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It is easy to get swept up in the thrumming energy of a crowd, to feel the presence of a body behind him and react without really thinking. They want it, the congregation, and Papa Emeritus the Fourth reacts as any good Papa should. He turns on his heel with elegance, almost gliding, like a figure skater, mid-lyric, and grins to find Swiss there.
Their usual set-up required too much space this venue could not accommodate; the multi-tasking ghoul could not be banished to his normal pedestal dais because it simply did not exist for this ritual.
All the better.
They want it. They want it. They yearn for things to turn into bite-sized tiktoks and reels, spreading from one show across the internet like a virus.
And he has given it to them, in small doses. Tiny little tidbits of dances, of leaning against Dewdrop, of caressing Aether's thighs as he drops to his knees next to him like a damsel on the cover of an old fantasy romance novel.
Copia pulls Swiss to him like they are magnets, colliding their bodies together in a way that isn't elegant or dance-like, cradling the back of the Ghoul's head before dipping him low and pressing their lips together before releasing him.
It is all one fluid motion, gone and done in half a heart beat.
Blink and you miss it.
And Copia sings on.
swiss is presently absent -- oh so blissful, during the majority of rituals. feet planted as hips gyrate. spinning, with human hands pressing microphone stand & leaning his weight upon it. pendulum swinging his body more rhythmically -- more shapely, & with much more finesse. round, wide movements entrance more-so than apologetic ones, & swiss was never one to hold back. especially when it concerns papa. papa emeritus the fourth, & the only papa he's ever known. sprung to this mortal coil, with the sole purpose of multi-purpose functionality. not specially created, but selected nonetheless. & he takes his role very seriously. loving & caring for the honorary emeritus, with almost awe-like qualities.
the reason for his being here, swiss is enamored with the glittering glamour & the pleasures of modern living.
both hands on the mic, swiss flashes quick teeth with a bashful yet playfully teasing demeanor. longs for papa's attention, since he doesn't receive it as often as the ghouls centre stage. often jealous of aether & dewdrop, for suckling the best of papa's flirtatious interactions. those swiss clings to, like they're the most sincerest & heartfelt of praise. the proverbial good boy -- attention making him feel worthy. & he encourages it. cocking his head, whilst he does a salacious little roaming of hand along chest. just as his hips begin to wind side to side. opposite fingers wiggling in a tame greeting, beckoning papa closer.
hands make it into belt loops, hooking thumbs to pull his hips with a haul. lolling his head about in the papa's sweeping towards him. he feels all the more a part of things, down here. enjoying his ability to move around... anticipating.
& when papa comes forth to replace his hands, hips collide...
giggling, they knock together. veiny hands pressing into papa's shoulders, whilst gloved fingers touch the base of his neck... hairs made to stand on end...
the surprise is enough to almost crack swiss' gums open... or for his tail to spring forth, & beat against the floor in delight. but luckily, it doesn't. fangs just protruding when he smiles, & copia extends him downward.
fingers clutch fabric, whilst copia presses their lips together. & swiss scrambles to reciprocate with fervor, before papa flips him upright. leaving swiss hanging onto the microphone, when papa turns to leave. eventually falling to hang by his side.
he grins, & looks down at his boots with an innocent swing of the hips. hand raising to his mouth, in tiny little giggles. for the fans.. for those same reels...
this can't just be me but do you ever hear a YouTubers voice and immediately click off because you just can't stand how they sound and don't know why. even if the content itself is fine
its interesting to me how self-deprecation neatly ties into making others feel bad. like. if you constantly assume that you’re stupid no matter how informed or skilled in a topic you might be, people who are a bit less learned or skilled than you might see how you, someone who is obviously skilled, talk down about yourself, and assume that if you think YOURE an idiot you must think theyre an even bigger idiot and lose confidence or find you intimidating as a result. its fucked up. and its part of why it can be so important to break out of cycles of self-hatred--not just for yourself, but for people around you
he says i hate everyone except you and that is addictive and that is kind of romantic and beautiful because you're young and you're kind of a sarcastic asshole too and you don't like bad boys, per say, but you don't really like good ones either. and you like that you were the exception, it felt like winning.
except life is not a romance book, and he was kind of being honest. he doesn't learn to be nice to your friends. he only tolerates your family. you have to beg him to come with you to birthday parties, he complains the whole time. you want to go on a date but - people are often there, wherever you're going. he's just so angry. about everything, is the thing. in the romance book, doesn't he eventually soften? can't you teach him, through your own sense of whimsy and comfort?
at first - you know introverts often need smaller friend groups, and honestly, you're fine staying at home too. you like the small, tidy life you occupy. you're not going to punish him for his personality type.
except: he really does hate everyone but you. which means he doesn't get along with his therapist. which means he has no one to talk to except for you. which means you take care of him constantly, since he otherwise has no one. which means you sometimes have to apologize for him. which means he keeps you home from seeing your friends because he hates them. you're the single exception.
about a decade from this experience, you'll type into google: how to know if a relationship is codependent.
he wraps an arm around you. i hate everyone except you. these days, you're learning what he's actually confessing is i have very little practice being kind.
fionna's world being represented by a dandelion makes so much sense ... they're weeds. yet people make wishes through them, changing their whole meaning from something meant to be destroyed to something hopeful.
dandelions are also resilient and it makes sense that something associated with them would. you know. perservere despite the destruction caused by the scarab.
but ultimately i think what REALLY made me tear up over this is that dandelions are really boring plants. when you're a kid you blow on them and make your wish but they're not eyecatching or anything but still, fionna's final wish was for her old world to still exist as it was when she left it (> plain and simple. boring even).
like the moment she realized she would lose her friends, and that her friends might forget each other if the world got its magic back, she immediately decided she didn't want it and I think that ties back to the dandelion metaphor so well... like, do you really need magic to be real to find it everywhere? or can you turn something boring into something magical?
shout out to Aardman for making a movie that has a lead female character that's well written and feels like a real person (even though she's a chicken), a predominantly female cast with only one or two supporting male characters (pulling a reverse Smurfette trope) whom all have diverse personalities and quirks, and a main romance between said female lead and the play boy male character that's an enemies to lovers that doesn't at all feel misogynistic or like they actually hate each other. And shout out to him for making the main mastermind villain a woman as well. It's an action-adventure movie with a female lead narrative that feels entirely gender neutral and it's one of the few I can think of that does this. Also shout our to him for making the chickens all look anthropomorphized in a way that isn't overly sexualized (or sexual at all really). If there were an award for "man who actually knows how to write female characters and present them as people" it would go to Aardman. Well done.
i gotta make an art thing to submit as part of my midterm tomorrow, sposed to be some art inspired by stuff we learned about. i think before class i will draw one of the jaguar reliefs from chavin de huantar. except it will be wearing jordans
Yk what I want? I want a very early stages post canon labrumisu, but from Chilchuck's POV.
Imagine mister 'interparty romance is the devil' visiting court just to see these three circling each other like a pack of uniquely unhinged cats.
And of course he sees it immediately, he's nothing if not perceptive and he's seen this happen so, so many times before. Kabru is hardly subtle in his fascination with Laios, who trusts him in turn more than nearly anybody else. He can see how close Mithrun and Kabru still are, even when there's little reason for the former captain to even stay in Melini. He can see where this is going. And he can see the disaster it's gonna end up in.
So he's just staring at them in horror, trying to figure out what in the world the dynamic here even is and glaring daggers at Kabru all the while for seemingly being the linchpin of this entire bullshit situation.
King, his adviser and a fucking foreign noble?? Who thought THAT was a good idea! Is nobody else seeing this?? (no lol) Why is nobody objecting to this politically unsound love triangle that could literally ruin the kingdom they've only just established??
The anger! The distress! The despair when he first sees Laios getting all giddy when Mithrun so much as talks to him. Because hell, now he can't even blame the entire situation on one pretty boy insisting on having fingers in every possible pie, on political and personal level both!
And then they just. Quietly get together. All three of them. And Chil's just watching from the sidelines in complete bafflement because he's invented infinite worst case scenarios for how this will implode in all of their faces and destroy their friend group and topple the entire country and--
Instead they do. This. He'd be relieved if he wasn't so goddamn mad that he's spent months worrying about this shit just for them to resolve it in the least dramatic way possible.
I’ve been getting really into magical stuff recently and also DC so I’m just gonna drop this here:
Fae Dick Grayson
F A E
okay so fae stories are special to me because I grew up on hearing pagan folklore and fairytales about fae and fae adjacent creatures as good night stories so hooo boy yes I adore that trope! (I mean, I made Dick a Banshee in my fic Shuck so… hehe)
Anyway, Fae Dick Grayson! There’s just so many things you can do with it ✨
Robin appears from one day to the next, following in Batman’s shadow like a mischievous sprite, so honestly rumors have been going wild about him since day one. Robin actually being something non-human doesn’t really come as a surprise!
The fae folk are known for being awfully good at blending in with regular humans when they put their mind to it, the only thing that puts them apart (in most stories) is their otherworldly beauty, and Dick Grayson? Well, he’s definitely got that in abundance.
Just sometimes, when the light reflects off a surface in just the right way, when someone pours a glass of water and you happen to look right through the spray, or when you think you catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of your eye and you spin around— but there’s only Dick Grayson, even if a second ago you could have sworn you saw eyes where there weren’t supposed to be any; colors that aren’t supposed to exist; feathers where only skin has any right to be.
And, gods, all the talking. Dick is terrifyingly good at talking to people without actually saying anything, to the point where you walk away from the conversation feeling utterly drained after spilling your entire life story but when you think back on it— you can’t remember him ever telling you anything about himself. You know there were the usual pleasantries of “hi” and “nice to meet you” and “how are you doing?” but anything beyond that just kinda… seemed to spill out of you? It’s very strange. It’s very unnerving. By the end of the evening you other convince yourself you’re overreacting or you simply push the incident out of your mind altogether.
And there’s another thing about Dick. His name.
He only ever introduces himself as Dick Grayson/Robin. Never Richard. Never. Especially not Richard John. Names are sacred for the fae folk, names have power, so while Richard John Grayson may not be Dick’s true name, he treats it as such to honor his parents. None are allowed to use it. None except Bruce or Alfred on special occasion.
Of course, Dick’s “true” name isn’t exactly a secret so when someone does happen to use it… well, Dick may be… other… but he’s still intrinsically good in a way many of his kind don’t have the patience to be. Dick judges on a case by case basis, just like his parents and Bruce taught him. And usually people do not mean it maliciously when they use his name so he kindly corrects them and that’s that. But oh man, if they still insist on calling him “Richard”? Well..
“Oh no, it seems your credit card is being declined, sir!”
“Sheesh, you tripped over a root? In Gotham?!”
“What do you mean ten birds flew into your window last night? You live on floor level!”
“Dude I’m telling you that rash doesn’t look normal.”
“I… don’t think crows are supposed to follow you like that.”
It’s little things (most of the time, unless you really pissed Dick off) but they keep piling up, slowly driving you insane. You feel like you’re being watched, but it’s just a bird sitting on the window sill again. You feel like someone moved all your furniture just slightly to the right even tho you checked all the cameras.
The fae are kind, but they are also vindictive when crossed.
(Thanks to Bruce, however, I think Dick’s bouts of “vengeance” rarely go much farther than that though.)
Dang ok that ended up being an entire rant… wow. Anyway, yeah. Fae.