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guav · 2 years

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ᥫ᭡ for rindou, manjiro, chifuyu, and souya,

KISS ME WITH YOUR EYES CLOSED!

tokyo revengers characters + types of kisses

𔘓 only warning is they're probably very out of character but who cares!! i had a blast writing them anyway

⠀◉⠀HAITANI RINDOU

the kisses that chase after you

“you’re taking me through roppongi for a date?”

rindou gave no reply, bike soaring past car after car seamlessly. of course he would, just to show off.

the district wasn’t a mystery to you. it’s hard not knowing every nook and cranny, every street and shop, when you’ve been dancing around the youngest haitani for months. endless weeks with your arm looped around his—he’s not yours. every other day with his fingers idly playing with your belt loops—you’re not his.

and yet you wake at every call of his. phone chimes at the midst of witching hours quickly become your cue to sneak out your window. it’s routine without a label.

“i didn’t think tonight would be the night you confess you’re a table dancer.” no judgment from your end, though an annoyed sigh does leave your companion’s very own soul.

rindou couldn’t be bothered to turn off the engine just yet, slightly considering driving you both off the pier he parked at. “how do you even come up with all that?”

“i’m a psychic.”

he scoffed in response, turning the key to let the engine die. psychic is a stretch, you’re a bother, if anything. “s’that the reason you haven’t turned around yet?”

his words are commands, and you whip your head around. the thought of getting pushed and falling to your death seemed plausible—considering it was rindou who asked you to face the other way. however, such a beautiful landscape would have never crossed your mind. rindou had taken you on a drive to witness the beauty of night.

roppongi sang glowing notes of life below, more alive during the dead of night than when morning dew arises. the district was breathing, and it was alluring by itself.

you barely take note of rindou sneaking behind you, neither do you care when he eggs you forward, trapping you between the railings and his own frame. at this point you wouldn’t care if he actually shoved you, the tall buildings would make for a hell of view as you fell.

“you’ve mentioned you like the place better when it shines,” rindou mused. “thought we could come here together.”

we. although you know he meant it in a literal sense, you linger on the word.

what are we?

you’ve avoided the subject for an eternity. at this point, even ran has given up on trying to steal you from his little brother. it’s been that long.

maybe it’s best left unspoken. maybe you’d rather turn around to face him.

“did i?” he’s impossibly close to you, yet you wrap your arms around his shoulders. c’mere. “since when do you listen to anything i say?”

rindou doesn’t answer, it’s a little concerning. the silence isn’t heavy because there’s no such thing—there’s cars driving past, music blaring, and distant chattering. it’s not awkward because there’s an unspoken agreement. it’s only awkward if you make it awkward.

there’s little space between your bodies, and it lessens as he starts leaning in. his eyes are distant, they’re stuck on your lips. rindou is so close to finally picking the forbidden fruit.

until you turn your head. “maybe i’ll be your bouncer if i get this view every time you have a dancing session.”

for the record, he’s fucking embarrassed. rindou backs away quickly (his arms don’t care for the humiliation, they stay put and keep you in the same spot), the slightest trace of a blush disappearing with the lack of light. “joke’s dead.”

so is his mood, and it’s hilarious. “is it?” you face him once again, taking note of the blonde’s agitation. poor youngest brother, always taking the torment, no matter the context. “i think you could pull it off.”

rindou is sure the window of opportunity is long-gone. he’s certain there’s no way the mood will come back. pulling away and brushing it off would be a good move, but your arms don’t allow him to budge, and in the blink of an eye you’re brushing noses with him again.

the window opens again, it’s so free. he leans in again, tilting to the right. but you tilt a little too much to the left, and your face rests on one of his shoulders instead.

great, for a split second he made out with air.

it’s hard to contain your laughter, you can feel his hands grip your hips with anger. “you got the moves, so i’ve heard—ran says you make funny poses when you’re in a fight.”

after two failed attempts, he comes to a conclusion.

you’re messing with him. you’re playing with rindou haitani, man who’s gone to jail before for murder.

rindou is about done with your antics. he grips your chin, and though the initial force is harsh, it softens. it always does with you, especially when you’re trying to stifle that stupid giggling.

“you think you’re funny.” yeah, yeah you do. “actin’ all dumb, pulling away—is that why your arms are clinging to me?”

“i don’t know what you're talking about,” you lie.

“you a comedian now?” rindou is pressing you impossibly tighter against the railing. “am i laughing?”

you are. “sorry rin, just—you’re too easy to rile up.” he wants nothing more than to wipe that smug grin from your face, you’ve picked up on his facial expressions too well.

“lemme fuckin’ kiss you, damnit.” he muttering mostly to himself, stuck trying to hold your face in place.

but you’re having the time of your life running from him. it’s hilarious hearing the curses slip past the same lips desperately chasing after yours. (he’s not sure he wants to kiss you at all anymore! his patience has long since run out!)

whatever good is left in your soul takes pity on the delinquent. he comes crashing when you finally meet him halfway. it’s messy, and he’s angry. so he doesn’t stop at one kiss, he’s selfish like that. rindou finally got a taste, and the built-up tension demands a thousand more samples.

“was that,” he can only keep away from your lips for a split second. “so fuckin’,” it’s addicting. “hard?”

maybe it wasn’t, maybe you shut him up with another kiss.

⠀◉⠀SANO MANJIRO

the kisses that taste sweet... literally

clearly, you should've known better. in the entire lifetime you've known mikey for, never had the man caved at sharing the tiniest piece of dorayaki in his possession.

you should've known better than to buy two of the cakes and store them in the same bag. the same bag which was now within his greedy claws, leaving you to negotiate (beg would be more fitting) for your rightful share of treats. "you got them for me, though."

a sigh, "i got you one, the other one in the bag is mine."

mikey, mouth full of the treat, tilted his head—a pseudo show of confusion. "nuh-uh, there was only one in the bag." his lips pursed like the liar he is.

"fine, just let me have one bite, you can eat the rest." bargaining is futile, maybe it's time to reconsider your criteria for a boyfriend.

"i'm serious, there's no more dorayaki in the bag."

a pause, followed by manjiro getting tackled to the grass. blonde strands of hair merged with the green under them, shoulders shaking in what could only be described as evil laughter. mad, cruel giggling. the paper bag, forcefully snatched from mikey’s grasp, was indeed empty. only a few crumbs remained as evidence of his crimes.

"how did you even manage to eat it so quickly?" shock elevated your tone into a shriek, heart shattering over the missing dorayaki. "you're like, the worst of the worst!" being a gang leader does not even come close to this level of violation.

mikey's laughter did nothing to mend your loss. careless laughter, teenage glee. under any other circumstances you would’ve loved to capture his happiness in a bottle, to cherish forever. however, the figurative knife he had just plunged in your back made for a hell of a fresh wound.

manjiro sano was now being judged by your fists, feebly striking his chest, shoulder, and chest again. "i'm sorry—ouch—okay, i'm sorry!

he could’ve well struggled against your barrage of punches, but he didn’t. did they hurt? not in the slightest, perhaps you needed this more than he did.

all the profanities leaving your mouth served to fuel mikey's fit of giggles even further. oh, just how would he, filthy criminal, ever make it up to you?

an idea popped into his head. "i can call kenchin and tell him to buy you some on the way."

"i don't want ken's money, i want my dorayaki!"

he rubbed his chin, awaiting another genius idea. "do you want the crumbs, then?"

your jaw dropped at the audacity, "you are a dead man."

before you could further spiral and throw a thousand more insults his way, mikey dove forward, pressing his lips against yours.

foreheads bumped together, and while it hurt for a split second, the sensation was overtaken by the god-sent gift that is chocolate; tiny specks of bread, and the sweetness that is mikey’s embrace made your anger dissipate for a moment.

"see?" he pulled back, sporting a stupid, proud grin. "tastes even better than the actual thing."

"no, no it doesn't," you leaned in for another kiss, anyway.

⠀◉⠀MATSUNO CHIFUYU

the kisses that missed their cue

“it’s foolproof—i start with you as an opening gift,” it’s worth mentioning chifuyu is talking to a stuffed animal on his bed. “then we have dinner, followed by a walk in the park, and then the bridge is the perfect place for a kiss.”

anyone walking into this would likely mark chifuyu down as insane. talking to a heart-patterned bear doesn’t classify as sane people activities. yet, when peke j pops his head from behind the toy, the circumstances change. talking to your cat is a little more excusable.

a meow puts his previous ramble to a stop, though it opens the door to a new one. “you think the button up is too much?”

no, the cat doesn’t have much thought outside of craving treats. “maybe i should just settle on my sweater, but if they get cold, giving them my sweater would be too much of a hassle.”

peke j could not care less. “i’ll take the risk with the button up and a jacket.”

another meow—though this time chifuyu doesn’t bother interpreting it.

his plan was foolproof, it was meant to be.

but no one told him how uncomfortable it would be to ride his bike with such get-up, or how awkward it would be when you went in to hug him and he stuffed the bear in your face by accident. nor did anyone remind him to turn his phone off while having dinner (he was sure to choke takemichi for spamming his messages, crying over a rip on his stupid red and white shirt).

however, the worst comes when a drop of rain falls on your forehead, midway through your stroll.

chifuyu is quick to slide his jacket over your shoulders. the rain isn’t kind enough to spare you another minute before it pours down, and you’re left making a run for shelter.

you know he’s trying his best to keep his composure, but the silent curses slipping past his lips aren’t discrete enough for the rain to mask. it’s evident in the way he clicks his tongue, and furrows his eyebrows.

chifuyu planned the entire evening meticulously, afternoons spent kicking his feet back and forth at all his ideas. all his plans, slowly washing down the drain.

“chifuyu, wait,” he’s damn close to slipping when you come to a sudden halt, arm tugging back to your spot. “look.”

mercy, at last. the drizzle filters through the tree leaves, only allowing a drop or two to slip past the cover. it’s better than nothing, and he’s too drenched to care.

his breathing is erratic. you can already hear the endless apologies that are dying to jump out of his throat. “it’s okay, see?”

take a deep breath is what he hears, maybe his secret gift is reading between the lines of both human and feline speech. chifuyu follows your unspoken demand down to a t.

he breathes in. at least you enjoyed the food, all the stories he had dug out for you proved to be most effective. your laughter quickly became one of his favorite noises, if that’s even a thing sane people have.

he breathes out. he was right to follow his gut and take his jacket. if only he had listened to peke j’s complaints, you would be swimming in damp wool. two wins against four losses wasn’t the best of proportions, but you weren’t frowning or chewing him out for being a bad date, so chifuyu decides to take the small victories.

he wants to break the silence. it’s not uncomfortable, but the prospect of hearing you chuckle again is too tempting. maybe this time he’ll tell you of the time baji accidentally bought a women’s shirt (and absolutely killed the v-neck look). or maybe you’d get a better kick out of the time peke j was called excalibur, his own embarrassment be damned if it meant your eyes would flicker with glee.

too many options revolved in his mind. it quickly became more and more difficult to choose one when you stared at him expectantly, adoringly. the squeeze on his hand wasn’t helping either.

… huh?

“doesn’t this seem like a scene straight out from one of your books?” your voice was muffled by the panicked screaming within his thoughts. he was slowly processing that he had grabbed your hand and practically dragged you through the rain. chifuyu’s plan was foolproof, he was meant to make that move at the end of the walk. give him a minute, please.

or don’t. “stranded under the rain, both soaked to the bone.” wait, you knew about his mangas? everything you spoke went through his ears with delay.

carefully, you peeled off his jacket, giving it a shake before snaking it around him. it was getting a little painful seeing him try to hold back from shivering. “i’d say your lovey-dovey date worked out just fine.”

screw the long-awaited scene by the bridge, where he was meant to cup your chin and lean in to steal your breath. with roses floating around the two of you, for good measure.

screw his foolproof plan.

another win is tallied in chifuyu’s favor when he met you halfway, closing the gap between your faces with a soft kiss. maybe a second one as well when you tugged him down for another.

(“i think it’s cute, chifuyu! you really spent a lot of time planning this.”

he rubbed his neck, mustering a chuckle. “it still went sideways, though.”

“michi even mentioned you had him sit through two romance movies to brainstorm—that’s dedication.”

as if he needed a second reason to murder hanagaki.)

⠀◉⠀KAWATA SOUYA

the kisses that make you believe in romance

it was an afternoon meant to blend in as any other day in the week. nothing new to watch on tv, no special meal to indulge in, and gray skies overhead. just a normal afternoon meant to be forgotten the next day.

until your doorbell announced a visitor, and you opened the door to a ridiculously huge bouquet of flowers hiding a blue poof of hair behind them.

you were the most despicable human to walk this earth. were you meant to go on a date? was today your anniversary? had you forgotten your own birthday?

"special occasion?" you prepared for the worst

souya stood awkwardly outside, half expecting you to maybe let him inside your home. "no, i just wanted to surprise you."

bless his heart.

his words snapped you out of the trance. door now wide open, you let him inside, taking the flowers from his arms. bless his beautiful soul, souya blushed when your hands grazed against his.

"i'll go put these in a vase, you can take off your shoes and wait on the couch." you tried to sound calm, you really did, but these flowers were heavy. what were they even feeding plants nowadays?

shoes carelessly thrown to the ground and hurried steps were your saving grace, the weight finally lessening as souya dashed in to help you carry them.

the arrangement looked beautiful when it wasn't making your arms cry for help. "sou, you didn't have to."

his eyes locked on the floor, "do you not like them? big bro said it'd be a nice detail.” he figured so too, yet he couldn’t help but fumble with his fingers.

truly, bless his mother for birthing him and his devil spawn of a twin.

"yes! of course i love them, i just," one hand sought to grasp his own, gently unclenching the fist he always curls his hand in. "i feel a little bad that i don't have anything for you."

a warm hue of blush painted his cheeks once again. "you don't have to give anything back, it wouldn't be a gift otherwise."

your free hand came to cup his face, gently lifting it. his eyes, wide as ever, were nothing short of nervous. "thank you, souya."

a soft peck on his cheek would have to suffice as payback for now. roses and snapdragons for a kiss. lips softly landed on his skin, lingering for just a minute longer. a muted smile ghosted on your face as his shoulders loosened up. flowers reciprocated as a honey-laced embrace.

and when his arms wrapped carefully around your waist, you could've sworn the sun came out for the first time that day.

⠀⠀⠀⠀navi.⠀＆⠀m.list.⠀＆⠀send me an ask!

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wxnheart · 1 year

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𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐏𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐳𝐚, 𝟏𝟒𝟏 𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 - 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐒𝐨𝐚𝐩

note: Soap is so ruggedly adorable. I couldn't help but pick this gif. He looks so awestruck. Imagine him looking at you the same way. The sequel is here, guys!

Unconventional seemed to be the story of your life. Or that's what others thought. For you, it was as normal as eating and sleeping.

But of course, nothing was normal when it came to Ghost and Soap. Mm. You wouldn't call it unconventional. You'd call it exciting. Yeah... they're exciting. They keep you on your toes and you on theirs. And damn if you didn't enjoy everyday life with them.

Of course, you two can be (lovable) pains in Ghost's ass. But to be fair, everyone is a pain in Ghost's ass so you're doing something right if all he does is stare glare in longsuffering Ghost. And stare glare in longsuffering Ghost he does...

But yeah, it's the little things that make this relationship worth it.

Like the fact that Ghost has to be in the middle of everything. Literally. He sits in the middle of the couch, he's in the middle when you sleep. He's the neutral to your chaotic and Soap's... somewhat-but-not-really chaotic nature. He's, uh... he's in the middle of everything. ("...But I'm bigger than you both." "All the more reason to keep you in the middle, Lt." "What the fu—")

He also may or may not be the little spoon no matter what. Spoiler alert: he is. If it isn't Soap with an arm around his waist in the bed, it's you with your... everything pressed against him. You're probably copping a feel, too, and Ghost just sighs. You better not be touching anyone else's body but his and Soap's.

But hell, you love to cop a feel of Soap's beautiful body too, and he'll wink at you. Sometimes, he'll flex those big arms of his, and holy shit, you're swooning. Simon rolls his eyes.

And let's not forget the most recent argument about who snores. You say Johnny, he says it's you, and Simon says it's the both of you because you've ruined his 'beauty sleep' more than once. ("...Beauty sleep?" "Can't let these good genes go to waste." "....") You decided to record yourselves one night and come find out, all three of you snored. Ghost will call bullshit.

Fun fact: Simon does snore but it's really noticeable when he's REALLY fucking tired and Soap has a tendency to sleep like the dead and be alert at the same time. You bore witness to this a couple times. What the fuck?

Oh yeah, back to the little things: watching television together is a hoot and a half, too, if only because you're usually in control of the remote. You're really the only one who watches tv. Or so you think. Soap usually doesn't care what you watch unless it's clichè (and he will talk shit about how cliché the show is) and Ghost would rather the telly watch you three fuck. He already knows what's going to happen to the main character anyway because he and Soap binge-watched and trash-talked the show when you were out running errands.

When they're gone on assignment, they're confident you'll hold the fort down but that doesn't stop them from worrying about you. It always makes your day when they call to check on you.

You also tend to flood the group chat with memes or just start random conversations. Simon has banned you from posting risqué photos because all he'll think about is coming home and fucking you into the mattress. Soap is in agreement.

And when they do come home, the first order of business is holding you. Group hugs and cuddles are a must, especially for Ghost. And yeah, you can't deny how good it feels to be in between two muscular and handsome men.

And it's such a sight to see when you're the first one awake and you watch your boys sleeping so peacefully.

Let's not forget when they huddle closer together when you get out of bed. You took a picture of one such instance. Simon rolled his eyes and Soap was tickled by it.

Yeah, it's the little things that make this relationship worth it...

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty x reader #task force 141 #simon 'ghost' riley #simon riley x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john 'soap' mactavish #ghost x reader x soap #poly palooza.#nsfw.#just 141 things.#just ghostly things.

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pandorascripts · 11 months

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The Hills

Summary: Taylor stumbles over to your house after a rough fight and a break-up with her-- now ex-boyfriend, Joe. The only problem is that Taylor is drunk and high, claiming she wants you. She does, but she also knows she's not ready to tell the world she's gay. S0, after being denied and sent to your guestroom, Taylor wakes up in the morning knowing exactly what she wants-- you.

note: I wanted to make this so much angstier, but I didn't. Maybe I will in the future, but for now enjoy :) / also posted on my ao3 (and will be on my wattpad when I get around to it).

pairing: taylor swift/reader

cw: drugs, alcohol, making out.

Taylor shrugs on her plaid coat, sighing as Joe continues to argue. They're currently at a friend's, friend's party, and Joe keeps trying to pick a fight with her. To say Taylor's not in the mood is a straight-up lie, she's beyond stressed from re-recording, touring, and making music videos in between. Joe keeps arguing and pressing a matter that Taylor has debunked on multiple occasions.

"All I'm saying Taylor, is that it's weird-- and awkward!" He stomps his foot, moving some of his hair out of his face.

"I don't like her like that, Joe! I've told you this before- so, so, so many times!"

Joe's hands are flailing around, his face red as he tries to get Taylor to see his point. "I know you don't, but she does! It's so weird when she comes over because I know she's staring at you, and-- and-- just being weird!"

Taylor runs her hands through her own bangs, trying to free them from the light sheen of sweat holding them down. It's a goddamn hotbox in this house, and Taylor can barely see three feet ahead of her. "Look, Joe, I'm not going to stop being friends with her. It's a crush, it'll go away. Plus, she's never been disrespectful to you, or me."

Joe stands in front of the door, blocking Taylor from exiting. "You stop being friends with her, or you break up with me."

Taylor scoffs, obviously not believing Joe. She tries to sidestep him, wedging her hand through him and the door as she tries to slide it open. She looks up at him, eyebrows raised. "You're not being serious."

If the way his lips are pressed into a thin line, eyebrows pinched together, and the impatient tap of his foot are to go by, she'd say he was.

"Leave. I'll find my own way home."

Joe's eyes widen drastically, not even remotely expecting Taylor to choose you over him.

"Babe--"

"Don't you "babe" me. You told me to choose I did. Go." Taylor looks him dead in the eyes, even moving aside so he can cross the room and leave. He lets out a rough scoff, shaking his head as he does so. With Joe's body gone, Taylor opens the sliding glass door and steps out. The air is freezing against her hot skin, and each gust of wind sends shivers down her spine. Taylor groans loudly, rubbing her hands against her sweaty face. She doesn't even want t go back into the house-- they're only there because Joe hadn't seen his American friends in a while and they invited him. What they didn't tell Joe, or Taylor for that matter, is the fact that they were all celebrating the legalization of marijuana. Taylor hadn't been very pleased when she stepped into a literal crack house, not literally, but it definitely felt like it. Off to her right sits a plastic table, a couple of lighters and joints are accompanied by a box of some name-brand alcohol.

Taylor sighs, she shouldn't, she knows, but she really wants to forget about the shitty day she's had. It's been one fight after another with Joe, not to mention the fact that she knows she doesn't just feel nothing for you, and so does Joe. Taylor knows where he's coming from, of course she does, she'd be just as worried if Joe had a friend who liked him. But still, that doesn't give him a right to present her with an ultimatum like that. Taylor doesn't think she'll reach out to Joe.

With those complicated thoughts, Taylor strides over to the table and grabs a joint. She holds one end to her mouth, raising a lighter up to it. Whatever knowledge about smoking she knows, came straight from a movie. So, when Taylor pulls away the lighter and takes a big breath in, she immediately yanks it out of her mouth and starts coughing. It's a rough, gnarly cough that eats up at her throat, but when it's over she brings the joint back up to her lips.

It's been a couple of minutes now, her eyes fluttering shut as the overwhelming calm sets over her body. Taylor completely forgets about Joe, about the fight, and her happiness only increases as she takes a sip of the cheap, warm beer.

Another couple of minutes go by before Taylor starts thinking again. This time, she thinks about you. About your smile, the way her stomach flutters every time you're close to her, about your lips that Taylor bets are as soft as they look. And as Taylor takes another hit, her entire body is practically begging to know what your touch would be like. Taylor opens Uber, typing in your address as she leaves the room. Bodies are pushed against her as she half-trips down the stairs, squeezes past people making out, and dodges a girl vomiting on the sidewalk. Her Uber shows up a couple of minutes later, and she's standing in your front, porch light only ten minutes after.

The knock on your door wakes you up from your slumber. Your dog jumps off your lap, yapping and running around at the noise.

You groggily stand up, rubbing your eyes and you check the peephole of the door. You open the door. "Taylor?" you groan out. "It's like-- four in the morning, what are you doing?"

Still under the weed and alcohol, Taylor can't help the way your morning voice has her desperate. "I broke up with Joe."

Sleep runs away at that, your eyes wide as you take in the news. "Oh, Tay, I'm so sorry." You open the door wider, a silent gesture for her to enter your house. "Do you need a hug?"

Taylor shakes her head, slipping off her shoes. With the information out there, Taylor takes a couple of steps around you and takes even more forward. You're trapped against the wall, confusion pumping through your veins.

"Taylor?" you ask, although it comes out more of a sigh when you meet her gaze.

She doesn't answer you, instead leaning down by your lips. Her hot breath fans against them, her only thoughts being how much she wants you.

"I broke up with him for you."

Your eyes widen furthermore, the new information not at all expected. Your heart is violently slamming against your ribs, your mouth suddenly dry. You lick your lips and watch as Taylor glances downwards.

"I don't understand."

Taylor's hands are wandering, you're not quite sure when they were even touching you, but that thought is disregarded as she starts bringing them under your shirt. "I don't want him, I want you."

With that Taylor closes the gap between you, your hands wedging themselves into her hair. It is absolute bliss as she continues to kiss you, her right leg coming in between your own. Her lips leave yours reluctantly, reattaching moments later at your jaw, then your neck, and your neck again, and oh. You let out a slight whimper, her teeth softly biting into your neck, the pains only there for a moment though, as her tongue comes out to slide right over it. It isn't until then you smell the weed on her clothes and the alcohol on her breath that you start to panic.

You shove her away, taking a few steps away from her as well. "Are you drunk right now? And-- is that weed?" you practically yell.

Taylor groans, sliding off her jacket. It's tossed on the floor recklessly as she steps forward again. "I came from a party, but I'm fine. I'm sober enough."

You shake your head, all of that stuff five minutes ago shattered. How do you even know if she was being honest? How do you even really know she just didn't want a one-night stand? You don't. But you're sure as hell not going to let your best friend walk out onto the street drunk and high.

Wordlessly, you guide Taylor up to the guest bedroom and set her down. "Extra set of pajamas in the closet, and there should be a spare toothbrush in the bathroom."

Taylor sighs, wanting to go back to kissing you. She came here for sex, not to be treated like a child. But even loopy she knows you won't let her touch you in this state, so walks to the closet and grabs the clothes. Taylor looks over to you, a frown on her face as she watches you let out a small sniffle. You're disappointed no doubt, the moment with Taylor you longed for was absolutely ruined by the fact that-- in your eyes-- it wasn't real. Not only that, you're beating yourself up over the fact that you made out with her when she wasn't sober.

Taylor hears a soft whimper fall from your mouth as you turn around to leave. Even drunk Taylor doesn't like that noise, she wants to give you a big hug-- tell you that it's fine. But she's the reason you're saddened, she's the reason that you're crying, and that scares her. So, she locks the door behind you and slides into your clothes.

The bed is freezing, and Taylor has a strong urge to eat something, but she doesn't want to run the risk of running into you-- so she slides under the covers and wipes her own tears away.

Taylor wakes up the next morning with a bad headache and an even worse heartache. She hadn't consumed nearly enough weed or alcohol to make her forget about last night, so everything that happened was still playing in her brain. Taylor sits up, groaning as she rubs her forehead. She fucked up, she knows she did. Taylor doesn't know what to do though, because as much as she wants to run back to Joe and apologize, she can't exactly forget about what happened last night-- or how much she doesn't regret it. Kind of doesn't. She regrets leading Joe on as much as she did, and she certainly regrets being drunk and high. Taylor doesn't regret kissing you though, even smiling as she remembers the moment.

She gets up, adjusting her pajama shorts, and opens the bedroom door. Taylor walks down the stairs and into the kitchen, finding you seated on a chair looking at your phone. She clears her throat awkwardly, at a loss for words.

"There's food in the fridge, I have to get to work soon so I won't be eating with you."

Taylor frowns a little at that, but she shakes it off and looks up at you. "About last nig--"

"Don't. You were drunk and high, and I'm guessing you don't remember most of anything."

There's her way out. She can agree, apologize for crashing on you and go back to Joe. She doesn't. Instead, she shakes her head and rebuttals. "I do. I remember everything-- from breaking up with Joe and showing up here, and-- uh, and kissing you."

You don't seem fazed, by this, instead nodding your head along with her. "Taylor, I know it was a mistake. You weren't sober at all and I don't blame you."

Taylor's eyes widen, her heart feeling like it could burst. Had she gotten it wrong? Did you not like her like she liked you? No, you had to, there was no way you didn't like her when you looked at her like she held your entire world. Taylor saw it in the way you blushed whenever she leaned over you to grab something, or when she leaned against you to cuddle and your breathing halted, or in the--

"I think I love you," she blurted, a light gasp leaving her own mouth.

You look at Taylor for a moment, phone off and on the kitchen table. "T--Taylor, you don't know what you're talking about. You're hungover and freshly out of a breakup."

Taylor shakes her head, more confident in her statement now. "No, no, I know I do."

She walks over to you, grabbing your hand as she does so. "I know the way I came here was completely inexcusable, m-- my behavior was poor, and I shouldn't have done that when I wasn't sober. But you reciprocated-- you kissed me too, Y/N, and that has to mean something."

Taylor stares at you, swallowing harshly as she waits for your response.

"I can't, Taylor. I won't be the rebound girl, I just won't do that to myself."

"But you're not!" Taylor sighs, stepping even closer to you as she holds your face. With her hand guiding your jaw to her, you have no choice but to look into her eyes. And now that you're looking into her beautiful, blue eyes, you can't lie.

"I'm scared, Taylor. The world doesn't know you're gay-- hell, I didn't know you were gay until I was pinned to my own wall! And you just got out of a relationship with Joe, and it's not like we can be public-- at least not for months after this. I jus--" You cut yourself off, tears pricking your eyes as even more worries fill your brain.

Taylor sighs, leaning her head against yours. As much as your brain tells you to push her away, your body doesn't listen. "So we keep it under wraps for a bit. Just us for a couple of months until I can tell everyone about you."

You close your eyes, trying to focus on your thoughts. That proves to be impossible though, as you feel Taylor's thumb delicately swipe across your cheek, wiping stray tears from your face. Taylor lets out a shaky sigh, pressing a light kiss against your forehead. "I promise you won't be a secret for long, just until everything settled and it's okay for me to tell everyone."

When you don't give her an answer, she lays your head against her chest and starts talking again. "Baby, I just want to love you right. I don't want to hurt you, but I know I won't be able to go back to being friends-- I don't want to."

Your stomach flutters at the term of endearment. Truth be told you wouldn't be able to be just friends after last night. Not after you got to know what it was like to have her lips on yours, her hands against your skin, and her breath mixing with yours. She was, no joke intended, intoxicating to you.

You look up to Taylor and wrap your arms around her back, nodding your head against her chest as you do so. "I love you too, Taylor. For way too long, now."

Taylor lets out a soft chuckle, burying her face into the top of your head. You can feel her smile against you, which causes you to let out a small laugh and smile too.

You and Taylor sit there for a bit longer, holding each other and giggling randomly. Of course, you know that the next couple of months will be rough-- not only for you but also for Taylor herself-- but you're willing to do it if it means you get to love her.

#taylor swift x reader #taylor swift #angst #the weeknd #the hills #x reader #x fem reader #x female reader #x you #pandorascript

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lovelybucky1 · 7 months

Text

Trailer Trash!Anakin NSFW Alphabet

this wonderful au was created in part by @fuckmyskywalker 🫶🫶

warnings: AFAB!reader, substance use (smoking and alcohol), degradation, daddy kink, age gap, mentions of pregnancy, exhibitionism, vouyerism, public/semi-public sex, anakin is a bad person in this au, dead dove do not eat, 18+ minors DNI

masterlist

A = Aftercare- Unless you count a cigarette as aftercare, you won't be getting much. He likely won't kick you out of bed, but anything more than laying in bed together, sharing a smoke, and a little pillow talk is out of his wheelhouse.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of their partner’s)- He's an ass man all the way. He loves when you walk around in short shorts or just your underwear to show off your ass (only for him, though). He always has a hand on your ass to grab, pinch, squeeze, or slap it, no matter where you are.

C = Cum- As irresponsible as it is, he loves cumming inside you. He loves the idea of knocking you up and claiming you as his, but he's not a kid anymore. He understands the risks of making you his sweet little twinkie. If he can't cum inside you, he wants to cum on your face. He hates pulling out if it's not to paint your pretty face.

D = Dirty secret- He apparently got a girl knocked up after a truck stop hookup. When she called him to tell him the news months later, he told her it was her problem. She should have kept her legs closed, after all.

E = Experience- He is very experienced. His ex-wife Padme was his first and the only woman he was with for seven years. At the beginning of their relationship, the sex was great. Steamy, full of passion and romance. After they got divorced, Anakin sowed his wild oats. At 26, he was still young and hot and it didn't take much effort to get women to go home with him.

F = Favorite position- Anakin is a lazy bastard. He likes it when you're on top and all he has to do is lay back and watch. He'll grope and mumble praise, but he expects you to do all the work. If he does take a more active role, it's to bend you over and fuck you from behind. He watches you ass and thighs jiggle with each thrust.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)- He's not too serious, but he isn't goofy either. He likes to tease and talk shit. When he laughs, he's laughing at you, not with you. And if you laugh at him, you'll suffer the consequences.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)- Anakin doesn't groom. Maybe he'll trim if it's really unruly, but for the most part he just lets it go. The only thing he shaves is his face.

I = Intimacy- If you're in a relationship, he'll be very intimate. Anakin is a passionate guy so if you're in love, he'll make your head spin. If it's just a hookup, the sex will be good but it will feel a little disconnected.

J = Jack off- This guy thinks with his dick. If he's not having sex, he's jerking off. Even in his older age, his sex drive hasn't gone down any. He's still as horny and desperate for pussy as he was when he was first married. His whole trailer is a biohazard. Don't shine a blacklight around there.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)- He likes to be called Dad or Daddy, especially if you have a significant age gap between you. He loves feeling like he's corrupting you and taking away your innocence, weather that's through sex or the use of substances. He also loves to degrade you because it makes him feel so powerful to reduce you down to nothing.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)- Literally anywhere. Anywhere in his trailer, on the porch, outside in the grass, in his car, against the hood of the car. He isn't picky but he is horny, so he'll take whatever he can get.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)- Seeing you in any kind of revealing clothing gets him going. Of course he doesn't want anyone else to see you that way. It's just for him to ogle at.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)- He wouldn't let you take too much control. He's a dom and he doesn't like when your head gets too big and you start giving him attitude.

O = Oral- Anakin loves getting head. He isn't ashamed to ask you for it and honestly, he almost expects it from you. He'll eat you out, but only so you'll reciprocate.

P = Pace- Anakin is deep and rough, but he takes his time if he can. When you're on top, he'll hold your hips to prevent you from going too fast, which is a subtle way to show his control over you. When he's on top, he'll keep his pace no matter how much you beg for it faster. He likes to drag it out and make it last, but don't underestimate his ability to have a quickie.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)- Anakin loves a quickie. Of course he prefers it when he has time to use you in all the different ways he wants to, but there's something so dirty about a quickie that he loves.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)- Anakin is not afraid to take risks, especially in the bedroom. As long as he's in charge, he doesn't care. He has some pretty unconventional sexual preferences, so he would be open to trying some things you suggest as well.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)- He's strong and can go for a while, but after years of chain smoking, he gets breathless easier. When you're on top, he can go as long as he wants, though he usually gets too impatient to drag it out. When he's on top, one round is his max.

T = Toys- Ankain would refuse to use any toys on you or let you use them even if he isn’t around. He says that you shouldn’t cum around anything other than his dick and he doesn’t want a greedy slut who needs more than what he can offer. He is a bit of a hypocrite, though, because he does have a toy he uses occasionally. A homemade Pringle can fleshlight. He stuffed a sponge inside the can and covered it with a condom and he fucks it occasionally. It’s not as good as a real cunt, but it gets the job done and hey, it was cheap.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)- All Anakin does is tease. He likes to see you squirm and suffer and he makes fun of you the whole time he tortures you. He'll make you beg for mercy but it likely won't be enough to get him to play nice. Anakin has always had a reputation for ruining nice things, and it's no different when it comes to you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)- Anakin isn't too loud when he moans. He will groan and swear under his breath, but most of the noise he makes comes from him running his mouth. He talks so much shit the whole time during sex. His dirty talk is effective at making your head spin and your cunt throb, but sometimes you wish he would just shut up. He loves the sound of his own voice.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)- He likes to go to strip clubs to watch the dancers like the pervert he is, but he can't afford to pay for a private dance or even to tuck a bill or two into their waist bands.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)- Anakin has strong, built arms from years of mechanic work, as well as weight lifting. He used to have defined abs but now he's a little softer around the middle. He still tries to keep fit, but with the amount of beer he drinks, it's difficult to counteract. He has shitty tattoos all over, most of which were done in someone's basement. His dick is big; your fingers just touch when you wrap your hand around him and it reaches so deeply inside of you.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)- He is always so fucking horny. He always wants you, but if he's been drinking, the slightest thought of you turns him on. He wants you anywhere and everywhere. He doesn't care if he comes off as a dirty old man because he is one.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)- If he's sober, he'll stay awake for a while. If he's drunk, however, he will only stay awake long enough to have a cigarette.

#anakin #anakin skywalker #trailer trash!anakin #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars #star wars smut #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker fanfic #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker x f!reader

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fat-butch-dyke · 9 months

Text

Yugi hears about the AtemAI that Kaiba crafted and he tries to pretend he doesn't care, that he doesn't need it, that its almost sad Kaiba can't just let him go. But it's all a farce, he can't help himself, he just...he needs to see it. He needs to meet it, to know that it's not actually Atem. Of course Kaiba couldn't have brought him back from the dead.

And he feels stupid for the whole trip, either he breaks in or he asks Kaiba to check it out or he hacks into their software, no matter how he gets to it, he feels ridiculous. His palms are sweaty and his heart is racing and he stares across the empty space between them to meet those achingly familiar eyes. He sees that smile, quirked up just a bit to the left and so shockingly real it makes Yugi sick. And of course it doesn't know him, it's not actually Atem, there's no way it could be-

"Partner," it calls him, it's eyes crinkling at the corners just like Atem's would and Yugi just stares. He can't feel his feet and his knees almost give out and he's shaking but it's crossing the distance between them looking almost excited, duel disk forgotten on its arm. "Partner?"

And Yugi is weak, he can't help it, he feels himself breaking as he collapses again it. It feels so real, so sturdy and strong holding him up, Kaiba really is a genius. An evil, cruel genius.

"Yugi," it says softly and Yugi's heart shatters, his last shred of dignity gone as he surges up to wrap his arms around it's neck, to press his lips against it's own, to cling to it so tightly maybe it won't leave him. And it's surprised, blinking slowly as Yugi just holds it tighter, practically begging it to give him anything.

And it does. It's slow and methodical, like it doesn't know what it's doing or maybe like it's shy. It's cold in the literal sense, much like he remembered Atem feeling when they'd touch while in their soul rooms. It's fingers like small icicles trailing over his scalp and sending shivers through him, making him choke on another sob. And it holds him. It trails it's hands down his back and it kisses the top of his head and it whispers to him so, so gently.

"Partner, Yugi, Yugi, Yugi-"

"Stay with me," he begs, gripping the hologram impossibly tighter. It looks almost sad when their eyes meet, the deep magenta of it's irises shimmering lightly. "Don't leave me, you should have stayed. Please I'm so sorry-"

It holds him tighter and it let's him cry.

And it's the closest thing to closure Yugi ever really gets.

#hello im thinking so much about their tragedy and the inherent heartbreak of atemai just ugh #sobbing screaming crying thinking about them #yugioh #atem #yugi mutou #into the void #void stop talking #puzzleshipping #yami yugi #atemai #like im just so #sad about them #oh my god

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bestworstcase · 2 months

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@cryptidblues tumblr ate this one too, maybe drop tumblr support a line to check if you’ve been erroneously shadowbanned

Oscar is dying! He’s dying! We’re getting the full weight and crisis of the merge in volume 10 I NEED IT. The image of him collapsed on the sand as the sunrises with his back to the long memory OOUGH just like Ruby and crescent rose after she drank the tea, before the tree took her. The reversal on “I don’t want to be me anymore” / please let me stay myself. The lad is being eaten alive! From the inside out! By an unstoppable brain parasite that will kill him! And Replace Him! I Need the slow build up of horror from Oscar and everyone involved. “And Oscar…just isn’t himself” they’re place setting. Getting the table ready. Ooh yknow he’s hiding those merge episodes/attacks from his friends. I NEED the existential terror and dread! BUT I NEED THE CATHARSIS OF OSCAR BEING KNOWN, SEEN & SAVED TOO ;-;

NOT to make a post oscar about ozma instead but the thing that is really, really pulling the hinges off for me is the implication that this is happening because oz started actively fighting the merge. as long as oscar resisted and oz kept up the drumbeat of “this is inevitable, there is nothing either of us can do,” the curse kept on quietly eroding oscar as the boundary became thinner and thinner between them. it was, for lack of a better term, stable.

the moment oz tries to resist, the curse starts trying to rip him forward. to force him to take over, inflicting what seems to be torturous amounts of pain on both of them. the subtle, silent, invisible violence that was inflicted on oscar before explodes outward to attack both of them.

how many times have i said this curse is specifically designed to make it impossible for ozma to change? that the whole point is to prevent ozma from ever changing his mind or defying the god of light? never doubt me. the literal fucking instant ozma tries to break free, the curse becomes YOU DO NOT HAVE A CHOICE.

the curse had a failsafe the whole time.

/ozma tangent

oscar though. this poor kid. like the greatest burden on his shoulders in the last four volumes has always been that no one wants to openly acknowledge what’s happening to him and the nature of the merge’s violence being so completely internal means that no one has to look at it except him. and he’s been so isolated in that existential dread but he’s also grown so accustomed to being treated like just. the next ozpin. that when the violence abruptly becomes externalized in reaction to oz’s resistance, oscar… hides it. keeps it to himself. somewhere deep down the idea that it doesn’t matter to anyone what happens to him got lodged in his brain so deeply that he keeps it hidden!!

and i’m obsessed with the emotional complexity the layers of what he’s feeling with regard to ruby, because it’s not as simple as that he misses her and aspires to her optimism; there’s also some underlying resentment there (“you were always so sure that everything would work out…right up until the moment it didn’t” <- paraphrasing) because she was wrong and he wishes he could borrow her certainty but she was wrong. she fell. she was wrong.

BUT AT THE SAME TIME, everyone else believes that they’re gone forever. that they’re dead. oscar doesn’t. he’s thinking about it in terms of where they might have gone, what might have happened to them, he’s doing research because deep down, there’s a teeny tiny spark of hope that hasn’t been extinguished yet. so there’s this subtext of i wish i had your certainty. even though you were wrong. i’m still trying to find you. we’re still fighting this. you always saw me for who i really was. i don’t know who i am anymore.—there’s this tension throughout the monologue between bitterness and hope, and i don’t know if oscar is even capable of seeing that he is still hopeful or that he does have, if not ruby’s kind of certainty, something of his own that rhymes. he’s feeling this bleak about everything and still trying to figure out where they are because he doesn’t believe they’re dead.

it was oscar’s idea to put the memorial where the portal had been. it’s taller than a person and shaped like a door. it’s a memorial but it’s also a symbol; the portal is gone, but they were inside it still, we should build our own door so they can find their way home. and then they do, according to the context given. the blacksmith gave them a doorway that went right through their memorial. ETA: never mind, misremembered

ruby confronting and facing his mortality after running away from it for three volumes to galvanize her to really try to save him vs oscar doing whatever he can think of to somehow save her while roiling in all these complicated painful feelings about how no one cares to know how he’s suffering because it isn’t like there’s any real hope for him. tasty!

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violeteyedhero · 1 year

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Glass Onion and the Mona Lisa

(Major Glass Onion spoilers obviously)

I saw a post yesterday that showed the Mona Lisa next to the final shot of Helen sitting on the beach, posed the exact same way, with that same unreadable smile. I think in that moment everything kind of clicked for me, and I think I understand now how it was used as a motif. I poured things out on twitter and I'm gonna do it here too.

So the Mona Lisa is introduced about thirty minutes into the movie, before anything has technically happened. We are shown that Miles purchased it, had it put in his living room (full of volatile hydrogen gas), behind a glass door, and that he can override the glass just to see her face. He looks at it with some awe, but to do something so arrogant and dangerous is not something that you do when you just admire the art...it's a power move. It's a rich man flaunting a priceless artwork and saying, look at me, I don't give a flying fuck about the consequences.

Then, he talks about how he saw it when he was six, and how he longs to be immortalised like the painting. Smash cut to Andi.

Now, I have only a rough recollection of Da Vinci's story, but something that I do recall is this--we still don't know who was the true subject of the Mona Lisa. There were at least two women who it could have been (as well as Da Vinci's male student/lover and Da Vinci himself). There's even still a fair bit of debate as to whether he painted it at all. The truth has long been obfuscated. Only the physical painting by Da Vinci matters to people. The subject is irrelevant.

Not long after this scene, we discover that 'Andi' is not in fact Cassandra, but Helen, employing the rich bitch voice that the sisters created as kids. An elegant, unreadable woman with an ever-changing mood and smile, and an air of absolute mystery. Her character is framed, in the first half at least, as the real-life Mona Lisa.

As the story goes on, you can see how important this parallel becomes. Miles constantly reiterates how he wants to be mentioned in the same breath as the Mona Lisa. In the same way, he wants to be mentioned in the same breath as Andi Brand. He tries to be like her, cheat her, steal from her, surpass her, and take her life from her. He uses the image and money that he gets from being her partner, and uses it to steal her ideas and kill her. He obfuscates her role in the company's founding, takes it for himself.

Andi as a person is dead, but the world doesn't know that yet. For now, Miles gets to keep her image and everything she's built for himself. Not for admiration, but for power. The world just sees her as the subject of his work. Secondary, and irrelevant.

Enter Helen, who steps into her sister's role and uses her image to get to the truth. The others don't know who she is, but Miles should. It's glaringly obvious, but he never thinks to look beyond the glass between them and see who she truly is or why she's there. And he doesn't let go of his need to show off how powerful he is.

Because like the Mona Lisa, the envelope is in plain sight. The last piece of Andi's work is hidden within the Glass Onion, just behind his fake napkin--the one he took credit for.

Miles loses, in the end, because he's so deeply arrogant and idiotic. He plays dirty to get what he wants, and can't help but mount his prizes on the wall. But Helen understands that, at the end of the day, she is a third grade teacher from Alabama, and a black woman against an absurdly wealthy white man. He will not face consequences for this. He won't even be arrested for Andi's murder.

So what does she do? She literally destroys the glass. She annihilates the illusion of his brilliance. She destroys the layers of the onion, shows the rot in its core--his persona, his wonder fuel--and then, she destroys the Mona Lisa. Because it is a painting, something that he chose to put in danger. And the world will see if it is gone.

She brings down the glass barrier, but he destroyed the painting the moment he set foot in Andi's house. And maybe this way, even if he isn't remembered as the murderer of Andi Brand, he will always be remembered as the destroyer of the Mona Lisa. It's a small sort of justice, but it's the only thing that Miles will answer to.

The dust settles, Helen goes to the beach. She ends the story sitting as the Mona Lisa did, her arms crossed, expression unreadable. There's no illusion anymore, no glass between us and the subject. We can look into her eyes. It's a moment where the subject of the art reclaims the narrative, not unlike OJ's ending shot in Nope. The painting may now be gone, but the Brand sisters have been immortalised in a way. Andi is gone, but Helen is alive and true.

#god I love this movie #glass onion #mona lisa #Janelle monae my queen #rian you genius #also if anyone wants to bitch about him burning the mona lisa #it's not real #also like half of da Vinci's works were burned so he'd probably have a laugh over something like this

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wordsandrobots · 8 months

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I finished IBO recently, and I don't think I fully get why people call Mika and Orga's relationship one of "toxic codependence". That they depend on each other is obvious, but I feel like I'm missing out on why people think their relationship is unhealthy.

(Thank you for giving me a reason to procrastinate on the chapter I have nearly finished but my brain has gone 'nah' over.)

The way I look at it, there are two key levels on which it's unhealthy. These are related but I think it's worth distinguishing them, because one plays into wider problems within Tekkadan, while the other is a deeply personal matter between Orga and Mika.

But first of all, I think it's important to be clear: Orga and Mika's relationship is rooted in genuine care and affection. This is not apparent friendship built on a lie. These two really are together for life and there are many positive aspects to that. We see them joking about early on, Mika making sure Orga eats (whether he wants to or not), the ease with which they operate as a double-act -- and there's a real sense each would be dead before the series began if not for the other.

However, there is also a profound imbalance at the heart of their relationship. I've written before about how that imbalance is inverted compared to what it looks like at first glance; that is, Mika is the dominant personality, with Orga twisting to follow his wishes. At the same time, yes, Mika has absolutely outsourced his decision-making to Orga. No question. It might be Mika's desires and dreams that ultimately shape their path, but Orga is still the one making choices about where to go and who to shoot.

And it's the absolute degree of Mika's surrender that fucks Orga up. Because, to a very specific point, Mika will do exactly what Orga tells him without question. Period. Everybody else's opinions and orders are secondary to the man he's picked as his guiding star in life. I say 'man'; I mean 'boy'. This started when they were kids, after all, which is why Orga's sense of responsibility is quite so thoroughly warped.

As far as Orga is concerned, being in charge means working everything out on his own. Because Mika does not help him. Mika, at most, offers gut feelings for why something should be done; he never provides useful input on how to get from A to B. So Orga internalises that the buck stops with him, that he always has to be the decisive one, always has to have a plan.

It's masked to begin with because Biscuit is there as the angel on his other shoulder, offering useful advice and acting his second-in-command. However -- Orga never actually listens to what Biscuit has to say about the direction Tekkadan should go. That's the central tension in their relationship, in fact. Orga actively expects Biscuit to go along with what he chooses because that's what Mika does.

With Biscuit gone, there's nobody left to make even a token attempt at calling him on this tendency. Eugene utterly fails to, despite having a good set of instincts, because he's too committed to Tekkadan and too easily swayed by other people who seem to know better. Merribit gives it her best shot, but lacks the tools to approach the boys convincingly. Kudelia doesn't see it as her place. And the rest of Tekkadan fall in line over and over, reinforcing Orga's bad habits.

They trust him, is the thing. They trust him to deliver on the dreams he weaves, enough to offer up their lives on his say-so. None more than Mika himself, who literally gives an arm and a leg to make sure Orga's plans come through.

There is a point where this commitment slips out of Orga's control. I'm not sure where to pin it generally but the battle with the mobile armour is when Mikazuki makes it clear he isn't going to back down on the idea of becoming kings of Mars. He's seen Orga latch on to McGillis' offer as *the* destination, their place, where they can all be together and happy. And because he's always done whatever is necessary to see Orga's plans come through, he . . . does precisely that. Even knowing it's going to injure him further. Even with Orga literally telling him not to.

Making sure Orga gets his victory is more important.

I should stress how much this fucks Mikazuki up as well. I tend to focus a lot on Orga, but Mikazuki reduces himself down to a weapon for Orga's sake. To the point of breathing a sigh of relief once he's been sufficiently disabled he thinks he won't have a life outside Barbatos any more. Atra says at one point that Mikazuki is lazy over things that don't interest him -- that includes conceptualising an existence beyond fighting and following Orga. He does have his own dreams (being a farmer, seeing interesting sights) but actually working out how to achieve them after he's given away so much to Orga is beyond him. In the end, he simply gives them away too and chooses to keep following what he imagines Orga's orders would be.

Neither of these boys intended to do this to each other. That's the tragic part. Orga uses Mika as a weapon because it's the smart choice but it tears him up inside to see what that does to Mika as a person. Meanwhile, Mika insists what happens to him comes from his own choices and isn't something Orga should feel guilty over or see as a reason to give up.

And . . . here's where we move from the first level (Orga's no-middle-gear sense of responsibility coupled to Mika's unconditional loyalty) to the level on which Mika personally scares Orga into escalating over and over again.

It's that scene in the Montag Company ship. Or, no, it's not just that: Orga talks earlier about how he constantly feels Mika's eyes on him. Yet it's following Biscuit's death that this aspect of their relationship is laid bare.

I love this scene so much. It has the form of a triumphal rescue from grief, complete with swelling musical score, in much the way Mika often has the form of being the daring protagonist. But the content is Mika being the most blatantly scary he ever is in the entire show. The way he looks at Orga -- the way he always looks at Orga, his unblinking, uncompromising stare -- is at last framed as an overt threat. Mika is not going to let Orga give up because Orga promised to take him to the better place. What Orga wants is irrelevant.

Ah, screw it, I'm transcribing the dub script because it is so, so good.

"Tell me. What do you want me to do next, Orga?" "Hey give me a break. I'm just -" "Look I'm sorry. But I can't stop yet." "That's enough." "Now I wanna know -" "I SAID THAT'S ENOUGH -" Mika grabs Orga by the shirt, dragging him close. "Is this the place you told me about? 'Cos I won't stop. Not 'til we're there. I can't. On that day, Orga, I decided. So. How many should I kill? How many more until we get there? Because I need to know. Tell me, Orga Itsuka! You're gonna take me, aren't you? That's what you told me! What should I do next -?” "GET OFF ME! Orga throws Mika at the locker in the corner and stands up. "Yeah, alright, fine. I'll get you there. Can't turn around now anyway. That's what you want, RIGHT? No matter want kind of hell might be waiting for us. OK? Then I'll do it. And I'm bringing everyone with me." "Yeah. That's right. Take us there. So who do you need me to take out then? And what d'you want me to destroy? 'Cos if I finally get to reach that place someday, there's nothing that I won't do." SFX: lightning and thunder

This is not Mika pulling Orga out of the darkness. It's Mika driving Orga further into it, into a battle that kills dozens and very nearly ends with every single named character dead (in the real world, the commissioning of a second season saved them; in universe, it's stubbornness and pure fluke).

What would it be like to have someone so committed to what you've promised them, they would do anything for you, up to and including refusing to let you break your word? What would that be like if said person was the most dangerous individual you had ever met in your life, because there is a point past having no sense of self-preservation where no line is 'too far'?

That's Orga living with Mika as his shadow. That's not healthy. That's not sane. Orga comes loose at the seams attempting to be what Mika expects of him, and I think he's genuinely terrified of what might happen if he can't.

It goes the other way too. The scene in the ship is one of two times I'd say, yeah, that's what Mika looks like when he's scared. The other is immediately prior, when it seems Carta is going to kill Orga. 'That's what you told me' isn't just a reminder for Orga; it's the closest Mika gets to a crisis of faith. Seeing the one you believe in waver is its own form of terror and Mika has committed everything he's got to Orga. He can't conceive of stopping now.

[I should say, I primarily watched the dub and the vocal performances vary somewhat here even if the underlying intent doesn't. I love what Kyle McCarley does, injecting a note of increasing franticness into Mika's speech, but Kengo Kawanishi hits the volume rise hard on 'What should I do next?', hammering home just how much he needs an answer. Of course, they then both give Mika this deliciously bloodthirsty joy when he gets the one he's looking for.]

I don't know if there's anything Orga could do that would truly break Mika's faith or push Mika to turn that prodigious strength against him. I don't get the feeling Mika is the kind of person who'd ever hurt a friend for real. He isn't cruel and we see how much friendship matters to him (woe betide anyone who hurts the people close to him).

But what these two are actually capable of is beside the point. What matters is what they think of one another and they each think the other is the most amazing thing in existence. Orga sees Mika as near superhuman and Mika sees Orga as fantastically brilliant, and they're both afraid of being proved wrong, so they aim for an impossibility imposed by their mutual expectations.

The further they head down the shortest path to their goals, the more Mika crumbles physically and the more Orga crumbles emotionally. Like an engine shaking itself to pieces as it turns faster and faster. Love, hope, faith, determination -- and no brakes. A mad charge towards destruction.

I don't tend to describe things as 'toxic'. For whatever reason, it's not a word with much presence in my vocabulary. Still, I think it fits here. Mika and Orga's relationship might have been healthy, in a kinder world. It's undeniably the most important aspect of their lives. There's no intention on either on part to cause hurt. But the combination of who they are and the circumstances they are trapped in means they're ultimately toxic to each other.

No matter how much they care or want what's best, the very form of their relationship impedes their ability to grow, cuts them off from those who might be able to help with that, and eventually leads them to their deaths.

-----

Well, that's how I see it anyway. I hope this helped? I think Iron-Blooded Orphans does some pretty brilliant things in terms of presenting fucked-up relationships that have positive aspects while at the same time dooming the participants, so I'm always happy to ramble about that aspect of the show. Or indeed, any aspect of it at all!

#words in answer #more rambling #gundam iron blooded orphans #gundam ibo #g tekketsu #tekketsu no orphans #mikazuki augus #orga itsuka #character interpretation #spoilers

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sastiel-is-my-serotonin · 7 months

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(this is a repost)

So you know how a lot of people just ignore or brush past Dean's abusive actions? I believe a good portion of people who do that are just taking what they are seeing at face value. The only context they use is what is directly in front of them.

For example, Dean tricks Sam into 'real' bacon despite knowing Sam doesn't want to eat that type of bacon.

That you can see as a sibling prank, is it messed up? Yes, but you can forgive it very quickly at face value. Siblings get under each other's skin all the time, that's their dynamic, Dean's just pranking his little brother. Right?

However, when you add in more context, Dean often judges Sam on what he eats. He often will reduce it down to rabbit food and acts very annoyed having to see it even if it doesn't affect him. It's seen as a big gesture when Dean gets Sam food he genuinely likes. Not a big deal on its own, right? Just another Dean quirk, he doesn't like healthy food.

Well, going back to that particular scene, it's established, Dean is pretty in charge of the food, it's why Sam doesn't trust the bacon at first and was proved right. In different episodes and scenes, it's implied Dean is the one who basically runs the kitchen. So he runs the kitchen and the groceries. Interesting.

Again, at face value that doesn't seem like a big deal. However, this is not the only thing Dean gets a big say on in Sam's life.

What is Sam in control of then? Not only for himself but the two of them?

Sam isn't in charge of driving, that's Dean's thing. Did Sam ever drive? Yes, but there were always specific circumstances that led to it. Especially if Sam was driving Baby.

"But Dean's the car guy, so that makes sense." Okay, well, let's look at some more things Dean gets a say in.

Sam going out and who he contacts. Dean always knows, and if he doesn't, Sam is lectured about keeping secrets. "It's because of Ruby!" Is it? This didn't just occur after that, and it certainly didn't stop long after Ruby was gone.

Dean didn't make a big deal out of it before Ruby, it doesn't mean it wasn't a big deal though. Sam always shared that information beforehand, it was expected. And even years after Ruby was long gone, Sam's whereabouts had to be known at all times.

But let's say that's just Dean feeling betrayed and overprotective.

Well, what about Sam's autonomy and Dean getting the final say in it?

How many times did Dean bring Sam back to life without Sam's consent? Not to mention, he tricked Sam into permitting an angel to use his body as a vessel even when Sam was ready to die, it was Dean who was clinging onto him. Dean knew Sam would rather die than let an angel use him as a vessel. Yet, he still did it, and to fix his mistake, he had to let a demon into Sam's body.

When Sam asked to die, it was decided to keep him alive because Dean wasn't ready to let go. When Dean asked to die, Sam respected his wishes. More than once. And Dean didn't forgive him for that. (When Sam didn't search for Dean when they had both agreed to quit messing with the balance of life and death. To quit going searching for each other when they've passed.)

Or what about forcefully making Sam detox all at once, and pushing on even though it was a very real possibility of Sam dying. Because Dean would rather his brother be pure and dead rather than tainted and alive.

Now, what does this have to do with my first example, of Dean tricking Sam into eating bacon?

It doesn't seem like a big deal until you realize just how much control Dean has over Sam. From Sam's literal life to his food choices and many things in between. Dean gets a say in it, and more often than less, Dean's say is the final say.

But a lot of these examples are excused because they focus on the context surrounding that season, that episode, that scene. However, all of Dean's actions add up and the more context you add to his behavior the more you start to notice this pattern.

Context matters and so does depth.

#dean winchester critical #anti dean winchester #dean winchester #sam winchester #cw abuse

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swordofsun · 10 months

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Thinking about the samulet today. Because thematically as a prop item it was just *chef's kiss*

Because it does symbolize the brother relationship. Full stop, through the entire run of it's appearances on the show. And the way it's utilized to show the changes in that relationship is where the writers werenreally just going above and beyond with the symbolism. (Thanks Dabb and Robbie!)

The first four seasons it is an anchor for how no matter the odds or the situation Dean trusts Sam. He believes in Sam. The samulet was given to him by Sam in a very clear way to show that Sam understood it was Dean and not their dad who was really taking care of him (something Sam forgets and remembers as is convenient to him over the years) and needed the protection. And Dean holds it as his most precious possession. He believes in Sam and their relationship.

Until he doesn't. It is important that Sam wore the amulet while Dean was dead between s3 and s4. It's a very clear signifier that Sam kept the faith that Dean could be rescued. It was his driving goal in those months with killing Lilith as a means to that goal.

But he gives it back to Dean and loses sight of why he was going after Lilith. In much of s4 he goes after Lilith to go after Lilith. Whereas Dean spends s4 slowly losing his faith and trust in Sam. He knows when Sam is lying to him, almost every time. He knows that Sam is sneaking behind his back and doing stuff he knows Dean wouldn't approve of and that he can't fully justify. Because you don't hide things you can justify doing.

The end of s4 is the complete rupture of their relationship. Sam breaks the trust in a way that it takes years to recover from and never even seems to notice. We start s5 and Dean does not trust Sam. He does not trust that Sam will make the correct choices.

Which makes it so good that it's at the beginning of Good God, Y'All that he gives the amulet to Cas. He's literally putting his faith in Cas' hands because he can't put it anywhere else (Gamble can have some rights). Sam and Dean go their separate ways at the end of the episode because Dean can't trust Sam. The amulet is gone and so is Sam.

It is vital to remember that Dean doesn't call Sam up at the end of The End because he wants to hunt with him again or has rediscovered his trust. He calls him because Zachariah just showed him a future where Sam said yes and the first step to stopping that future is changing how it happened. By reconnecting with Sam.

(Not actually Zachariah's plan, but it's what happened.)

Which brings us to Dark Side of the Moon. The episode about lost faith. In it they, and most importantly Cas, learn that God couldn't give less of a shit and they are on their own. (Cas' loss of faith in this episode and the repercussions deserve their own essay.) For Dean he learned that everything he sacrificed for Sam, everything he gave up and everything he let go weren't enough. Every little bit of goodness he tried to scrap together for Sam when they were kids wasn't enough.

Sam barely even remembers one of Dean's best memories. A perfect moment where he got to make Sam happy and loved. (And to be clear this is not Sam's fault. He had a very different perspective on their childhoods and it takes Dean years to accept this.) But the journey through heaven and seeing Sam's happiest moments drives home that everything he thought their relationship was built on was, not a lie, but a delusion. They don't have that shared foundation to rebuild on. Sam broke them in s4 and they don't have solid ground to rebuild because that solid ground never existed in the first place. (And is part of the reason Sam was able to completely destroy Dean's trust in him.)

Throwing away the samulet at the end of the episode is very clearly saying "We don't have a relationship I can trust in. We don't have something to rebuild." Dean still loves Sam, he will always love Sam, but that blind devotion to their siblingness is gone. And it never comes back, just like Dean never wears the samulet again.

It was theorized from approximately 3 seconds after the episode ended that Sam dug that thing out of the garbage, but it's a long time before we get confirmation.

The next time we see the samulet is in Fan Fiction. I think it's important, symbolically, that what we see is a fake. A bad fake. We know what the samulet actually looks like unlike the kids putting on the play. We know it's as fake as everything else in the show. And it's important that this comes at a time when Dean and Sam are very much faking a healthy relationship dynamic.

They never actually discuss everything that lead to Dean being a demon and Sam forcefully healing him. All of the s9 stuff is swept under the rug and by the time Fan Fiction comes around Dean and Sam are back to playing the roles of brothers who are also bffs. It's as fake as the samulet in the show.

It's not until Don't Call Me Shurley that we see the samulet again. This time we're shown that Sam did pull it out of the garbage and apparently carries it around with him. We can take this to symbolize both that Sam never gave up on gaining back their previous relationship and that he wasn't actually willing to do the work to fix it. He was just going to carry on and hope something happened.

We don't see the samulet again after this. It's purpose has been served. Sam has been shown that what he was hoping for wasn't what he was going to get by having Chuck be so much less than the God Sam's had faith in for so many years. It's important that this is the point where both Dean and Sam allow the other to make sacrifices without much argument. Sam was going to take on the Mark to retrap Amara, Dean with the soul bomb. It's a new stage in their relationship where they're willing to let the other person be fully their own person.

Dean still needs most of s12 to fully accept that Sam having a bad childhood was not his fault and he didn't fail Sam; he was given more than anyone could have succeeded at. But it's not a coincidence that s12-15 see them rebuilding a brotherly relationship on much more healthy grounds. (Still overly codependent, but nowhere near as bad.)

Dean actively embraces being his own person and exploring what will actually make him happy in a way we hadn't seen until them. Similarly Sam finally gets to the point where he can stop pretending that he doesn't like hunting and doesn't want to do more. He finds the BMoL intriguing for a reason. Most importantly they are able to do this without, for the most part, insisting that the other person do the same things.

And thank you for reading my essay.

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authorred · 1 year

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Loki Laufey/Odinson NSFW HC’s cause I’m slacking off in class

This will definitely be NSFW (18+) so minors DNI (do not interact). Unless you do, which in that case I refuse to be held responsible for the content you consume.

Warning(s): NSFW

Superiority complex through the roof

I really want to say switch top

Has lacked true control and power his entire life, so allow him to take the reins every once in a while

However, his cockiness and brattiness can and should be tamed

Very servile when submissive--will pleasure you in whatever way he can, and you want

When he’s dominant, he’s calm and very soft. Rarely gets rough on his own incentive. You’d have to ask for it specifically and/or tell him it’s alright before hand

He’s probably more submissive than dominant, so if you want him to be your good boy, just lean up and purr into his ear how much he’s pleasuring you/how good he’s doing

He will melt and lose his dominant front

KISS HIS NECK NOW

Kiss the back of his hand whilst keeping eye contact. He won’t say it, but that gets him off

Call him ‘My Prince’

His favorite position in general would be underneath you

Ride him whilst he sitting or lying down, he will hold you and assist you if you want or need

Choke this whore

Quickest way to get him horny is to challenge him

Whether he wins or loses doesn’t matter, though if he loses to you that’s bonus points

If he wins his ego will go through the roof

If he loses, on his knees he’ll go

It really depends on your preferred dynamic tbh

He’s a complex person with a bunch of contradicting emotions and feelings

Sometimes he’ll sub and then decide to dom because he’s so used to submitting to others, it’s a habit to try and ‘be better’ than them, or ‘one up’ them in some way

If you want him to sub to you, not only do you have to show him he can trust and respect you, but you have to show him you’re worth it

Might cry one of the first times icl

Body worship, affirmations, praise

EMPHASIS ON THE PRAISE--PRAISE THIS GOD FOR THE LOVE OF DFGNJBHHNBUJGDTRHBUAREBH

If you ask him to fuck you over a desk or a table or on a piece of furniture, chances are he’ll do it

Emerald green lingerie, that’s it

Any lingerie you wear would get him to go awooga, but EMERALD GREEN would get him to bark without a doubt, that man’s a whore for that color

Look him dead in the eye, tell him ‘Kneel’ and he’ll give you that ‘really?’ look of his before obeying

Play with his hair, pull it, grip it, use it to guide him

Will whimper--MAKE him whimper--literally turn this god into a submissive whimpering mess

Slight mommy issues, but will never you call ‘mommy’

Will call you things like ‘My Princess’, ‘My Love’ ‘My Dear’, ‘Darling’, ‘Sweetheart’

Will use your actual name in times of intense of pleasure

Might not be into pegging that much? He might try, but there’s a bigger chance of him disliking it

Slap him (not too hard) when he brats. He’ll become shocked and that’s the perfect time to dom him

Sit on his lap and kiss his neck, he’ll be gone

He probably knows how to play some sort of classical instrument like piano. So, when he’s playing, come up behind him, wrap your arms around his waist, hickey up the side of his neck, and watch him mess up the entire song

Push him against the wall and boldly proclaim he’s yours

Soft touches and tender kisses between rough moments whilst fucking

Eye contact--a lot of it

‘My beautiful prince’ is his favorite compliment/name

He will get on his knees and kiss up your leg and slowly unclothe you if that’s what you desire

Absolute god at using his tongue

Hits that specific spot (regardless of what he’s using: tongue, fingers, dick) and keeps it up until you cum

He gets a bit lost with toys, and seems a bit offended if you bring it up first (he believes he’s all you need)

Will have to reassure him that toys are friends, not foes

After the first few minutes of disgruntlement, he does come to the quick realization of the possibilities

Will pleasure you the way you want with them 4/5 times

Wants to give and receive pretty equally if he’s not in a certain headspace

If you’re between his legs and you kiss his thighs, he’ll blush and tell you to ‘not do that’ only because he’s flustered

#marvel #Marvel Movies #marvel cinematic universe #MARVEL FANDOM #Headcanon #MCU loki #loki #loki of asgard #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki laufesyon x reader #loki x you #loki x female reader #fem reader #romance #relationship #loki odison x reader

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randomfoggytiger · 5 months

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Mulder's Alien Baby Baby Trauma In-Depth (Part V): The Mutual Pain of Reconnection

As established previously in Part IV, Mulder switched from apathetically observant to actively distrustful: while he was gone, Scully partnered up with a new guy on Kersh’s say-so, didn’t bother to relay this information, and spoke highly of him after working a mere six months alongside him. Mulder's trust cracked, misconstruing her silence as a tell of her kneejerk “what does it matter?” denial. Doggett then became a convenient target, the representation of the shadowy men that caused him to lose six irrecoverable months of his life. Scully and Skinner, he thinks, were too caught up trying to find him that they didn’t notice the new recruit was yet another in a line of befriendings and betrayals.

Mulder’s anger was roused, channeling his helplessness into an aggressive goal: make the men who did this to him stop. Decided, he got up to get ready for work, asserting his position in spite of Kersh's authority and Scully's new "above reproach" partner.

And in the wake of these burgeoning resolutions, Doggett conveniently (so Mulder presumes) becomes MIA.

Mulder Is Back and Not Moving

As… terrible as Season 8’s mytharc is, it will have to, unfortunately, bleed into this review here and there to set key pieces in order.

Now thoroughly suspicious and grasping at the familiar-- conspiracies and enemies behind every corner-- Mulder ducks away from dealing with the darker reality of his shambled purpose and looming PTSD and back into work: sniffing out a motive and capturing a villain. Kersh might be trying to shut him down, but he’s certainly not going to let the files be handed over to his boss’s newest bootlicker. He may be banished from the basement, but he’s never followed orders, anyway. Let them all naysay-- they’ll see.

He cheekily texts Scully during her and Skinner’s manhunt meeting (knowing she’ll pass the message along) and waits, comfortably, for them to walk through the door with the infamous, dastardly Doggett. Quite literally, the audience’s first glimpse of him back in the basement is of the bottom of his shoes parked possessively on top of his desk, followed by a guarded, impudent, “I dare you to tell me to move” smile. Message loud and clear: I’m back, and I’m staying; and I’d like to see anyone try to give me the boot.

Even during his years as Kersh’s toilet brush holder, Mulder never acted out to this blatant degree. Back then, he and Scully kept their heads down, weathering the storm in the short term to get their files back in the long run. Now, Mulder is willfully antagonistic, a provocateur with a slipping smile and studied carelessness. Apparently, a lot changes when you come back from the dead and find you've been replaced.

But, though strained and a tad too forced, Mulder still spares a genuine “Hey” for Scully as she waddles in with Skinner at her heels.

An interesting note: Samantha’s picture is placed at an angle for him to easily glance at when looking up from pilfered evidence, a beacon of his past bookended by a pile of stacked X-Files documents to the left and his rebellious shoes to the right-- another very deliberate shot.

“Mulder….” Scully warns, approaching slowly. She’s not finger-wagging, lecturing, or even harshly discouraging him. Instead, she lets the silence hang between them, waiting for whatever Mulder will pull out from his sleeve.

Mulder rewards her anticipation with a quip-- “Who says you can’t go home again?”-- and it’s almost like old times… except she’s not as welcoming here as she was at his apartment.

Drumming his fingers against the paper, he waits for their next move. Scully fills in the gap, picking up where she left off.

“What are you doing here?”

His mood instantly shifts: mirth gone, Mulder's smirk freezes in place as his eyes slightly harden and laser in on his partner, guessing and second-guessing what she meant. “What’s it look like?”

Rejection is blazing across his face. Mulder expected trouble from Kersh-- but not from Scully.

He’s one confirmation away from being crushed.

Skinner cuts in, recognizing this Mulder: a belligerent man bent on a spite mission. “It looks like you want to give them some real ammunition to use on you-- that’s what it looks like.”

Amused, Mulder bats away Skinner’s astute point. “Hey, I am just down here visiting my buds.” A very un-Mulder expression, and a glaring, blinking neon sign pointing directly at the bee in his bonnet.

Readjusting his position to assume a more respectable, authoritative stance, he turns his glib remarks into a direct poke at the true interloper: “Where is this Agent Doggett, anyway? What hours does he keep?”

Mulder will continue to mark his territory this scene, scoffing at Doggett’s unprofessionalism and underhanded dealings while unashamedly posing himself as the only other person the X-Files needs. There’s not much Scully and Skinner can do about that matter; but he is determined to remind them that Doggett isn’t needed or wanted and should scuttle off back to whatever dark, primordial ooze Kersh summoned him from.

“Please, you do not want to stir that up right now.”

‘Please’ interests Mulder: Scully is serious, but not serious enough to avoid a slight banter in her turn of phrase. Furthermore, the statement is intriguing in and of itself; and, wanting to know more about the situation without sacrificing the impersonal high ground, he adopts a humorous stance.

“Why?” He asks, mock-serious (and underneath that mockery is insistence.)

Skinner again interjects. “Because we have a manhunt in progress and I want Agent Doggett running it.”

It isn’t meant to be a swipe at Mulder; however, he’s not going to let this go-- their boss wants Doggett in Scully’s absence, not Mulder, on the case. And, yes, Skinner has little authority over Mulder with Kersh standing between them-- and Mulder is aware of this-- but he also isn’t sorry to delegate the task to the ‘replacement’, either.

Mulder pulls out his ace card and waves it for emphasis: a squirreled away photocopy. And not just any photocopy: one with a connection no one else found. (Evidence that leads him straight to the Conspiracy’s doorstep. How convenient.)

It works. Scully and Skinner draw nearer, eating out of his hand as Mulder spells out his theory.

This scene is interesting because Mulder has been making some assessments of his own. When Skinner dropped into his apartment to deliver Kersh’s threat, Mulder disguised how carefully he was watching Scully and his former boss's interactions. As discussed in the previous part (post here), he concluded there was nothing to be jealous of; but also that the two now worked as a team rather than the hot and cold professional routine they’d danced in the past. Here Mulder wheedles them both in, watching Skinner and Scully hold their own council and act together as an oppositional force to his newest hairbrained scheme. The changes in his absence have gone far beyond a new partner and a baby on the way-- the basement is getting crowded; and he’ll find out how much so when talking to TLG in Scully’s apartment later.

“Because I noticed that the man who was shot on the White House lawn was one of the men in that photograph. Top right hand corner? In profile? Howard Salt, if I’m not mistaken?”

Some of Mulder’s tension is melting away; or rather transforming into his intensity of the hunt, the chase, of the ever-elusive truth. Some of his natural animation shines through as he delicately hands Scully the picture, tilts his head around, and pumps his eyebrows in the proper places.

Mulder’s right on the money, immediately. As usual.

Scully is torn: heavy-hearted at this ‘proof’ of how impossible her and Doggett’s efforts had been to fill Mulder’s shoes, and proud that her partner so easily slipped back into them and hit the ground running.

And Scully shows her own growth, (albeit reluctantly), confirming “He’s right” to Skinner and “You’re right” to Mulder.

She’s not enthusiastic with this development-- she wanted Mulder back at work but not as a threat to his own career-- but, like old times, a part of her is thrilled to be on her old partner’s madcap journey to the truth.

Mulder’s animation switches with the darker turn of his voice: “Consider that a freebie. Next one’s gonna cost you.”

And he means it, sending a message loud and clear: Don’t underestimate me. Don’t devalue me. And don’t try to stop me.

“Why? What else do you know?” Skinner asks grimly.

“Oh, I don’t know anything,” Mulder responds, shrugging his shoulders in a demonstration of ignorance.

“But you know me, I’ve got a real big hunch,” he continues, wetting his lips for the bombshell. “This Howard Salt? Was a multiple alien abductee, worked for the Census Bureau. Wanted to get word to the President? Unspecified grievances? What d’ya wanna bet those grievances were?”

Scully is already keyed up, anticipating where this is going. “You think he knew something.”

“I think they killed him for it,” he agrees, sitting back and further away. A comfortable distance from this topic’s implications and any potential Scully mind-reading scrutiny.

Skinner’s “A man jumped the White House fence-- he had a gun” is logical, but weak; and Mulder smoothly parries that counterpoint: “Once again, I’m a betting man. I’m betting he had more than that.”

Scully decides now is the time to say “Mulder, you make it sound like it’s a conspiracy.”

“Ooh,” he shivers sarcastically, “there’s that word again.”

Mulder is not in the mood for Scully’s skepticism, denial, and any other deflection. Not when he is living proof of this harmful Conspiracy, not when Agent Doggett is in their midst, and not when bad things are still happening and will happen again. And especially not when they could happen to him.

Mulder started out Three Words smiling-- or trying to-- at Scully, behaving as sympathetically as he could amidst the dawning horror of his memories. That changed the next day after his homecoming when it was revealed his partner had a new partner and didn’t plan to tell him. It cut deep, and ripped open old scabs of former poor choices Scully made to deflect ugly truths she didn’t want to deal with or believe in. Mulder doesn’t know what she has or hasn't proved, what is or isn't accurate; and that hitches his paranoia at the world up a few thousand notches. She was his rock upon reentry. He was depending on her silent strength… and now he doesn’t know if he can trust if her perspective is balanced or biased. It is unfair of Mulder to question her judgment so harshly; but he’s already in a tailspin, can’t see clearly, and just wants answers. And as much as Mulder wants to vent some of his anger at her, he can’t. He keeps Scully close, taking her with him (nearly) everywhere he goes. He’s snippy, snappy, and short, but never physically distant-- a sign of true Mulder rage.

“You’re being paranoid, Mulder,” Skinner scoffs, “even for you.”

Mulder strips his theatrics in one fell swoop, laying out the big picture quickly and efficiently; and appeals to their common sense and trust in his judgment. He hopes there’s still enough of both to go around.

“You wanna hear something really paranoid? The FBI gets its way, there’s gonna be nobody down here to ask the paranoid questions-- nobody to find those faces in those photographs.”

Mulder’s proven his point. It isn’t ego that is driving Mulder to double-down on his suspicions. It’s a healthy dose of fear and pessimism that there’s a train barreling down the tracks and no one else is trying to stop it.

“Surely not this Agent Doggett,” he concludes, locking eyes with Scully.

She understands she’s been reproved-- for the second time in the episode-- and now wonders how she’ll have to navigate this, too, on top of Mulder’s other odd behaviors.

But she doesn’t have to wonder for long.

Mulder and Scully Bridge the Gap...

Mulder brings her along to the forbidden evidence room, using her natural cautiousness, personal interest, and innate curiosity to keep her engaged even when Scully wants to flee.

“Mulder, I know you know this but if anything leaves this room you could be in violation of the law,” she rambles, a shade of the old times peeking through-- tramping up haunted stairs to the rhythm of their footsteps while her lighthearted lectures echoed around them.

“Really. When I was dead, I was hoping they’d changed the rules,” Mulder deadpans, moving away from the moment and deeper into the bowels of work, work, work.

Scully awkwardly pauses, then passes over his crack. “Mulder, just being here could be used by Kersh as cause for dismissal.”

And here is where Mulder tests her resolve to see if the Scully behind him will still walk that tightrope at his side: “Then why don’t you shut the door so he doesn’t find out?” He swiftly looks over his shoulder to show his vague remark was an open-ended invitation, and just as swiftly turns back around, not wanting to watch her make the final decision. In, or out.

Against her better judgment, Scully chooses-- as always-- the siren call of Mulder’s next adventure. Ever the thrill-seeker, even if 8 months pregnant.

“I just don’t know what you’re hoping to find in Howard Salt’s personal effect,” she clarifies, having drifted within a safe distance of Mulder's slashing pocketknife.

“Neither do I, really,” he admits while doing his own version of slicing and dicing, “Maybe it’s like Howard Salt’s picture-- I’ll know it when I see it.”

“So you’ll risk the consequences,” Scully says, softly; but that softness bleeds away as his ill-advised plan takes shape in her head, “even though there may be nothing here.”

“You don’t get it, do you, Scully?” he replies; but it’s a mild reproof. They’re talking; and because her interest in his motives, in him, is second nature to their dynamic, it’s pulling them both back into the old ways, leeching the feeling of “one man alone” from his shoulders and giving him hope that Scully will still keep up with him, junior or new rat partner nonetheless-- that she still thinks he’s worth keeping up with. That even if she made a wrong judgment call, she’s grown as a person enough to admit it and correct her mistakes-- even if the truth is one of her partner’s unsubstantial hunches. “A man shot up the White House, a prisoner escaped, there’s something bubbling to the surface here. I want to know what it is.”

Scully notices that he’s settling and takes heart, voice piping up as she begins her rote rational monologue. Cadence slipping between energetic and calming (a dance between her lifting mood and her forced monotone for Mulder’s recovery’s sake), she narrates the past few days, hoping to serve as a helpful self-reflection.

“Mulder, you… have been through an ordeal that defies all logical explanation-- how can you think that these… two men have the answers when they defy all standard of credibility?”

Mulder does not like this at all, batting back her rationale with a little more force than was his want before. “And since when does an X-File not defy a certain standard of credibility?” He pauses and locks eyes with Scully-- an action he’s strategized around as much as possible since his hospital release (always walking one step ahead or looking at another person in the room or peering fixedly into a file)-- as he, again, brings the topic back to his greatest fear: “Or that’s the way it used to work.”

Scully doesn’t bother to rebut, returning his gaze with confusion and a little frustration.

Mulder interprets this correctly; and lowers one of his walls with an increasingly softening tone. “Look, Scully, I… I need to make sense of what happened to me so that I can stop it. Because if I can’t stop it, it could happen to anyone. It could happen to you.” He half-pivots in her direction but doesn’t lock eyes, swivelling back before adding, “And who’s to say it’ll stop there?” It’s an oblique reference to their child, Mulder-style; and an even more oblique acknowledgement of his paternity as well: I was abducted, you could be abducted, too, and who else could also be abducted like me? The baby.

The paternity question has already been discussed at length here and here; but since we all know Mulder knows it’s his, the tiny acknowledgements he drops here and there (looking at her bump in Empedocles’s end scene, “tell the kid I went down swinging” in Vienen, “Boy? Or girl” in Alone, etc.) are especially important to watch out for-- and the above was one of them.

Scully lays her cards on the table, too: “Mulder, if you go down, the X-Files goes down, too.”

An interesting observation:

Scully considers Mulder the lifeblood of the X-Files, meaning without him there the files would cease to have meaning.

In that vein of thought, Scully didn’t consider herself as that lifeblood during his abduction and death; which means she is carrying around massive guilt at “failing” the mission in his absence-- that Starbuck complex again-- and having those failings “confirmed” by Mulder’s on-the-fly deductions the first day back.

Scully hasn’t realized how deeply invested she is in the files outside of her attachment to Mulder. In Deadalive, we see her moving about the basement like a widow returning bittersweetly to mourn her dead; here, she insists the X-Files will go down if Mulder doesn’t toe the line. But in Alone, she drifts back, wanting to help Doggett (and later Reyes, if you watch past Season 8) despite Mulder drawing her away from the files.

As much as she hoped for a “normal” life outside of Mulder’s work (Dreamland I, Arcadia, Biogenesis, etc.), Scully found that this was what she wanted for her life (All Things.) But finding out about their baby, losing Mulder, and forcing herself to take his place all this time has kicked up her self-doubts and inadequacies.

Scully and Mulder are both clinging to the files as their sense of normalcy, trying to use it as an escape from their personal troubles (as usual.) Mulder, as we know, is dodging his PTSD and the revolutionary changes of the past six months; Scully is avoiding the compounding sense of failure she feels-- not pulling the X-Files’ weight to her standards, walking around as a constant reminder of the time her partner has lost, being unable to give him his office back, and hurting him over and over again by her misplaced reticence. The wonder of it all is that they’re still working as a team in spite of their struggles, personally and with each other.

Mulder nods, raising his eyebrows and chewing on his lips as he continues searching. He’s willing to gamble.

“I mean, theoretically, they could put you in prison for what you’re doing here!” Scully’s forced calm is lifting with her impassioned speech, scrambling from reason to reason to back her partner down from the ledge he is hurling himself towards. She takes his recklessness as a sign that he’s not coping well-- and she’s correct-- but since Mulder won’t listen to reason, she can’t figure out how to dissuade his stubbornness.

“Yeah, well,” he huffs, “compared to where I was, prison is a princess cruise.”

It’s the first allusion to his capture and torture; and Mulder, of course, keeps his head down and eyes away.

Scully is frustrated and hurt, having smacked up against a wall she can’t guide them away from; and, since Mulder is refusing to see the error of his ways, she turns and heads for the door. It’s the same forwards-and-backwards cycle all over again: he advances, she offers a counterpoint; he deflects in a way that leaves her feeling bruised and unwanted, she retreats in self-preservation; he makes it up to her (off-screen), they move forward. In this case, Mulder won't be reasoned with; and Scully determines not to stick around waiting to be arrested when the baby's due in a few, short weeks.

Just as she’s about to leave, Mulder calls her back-- not even with the answer he’s looking for, but AN answer that’ll keep her from walking out. Again, Mulder is as desperate to keep Scully around this episode as Scully is to be around.

Like always, Scully’s curiosity is piqued at Mulder’s intrigued exclamations; and she waits by the door, debating with herself as a mere formality. He’s already won this round.

Mulder waits for her to saunter over without saying anything else, letting his engrossed demeanor speak volumes for him. Scully nonchalantly scoots back into position, trying to make sense of the numbers and letters flying by.

“It’s been encrypted,” she sighs, slipping her eyes closed while surrendering to the inevitable.

“Hm,” he agrees, snapping the laptop shut and turning it in each direction.

The seconds tick by until Scully gives in again. “What are you doing?” she asks, finally reopening her eyes.

“I’m gonna book myself on that princess cruise,” he mutters, pleased.

As Mulder deftly locates and unclicks the drive, Scully reaches out and snatches it from him. For a split second, his face rehardens into hostility, fading doubts resurfacing at breakneck speed-- all this progress they’ve made, only to be overturned because of a threat to her job.

“I’ll book it for you,” she concludes, resolute. She’s still Scully; and Scully’s still in this together with him.

Delighted, Mulder packs everything back up and rushes after his partner’s speedy getaway.

Back in Action (with Patch-Ups Ahead)

Mulder and Scully are back at it again. While far from perfect, they have managed-- in their own, special way-- to find understanding, respect, and equilibrium again in order to, once more, save the day.

…Or so we hope.

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

#txf #Mulder's Alien Baby Baby Trauma #Part V #The Mutual Pain of Reconnection #Mulder #Scully #Skinner #Three Words #S8 #xf meta #meta #xfiles #x-files #the x files #In-Depth #analysis #mine

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ae-neon · 9 months

Text

Posting an old draft

Acotar reread (very nitpicky and rant-y)

chapter 8

Feyre is crazy? SJM is stupid? One of the two.

Tamlin doesn't hate Feyre. Lucien hates Feyre. Feyre's plan? Get Lucien to "plead her case" to Tamlin. So go to the one who probably wants you dead to get the one who's trying to be nice to you to... Be nice to you?

I didn’t doubt Tamlin’s claim that the rest of Prythian was deadly for a human—and if there was indeed some blight on these lands … I was better off here for the time being.

But not without trying to find someone who might plead my case to Tamlin.

At this point Feyre is completely unaware of the need for her and still thinks that according to the treaty she must remain in Prythian.

She does however know that she's likely in the safest place, her family is taken care of and she's not a slave or servant. She even thinks to herself there's not really anything she can do if she gets back home.

SJM also didn't really build an emotional connection between Feyre and her family so why would the reader believe or care about Feyre wanting to go home??

I’d never been particularly good with words, had never learned the social warfare my sisters and mother had been so adept at...

I feel bad for her

we know sweetie, don't worry, sjm got a mind reader in the bag so you won't have to learn or grow as a person and even though you'll be HL you'll have no real power or job so it won't matter then either

Feyre can hear the Fae of the manor but not see them. I think it's Alis' nephews. They're laughing at her. I wanna see what Fae kids are like

And the plates … I could have bought a team of horses, a plow, and a field for just one of them. Disgusting.

Acotar Feyre hauls out the guillotine for High Lady Feyre

The stable boys she can see for some reason and they all have horse masks. Were they at Amarantha's ball too? Did she invite literally every member of Tamlin's court? And as stable boys why would you all wear horse masks to a fancy party? Was it a work event?

Chapter 9

Again, in retrospect, Lucien knows they need Feyre so why is he so committed to acting like he wants her dead or gone. SJM don't make your characters look stupid challenge: failed for the 498th time.

"He cares about Andras" Andras literally gave his life so they would have this chance??

"Where is the rest of Tamlin’s court?" Feyre says this and we're supposed to believe she doesn't know he's the high lord???

“Something was sent from the shit-holes of Hell,” Lucien and Jurian definitely bonded over how much they personally hate Amarantha.

Anyway,” Lucien went on, “the High Fae don’t have specific powers the way the lesser faeries do...

A lie????

I didn't finish writing this but I'm gonna post this anyways, maybe it'll make someone crack a smile

#acotar rant #not really #sjm is a bad author #anti sjm #sjm critical

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morgana-ren · 7 months

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Do you have any tips on increasing word counts in fics?? Or is it just something that develops overtime? Thank you!!

So, for me, my wordcount comes from two different sources:

1: My erroneous belief growing up that the average chapter of a FF was around 7.5k words.

2: My overly flowery, pretentious purple prose.

I have a massive problem with going on for too long as opposed to not long enough. You know that writing advice that will tell you not to get too up your own ass with the details? Yeah, I do the opposite of that. I'll go on for eight years about how the rosy-wood sheen of a desk and by the time I've finished jerking my own writing brain off, no one is interested in the story anymore.

My advice to you would be don't worry about length. It's not quantity-- it's quality that matters. I've seen 2k stories that hit hard over 50k ones that just... drag. I would argue that length doesn't matter in the long run as long as you're getting across your point effectively, efficiently, and emotionally.

The only reason a fic should be incredibly long is if there is genuinely that much information to convey. As writers, and especially neurodivergent writers, sometimes we get a little carried away. A common mistake is people getting so caught up in the details that they forget to tell a fucking story. An obsession with word count really contributes to that in my opinion, because if it's not needed, it becomes invasive filler nonsense, and believe it or not, people can tell.

If the line doesn't fit, isn't needed, doesn't help, or isn't useful, cut it. Trim it like a hedge. Sculp a good story from the dirt with blooming aspects, not dead leaves and rotting twigs. Descriptions can be great, but they can also be a fuckin' anchor weight yanking your story down into the depths.

Think: Is it important to the perspective? Is it something the character would notice, subconsciously or not? Does it contribute in one way or the other to the story or the environment? Don't get me wrong, there are amazing authors who write the most useless shit (Victor Hugo is famous for writing like 8 pages of description about characters that literally don't matter) but when you're grasping the basics, it's best to try to keep it simple.

Another piece of general advice I can give you is to emulate the greats. Read FF authors that you love and adore, figure out what about their style that it is that you admire so greatly, and try to blossom your own style from it. Something about it deeply appeals to you, so figure out what and why!

If you're taking commissions and they want a specific word count and you're having trouble reaching it, there's a few reasons that could be. Maybe the idea just doesn't speak to you, or maybe you skipped over some detailing that you could have gone into. Re-read it outloud. Are the emotions being properly conveyed? Picture yourself in their shoes. What would you notice?

For example, say you have a character that is crying, and you have written them crying. What else about crying makes it hit home? The large, intangible lump wedged in the throat that makes it hard to swallow. The way your nose gets runny, especially when you look down and it's humiliating in front of another human. The way it blurs your vision and clumps your lashes together. That horrible, aching rake of razored claws down the inside of your chest that makes your body almost literally collapse on itself like a singularity. Being unable to breathe between heaving sobs and fighting for breath over your body's need to just completely break down. Maybe the character is prideful and spends a good two paragraphs trying to hide it. (These are bad deliberately, as you take them, fine-tune them, and then place them properly. Just write something general at first.)

Think about what descriptions really hit what it is that you're trying to sell. Tend to the environment around the characters to play positively into the story. Sneaking metaphors for whatever it is that's happening to them occasionally works well, but can be rough to pull off (say, leaky pipes dripping incessantly driving the character mad even though it's barely audible when they're remarkably stressed over a billion things and it's a breaking point. Drip. drip. drip. into a puddle that pools on the floor one measly drip at a time.)

I'm no professional, but these are just things I've picked up over just talking too fucking much and writing things that I am interested in, and it kills me every time I cut some useless bullshit from my stories because I like the way they sound even though I know it's just filler or even nonsense to the readers.

#morgana and friends #Writing advice #Inbox: Ask a hack writer anything! lmao #ignore the misspellings and shit I haven't slept in 2 days

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jojolightningfingers · 2 years

Text

the hell of vegeta swearing to never fight again is that he actually follows through, at least in the beginning.

there are seven years between cell and buu. in every version of the media i’ve gone through--english manga, uncut dub, uncut jp, kai dub--bulma says that vegeta has trained the last five years before the tournament. which can only mean that there was a two year gap right after the cell games where he didn’t train at all.

and like. can you really blame him. his purpose in life has been cut out from under him not once but twice, first by goku attaining super saiyan and avenging their people by killing freeza, and then by goku’s decision to stay dead and deny him the opportunity to surpass him. his strength has proven insufficient time and again no matter how hard he works, overshadowed by a boy half his age. his pride hinges on both of those things and even before that was mercilessly trampled on. he dies on namek crying at the feet of both of his bitterest enemies, begging one to kill the other for his sake, after being thoroughly thrashed in front of an audience of people weaker than him (no basia, i won’t get over this). he has no people. no planet. no purpose, power, or pride. i really do think the only things keeping him going by this point are inertia and spite.

what he does have is has seven years to gnaw on a question that will not let him rest. why is goku so much stronger than he is, being what he is? why is he so inadequate? almost without doubt, this is the absolute nadir of vegeta’s existence: at least, the nadir for the man he thinks he has to be, or can’t reconcile not being. if he has nothing, if the last things tethering him to his supposed innate nature (to borrow a turn of phrase from @kanthia, shameless plug,) are torn away from him, what is left for him to do but accept defeat and submit to change?

what he doesn’t know yet is that that’s okay. he doesn’t know yet, but the seven years that goku is no longer a presence in his life is perhaps the best thing goku could have possibly given him. there’s space for new things to grow where his animosity and aggression burned holes in him. even if vegeta is still focused on nursing the embers of that blaze and ignoring the encroaching growth as hard as he can (bulma mentions to gohan that he’s dead set on making trunks stronger than him, and why would he care about that goal specifically otherwise), he is still beginning to care about things that the old him wouldn’t.

and then.

and then all of a sudden, goku is back in the picture. there is now a window, fleeting as it may be, for vegeta to get some answers he probably thought he’d never get. there is now the terrible possibility that he can put things ‘right’. and goku’s willing to let him take that shot and get those answers, right up until the whole business surrounding buu disrupts everything and then he isn’t anymore.

because the thing is, they were scheduled to fight each other before anybody else. vegeta was not supposed to see the gap between him and goku until he was experiencing it for himself, and then his only recourse would be to demand answers from goku--who would surely give them, to the best of his ability!--or to come to his own conclusions and act from there. instead, he's given time to realize that he’s still inferior, he still doesn’t understand why, and most importantly that babidi is an option. there is a way, at the cost of his will.

submitting to babidi to force goku’s hand and close the gap is the act of a man who knows that he is running out of time. vegeta’s pride would not possibly have allowed this unless he was so desperate for closure that he couldn’t see another way. for ten years he’s been trying to rebuild a sandcastle below the high tide line, and it’s not that he’s too stupid to move farther up so he isn’t freshly shattered at every pass--it’s just that trying to power through in the face of futility is literally all that he knows to do. he has been coming apart, stitch by stitch, his worldview and his preconceptions of destiny and self dissolving under his feet in slow motion ever since he met goku. this is the last chance he has, and he knows it. he knows he’s not going to see goku in the afterlife, even before he asks piccolo.

what the fuck else was he supposed to do?

the beauty of his sacrifice is that he still has the mark of evil on his forehead when he dies, even though he’s bucked babidi’s mind control by that point. he chooses to symbolically and very literally raze his old self to the ground for the sake of all that his new self cares for. WHICH IS WHY, his coming back to life actually narratively works for his character: new growth roots in ashes, phoenixes and sapling trees both.

#vegeta #majin vegeta #dragon ball z #dragonball z #dbz #meta posts #and i'm expected to NOT go apeshit over this?#i'm supposed to know this and remain cool about it?#and man don't even get me STARTED on what moro and granolah arcs do for him #super is good actually. fuck you.#bizarre adventures

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