, and the solution he resorted to is marriage. This kind of alliances is frequent in the spheres he navigates, as seen in S5 with the Adrigami plot: as such, he would likely see his child not as an heir, like the GDV lineage would, but rather as something he could trade for even more power. A daughter of noble pedigree and born into considerable wealth would undoubtedly be a catch, and give him a leg up in his race against other rich jerks.

Additionally, we’ve seen how he acts around Felix — how he perceives him as a threat and a reminder of his own mortality. Peacock curse or not, asking for a son would have forced him to face the prospect of eventually being overpowered by his own progeniture every single day; but a little girl? Surely, there’s no threat there, right?

2. Felix’s first appearance gives us lots to think about.

Firstly, when it comes to Adrien’s reaction. When Amelie explains that she decided to drop by “so [they] could all be together” on the anniversary of Emilie’s fridging, this is the (adorable) face he makes:

Because he understands! If his aunt is here, surely his cousin must be here too. “All together” means all together.

Yet, when Felix actually appears, draped in dramatic lighting like the theatre kid he is, Adrien still looks strangely surprised:

Which Amelie immediately follows up by highlighting that they look “just like twins”. The characters should not need this comment — they were here the whole time the kids were growing up! Of course, there’s a doylist explanation to this line: we, the public, must understand that Identity Shenanigans Will Ensue (and they did). But what could this mean in-world?

I propose that the cousins did not always look exactly like each other — that they were perfect twins as young kids, but became more and more different as time went by. Perhaps one developed more feminine features, while the other grew up to look more masculine. If the Agrestes did not witness the early stages of Felix’s transition (probably started right after Colt’s death, so only a few months before canon), it makes sense they would be taken aback by the newly recovered resemblance between the kids.

And, of course, it adds some depth to the Identity Shenanigans. Especially if you read Adrien as genderqueer or transfem.

3. Felix exhibits stereotypically masculine behaviours every chance he gets.

This goes from wearing what is basically the Official Rich Boy Uniform (waistcoat, tie, black and white palette):

To certain mannerisms, like putting his feet on Gabriel’s desk to assert dominance against the guy who could literally snap him out of existence:

To the way he perceives himself: a cursed prince from a twisted fairytale, who systematically places himself in the role of the protector (even if it’s not always appreciated by the people in his life).

To me, this sliiightly over-the-top behaviour is very reminiscent of a child who just figured out something huge about their identity and is exploring it to the fullest — to find out what it truly means to them, and which aspects they want to incorporate into their life.

Which leads me to the most important point:

4. The Peacock Miraculous! 💜🦚

Deeply associated with Felix’s reclamation of his safety, freedom and bodily autonomy. And when we think about peacocks, what do we think about?

Colourful feathers. Panache. Ostentation (this is literally what groups of peafowls are called). A conception of masculinity that is different from social standards in most of the Western world, but is there and bold and unapologetic.

We don’t get to see Felix using the brooch for the first time — even his mum, who he trusts with everything, is absent. He needs this privacy to come to terms with his powers and make them his.

But then, when we do get to see him transform — everybody else witnesses it too. Felix goes from hiding behind Adrien’s face, ergo disguising as someone he is not, to revealing his identity to both the audience and the entirety of Paris.

This is Argos embracing who he truly is, even if the world might call him monstrous.

And finally, one more point:

5. Why would Tomoe prefer a model over a quasi-prince as a potential match for her daughter?

I get it — she has a partnership going on with Gabriel. But the woman is leagues smarter than him (What? Like it’s hard?) and could most likely find another way to turn the world into her own little dystopian dream, should she want to. Not to mention, even if Adrien is a catch by most people’s standards, he is still the bane of the GDV lineage.

Felix is the heir. Felix is just as wealthy, if not wealthier than the Agrestes. Felix is the best at everything he does (chess, horse-riding, karate) and as such should be a perfect fit for Kagami, even by Tomoe’s insanely high standards.

Yet, she keeps referring to him as this corrupting influence: not because he is a supervillain (she hangs out with them on the regular), but because he might whisper dangerous ideas about ✨ freedom ✨ and ✨ bodily autonomy ✨ in her sweet daughter’s ear while they make out dressed as Adrien’s parents. We know how important femininity is to the Tsurugi lineage: Duusu forbid this monster talks Kagami into rejecting it in any form.

So, there you have it, Anon. I’m sure there’s a lot of evidence to support other interpretations, but this is the one that resonates most with my brain! 💜🦚🏳️‍⚧️

Can’t believe I almost forgot:

“Felix” literally means happiness and luck: a weird choice from Colt, and it’s unlikely Amelie had any say in the matter. So when Argos says:

“Isn’t it great? We have everything we need to be happy!”

It very much sounds like his first name could be a conscious reclamation on his end!

[hotvintagepoll]

Tony Curtis Operation Petticoat, Some Like It Hot, The Defiant Ones, Trapeze)—He Scrungles! He jumps around and his face crumples! He scrungles in a uniform, he scrungles in drag! He scrungles in black and white, he scrungles in colour! He scrungles in in tragedy, he scrungles in comedy! He scrungles on the big screen, he scrungles on TV! He manages to be athletic, dynamic, a beautiful man really, and yet... and yet, he *scrungles.* He's pathetic, he's a poor little meow meow, he's got the puppy eyes and he's at his most charming when he's awkward, and he manages to look small, always. HOW? Because he's the Scrungliest :D

Mantan Moreland (Mr. Washington Goes to Town, Cabin in the Sky)—i love mantan moreland SO. MUCH. and he is the pERFECT scrungly little guy!!!!! like a lot of black actors at the time he was always getting sidelined into small parts, but unusually he also managed to become a star in his own right and was almost one of the three stooges! he was a groundbreaking comedic actor known for his distinctive stare (very good for the horror movies he did), and he always is way more fun to watch on screen than anyone else. he had a famous double-act where he perfected this technique of non-conversations (where both people keep finishing each other's sentences before any actual information is conveyed). a lot of his movies are free on youtube and i really enjoy seeing him do his silly little guy thing in all of them!!! anyways yeah please include mantan he deserves some recognition as peak scrungle

This is round 2 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you're confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Mantan Moreland:

here's his double act in action!! [editor's note: Benson Fong cameo too!]

He just had a scrungly look about him and he played big with his roles so any of it became especially scrungly. Plus he was very funny in the way only scrungly people can be.

the FUNNEST GUY TO WATCH ON SCREEN. he was an immensely gifted physical comedian, able to convey loads with his eyes, and while some of his parts are so sad and cringeworthy, I feel like he always brought a humanity and humor that lifted them beyond cheap stereotype.

Tony Curtis:

WET and PATHETIC (and chained to Sidney Poitier, to boot!) in the Defiant Ones. Also the film will break your heart. Enjoy!