#i would categorize this as coming-of-age over romance | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tcookies777 · 1 year

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So I just noticed something after re-reading some TAOL chapters and it’s that Kakashi always (literally always in every chapter) seemed to get turned on by Sakura no matter what she does. At this point, I am convinced that he would probably have a boner just by watching Sakura do nothing but stand and breathe. I am not complaining at all but I thought it was interesting and wonder if that was intentional in terms of having Kakashi just be horny for Sakura 24/7? I know this is a weird ask and I am sorry for asking it. I was also wondering if Kakashi being like this every time Sakura is near will change somehow after they do the “devil’s tango” or “shaking of the sheets.” I am not a man so I don’t know what it’s like to have a boner but I can’t imagine functioning well when you have a boner and horny for someone every day lmao. I don’t know if what I am saying makes any sense but I do feel insane for bringing this up to you so I am sorry about that.

No need to be sorry for asking an interesting question but thank you for asking politely. And thank you for asking such an interesting question - it's not weird at all, and I don't believe "weird" questions exist when it comes to fannish content. Interesting? Yes. Weird? No.

But to answer your 2 questions:

People can argue that this is canon or not - personally for me, I'm going to treat it as canon - but in the Rock Lee SD series, there was a scene in which Jiraiya categorized the male characters into what type of pervert they were.

This is his chart from that scene:

As you can see, Kakashi was categorized as a Closet Pervert lol.

Kakashi being a closet pervert was a huge inspiration for his horniness in this fic. Because... I mean it's kinda impossible to write a closet pervert character and NOT let him be horny about it. So yeah, you bet your ryo Kakashi's thinking perverted stuff behind that porn book of his. And you can bet I am going to write in explicit detail what those perverted thoughts are about. But that he's specifically horny for Sakura is because I wanted to approach the emotional side of his character as like a teenager. I'm not a man either but, having had some open discussions with male peers in my adult years... well, suffice to say teen boys get easily horny for the girl they like. Kakashi is not a teenager of course, but... he's not as mature as anyone might think just because of his adult age. And this applies to real life too where you'll meet teens who are wiser than their years, and you'll also meet adults who are childish for their age. It really depends on the individual's background, life experience, education, and the way they were raised.

Kakashi is, in many ways, immature- which maybe you noticed in the way he handles his emotions and has trouble with intimate communication. He wasn't raised like a normal child. He grew up without parents to guide him, he flew through his education, and was too busy with war/military to properly woo and date a girl let alone learn how to (not counting the romance books he uses for reference). So it's a complete first for him to develop really intimate feelings for a girl and he doesn't know what to do, especially when it's his underage student (double yikes). Nobody taught him. What he grew up learning instead was to rely on instincts. His biological instincts take over and his dick turns on at the sight of someone his body and heart recognize as his potential mate (even if he may not understand yet). Excuse my blunt language btw it's like 2am for me here lol. I probably shouldnt be answering this when I'm half awake but I hope it makes sense when I say: Closet Pervert Kakashi + emotionally immature Kakashi + biological instincts + experiencing first love + forbidden love = Kakashi horny for his crush like a teen boy.

Ooh wait, also - canonically, Kakashi has a heightened sense of smell, right? There is an actual scientific phenomenon where some people's olfactory senses are attuned to certain kinds of pheromones. So there are some men in real life who get turned on by the smell of certain women - often these are women they are attracted to such as their own wives. Some men claim they are even able to smell when their girl is about to have her period, is ovulating, and/or is pregnant - just by smelling the pheromones the girl exudes. So it's actually not unrealistic for Kakashi to pop a boner when he smells Sakura, especially when he smells her ovulating because her scent is actually triggering a surge of the sex hormone testosterone in him. This is a real biological response in men as part of their primal mating behavior. I briefly mentioned the science of this in the chapter with the naked run where he smells Sakura ovulating (on top of her dripping arousal) and gets turned on by it.

So with all the aforementioned reasons explained, when Kakashi smells Sakura, you can imagine it's easy for a pervert like him to pop a boner.

But realistically speaking, the average man experiences an erection 10-20 times a day. And just to be clear, not every boner happens necessarily because the guy is sexually aroused. Sometimes the guy has an erection for no real reason. It's why men may experience morning erections (or "morning wood") when they wake up despite nothing sexual happening - it's sometimes just because their testosterone levels are running high at that time and it produces an erection.

So with or without Sakura, guys like Kakashi will just be popping boners daily regardless of whatever reason or lack thereof. It just happens sometimes, and that's why none of us gals should be making fun of our male peers if we catch an awkward tent in their pants. Please y'all don't be mean like that.

2. For that question, you will have to wait and see!

Although... I must admit, this is the first time in my life I've heard of "shaking of the sheets" 😂 idk who coined that term but I can't say it's the most appealing. Got me all giggling with this image:

#cookie answers #the anatomy of love

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ascendance-bookworm · 2 years

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I'm catching up with the anime and seeing Myne giving Gil headpats 😭 i'm screaming crying absolutely losing it 😭

I have mixed feelings about the anime, on the one hand I really love seeing all the characters walking and talking - I hope it gets many more seasons, but the production is average at best... the story is edited so much that I wish there was more time and episodes, but I also understand that would make the pacing too slow for most anime watchers to want to watch... so many shows only get a few seasons at best, unless they are well know shounen mangas. I enjoy it as a LN reader, but anime-only people, what do they think? I have no idea!

Bookworm isn't as easy to categorize, it is kinda a mix of so many genres - isekai/reincarnation, it feels more slice of life with her earlier years and all her bookmaking efforts. It has magical world fantasy elements, but they are not heavily relying on it for spectacle - like fighting or combat in every episode, but in a more realistic and general use way, although some fighting does start to happen as she gets older. This series moves in real-time so a lot of slice-of-life moments. It is a slow-burn story a lot of the times, even when reading the LNs.

There is an over all plot that kicks in, but just like the books we have barely touched upon any of it as she is still too young to be informed about it all yet, that comes in part 3. Romance too, it is there but again not front and center, and given the ages of most of the characters, not a fertile ground for fans who like to ship characters... the material really doesn't cater to any of that, no fanservice, or cool action, or deep mysteries... so not sure how it is doing in the ratings and how big a general audience it has. I hope there is enough support for this series to get more seasons, else it is going to end on a really sad note with this season!

Anyone know if there will be more seasons after this one?

#ascendance of a bookworm #honzuki no gekokujou #bookworm anime

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builder051 · 2 years

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89 and 98 for the asks :)

89. Do you think of yourself as attractive?

Attractive... Well, that's kind of a broad category. I know this is asking for my own opinion of myself, but let's put it like this: way back in the day (2015-ish), I was finishing up college, dancing full-time with the ballet company, and doing some other work on the side (sort of like bodybuilding/sculpting MLM, but not really. More like... low-level sponsorship?).

I saved a bunch of money and had a major procedure done at a private clinic, one that specializes in cosmetic surgery. That was in May 2015. I did not do paid or published photoshoots until at least June 2015, because I did not want my face associated with any portion of a (clothed!) full frontal. I found my pre-surgery body so distasteful that I didn't want anything photographed, except shoes.

(And in case you're wondering, I was still on with a personal trainer and nutritionist and pas de deux coach to be at peak performance when I started this blog in 2017. I retired in 2018 when I needed foot surgery.)

As of now, I think I look fine. I had my measurements taken recently (for a medical thing), and I'm absolutely a paper bag with torso length = shoulder width and 1 arm length = 1 leg length. Total wingspan = about 2 inches over my whole hight (5'4" and a smidge).

I used to have long rock-n-roll hair, but when I first got sick, it started falling out, so now I have that "regular guy" (think Kevin Jonas) haircut.

I look like a human. My clothes fit me. It's all good.

98. What genre of film or literature do you think your life is? Comedy, romance, action, horror, etc.? Alternatively, if you were written into a fictional universe, what genre would you be best suited for?

Well, first I have to brag and say that I wrote a book, Battle of Troy, which is available on Amazon (search my author pen name L.L. Cupp). It's a sort of angsty coming-of-age-story that deals with teens learning to shuffle around their relationships as they get older--such as disagreeing with one's parents, drifting from siblings, having a love interest, and the dangers of withdrawing too much into oneself. I guess it's best categorized as LGBT coming-of-age fiction.

My life... Are any of you familiar with the animated film Belle? It's a Japanese film from 2021 that almost made the shortlist for the Oscars 2022 animated film category and international film category. It swept Cannes of its feet with a 14-minute standing ovation, and I've gotta say, it deserves it. This is NOT studio Ghibli,and though the animation resembles Miyazaki style, it leans more toward classic anime, like Sailor Moon et al.

Anyway, if you haven't heard of it, it's a very loose take on the original fairytale of Beauty and the Beast, except that it brings in the concepts of Ready Player One, Spirited Away, The Cat Returns, and The Masked Singer (pardon the strange disconnection among those examples, but I'm doing my best here) to create the characters' highly ordinary lives in small-town Japan juxtaposed against a thrillingly detailed online world they can enter anytime, anywhere, just by using a smartphone.

The audience is definitely meant to be older teens and young adults, like Ready Player One, though completely minus the 80s easter eggs. Details harken back to realistic Japanese life and classic anime (I've lived in Japan, though haven't watched much anime). And the genre? Drama meets mystery meets major h/c meets plot twist (is he the villain? the victim? etc.?) The characters are very typically-acting 16-19 y/o kids; so much so that viewers will probably feel secondhand embarrassment (I know I did) in some of their conversations/situations.

#sorry I wrote soooo much #starbucks sunday #ask game #ask meme

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darkcircles4lyfe · 2 years

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I'm a bakudeku shipper too, but sadly I think Hori's gonna use the fight to push the izuocha endgame :( Hope he doesn't do that. Would be even better if Deku gets to know Toga's idea of love and realizes his feelings for kacchan. Doubt that it would happen though, it's a shounen manga, very unlikely for legit LGBTQ+ main character

Oh anon, look at this can of worms you’ve just opened! They’re squirming all over the table! Ah!

lol I have so many thoughts about this (some borrowed from others). I’ve been meaning to spend a little time on it, so thank you for bringing it up.

If you wish to view this opened can of worms ->

First things first, you’re so right. Before I got into this series and I was deciding whether to start, I heard all over about how it’s well-executed shounen through and through—not anything super original, but nicely distilled. That may be all there is to it. And yeah queer main characters in this category of manga are almost nonexistent. (keyword: almost!*) So it would be naive to expect anything. The validity of my argument here could live and die in the next week for all I know.

However, and this is nothing on you anon, but I can’t overlook how your point gets brought up by certain homophobic people in the fandom, and they stretch it to the point of not so subtly implying that queer rep and “manga for teenage boys” are incompatible. That we don’t belong here. And moreover, according to them, Japan would never. That is a categorically unfair assessment, which suggests Japan is monolithically conservative and incapable of diversity and change. That’s uh, kinda fucked up! There are all kinds of people in all kinds of places, and what do they know, anyway, as westerners? Not their place to judge. Only about 8 years ago the US got their first main queer couple on a kids cartoon, and only about 7 years ago got marriage equality nationwide.

Let’s also talk about the use of “shounen” as a pseudo-genre. It’s not a genre because it doesn’t really tell you anything about the setting (fantasy, action, slice of life, etc.), just a set of possible tropes and norms that are likely present. But it is, when it comes down to it, a marketing thing. I speak only of what I know about the publishing industry in the US, but age categories like Young Adult are all about the publishers trying to cater to what they perceive the audience of the story will be, and whatever norms arise from that are based on what they think will sell, and then it’s a self fulfilling prophecy, because that’s what the audience comes to expect. From an author’s point of view, that can be frustrating. You may want to write for a certain age group, but resent the fact that your publisher is insisting that means you have to do things a certain way. What I’m saying is, individual mangaka can have ideas about what they want in their story that are separate from industry norms. Statistical probability may be against us, but Horikoshi is a single roll of the dice. He has stated in interviews and volume notes that he doesn’t believe anything is off limits to him, and that he relishes doing what makes him happy no matter what. Also… I can’t believe I’m saying this, and I absolutely do NOT want to speculate, but we technically don’t know that he is even cishet himself. Either way, he is just one person, writing from his own experience and interest.

There is a lot of value, I think, in incidental representation, where the overall story doesn’t have to be about queerness or even romance. It shows the reality that we can exist anywhere. Why not have a queer couple in an action shounen? They’d just as soon pair up a guy and a girl for no real reason, so why does this have to be different? Regardless of the the outcome in this case, don’t let anyone say you don’t belong here or that you’re being unrealistic. Remember too that inserting headcanon rep is queer tradition, a form of rebellion and self love they can’t take away no matter what canon is.

That all being said, I see bnha like this: a story which is embedded in a world of tropes and themes but not necessarily beholden to them is in a unique position. Horikoshi watches a lot of movies, apparently. He likes Star Wars and of course super heroes, and takes inspiration from other well known shounen. This level of familiarity can actually position you to better critique and/or perfect the patterns within the things you’re a fan of. And I think Horikoshi is doing that. Here’s the real kicker: giving your audience the impression that you’re going along with a trope means that you can more effectively break it, to play with the audience’s expectations. Take All Might for example. He’s the wise mentor who bestows his power on the mc, but he is also almost comically, pathetically awkward as a teacher (bless him) and he represents a hero society that has become too reliant on one person whose shoes should not in fact be filled by yet another Atlas. The arc where Katsuki gets kidnapped is another example, because it made people expect Horikoshi to follow the storyline of Naruto. But oops! No Katsuki as Sasuke.

I don’t feel delusional in saying Horikoshi is pretty self aware with his choices, and to go for the underdeveloped obligatory straight ship would genuinely be uncharacteristically thoughtless of him. Like, I don't even consider it compatible with the phrase “well-executed shounen” at this point. There was a time in the story when it could have been done well, but that potential has been severely neglected. Maybe then the most likely scenario is no canon ships at all. As for actual representation beyond a few subtle/minor characters, it’s a matter of how far he would be willing and able to go, and that I don’t know. None of us do. I just don’t see the harm in hoping.

*footnote: the “almost” is basically because of the manga also published by Jump called Blue Flag/Ao no Flag. I like to affectionately call it straightbait. Which is to say, it plays with the audience’s expectations. And that’s all I’ll say on why it’s relevant here. You connect the dots!

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reilliane · 2 years

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Enchanted ★ Aether

— ★ Scry: Solar Umbra + Aether + Modern AU — ★ Genre: Romance + Fluff — ★ Concept: That strange man... just who was he to you? Your mind speaks of a stranger, but your heart says differently. — ★ Words: 2.5k A/N: In the beginning, this was a normal kind of modern au, but listening to Taylor's song of the same name suddenly gave me a spark of something—then I incorporated a little theme that you dears will identify later, and boom! :'DD

If you knew you’d be wasting your night this way, you wouldn’t have come.

But then again—how could you not? It’s the second homecoming hosted by your university and you were sick during the first one, so you weren’t able to make it.

A lot of your friends have been insistently telling you to join this time around, so why not?

Dolled up in a pretty dress rarely taken out of your wardrobe and hair stylized nicely whilst not being over the top, you left home with a pep on each of your steps.

It had been going nicely.

The splendor of the venue lived up to everyone’s grand expectation, and those present did little in holding themselves back from capturing a sliver of how the night passed back when you were all struggling college students. Entertainment-wise, of course.

The event genuinely categorizes itself as one of the best moments in life, but that was rather fleeting—as all good things are.

For not even three hours into the party, half of your friends have to leave, their reasons being work-related or a sudden emergency that required their attention.

And now, the time isn’t even nine and yet—the last one of your friends is leaving, having to look after her sick sister.

“I’m really sorry, [Name],” Barbara bows her head one too many times as she stands up in a fuss, squeaking when her given silverware clatters to the navy carpet.

“I wish I can stay and accompany you for some more, but I really have to go. I’m so—”

“Ah-ah, don’t continue, just go.” You don't mean to sound so dry in urging her to hurry because you know how much she cares for her family, but you also can’t help the tone.

The disappointment is just too discernible that if you try sounding jolly, it’d flunk.

Catching the dismay on both your features and voice, Barbara lets this flustered sound that has you bobbing your throat in guilt. So, you ease your expression and send her a smile.

“It’s okay, really. We can just catch up some other time, no?”

“[Name]…”

You beam at her, doubling the size of your smile as if forcing yourself to display an emotion so counterfeit and believable that no one would even think it to be false.

Unfortunately, Barbara has been a longtime friend, so it’s easy to say that she knows that you are simply trying to be optimistic.

She sniffles and, in a speed of light, she picks up the silverware, places them on the table—and leans forward to clasp your hands in hers. “That’s a promise! I’ll make it up to you!”

Oh, this sweet person. How can you stay dispirited after such a moving oath?

It’s a little silly, given you’ve passed the age where childish promises exist—but this is a night to reminisce, no?

“Alright, alright, now go, Jean’s waiting.”

It takes her a couple of moments—her hesitance clearly taking part—but when she does, her smile is trembling. You don’t quite blame her, this is the first time you’ve seen each other in years and she’s leaving so soon.

But with a nod and a little shove, she gets moving and her mind clicks onto her current priority.

Waving you goodbye, the blonde scurries off, heading in the crowd with only her glimmering white frock telling you of her form getting farther and farther away.

Once you’re certain that she’s gone, you drop the heavy smile and sigh, looking down at your plate. Dinner and dessert have lost their spark.

Appetite waning, you simply tap the slice of [flavor] cake with your fork, no longer able to find the capability to take a bite even with the delicious-looking icing and décor.

There’s room for dessert—but you’re simply not up for it.

All of a sudden it seems like the already chilly venue has gotten even colder.

The music blasting in the speakers fades in the back of your head, the lights that flicker into a different hue with each passing minute becomes a messy blur, and you feel yourself shrinking.

You’ve always been the kind of person who keeps to your own circle of friends, withdrawing far from unneeded attention.

So everyone in the venue, regardless of being your batchmates, are merely familiar faces. Not people you’re close to.

Perhaps this is the universe’s way of mocking you for being too hopeful for a wonderful time? It sounds plausible.

Life has its way of bringing someone down right when they’re at the summit, after all, and you’re a victim like many others—but you suppose you can’t have a break from it.

You do not know how long you’ve stayed seated, but with the minuscule observation of how everyone has gotten rowdier and chaotic, the drinks are kicking in. It must’ve been hours.

In that span of time, you’ve miraculously emptied your dessert plate but stuck to sitting. Maybe it’s finally time to leave.

You sigh loudly—not like anyone is sober enough to notice your dismay—picking up your purse and leaving the table, all prior contentment gone.

The click-clack of your heels vanish in the musical cacophony played by the DJ. Getting to the only exit of the venue means you’ll have to go through the sea of chaos, and if you’re going to be honest, it sounds far from being pleasing.

But oh well—at least better times await you back home.

Tightening your grip on your purse lest you drop it on the dance floor, you exhale and trudge on. As expected, it’s a nightmare trying to walk your way through.

In fact, it’s a miracle that you haven’t fallen from the many times someone has bumped into you in the midst of their dancing.

“I’m here, wait, just trying to get throu—!”

You spoke too early.

Someone collides with your front, far too swiftly for you to maneuver out of and suddenly you are falling on your back.

The flashing lights do an incredible job of rendering your sight useless so you’re left flailing—attempting to latch onto something.

A hand seizes your arm before you can hit the floor, pulling a little too roughly and thus making you topple forward.

Nothing but the gasp that moves out of your lips can be heard—and only the electrifying zap is felt as you’re hurled onto your savior’s chest. The grip on your arm squeezes and—and there’s this jolt that adds up to the previous sensation.

All of a sudden your vision is milking with white and replaced with images of a grand room with masked, dancing people. The music vanishes, in its stead, whispers that feel awfully close to your ear.

“A lovely night to you,”

There is a picture of a smiling blond man kissing the back of your hand somewhere a little far from the waltzing group of nobles. In a golden ballroom with navy curtains.

“Your surname does not matter at this moment. Rivals our houses may be, tonight, we can speak merrily. As we wished.”

Although you are well aware that this—this imagery is a complete hoax and you are in a different place and time, it feels too surreal to pass it off as a hallucination.

It all melts away into another scene, one in which it plays in your entire perspective; hands clasped with the same man, laughing as you run through a labyrinth of green with the moon as your witness.

“The party was a little stifling, wasn’t it, lady [Name]?” his chuckle resonates in the center of the maze, where a grandiose gazebo stands and he invites you with a gentle tug.

“Don’t worry, here there are no prying eyes. Don’t be burdened, my lady.”

He turns—slowly, as if the sands of time decided to delay itself. Then there is burning in your chest, a stabbing kind of burn—then a sharp cry.

“[Name]—!”

A multitude of colors swarms all at once for the nth time, making a splatter of the image and messing with what’s supposed to be a picture of the man’s face.

You think you hear whispers and exclamations, but you’re being reeled back—into the present.

“Aether! There you are! You stopped speaking in the call so suddenly!”

With a single tick of the minute hand, the hand latching onto your arm disappears, and along with it, the scenes in your head. It’s as if the man’s pull has strung away all that you’ve been seeing and hearing.

Taking a gasp—as if you’ve breathed back into life—you look up and-

The man before you holds the same surprise as you do, unmoving as he is pulled away. He has his phone hovering over his ear, lips parted to gape.

His hair is the same shade as the one in your vision and his eyes—heavens, his eyes sparkle with a depth of gold, bearing wonder and the desire to know more.

That alone leads you to believe that he’s seen the same things as you did.

“My lady, to be subjected to this penalty…”

Your breath hitches and so does his.

“If you’re to bear the woe of this fate, then fear no longer,”

There is someone pulling him away from you and the crowd—someone… perhaps his sister? Still, your eyes do not leave his, and his does not leave yours.

“I will join you, my lady—in hopes that in our next life, fate will be merciful.”

The whispers stop and time resumes its normal pace. The dancefloor is once again booming, everyone is dancing to their hearts’ content—and you’re moving forward to- you don’t know, to reach for a stranger.

He seems to understand your intention and attempts to do the same, the bewildered eagerness in his eyes mirroring yours.

But in the chaos, you’re knocked away and so is he—until his outreached fingers can no longer be seen.

That was a night exactly four months ago and up until the present, it’s yet to leave the crevices of your mind.

It came and it went so abruptly that you’re left hanging, confused and flustered with a heart that paced in a way you didn’t know it was capable of until that meeting.

It’s almost a shame to say that a stranger—who infiltrated your headspace—has such a bizarre to make your heart race to the point that you stayed longer in the venue than necessary.

Looking for a man who couldn’t be found even when it was time to leave.

Slapping your cheeks, you begin walking across the crosswalk, not quite as concentrated as you’d prefer. Well, you’re focusing on something—or to be specific, someone—rather unhealthily.

Seriously, I should stop. You convince yourself after a dry swallow, fingers twitching in the pockets of your jacket. What use is thinking over someone I don’t know?

You think this, and yet—there is bitterness on your tongue. As if something deep within does not wish to let go under any circumstances.

You think this, and yet, your feet are leading you to the same place you’ve been frequenting in your free time—hoping to catch a glimpse of the same person who’s been plaguing your head twenty-four-seven.

It’s almost laughable.

Feet stopping in front of the venue—now hosting a wedding feast, you realize—you peer through the glass, captivated by the theme of the ceremony.

The same gold and navy accents appear identical to what you’ve seen in that dreamy haze sometime ago.

Everyone inside is having the time of their lives.

Pursing your lips with minute aversion, you resume walking, eyes downcast.

This is yet another day of futile hope.

But then, the approaching feet at your left, walking their own way to cross with yours, stops—and you feel compelled to pause. So you do.

And when you lift your stare, your heart picks up the pace as it did.

Four months ago.

Ah… was he also going here to visit? You think, feeling oddly warm.

He speaks first.

“Do I… know you from somewhere?”

Funny, it’s the same thing you wanted to ask him in the first place.

You look at him from head to toe, examining his sunlit hair and golden eyes, studying his entire appearance and endeavoring to liken it to those you’ve met and befriended. To no avail.

There is only one ‘place’ where you ‘met’ him.

“.. No, I don’t think so.” Is your response.

“I see. I thought as much.”

But that place is nothing more but a figment of your imagination, right?

He nods—his form of bidding adieu, maybe—and you return the gesture paired with a small wave, then you’re both crossing each other’s paths. Away to your own destinations.

You have gotten your answers and you know it to be true; you do not know one another, you’re simply strangers.

Strangers, and yet—why is it that with each step taken away, your feet get heavier?

Strangers, and yet—why is it that when you turn at a block, it feels like you’re turning your back on a once in a lifetime chance that won’t ever present itself again?

You don’t understand.

You don’t understand the pitter-patter of the urge to go back, nor the way your chest hollows at the prospect of leaving, and the manner in which your heart laments for a man you can’t even name.

But you’re spinning on your heel and sprinting down the road, anyway, making sure to yelp a quick apology to those you’ve bumped into.

And you keep running—and running and running until you’re back at the street you met him at and-

He’s there, right in front of you, drawing heavy breaths as if he’s done the same thing.

You both take a moment to catch your breaths, the eye contact feeling right and meant to be. You ask him first this time around.

“What’s your name… ?”

“Well hello, good sir, may I ask for your name?”

He stands up to his height, still strained from running, but eased enough to respond.

“Aether… it’s Aether. You?”

“And you, fair maiden?”

There are butterflies fluttering in your stomach the more he keeps his stare on your profile and you don’t know why, but it’s flustering. You cannot help but shy your gaze away at the intensity.

“[Name]..”

“What an enchanting day this is to have met you,”

“Listen-“

You both break into flushes of pink upon speaking at the same time, encouraging the other to continue with what they planned to say, but no one is giving in.

Breathing in and out, you start—

“If you’d like-“

—But your words clash with his again, and this time the two of you are erupting into goofy smiles. What little trace of awkwardness has then vanished.

You nod for him to continue, bringing your fingers across your lips to gesture that you’re sealing your mouth shut to avoid confusion. His expression softens—and your chest floods with warmth.

“This is sudden, but, if you want to…” the pinks on his cheeks turns red, “Would you like to go out with me sometime?”

“You flatter me, sir,”

You find yourself smiling as you reply, “Of course.”

“But I do agree, it’s quite enchanting to have met you, as well.”

a/n: yes, there was a tiny smudge of Romeo and Juliet. yes. yESSSS- AHH I hope you like this, requester anon!! There is also an Aether req that's a little similar in the reincarnation aspect but it'll be completely different in narrative! ;> @cherryflushz @scarlet-halos

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭'𝐬 𝐒𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬

#m-event #aether x reader #genshin impact fluff #reader insert #female reader #genshin imagines #genshin fluff #aether fluff #genshin impact x reader #aether

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writingwithcolor · 3 years

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Black characters with white hair: the “Special Snowflake” Compilation

Is it problematic to give my Black MC white hair?

@roseoholic asked:

Is it problematic to give my black mc white hair? In my story, if someone dies and comes back to life, their hair turns white. Her origin is that she's a reincarnation of an escaped soul, and took the place of the stillborn fetus in her "mothers" womb. I am pretty flexible in her design still, so I am willing to change if it's a bad idea. Thank you if you answer! :)

I think we’re all aware that Black people can have white hair naturally, whether it’s due to

Aging

Hair that turns gray/white early in life

Albinism

Genetics - Black person (mixed race or no) who have very light or white hair.

Obviously, Black people can dye their hair white as well.

Photo above: Black models Diandra forrest and Nyakim Gatwech posing. They both have pale blondish-white hair. Source: Essence.

The question being asked is if it’s okay for Black characters to have white hair by conscious choice of the author.

Answer:

On its face, it’s okay to have Black characters with white hair. This is especially true if how the white hair comes about is a natural occurrence in your story that likely affects other races too. Motive is an important factor.

What is the reason for their hair being white?

That reason could and should be everything but to make them seem special or more likeable. This isn’t aimed at you specifically, OP, but there are creators who feel compelled to give Black characters uncommon, rare or unusual features due to an aversion to feature Black people with more common features (dark and brown hair, skin, eyes etc).

When aversion to Blackness is the motive, it shows.

It’s in the way the narrative exalts this character over other Black people in the narrative, treating them more favorably and giving them more of an arc over other Black characters. This is sometimes known as making them a “Special snowflake” which isn’t a term I particularly love, as it’s sometimes used to devalue real struggles people face. However, It does serve to categorize the trope. (See: TVTropes Special Snowflake)

Signs you’re treating your white-haired Black character better over other Black characters, aka the “Special Snowflake”

Stronger characterization and arc, more importance and “Screen time” than other Black characters (even when they’re not the main character)

Unique features are overemphasized and described at every chance (fetishized)

Better treatment in the story compared to other Black characters. They’re also less likely to face suffering and abusive narratives. Good things happen to them more than other Black people.

Shown to be more deserving of love, affection and romance over other Black characters; may have a love interest while others don’t.

Takeaway:

You can have Black characters with white hair. However, do not use light or unique features to exalt or set your character apart from your Black characters as “better.”

That is, not without an explicit social commentary, since yes these folks tend to be treated better by society and media in real life.

It also helps to have other Black characters with more common features who are treated well and have a fully developed character arc. These other Black people’s lives also should not revolve around just supporting white or the white-haired character, either.

Black Girl, Snow White Retellings

@morganadelacour asked:

Hi there,

I (a white woman) would like to write a re-telling of Snow White and make her a Black girl with white hair. Snow White would be under the impression, that her stepmother (a white woman) is evil, when in fact, she only tried to protect herself and Snow White from Snow White’s father (a white man). The story would be told from both perspectives, probably first from Snow White’s perspective, then from the queen’s. In the end, both women make peace, Snow White understands the queen’s actions and the queen apologizes and tries to make up for her actions that hurt Snow White. Do you see a problem with any aspect of this outline and/or are there certain things I have to keep in mind?

Thank you so much for all the work you do with this blog and for your efforts to educate.

@corbeaudelys asked:

I'm writing a science fiction variant of Snow White with a protagonist that has dark skin with white, 3C hair and brown eyes. I read a post that said magic white hair, dark skin, and European features was a bad trope; would it still be bad even if I made it clear that she has no European features and her hair's not magical?

See “Is it problematic to give my Black MC white hair?” which answers the core of this question. Motive truly is the main factor in if it’s okay or not, and the resulting treatment of that character and other Black characters that may exist in the story. I have a Black Snow White in one of my retellings, too!

The motive is clear here: you’re retelling Snow White with a Black girl and want to keep it relevant by assigning the white feature to hair instead of skin. It’s also a story where Snow White is intentionally meant to stand out as the “fairest of them all” so the exalting does have plot relevance.

As noted before, I would caution against making her beautiful to mean that other Black women are not beautiful or are unworthy.

I would like to make special mention that you can also do retellings where Snow White goes the other direction, and her compelling dark features make her the “fairest of them all”

Black woman dyes hair white, problematic symbolism?

@tlking-heads-moved said:

hi! i have a story with two black women protagonists:

1.) leader, strong and loyal, with very curly dark hair (usually pulled back)

2.) part of the group, elegant and refined, with light pink braids (or other protective styles).

Towards the end of the story, both of their hair changes styles, the second character dyes her hair white.

I am afraid that the character with the styled, pink/white hair will come off as “purer” or “better” than the character with the natural, dark hair, because of their personality + appearance differences. should I change either of their usual hair styles or their personalities?

These seem like stylistic choices. As the girl already had a pink braided style, hair color changes seems like something she likes to do and does not have to be symbolic of anything. Your use of color throughout the story could help avoid implications of white as more pure, if this is something you’d like to avoid:

See more about Color symbolism in our Color Symbolism Guide

Also, going from pink to white, which both have connotations of femininity and softness (according to a Western Lens) doesn’t come across as a stark difference. Without knowing the full details of these personality changes the girls undergo, I’m personally not getting that impression. Again, the full narrative will inform this and you may want to pay mind to your use of color throughout.

Now, do avoid making the dark-haired one a Strong Black Women character. You specifically called her strong, which doesn’t necessarily mean she’s a SBW, but please see our several related posts to ensure she is not one.

I hope this helps!

~Mod Colette

#Black #Black women #Black men #special snowflake #Black stereotypes #tropes #asks #tw stillborn #color symbolism #black vs white #guides #Black hair

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 2 years

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For the Ship Ask...talk to me about Uhura & Spock.

WELL YOU KNOW WHAT! I didn't expect anybody to ask me about this one in 2022, but I'm glad that you did, because I really don't get to talk about them as much as I loved to do, because I don't really know anybody in the fandom anymore.

SHIP IT. BIG SHIP IT.

1. What made me ship it?

Uhura and Spock were one of my first unconscious ships. I liked them together at a pretty young age and didn't really know the concept of shipping or anything of that sort, because I was a kid. But, I think what made me ship it was that, as a kid with a huge crush on Spock and somebody really excited to see a Black lady in space, I most likely projected. (But also, they had a bit of rapport in TOS that I likely noticed and categorized in a girl + boy way doable for my brain at the time). Whenever the reboot came out in 2009, that was the first time I began sharing fan fiction with a fandom and the first fandom that I made online friends with as opposed to talking about stuff at school or with people I hung out with from work and the bar and stuff. So, in a way, it sometimes feels like my first fandom a lot of the time, despite having detached myself from Star Trek fans I knew in real life because... rabid. Jesus.

I have a special place in my heart for Uhura and Spock always, even being a multishipper and shipping both of them with others at times. They're my primary there and I've been able to envision them since I was a kid.

2. What are my favorite things about the ship?

I enjoyed the fact that while you'd often see Spock (sometimes) come off as a bit of a rude person in our human society, he was always honest and his honest thoughts towards her were always really nice ones. You'd even see him appear to enjoy her company at times.

Skip to AOS, and they're canonically involved - he backs her up when put in the position to do so and you get to actually SEE him be vulnerable with a person he's involved with instead of having to make it up in your mind like so many of us had to do for decades of Star Trek shipping prior to the establishment of this romantic connection in the reboot.

I love relationships between people who aren't living solely to connect with others and have a relationship. I like to see two people who could take it or leave it, but have chosen to work with each other and to put into it what they need, and be honest when that isn't there. I'm not a romantic. I'm a realist who sometimes enjoys romance, so they work perfectly in that they aren't fluffy, all over each other and going on epic feats of love and affection, BUT, they will rush to each other's aid when needed and be passionate about that.

3. Is there an unpopular opinion that I have on this ship?

Well, I don't talk to enough trekkies to know what's popular or not, but if I had to think of something that I could remember seeing/not seeing, I would say that I think more people view them in this light where Uhura would either tire of his Vulcan ways and want to have something more emotional or affectionate?

I think that Uhura would be more likely to be chill with a lot of the toned down areas of his being and as a skilled communicator, use everything, not just his words to assess his emotions. And he has so much of them, as a Vulcan, just doesn't react on those as much, but I think she would always see and know what's going on in there, and not be confused, turned off, insecure, or whatever else, for the most part.

Damn... I miss them!

#Nyota Uhura #Star Trek #answered #ship asks #btwsixesandsevens #ships #otp #Spuhura #Star Trek TOS #Star Trek AOS #Lt Uhura

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villainsandvictimsalliance · 3 years

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thoughts on toga?

Sorry, I was putting some good music to do this 😌 our vampire princess deserves only the best.

PERSONAL THOUGHTS ON TOGA HIMIKO :

First of all, I still maintain that she's one of the best written female characters of bnha.

I used to think she was heavily sexualized on the manga, and while I still maintain that she is hyoersexualized on the fandom and still sexualized on the manga, I came to realize some of Horikoshi's choices are not that bad. Of course, it has a lot to do with certain common motives and symbolisms.

I think my main complain about the way some people write Toga (pushing aside the way the ship her with adults), it's that people either put her a a total child or a total woman.

Oh God, Toga is so smart. She's so under-appreciated, so so much.

"She's a murdered". She's what? 16-17 years old? Let's see the facts.

Toga was born in a family with money.

The first memory we got from her is Toga bitting a bird and showing it to her parents. They reacted pretty bad, like it was terribly spooky and told her to put that away, rejecting her.

After that, she created a mask for herself. She started pretending to be normal, smiling a lot, becoming the sweet overexcited girl.

However, the feeling never went away, because it was part of her quirk. The need to bite people to become them, the joy of wanting to taste the blood of someone she loved.

This could be a side effect like a person with wings wanting to fly, or a person with fire wanting to see the flames.

After stabbing her school crush, she ran away and began a criminal career of stabbing other people, hiding from the police.

This all means she lived in a lie for at least 13 years of her life, before becoming a criminal and loving on the streets at least 3 or 4 more years.

Toga has both taste the high-middle class class and the low class. She knows what is like to have too much money and be empty inside because no one sees you or accepts you, as much as she knows what is like being hungry and with cold, but living with people that love you for who you are.

This girl learned to erase her presence from a young age, before any of the UA kids ever dreamed about having that level of skill. She knows how to fight pretty well in close combat, how to fight with knives, how to trick people, how to choose her preys and when to retire from a fight.

She's extremely smart because she has successfully infiltrated in the heroes side at least three times: during the license exam, during the overhaul arc and on the war arc.

Her great goal is to live and live well. This is fucking magnificent because many people with her experience would reject themselves, thinking they're the problem. Toga knows she's not the problem, but society. She knows she deserves to live and love and have friends and family and she fights for it. In fact, even when so many people say she's insane, she's uses her logic all the time, way more than many other members of the League.

She see humans as they are. Not villains, not heroes. She was able to love Izuku and Ochaco even when they were heroes, she was able to hate overhaul while he was a villain. This shows she's outside the hero-villain toxic narrative, clever girl.

She's not afraid to face anyone when it comes to her rights. She faces Tomura more than once (overhaul arc, mva arc), she doesn't let Dabi intimidate her, she protects Twice and sweetly answers to Mr. Compress and Spinner's worry.

And God, maybe she doesn't have a mutant quirk, but almost. See her pupils, see her fangs. The reason why she makes people uncomfortable it's because she doesn't fit their standards. And she's perfectly okay with people not knowing how to categorize her. In fact, her fight in the MVA arc was because someone was trying to frame her.

I don't know how to make this clear but she's not crazy or psycho.

Toga Himiko would have passed the UA test with honors. She's so further above from the rest. She knows the older generations are full of shit and she knows they can't follow their paths, enough to outgrow Stain's legacy and make her own ideals.

I love how she shows that one can be totally feral and go against the system without stop being oneself.

Her speech to Ochaco on the war arc was incredible. She quickly questioned the idea that heroes can decide who deserves to live and who doesn't by saving only the people they think that deserve to be saved. She criticized the heroes decision to forget and dismiss and put away real people suffering just because they were not passive about their pain. She also make Ochaco see that she was a girl, just like her, not some type of hell demon trying to consume her soul.

She refused to say Shigaraki and decided to call him Tomura instead. This is so important!!!! From a narrative point of view, she's rejecting AFO's last name and accepting Tomura, the boy mourning for a father, a family.

She's observant, analytical, good at judging people, great at adapting and changing her mind.

I love how she kept being so happy and vibrant even in the worst moments.

And she's not just a victim, please. Toga Himiko is not some lost child, not a know-it-all woman. She's a teenager that can understand the situation but still needs tsome guidance.

She's actively changing the system. She's not passive or easy to manipulate. Like Spinner said, she's a free spirit.

So I'd love to see more fanfics depicting this. She's an amazing character at the level of most male characters on bnha, just like Ochaco, for example.

I'd love to see more headcanons about her with people her age. Real headcanons.

What about Momo and Toga talking about how boring can fancy parties be? How people with money are crazy sometimes?

What about Toga talking with Jirou about beinf girls that are considered "bros" by her friends?

What about Toga talking about being a little mutant and Tsuyu talking with her about hating cold weather?

What about Toga and Kirishima being overexcited and full of positivity together? About Denki and Toga talking about celebrities and TigTog? About Toga and the people from class 1-B bonding over being considered less when they're as good as class 1-A? Toga and Shinsou? Toga and Koda loving cats? Toga and Shoji playing card games? Toga and Tokoyami loving metal music? Toga and Bakugo loving romance stories?

What about Toga admiring female pro-heroes? Mirko seems loud and determined, Toga would adore her under other circumstances. Fuyumi helping Toga with her self-care because she ran away young. Toga showing Eri that they both have "scary" quirks and it's not wrong! They're both went through really bad moments and they're not bad! Toga being a big fan of the Wild Wild Pussycats. Toga adoring Vlad King and Present Mic.

The potential is there.

Anyway I just want more creativity, maybe. People writing more about Toga and the implications of her childhood, about how insane she is a fighter and a human being.

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guqin-and-flute · 3 years

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[I am once again giving you an unrelated fanfic. Have some Modern married Xiyao.

Potential CW: poor anger coping skills?, very brief mention of suicidal ideation in internal dialogue. It's an errant thought and he doesn't actually mean it]

Jin Guangyao is upset. What's more upsetting is that he doesn't know why he's upset--this lack of information rankles him more than the feeling. He's used to feeling badly. That's how life is. But without a name, there is nowhere to file it away neatly. It is easier to ignore the sharp sting of a newly noticed cut than this fucking awful malaise that has apparently decided to settle over him with no rhyme or reason like he's some stupid idiot in an artsy French film, slowly choking down filtered cigarettes on some rusty balcony against a sunset or something.

That's not what he does. He is efficient. He is useful. And when he is like this, he is not.

And he still doesn't know why. And the fact that he cannot categorize and escape this has the ennui sliding slowly into a slow boil of tooth grinding fury.

Had it been the morning traffic? The fact that the library had emailed to inform him of a delay on his inter-library loan? The fact that his overpriced coffee was just a tiny bit burnt? The fact that Zixuan had taken a sick day today and so had not brought the soup his wife had promised Jin Guangyao for lunch? It shouldn't be, because these are all so horrifyingly trivial.

He has a tension headache beginning to string itself along his temples. He hates that the receptionist has a perky goodbye ready. He hates that the sun is shining so brightly. Then, he hates that the shadows of the clouds when they pass make things look grungy and dull. He hates that there is a flap of leather from his steering wheel that has peeled up in the back from his picking and he can feel it rubbing against his index finger as he stares, white knuckled and unblinking into the brake lights ahead of him as this bubbling pique crescendos as slowly as one of Xichen's beloved classical music pieces.

In fact, one is playing on the radio, softly, just within hearing range. The quiet, shrill edge of violins makes him want to kill something. Maybe himself. There's a bridge coming up in half a mile. He, very sanely, presses the button on the dash that turns it off instead of doing any of those things. The thought of Xichen has a voice of reason suggesting that he might meditate, while trapped here, 10 minutes from home.

Instead, he jabs a button on his fancy, stupid steering wheel with this thumb. An attentive computer noise beeps. The sudden noise in the relative silence of the car makes him dig his nails into the leather. "Text A-Huan," he snaps.

"Okay! What would you like the message to be?"

Jin Guangyao is going to find whoever programmed this faux-friendly robot voice and make them watch him drown their entire family in a toilet. "I. Hate. Everything."

Beep. "Okay! Your message reads; 'I hate everything'. Send?"

"Yes, send," he seethes before it can fully finish.

There is no plan to this. None at all. He just needs something real to sink his metaphorical teeth into. A reasonable anchor to reality to tell him whether or not he's being stupid and terrible for no reason at all.

Even though he already knows that he is.

The response returns in 43 seconds. Jin Guangyao had been counting. The cheery beep sounds just as the very stale green light turns yellow ahead. He presses the gas. "One message from A-Huan."

The light blinks red while he is only 1/4th of the way through the intersection. The lead car of the adjacent left turners beeps and he bares his teeth at her because he isn't fucking invisible, he's in a high profile gold Lexus and she had definitely seen him fucking coming. He stabs the button that makes the car read him the message.

"'Oh no. Bad day? Want to call? Blue heart emoji'," the female robot voice chirps in a butchery of his husbands words and no, no, he does not, because, at this point, it would simply be a minute long sustained scream of rage over literally nothing at all. He should have kept it to himself and found a quiet place to throw rocks at a wall or something until he wasn't such a repellant time bomb.

He does not reply because if he hears that robot voice again, he's going to commit vehicular homicide. And being arrested would not calm him down.

Finally, traffic parts and he pulls into his driveway--he notices how the bush on the side of the house's branches are creeping up to scrape the window of the kitchen and makes a mental note to send a curt text to the landscaper about his pruning habits. Why are they paying him several hundred dollars a month to let a stupid bush get unruly enough to damage the paint on his window trim?

When he slams his door shut, he hears a loud CLACK that announces that he has just closed his seatbelt in the door and lost the last tenuous thread of his temper. Heaving the door back, he plants his other hand up on the black plastic next to the window and smashes it shut again with all of his strength. Repeatedly. CLACK CLACK CLACK CLACK--Chunk.

Breath hissing between his teeth, he jerks his suit jacket straight, loosens his tie and stalks to the house. The garage door groans to life behind him. Xichen had been watching.

Perfect.

He's nowhere to be seen when Jin Guangyao slams through the backdoor like a vicious thundercloud, which is good and probably intentional, because it allows him to wrestle off his shoes, jacket, and tie in privacy. This does nothing to release any pressure, because it must be intentional wrestling--controlled and confined so he doesn't pop off a button or rip a seam or scuff the shining black leather. Now he's seething in their immaculate, state of the art kitchen, hating how the cold tile feels against his black dress socks and the fact that it smells like tea. Which is stupid. Because he likes tea. But not right now.

Stop being a piece of shit, he snarls at himself. You've already probably fucked up the car and Xichen doesn't deserve this. He balls up his fists so tightly that the bright pain from his nails sinking into his palms leaks up his arms. Be better.

He has no idea how to do that because he has no idea what is wrong.

Reason says to steer clear of Xichen until he can get a hold of himself and behave like a fucking adult. And in the early days of their relationship, he would have. He had. Whenever he got like this, he would shut down or not have inflicted himself on Xichen at all with a smooth lie, and no amount of prying would get anything useful out of him because he would not be a bother. There had been Talks. Long, extensive Talks about trust and love and wanting to take care of him. He had even believed some of them. That's how they can be married, now, years later--Xichen knowing just how close he is to this at all times. How thin his veneer of manners and pleasantries actually is. (He can't truly know, though, can he. If he knew how much none of it makes sense, there is no possible way someone as kind and intelligent as him would choose to stay.)

Xichen would purse his lips if he said this out loud; somewhere between exasperation and sad fondness. Jin Guangyao doesn't tell him, anymore. Most of the time because he doesn't actually think this.

This is not most of the time.

Yes, reason says that he should suck it up and become a human being before burdening Xichen.

But his husband has long, cool hands and soft eyes and a brilliant mind that can solve any problem just by holding it and maybe he just wants to be small and angry and ugly and pathetic and selfish in the comfort of his own home while someone reminds him that there have been, in fact, good things that have happened in his life and he had been, at one time, happy--believe it or not.

And if nothing else, it compounds his streak of bad decisions.

The smell of tea intensifies when he reaches their room. The curtains are drawn. It renders the deep, dusty blues of the bed spread and the armchair black and the aged gold accent pieces muted, except for where the warm light pouring from their open bathroom door paints them bright again. Xichen sits on the edge of their bed in the soft, expensive loungewear Jin Guangyao got him for his birthday last year, one ankle on his knee, watching him with eyes just as soft as he had been expecting. A mug of tea is tucked into his hand and a plate with round, lumpy shapes sits by his hip. Beside that lays spread out the absurdly oversized and absurdly soft heather gray shirt that Nie Huaisang had gifted to him as a joke but was, in fact, one of Jin Guangyao's guilty pleasure sleep shirts.

With his perfect voice and his perfect logic and his perfect way of being the only good thing on this entire, worthless planet, his husband says, "I think you need to scream into this pillow."

'This pillow' is, in fact, one of theirs, dark blue with a thread count that was higher than any savings he ever had in college, perched on a bundle of blankets that is the perfect size to throw himself upon like a sulking romance heroine. He hates it. Hates that this is known, that this might help.

So he fucking does it. He deliberately stalks around the bed, climbs up, smashes his face into the pillow and screams as loudly as he can. With every single ounce of rage in his body, curling him up like the shriveling of a raisin in fast forward, like the curling of a scorpion tail, like throwing up, wringing every last scant molecule of oxygen out of his lungs.

When the sound peters out and he has to drag in another breath, he curls tighter, the claws of his hands reaching over the top of the pillow to fist in his hair. It presses the plush of it firmer over his face and bites it until his teeth ring with dull pain, and his jaw aches and his head throbs and his eyes sting. His scalp burns from the pull on his hair and his throat is raw and tight.

Tearing himself away, finally, he gasps in a gulp of cooler air. Xichen has turned so he is now cross-legged at the foot of the bed, watching him with a mix of calm and understanding sympathy. "Lay down?"

There is a ragged, hollow hole in him that still has scraps of rage clinging to it like disgusting lichen--but the visceral, all consuming hate seems to have been absorbed by his pillow. So he lets himself roll sideways, eyes closing. Xichen gets off the bed--Jin Guangyao assumes, wearily, that he's putting down the tea mug and hopes that he uses a coaster--and then returns by knee walking up the bed to his side. Then, those cool hands he had been hoping for pick open the tiny hard buttons of his shirt. Each pop releases a a tension across his skin and he feels that he can breathe easier with every one.

Jin Guangyao can hear him breathing, slow and measured, through his nose and thinks that it's probably the most comforting sound that he's ever heard in his entire life--now that he's willing to be comforted. Able to be. The reminder of Xichen's continued existence is the only sound he will ever need to be calm again.

The button up is abandoned in favor of undoing his belt--breath, more of it, infiltrating him deeper and deeper--popping the button on his slacks, tugging them down his legs in a warm slide. The quiet clink of it being tossed somewhere. A closing quiet as Xichen leans in and presses his smooth lips to his forehead. Then the corner of his eyebrow. Then the bridge of his nose. Different points and planes of his face like he is unlocking a combination that will open him up and allow him to purge the rest of the awfulness that lingers.

What it mostly is is exhaustion, now. "A-Huan," he groans--whines. Ugh.

Before disgust at himself can settle in, his husband takes this as the invitation for what it is and kisses his mouth, gentle and slow. Jin Guangyao moves his mouth back, halfheartedly, mostly parting his lips to allow him access to do whatever. But all he does is kiss him chastely. Lovingly. He tastes like green tea. Then, Xichen murmurs against his lips, "Would you like a bath?"

He vents a negating grunt, lolling his head back and forth. Baths are so much work. Even when Xichen offered to wash his hair or read to him or even join him, you still had to keep it hot, you had to endure cold when you left, get yourself dry. Too much change, too much sensation and movement.

He should be shaking himself awake. He should be apologizing for his terrible, pointless mood. He should be trying to kiss him back, love him back, pay him back. Thank him.

Xichen merely lifts his hands and presses the heels of his palms into the hinges at Jin Guangyao's jaw, inexorably grinding the tension out of them. Jin Guangyao allows himself to melt. When those cool fingertips slide into his hair, he lets them tug him upright, so Xichen can slide off his button up and slip him out of his undershirt. He shivers against the chill of the bedroom air, but he doesn't feel a surge of utter hatred for the sensations so, well, that's something. In no time, Xichen has coaxed him into the oversized shirt, removed his socks and bundled him up against the padded headboard, tucked into Xichen's side.

Jin Guangyao allows this. He allows himself to allow the blanket to be tugged up over his bare legs, Xichen to tuck the warm mug of steaming mint tea into his hands, and wind his fingers through his hair. He closes his eyes and takes in a deep, shuddering breath before sighing it all out. Xichen's fingers rub soothing circles across his sore scalp.

"Open?"

He cracks one eye to see a cookie hovering at mouth level. It's too dim in the room to properly tell what kind it is, but because Xichen has been perfect in literally every other way, he simply obeys and bites down. Browned butter and sea salt and semi-sweet chocolate ooze across his tongue and the instant spike of sugar satisfaction warms his chest. Jin Guangyao chews with utter contentment, swallows, and opens his mouth again.

"Good?" Xichen's amused voice vibrates warmly through his chest as he indulgently feeds him another bite.

"Mm. Very. Did you make them?"

"I did, earlier today. I just got lucky with the timing." His nails scrape oh so gently across his scalp. "How are you doing?"

Instead of answering, Jin Guangyao blinks up at him and his sweet, kind, ridiculously gorgeous face that is graced by a light smile and a gold edge light from the bathroom.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"Being terrible."

"You're never terrible."

"I was today. I think I fucked up the car."

Xichen chuckles, smile crimping to a knowing press. "I saw. It won't be a big deal. We'll deal with it later."

"...Thank you."

"Of course, A-Yao. Do you still hate everything?"

"Mm-nn." He snuggles down deeper against his ribs, looping an arm around Xichen's warm waist. He has the best husband in his arms, his dark-sweet scent is in his nose, chocolate on his tongue, and 1000 count sheets against his skin.

What is there to hate?

#I was in an exceptionally bad mood #so therefore I projected it onto JGY and made Xichen make it better #because that's what writers DO #There is no plot at all except my own journey of being in a better mood. I am now. But it is also 4:20 am. Oh well. You do what you can.#my stuff #my fic #xiyao #lxc #jgy #text #xiyao fanfic #completely unedited because that's how it goes #it's an errant thought and he doesn't mean it #brief suicide mention

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sleepylixie · 3 years

Text

1.5k words, Lovers to Strangers, non-idol AU. Angst, but of fluff

Dancer! Yeosang X Fem! Reader

A/N: WELCOME TO MY very first official Ateez fanfiction!! This is the first of many fics I have planned for Ateez, can’t wait to show em to y’all! Anyways- onto the fic!

The spotlight wasn’t for everybody; it was a fear for some, an intrigue for others. But for him, your swan… the spotlight was his home. It makes so much sense that he left you behind for it.

//WHAT WAS.\\

“Any reason you were missing from class today?” Kang Yeosang was always alluring, but the years of adolescence had worked its magic on him. The years of hard training and workout had melted the soft, childlike sparkle away to show high cheekbones, a sharp jaw and perfectly straight nose. But his eyes were still the same- soft, warm, always lighting up when he smiled.

You were yet to grow up- you still looked like an ugly duckling next to a pure white swan, marring beauty with just your presence. Did you even deserve to call him your best friend? Just because you grew up next to him, witnessing his life as an extension of your own? Was that even barely enough to stake your claim as a friend- as anything, to him?

“My ankle was causing trouble again.” you mutter, toeing off the blanket covering your legs to reveal the bandages wrapped around your right ankle. You were no stranger to injury, your body having taken the brunt of consequences for your clumsiness- but when you set foot on the stage, all the world’s pain seemed to melt away. You and Yeosang thrived off the spotlight and so did your friendship- but over the past year, the intensive program you both belonged to had stepped up their training regime and your body was struggling to keep up. “You really need to take care of yourself.” Despite the years spent around each other, it still astounded you how expressive he was without much movement. All he had to do was settle himself on the couch next to you and raise an eyebrow at you, lips curled in disapproval.

You looked away, the rapid beat of your heart the only betrayal your body gave away for the rush of emotions you were feeling. Damn him for making you feel this way, like summer and winter had descended upon your skin at the same time, like time would stop at your behest when he was around you. Damn him for being so painfully easy to fall in love with. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

“You better be, best friend.”

“You’re always so good for me.” Kang Yeosang was always alluring, but moments of intimacy made him look otherworldly. He was a passionate lover, that beautiful body of his aiming for pleasure beyond measure. and pleasure you he did, within an inch of your senses.

You remember not being able to fathom the disbelief you felt when he stood in front of you under a streetlight outside class, hands twisting together nervously as he mumbled out a confession.. a confession of love. It was the dead of night, but you could have sworn you almost felt the sun’s warmth in that moment, spreading from your heart to your toes, until the second thoughts sunk in. The memory of that momentary terror still numbs your fingertips sometimes, the fear that had coursed through your veins in the aftermath of that sunshine. What if, 6 months down the line, he looked back at this moment and felt nothing but a sea of regret? That you were nothing like the person he’d fallen for, only a shadow that could trail his otherworldly radiance? That he was better off far away from you, that you were better off alone, away from him? But you hadn’t voiced your internal sense of dread, choosing to drown instead in the pure joy that had settled onto Yeosang’s face when you told him his feelings weren’t unrequited. The first drag of his lips against yours was a sensation you knew you’d never be able to forget, the recollection still tinged with midnight softness. That night had marked the start of your tryst with Yeosang and romance. Shifting from friendship to lovers was smoother than you had anticipated- it was only a matter of your cafe runs now being categorized as dates, the two of you now able to stumble to one of your apartments hand-in-hand, giggling like high school sweethearts. Your belongings were already scattered around each other’s homes, your parents exchanging knowing glances and accepting the other into the family. As the days went by, slowly and then all too soon, you couldn’t help but look back and think, oh, what an enchantment the two of you were.

You were the king and queen of your dance major, the ones most likely to make it in the world, hand-in-hand. Your duets were the tear-jerkers, the seat-shifters, the reason for the wolf-whistles and the frat-boy whoops in the annual showcases. You were savored by the spotlight, adored by the souls in the seats, envied by your peers.. but your love was for no one but each other- until it all went to hell.

“You know I have to do this.” Kang Yeosang was always alluring, but the time he chose to walk away made him unattainable. The accident onstage rendered you with a weak ankle for the rest of your life- imprisoned away from the spotlight. You would never be able to dance again, said the doctors. You were to consider yourself lucky you could still walk. Even trying to dance again would have you running the risk of never leaving a bed again.

And your love, your swan, he couldn’t stomach the idea of being with a lover who could never live in the spotlight with him. He was young, your swan, and disillusioned by the stars that sparkled in front of him, reckless in his pursuit to reach them. So he took his first ticket out- away from you, away from the country, into a new world with a dance company and a dance scholarship.

You hadn’t even left bed rest when he had slipped into your hospital room, looking for all the world like he’d committed a crime he couldn’t bring himself to regret. “You’re okay with me leaving, right?” The undertone of the question felt clear enough that you didn’t say it aloud- looking back, it was possibly because you were too scared of having to hear the words out loud. What were the chances that he would want to keep a relationship with a broken dancer from an old chapter of his past? That’s right, none. It took everything in your body to subdue the response you yearned to give him- no, you weren’t okay. NO, You wanted him to stay. No, you didn’t want to be left behind. But even in the state of imminent despair, the only thing you registered was the hopeful glint in his tired eyes. The same eyes that had dreamt and fantasized of this day, to be worthy of the world’s best, be the world’s best- “Of course, my love. Congratulations, I’m so happy for you.” You reached out for Yeosang’s hand and let him clasp it, his uncertainty melting away as he pressed one last fleeting kiss to your knuckles before the seconds began to fly. All too soon, he was getting to his feet, squeezing your hand before turning away.

“I’ll miss you.” he breathed hesitantly, turning around at the door to meet your gaze for what felt like one last time. “I love you.” His whisper was as light as air, but the silence of the sunrise allowed the words to grace your ears before he slipped out of the room as quickly as he had come, leaving you all alone. Just as you’d feared. He didn’t even break your heart behind him-

So you steeled your nerves and broke your heart by yourself. “No you don’t.”

You remember feeling broken for a long time, like you’d lost an anchor that had held you to the ground where you were supposed to be. In one fell swoop, you lost the spotlight and you lost him. You had nowhere to go anymore- no safe haven, no safe human. And yet, you couldn’t bring myself to hate him, your swan.

Was this what unconditional love felt like?

//WHAT IS\\

“Miss!Miss ! What are your plans for this fine evening? I’m sure a beautiful young lady of your stature has many places to be?”

The lights shone in your eyes- not as one large blinding gleam, but as tens of tiny blinking ones. The cameras clicked at you, petite spotlights of their own.

“Maybe attend a recital, maybe find a drink in your marvelous city.” A renowned romance author at your age was unheard of- and with the rarity came fame. You pieced yourself back together, all by yourself. You grew up, from a broken ugly duckling into something beautiful. This time, you were your own anchor.

Kang Yeosang was alluring, but the spotlight following his solitary movements across a worn wood floor made him look like a god. There was nothing hesitant about his movements, the song building up to the swan song, the final adieu, the farewell of a character who had lived too much, too young. The audience was alive, electric with the feeling he left them with.

He made the right choice, your beautiful black swan. Watching him there, onstage, at the zenith of his existence, glowing, burning, alive under the spotlight that was so beloved to him… the embers of what you felt for him stirred, but you know they’d never come to life again.

The spotlight was your swan’s home, and your words would always be yours.

Thank you for reading! Do let me know what you think! - xoxo, Elliana <3

Network Tag: @kpopscape

#kpopscape #ateez #atz #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #kang yeosang #ateez yeosang #yeosang x reader #yeosang imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff #ella.ateez #kang yeosang x reader #atz imagines #atz x reader

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ratingtheframe · 3 years

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10 Films to watch this Valentine’s Day if you’re single as hell.

If anyone or anything is making you feel worthless on the Capitalist Holiday that is Valentine’s Day because you’re single AF, then don’t fret because it means one of two things;

You’re happy enough with yourself to not need anyone else.

You’re allergic to people.

Though mine is both the former and the latter, I can still get down to a good romance movie now and again. Now I’m not talking about those horrendous rom coms that Netflix seems to be churning out every damn minute, but those emotionally invested, earthy and well written dramas that has you ugly crying into your bathrobe for 17 minutes straight (me at the end of Her.). Here is a compiled list of some of the best romance films I’ve seen over the years and how each one doesn’t showcase an abundance of clichés and brands them as “acts of love”.

A Star is Born (2018 or 1953, take your pick)

I’ve found that both the 1953 version of A Star is Born with Judy Garland and the 2018 newer version to be a perfect and well rounded love story. What makes this love story so fierce is the vulnerabilities and downfall of its characters, which even though there are many sad moments, it perpetuates and strengthens the acts of love shown in the film. Both versions are similar in that they follow a woman who’s rise to fame as a performer becomes overshadowed by her jealous partner, who is also a notable celebrity. In the 2018 version starring Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper, Gaga’s character Ally is helped by a country singer, Jackson Maine to become a successful singer and icon amongst the music industry. As she rises, Jackson falls and the character dynamics and intensity between them is a fitting love story. I was thoroughly bawling at the end and I guarantee you will too as Lady Gaga’s rendition of Love Again was the true scene stealer of the film.

Call me by your name (2017)

I have an incredible bias towards this film and it has nothing to do with the film’s context or characters or even Timothée Chalamet The reason why I feel so connected to this film and proclaim it as my favourite film of all time is because of when I watched the film. It’s almost like seeing a film about a political event right after it's happened; you have this rush and connection towards something that’s actually affected you in the real world. I had the same feeling with Call me by your name after going through a rough and confusing patch whilst trying to get over someone I thought I truly loved. Turns out I didn’t (thank god) and yet Call me your name was almost like a shoulder to cry on. It’s a film that’s taught me to love and love hard but most importantly, not beat yourself up or try to distinguish the pain felt by true love. If you haven’t been fortunate to catch this beauty of a film, it follows two men, Elio (Timothée Chalamet) and Oliver (Armie Hammer) and their brief relationship in the summer of 1983 in Northern Italy. 17 year old Elio lives with his parents and his father (Michael Stuhlbarg) is a scholar who invites students from outside the country for the summer in hope of passing on his wisdom to them. This is when Oliver arrives, a handsome twenty something American who becomes the infatuation of Elio.

I’ll never forget the first time I heard the monologue that Elio’s father gave his son at the end, explaining to Elio why he shouldn’t feel embarrassed by the pain he felt after loving Oliver:

“We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster, that we go bankrupt by the age of thirty and have less to offer each time we start with someone new. But to make yourself feel nothing so as not to feel anything - what a waste”

That, ladies and gentlemen and all in between, is what love is.

Her. (2013)

Once again, another film about love that had a profound effect on me because of when I watched it. Her. follows the story of Theodore (Joaquin Phoenix) and his search for a story using an A.I to help him write. However, after getting to know this A.I named Samantha (Scarlett Johansson) and hearing the way she adapts and shows emotions, he soon falls in love with it. Some may deem this as rather sad (which it is) but I think it speaks to bigger constructs like internet dating and letting go of people you loved thus diminishing the fantasy and world you created for the two of you. This part of the film got to me a stark way as I felt the pain of letting go of not only a person, but a fantasy, just like Theodore had to do in letting his past partners go. Her. is truly beautiful, with some great production design, cinematography and acting.

Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019)

The absolute queen of love stories would be Céline Sciamma’s Portrait of a Lady on Fire, a film about the romance between two women in the late 18th Century. Definitely not a narrative you see every day or one that’s been painted in such a way (pun intended). Marianne (Noémie Merlant) is commissioned to paint the beautiful and stubborn Héloïse (Adèle Haenel) and the portrait is to be gifted to a suitor of Héloïse’s from Milan. But instead of getting the painting done and sending it off, Marianne and Héloïse unexpectedly fall for one another at a subtle and well timed pace that had me gawping at the screen the entire way through. Slow, sensual and moving is Portrait of a Lady on Fire and I would definitely say is one of the best LGBTQ plus films ever made to date.

Broke Back Mountain (2005)

Ang Lee scooped up a BAFTA, Golden Globe and Oscar for his direction on his adapted screenplay of Brokeback Mountain. Ennis Del Mar (Heath Ledger) and Jack Twist (Jake Gyllenhaal) form a romantic bond after shepherding alone together on the side of a mountain. Once their time herding sheep comes to a close and they return back to their respective lives, it's clear that their bond is stronger than they had anticipated. They live in constant fear of their relationship becoming apparent to those around them, which leaves one of them taking matters into their own hands. A controversial yet extremely successful film of its time, Brokeback Mountain does a fabulous job of showcasing the consequences and despair of love using two of Hollywood’s finest actors.

Carol (2013)

It’s difficult to fully appreciate LGBTQ plus films set in the past as they mostly focus on the persecution of homosexuals as opposed to the love they wish to express. However, this was pretty accurate of the time and it's only very recently that we have begun to accept one another’s sexualities and genders fully so much that we play these stories out on screen without the persecution part. Carol is a film directed by Todd Haynes and stars Rooney Mara and Cate Blanchett. I found them to be an extremely intense pairing whilst they unravelled as their characters on screen. Therese (Rooney Mara) works in the toy department of a department store when one day she lays eyes upon Carol Aird, a beautiful and elegant married woman who becomes the infatuation of Therese. Therese throws all caution to the wind in order to be closer to Carol and because of this and the 1950s society they live in, their relationship is doomed from the beginning. I was in complete awe of the way Carol had been shot and created into this sensual and rich drama set in the 1950s. From the costumes, to the lighting to the acting, everything about Carol held weight to it showcasing the devotion of a truly talented director.

Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind (2004)

Usually I’d pass on a Charlie Kaufman film, seeing as they make no sense, however I felt that it was time I delved into this cult classic starring Kate Winslet, Jim Carrey, Kirsten Dunst, Mark Ruffalo and Elijah Wood. It’s a really well made film with a clear and distinct message to it that’s represented in some phenomenal filmmaking techniques. The plot line of this film follows a man trying to erase a past lover and his memories of her get wiped away physically before your eyes on screen. It made me wish that I could do the same with people I’ve liked in the past, but the contradictory of this would be the trauma of eventually ending up with someone you had already met in another life. I haven’t experienced a break up nor felt the pain of one, though I could judge that this film tells that experience really well.

Moonlight (2016)

Moonlight is one of few films that I would genuinely worship if it were a religion. It's also one of the films that I outwardly shame people for not having seen, as it is truly a masterpiece and film lover’s film. Deep, emotionally connected, colourful, harsh, moving and eye opening, this film takes you on an emotional rollercoaster through the eyes of Chiron and the three stages of his life that have carved out his essence as a human being. Not only that, but he falls in love with another boy at his school, and when he does, he’s hurt rather badly. Literally. Moonlight is the definition of profundity and was awarded the top prize of Best Picture at the 2017 Academy Awards.

Loving (2016)

When I think of a truthful and honest testament of love, the film Loving comes to mind which is a fitting title for such a delicate yet strong story. The film is based on a true story of an interracial couple, Richard and Mildred (Joel Edgerton and Ruth Negga) being banned from Virginia in the 1950s for choosing to be together. If that ain’t a true sacrifice of love, then I don’t know what is. Choosing someone you love over your own home is an unfathomable thing and certainly shows the strength that this couple had in facing the judgements of others whilst remaining emotionally truthful to themselves.

The Shape of Water (2017)

The Shape of Water is a strange yet enlightening love story between Eliza, a deaf woman (Sally Hawkins) and a creature being tested on in a laboratory. Awards season went mental for this back in 2018, winning four of the THIRTEEN Oscars it was nominated for. I would categorize it as quite the niche film and wouldn’t usually think that such a film could be garnered with Oscar success. However everyone who worked on this film really pulled out the stops in creating an entire new world and perspective that has many layers to it, as well as an abundance of conflict and dynamics for audiences to lull over. The relationship between Eliza and the feared swamp monster that’s being cruelly tested in the laboratories where she works, is heartfelt and honest, which is strange seeing as Eliza’s virtually in love with a monster. The casting in this was outlandish yet it really worked as all actors in this melded well into the story as their prospective characters. It also has one of the most touching endings to a film I’ve ever seen.

And there you have it, ten Romance films for you to enjoy this Valentine’s Day. Watch them all at once, or maybe just watch one. Whether you watch it alone or with someone, it doesn’t really matter!

Lots of love

Ang x

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tf2-hellhole · 3 years

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Yaaay i got here in time! This blog rocks. Can i ask what your HCs are for what sort of affection (sexual, romantic, w/e) the mercs like the most?

Warning: No NSFW, but there is discussion of sex

I categorized it by romantic or sexual, but there’s a bit of categorizing by the 5 love languages idea too

If any of you are asexual or don’t want sex in any way, I think any of the mercs would be perfectly fine with that honestly. You can ignore the first bullet point for each mercenary, except Scout and Spy because rejection of sex is kinda involved in their development here.

Scout:

At first, sexual. After a while, both.

When you first start your relationship, the majority of the affection he tries to give you is sexual, because that’s the only type of affection he knows how to give. All of his past relationships have been purely sexual with little to no romantic attraction, so he honestly thinks relationships are a lot more about the sex than they are about the bond.

But eventually, as you give him more romantic, wholesome affection, he realizes that it’s not all about that. He quickly grows to love romantic affection and is constantly drowning you in it. He likes giving you lots of physical affection, like hugs and kisses, and lots of compliments, as well as taking you on lots of dates.

He grows to prefer romantic affection over sexual affection, but he still loves sex. Even that changes, however; he’s now ok with not having any sex, and if you want to have it, it’s not just about his own pleasure anymore.

Soldier:

Romantic.

Soldier is not the most affectionate partner (he’s honestly not very good at romance in general honestly), but he absolutely prefers romantic affection over sexual. He doesn’t have much of a drive for sex honestly, and even when he was young, it wasn’t something he cared about too much. But if you ever need him, he’s happy to provide what you need.

He’s not big on physical/verbal affection, but he is always showing his love through different acts of service. He will always do what you ask of him without a moment of hesitation, even if he really, really doesn’t want to do it. He will always, always serve you loyally, though he is prone to making mistakes when doing what you ask of him.

His next favorite form of affection is through quality time. He honestly lives for every moment he gets to spend with you, so he loves planning dates with you. He likes those types of casual fun dates people go on in movies; stuff like making out at the drive-in or going to a cafe for lunch.

Pyro:

Romantic.

In the way I interpret Pyro, they literally no interest in sex nor do they want it, and they are not willing to perform. But they absolutely loooooove giving and receiving romantic affection. They’re very lovey, so they’re constantly smothering you in it.

They love to give all kinds of physical affection. They’re always wrapping you up in big bear hugs, peppering your face in kisses, or whining for you to come cuddle with them. They honestly can get pretty needy, but if you tell them this they will respectfully try to respect your boundaries with no hard feelings.

They also love giving you presents. The most common thing they give you is drawings they’ve made you; they’re all kinda bad and very sweet. They also love giving you treats and trinkets they make themselves, which are actually very well-made.

Demo:

Both.

Demo does really enjoy sex and has a fairly decent drive for his age, but does it more for the bonding and enjoyment of your company than he does for the pleasure. But, being as affection-starved as he is, he also lives for any romantic affection you give him.

He’s actually quite the romantic, and he surprises you with the amount of affection and loves he showers on you everyday. His main form of affection is through physical affection; he’s always wrapping his arms around your waist, putting you on his lap, hugging you from behind, cuddling you at night, smothering you in wet kisses. But he also likes to be overly romantic to make you laugh.

He also loves spending time with you. He likes to take you on adventures and fun trips, but he also loves domestic stuff like snuggling up to watch a movie or making dinner together.

Heavy:

Romantic.

I mean, homie is 57 years old, and never cared about it when he was younger. He literally has no drive, but he will happily provide if you need him. So he definitely prefers romantic affection over sexual.

At first, he doesn’t seem to be the most affectionate partner. He doesn’t say “I love you” very often and doesn’t give lots of physical affection, but he’s constantly doing things for you, making you things (usually food) and spending time with you.

His favorite thing is spending quality time with you. The life he’s lived has taught him that spending time with the people you love is very, very important. So of course, he always cherishes every moment he spends with you. His absolute favorite thing is to have you cuddled up against his chest while you watch TV/he reads to you/ similar stuff.

But like I said, he also loves performing acts of service or giving you heartfelt gifts (he makes you food from his home, especially treats).

Engie:

Romantic.

Engie has always been quite a romantic, and loves giving romantic affection. He does enjoy sex, and honestly has a decently high drive for his age. But he doesn’t often ask for it on the rare occasion he needs you; he feels like he’d be too demanding or greedy if he propositioned you every time. On the rare occasion he indulges himself by asking, he always sets up the night to be very romantic and makes it way more about the bonding than his needs.

In general, he’s so adorably romantic. He’s always a total gentleman for you; treating you kindly and sweetly, doing things like opening doors, playing guitar for you, giving you all sorts of kisses. Like, the whole shebang.

He loves spending good quality time with you. He’s always doing things like playing you love songs, making and sharing dinner with you, taking you out to festivals and other fun events. But he’s also the type to appreciate the little things, like snuggling at night or cleaning together.

Medic:

Both.

Medic does have a love of romance and generally prefers it, but he also has a high drive for his age and needs you every once in a while. Most of the time he turns it into a sweet, romantic night for you two. He always surprises you with what a romantic he can be sometimes.

He loves all kinds of little shows of affection; swapping compliments, pecks on the cheek, holding hands. Little domestic things like that absolutely make his day, honestly. So he does have an fondness for physical affection. He’s a little touch-starved to be honest, so give him a big hug and he’ll melt on you with the goofiest grin on his face.

He also really loves gift-giving; he’s always showering you in treats and presents, especially on holidays like your birthday or Valentine’s Day. He honestly loves pampering you like this. Sometimes he uses presents to kind of flex how well he knows you and your interests.

Sniper:

Romantic.

He does have the sexual drive you’d expect from a super repressed dude in his 20s, but he’s so unbelievably starved of affection that he absolutely lives for any romantic affection.

He’s very fond of physical affection, to the point he can get kinda clingy in private. He’s touchstarved so he always needs to be touching you. He specifically loves cuddling in bed/on the couch/another cozy place, but he also loves hugs, soft touches, nuzzles, kisses, literally anything physical. He’d probably cry a lil if you held him tenderly, kissed his face, and told him how much you love him.

He’s also very fond of words of affirmation, but he doesn’t actually show it too much. He always compliments you after you get ready for the day, even if you’re literally looking the worst you’ve ever looked. And he’d never admit it, but he loooooooves receiving compliments. He always brushes compliments off, but he’s red as a tomato afterward.

Spy:

At first, sexual. After a while, both.

When you first start dating Spy, he’s used to being unable to tell anyone about his feelings, thoughts, or memories, and venting it all through sex. It’s extremely unhealthy for him and honestly just leaves him feeling even worse. But as you start giving him affection and he gets used to a healthier, more supportive relationship, he realizes he actually has a very low drive for it when he’s not using it as an outlet. Now, he prefers coming to you for help when he’s feeling bad.

He really loves physical or verbal affection. And not the type of suave affection associated with his persona; he just wants to tiredly melt in your arms after a long day and talk about what he’s thinking. He honestly doesn’t know what he’d do without you in his life to help him with his feelings. So he loves to shower you in sweet, sincere compliments and tell you how much you mean to him.

#tf2 #teamfortress2 #tf2 scout #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro #tf2 demoman #tf2 heavy #tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #tf2 imagines #tf2 headcanons #tf2 x reader #tf2 x s/o #tf2 x y/n #tf2 x you

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dweemeister · 3 years

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The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp (1943)

In these days of social isolation, domestic distractions, and pandemic, rare is the feature film that I watch at home in one sitting. Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger’s The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp might have confused me in its opening half-hour but, in the end, commanded my attention for all of its one hundred and sixty-three minutes*. It is a film made during a time of crisis now fading from living memory, from British filmmakers reveling in their work’s Britishness. During Colonel Blimp’s wartime production and release, Britain was under existential threat from the Nazis, despite the opening of the North African front and apparent British victory in defending its airspace. A gentleman's war this was not, if ever such a thing existed. British cinema reflected those beliefs of the nation staring down its own annihilation, as the industry set to work on patriotic, if not propagandistic, movies.

There is no denying that Powell and Pressburger’s The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp has elements of propaganda. The film, so resistant to any categorizations by genre (including comedy, drama, epic, romance, war), has no qualms that Britain is fighting a just war against Nazi Germany. But there are moments that must have given British Prime Minister Winston Churchill – who attempted to halt Colonel Blimp’s production and distribution – pause. Powell and Pressburger raise questions towards the justifications and necessity of past British wars, the idea of warfare as a noble exercise, and introduces a “good German” character. Colonel Blimp’s genre-bending and provocative queries into Britain’s militant soul represents the most breathtaking balancing act in any of Powell and Pressburger’s movies.

The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp takes place over three time periods, each in a different setting:

Boer War (the common name for what is technically the Second Boer War): 1902 in Berlin, far from the violence in southern Africa

World War I and between the World Wars: from November 1918-1935 between the Western Front and postbellum Britain

World War II: from 1939 through the Battle of Britain (1940), mostly in the London area

The film begins near its chronological conclusion, when the rotund, mustachioed, Major-General Clive Wynne-Candy (Roger Livesey; whose role is modeled off of the “Colonel Blimp” comic strip character’s appearance and mannerisms) is surprised to be “captured” by Lieutenant Spud Wilson (James McKechnie) during a premature training exercise. Candy, who is trying to enjoy his afternoon at his favorite Turkish bath, is outraged at Wilson’s disregard to the exercise’s rules, and fisticuffs break out. From here, Colonel Blimp flashes back to Candy’s service in the Boer War and sticks to a strict chronology. Then-Lt. Candy is in Berlin, on leave from his service in the Boer War. There, he has a series of misadventures (and a love triangle) involving Edith Hunter (Deborah Kerr in one of three separate roles she plays) and an officer from the Imperial German Army named Theo Krestchmar-Schuldorff (Anton Walbrook). All three become friends while in Berlin; Theo and Edith become engaged shortly before Candy must leave Berlin.

We never see Edith (who stays in Germany with Theo) again in Colonel Blimp, but Theo – even though his time with Candy was relatively brief – remains friends with Candy. That friendship, however, conflicts against and interweaves into his German patriotism. Theo’s patriotism is not unconditional: he believes fervently in the aims of Imperial Germany in World War I’s immediate aftermath, but flees Hitler’s Nazi regime for soil his wife once called home. Taking account of all English-language cinema, he becomes a rare “good German”. In a person that a xenophobic British person might consider the enemy, we see a man heartbroken for the fate that befalls his native country and the violence waged against his adopted one.

Take the cruelly ironic scene of Theo visiting Candy after being released from a prisoner of war (POW) camp, as he ingratiates himself with Candy’s British dinner guests. Candy’s friends remark that British hospitality and organization must have eased the lives of the POWs, and the insinuate that British-German tensions shall soon wane. Germany will soon recover from the war, the dinner guests maintain. Notice Anton Walbrook’s physical acting here, acting as a man too polite to belabor his fellow guests with his sadness for his country and the anger of their presumptuous predictions. The Austrian actor, perhaps best known as Boris Lermontov from The Red Shoes (1948), provides a stupendous performance, most likely the widest-ranging one of his career. He inhabits his character’s contradictions of all three eras: the martial rigidity and playfulness of his Boer War-era youth, the defiance and disappointment following the Great War, and the sadness and pent-up fury of his elderly years. This is quite demanding for any actor, let alone someone who is nominally in a supporting role. Yet, a particular interview scene might represent the best piece of acting in any Powell and Pressburger picture. Walbrook performs spectacularly, with never a wasted motion or a dull moment from him.

Personal change comes much more slowly to Lieutenant-later-General Candy. This is as much for the purposes of the film’s chronological drama as it is a product of World War II-era remembrance. At this time in British filmmaking, one could not make narrative art deemed too critical of Britain’s bloody past – whether colonial or against its European rivals. For a film that engages so vigorously in a discourse concerning jus in bello, it portrays zero wartime violence. Meditations of war arrive solely in conversation, never action. In Candy’s indefatigable Britishness, The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp affirms his views that the Boer War and World War I were and are just conflicts, fought justly. He does not thirst for violence, nor does he dismiss the traumas war brings to combatants and civilians alike (he may downplay those traumas, though). Candy’s flawed introspection and stubbornness are endearing, at first. As time progresses, those qualities come ever into conflict with the changing nature of warfare and the contexts of the war currently waged. Britain is and will always be above committing war atrocities, Candy believes (you can roll your eyes; it is the least you should do after reading those last few words), and Nazi Germany’s tactics will never succeed in the face of Britain’s upstanding military. Such thinking was outdated even then, and only through his friendship with Theo does he consider how wrong he is.

Roger Livesey might not have been Powell and Pressburger’s first choice as Candy (that would be Laurence Olivier, who probably would have made Candy a more sophisticated character), but he embodies a contradictory gruffness and gentleness that weaves between military and civilian life. Those qualities are on full display when Livesey captures the attention of Deborah Kerr’s characters. In addition to Walbrook’s turn as Theo, Livesey and Kerr offer wonderful performances that cement the film’s Britishness. Through the three eras covered in The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp, Candy’s relationship with these women evolves as he ages, as the nature of the Britain’s conflicts make romance unwise. Kerr’s three characters might have different life interests, romantic inclinations, and temperaments, but their similar appearances – no coincidence, as the viewer later learns – anchor Candy to a perpetual past.

The striking Technicolor photography from Georges Périnal (1930’s Under the Roofs of Paris, 1948’s The Fallen Idol) with assistance from Jack Cardiff (1947’s Black Narcissus, 1951’s The African Queen) and production design from Alfred Junge (Black Narcissus, 1953’s Knights of the Round Table) makes The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp one of the most arresting Technicolor productions ever. The vibrancy of the colors leap from the screen – even the gray interiors of modern buildings and the browns of the World War I trenches and wooden panels of Candy’s estate. One crane shot of Candy and Theo during their first encounter – a swordsmen’s duel inside a cavernous hall, away from the freezing storm outdoors – and the fade into the shot of a building model gives the film the feel of an oral history where the most dynamic moments can never be truly captured. Those moments of action blur into Candy’s memory, as tangible now as the buildings inside a snow globe. The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp might not have the dedication to visual leitmotif as The Red Shoes does, but its visual interest outstrips all but the most masterful Technicolor pictures of the 1940s.

British Prime Minister Winston Churchill was cognizant of the buffoonish Colonel Blimp and, in addition to Lieutenant-later-General Candy, believed the characters were modeled after his appearance and behavior. Furthermore, considering how Powell and Pressburger imbued Theo with such humanity, Churchill – who had only read of the filmmakers’ preliminary plans for their film and never saw any footage – believed that The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp would only undermine morale for the war effort. In response, Churchill directed his Minister of War, Sam James Grigg, to suppress the picture to the extent that he could. Grigg denied Powell and Pressburger access to matériel, but the filmmakers had friends in the correct places to procure military uniforms, vehicles, and weapons necessary for their production. Despite Powell and Pressburger’s resourcefulness, Churchill succeeded in preventing the international distribution The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp for at least one year after its 1943 release. The film’s American debut would not occur until March 1945. For the American release, the film lost thirteen minutes of its 163-minute runtime; television screenings further reduced the work to ninety minutes up until the mid-1980s.

The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp might not seem like accessible viewing. This is a tale of an aging British military officer clinging to the ideals of his militaristic youth, long after when such ideals had purpose, let alone meaning to the young people of his present. It is rooted deeply into early twentieth century British culture, with an opening that might only serve to confuse a new viewer as it transitions to flashbacks. However, like any Powell and Pressburger film (and this might not even be the duo’s best work), there is much to offer. This is a love story, with love shown in various forms: for the first true love of Candy’s life, for the man who should be his enemy, for country. The genre gymnastics on display – a war film with nary any war violence; a romance without torrents of romance; a comedy without boisterous belly laughs – allow any caring viewer to witness General Candy grow into his times, all while retaining traces of a self that no longer is. That growth is subtle, but enveloping. His story feels like the origins of present-day Britain, its empire slipping away, wresting with a world no longer bowing in deference. As we must guard against the unexamined life, so too, Candy realizes, must he.

My rating: 10/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp is the one hundred and sixty-fifth feature-length or short film I have rated a ten on imdb. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

*The longest film I have seen in one interrupted sitting at home was Lawrence of Arabia (1962), in all its 227-minute glory.

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

#The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp #Powell and Pressburger #Michael Powell #Emeric Pressburger #Roger Livesey #Deborah Kerr #Anton Walbrook #Ursula Jeans #James McKechnie #Georges Perinal #John Seabourne Sr.#Jack Cardiff #TCM #My Movie Odyssey

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sardinesandhumbugs · 3 years

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30 "when you smile, you knock me out, I fall apart" with Ratty and Mole?

(Also, I haven't actually watched any starkid musicals those were suggested by @residentofskinnymandria but I will be looking into them this weekend :D)

A/N: Thank you for the prompt and for your patience! I procrastinated somewhat on this because for my other OTPs, I would usually go straight for the romance with a starter like this, but by now y'all know that when it comes to Ratty & Mole, the line between romantic and platonic tends to be up to reader interpretation :)

Also a shout-out to @wolfiethewriter for unwittingly providing inspiration for this ficlet, by getting hilariously drunk a few nights back during our Midnight Sun readthrough. I only hope you fared better the next morning than Rat :D

Categorically, Rat knew there were worse ways to wake.

But, as Toad started on his fifth verse of 'What Shall We Do with the Drunken Sailor?' Rat found he could think of no such examples.

He muttered something unsavoury and buried himself deeper into the recesses of the caravan, far from the prying, headache-inducing light of day, and far, far away from Toad's over-exuberant singing – for what little good it would do him. For Toad had inherited his mother's operatic lungs, if quantifiably not her pitch-perfect tone, and both were on full display that morning.

(It could not be said that Toad was a bad singer. It was simply the case that enthusiasm preceded vocal form, and he cared little for meddling things such as keys or sharps and flats when the mood took him. Regardless, even if Toad's voice had been flawless, Rat wouldn't have had the patience for it. Not today. The careening key changes were just the icing on the cake.)

The song briefly rose as the caravan door opened, and Rat recoiled as much from the intrusion of light as he did from Toad's blasted singing. Then the aroma of eggs and bacon hit him, and he begrudgingly shuffled his snout out of the cool, dark safety of the bedcovers.

Mole stood before him, fried offering in paw, and looking significantly less the worse for wear after their previous night's inebriations than Rat. He grinned, and set the breakfast down on the table beside the bed. "Well," he said, "I've never seen you sleep in this late."

"This isn't sleeping in," Rat muttered. "It's suffering."

"Maybe you should have thought about that before drinking so much yesterday," Mole said, the faint admonishment in his tone outweighed by the amusement.

"I'm not a lightweight," Rat grumbled. "It's just whatever Toad puts in his damn drinks to make them green always knocks me out."

"And makes you very drunk, apparently."

Rat hesitated, unsure whether he wanted to know the answer to his next question. "How drunk?"

Mole grinned again. "Nothing too embarrassing. You mostly just gabbled and then got distressed when you couldn't pronounce a word properly."

"What word?"

"I believe it was library."

"...Library?" Rat echoed. "How–"

"You kept saying 'liblary' instead."

"Libla...?"

"Liblary, hm-mm. The second 'l' kept creeping in, however hard you tried otherwise." The humour in Mole's voice betrayed that Rat's efforts, while in vain, had been quite the show.

Rat considered this as best he could while the sensation of galloping horses gallivanted between his ears. Eventually he located what he hoped would be a safe question. "Why were we talking about libraries?"

"Oh, we weren't – just you. Goodness knows why, and we thought it best not to ask."

"DON'T LET HIM STEER THAT CARGO FREIGHTER, DON'T LET HIM STEER THAT CARGO FREIGHTER, DON'T LET HIM STEER THAT CARGO FREIGHTER, URL-EYE IN THE MORNING!"

With a wince, Rat turned a reluctant ear to Toad's questionable shanty rendition, trying to figure out if the words were indeed what he was hearing, or whether it was simply the effects of the hangover. "What verse is Toad on now?"

Mole chuckled. "Ones of his own creation. I think he ran out of official verses he could recall a while back."

As if to compound that fact, Toad skipped the refrain entirely and overshot to the next verse, of which the origin was undoubtedly a Toad Special.

"PUT HIM IN THE LIBLARY 'TIL HE'S SOBER, PUT HIM IN THE LIBLARY 'TIL HE'S SOBER, PUT HIM IN THE LIBLARY 'TIL HE'S SOBER, URL-EYE IN THE MORNING!"

Rat winced again. "I'm not living this one down, am I?"

"Oh, Toad will forget in time," Mole said, with surprisingly surety for someone who had spent only a day and a half in Toad's presence. But, then again, Toad was not the most complicated of creatures. However, Rat noted that Mole didn't make any mention of himself forgetting any time soon.

Mole nudged the plate closer to Rat. "Eat up. You'll feel better for it."

Rat had half a mind to make a comment about food being Mole's solution to everything, but then he caught another whiff of breakfast and his stomach gave an audible rumble. He pushed himself up and made a start on the meal.

"Just out of curiosity," Mole said, "why did you drink so much of Toad's cocktails if you know you always suffer the next day?"

"Honest answer?" Rat asked. "I forgot."

"You... forgot?"

"I had..." and Rat paused as Toad butchered another verse, "more pressing issues on my mind."

Both animals waited out Toad's latest crescendo, enduring the new volumes before he petered out to more acceptable levels.

"Would those issues be green and singing?" Mole asked.

"Usually."

Rat had worked his way through a rash and a half of bacon before Mole spoke again, and the distance between the words belayed an uneasy deliberation. "You didn't have to come along," Mole said. He sat on the bench that ran along the inner of the caravan, which served as table space and seating as the need arose, and the ledge was set just a smidgen too high so that his paws only brushed the floor. "You know, out on the open road. Not if you didn't want to."

"Ah, well," Rat said, "then who would keep you and Toad out of trouble?"

"I think we would have managed."

Rat squinted. "No offence, Moley, but I know you, and I know Toad–" he gestured to the window from which Toad's performance was still going strong, and then immediately regretted it as the alcohol residing in his system sent his head spinning "–and you are both many things, but 'out of trouble' is not one of them."

"We survived this morning without mishap."

There was a crash from outside, followed by a cry of, "It's alright! Everything's good! No need to check!" from Toad.

"Mostly," Mole amended.

"Definitely sounds like you have everything under control here," Rat deadpanned.

"I'm sure everything's fine."

There was another thump, this time accompanied by the unimpressed whinny of the horse.

Mole and Rat exchanged glances.

Mole closed the window. "Look, Ratty, all I'm saying is that you needn't have felt obliged to come along if you'd rather have stayed on your river." He glanced to the wicker luncheon basket that was still half-full from yesterday, and which had seemingly swayed Rat in his decision to accompany the caravan. "We could have had our picnics on the riverbank instead."

"We?" Rat echoed.

"Well, of course. Do you really think I would have gone off on the Life Adventurous without you?"

Rat didn't immediately respond. The horses in his head had calmed, but the outcome was simply that he had more space to think properly through the last couple of days. Truth be told, he hadn't quite been sure which Mole would have chosen – him or the open road – and he hadn't been interested in putting it to the test. His mind played back the eagerness with which Mole had rootled through the caravan, exploring the compact living wagon and settling in with an ease that made Rat wonder whether the caravan's claustrophobic space reminded Mole of his own beneath-ground home. It certainly was a far cry from Rat's riverbank abode, where the house had the space to sprawl along the shoreline and the freshwater breeze meant the air was never still. Not like being underground, he was sure.

"Ratty?"

He had been lost in his thoughts for too long, and now Mole leant into his line of vision. Rat had to think quickly to recall what exactly Mole had asked.

"No, of course not," he said. "Only – well, I would have hated for you to have stayed on the riverbank only on my behalf."

"Like you came along here on mine?"

“And for the picnics,” Rat added. “Don’t forget the picnics.”

“Right,” Mole said with a laugh that said he wasn’t buying Rat’s offhanded dismissal any more than Rat believed it. “How could I forget the picnics?” He patted Rat’s paw and swung off the seat. “Well, you can put all thoughts of picnics from your mind until you’ve recovered — and maybe in future we stick to drinks we’re familiar with, hm?”

“Maybe,” Rat conceded.

It was as Mole threw him one last grin and disappeared out of the caravan that Rat came to the reluctant conclusion that, whether or not his housemate was aware of it, Mole had him wrapped around his little claw. He set the emptied plate to one side and collapsed back into the bunk, thankful for the small mercy that at least Toad had stopped singing—

“Feeling better finally?”

Rat jolted back up, and had to steady himself against the table as his head swam. He located Toad at the window. “Toad! How long have you been there?”

“I don’t know; I wasn’t keeping track.” Toad leant in against the windowsill conspiringly. “If I had known all it’d take for you to join me would be the smile off an undergrounder, I’d have dug him out ages ago.”

Rat grumbled but decided he was still too hungover to bicker over it.

Besides, it was somewhat difficult to argue with when it was true.

#dratandbotherbotheranddrat #replies #cat writes #wind in the willows musical #witw fanfic #did I partially write this just for the amusement of 'what shall we do with the drunken sailor' being applied to rat?#...maybe #things I said I didn't write: drunk fics #things I have now written twice: drunk fics #wolfie you are a terrible influence #also mole has a stomach of steel and toad drinks his green drinks regularly #or regularly enough for him to be immune #so rat is the only one in the open road who is going to suffer #also on a rewatch I realised that the cocktails they drink at the beginning of 'the open road' aren't green #they just look that way in the light #but too late they're green now #it always amuses me how at the beginning of the open road #they start with cocktails and by the end have moved onto beer #oh and for what it's worth that mispronunciation of 'library' is one I am guilty of #not even when drunk either #also wolfie you didn't gabble don't worry #I'm just using how I behave when tired #also in the book toad gets rat to agree to the open road by convincing mole first #he literally realises that rat will agree if mole does #so he sets to work convincing mole instead #which im sorta leaning on here

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