#playing this out over and over and writing this was…an experience
Note
sukuna and servant!reader is so good!! looking forward to rescue more of them <33
Eyes On Me | Sukuna Ryomen
king!sukuna ryomen x femservant!reader
Sypnosis: Uraume can't play chess with the king right now, you must step up.
Contents: Obsession, pining, kinda fluffy, mentions of blood and body parts. Uraume uses they/them pronouns.
Word Count: 2404 words.
Author's Note: I love writing this ship. People have been asking me to make this a series. I'll try my best lol I think you can still read them individually, but there's a preferred order.
Beginning. ← Previous |
Sukuna hates humans. It's a fact of life. The sky is blue, roses are red and Sukuna hates the disgusting creatures that humans are. He has so many reasons to hate them that he doesn't even know where to begin. Humans are annoying, weak, clumsy, but most of all, stupid. They make decisions without thinking through the consequences. They prefer to spend their money on temporary pleasures and end up bankrupt by not prioritizing their survival. They worry about unimportant things such as social status, religion, and traditions. Sukuna hates humans, but boy, are they entertaining.
Sukuna tends to study his servants very carefully. Even though they only clean, cook and obey his orders to a tee, it was fun to watch them interact with each other. He finds it fascinating how the servants gossip in whispers, how the gardeners concentrate to prune the bushes well despite their hands shaking, or how the cooks taste the food several times so that it’s up to their majesty's standards. It was like watching dozens of filthy lab rats in the middle of a social experiment. Although… There was someone special he loved to watch, no matter what they were doing.
You had finished all the chores for the day and decided to help the cooks prepare dinner because you had nothing better to do. Your muscles were exhausted from having spent all morning cleaning the porcelain sculptures, the large frames of the paintings in the great hall, and the king's jewelry so they could sparkle in all their glory. You had been assigned the task of peeling potatoes, so there you were. Sitting at a table with a small knife, peeling potatoes while listening to the chaos going on in the kitchen. Uraume was busy preparing a special passion fruit tea for the king. The special coming from the water that was inked with human blood. Sometimes you wondered if Uraume had always agreed to cook with humans or was it something they got used to because of Sukuna's orders, but since they never talked about themselves, you never asked.
“Fuck!” A cook yelled when the frying pan caught fire.
Your eyes widened at the flashy flare. Uraume put the tea set aside to attend to the emergency. With some ice from their magic hands, they put out the fire in a jiffy, but left the kitchen a mess. They began to berate the cook with smacks in the head and curses for his ineptitude. The cook just apologized over and over again, but that wasn't enough for the head chef.
“You!” Uraume called. You put your task aside to attend to their orders. “Take the tea to our king and tell him I will be with him when I settle this situation.” You nodded and took the tray carefully to go in search of him.
After Sukuna gave you permission, you entered the library with the golden tray in your hands. The library was the coziest room in the entire castle. Its high walls were covered with huge bookcases filled with books, maps, and scrolls. There were long desks of works and hundreds of candleholders everywhere to enjoy reading during the evenings. He was sitting in one of the comfortable chairs in front of the game table, a small wooden table with a chessboard on top. The king was surprised to see you there despite having specified Uraume's presence.
“I didn't ask you to come,” Sukuna said chidingly as you served him tea at a small table next to him.
“Uraume had to attend to an emergency in the kitchen. They'll be here once everything is under control,” you replied as you set down the fragile cup of blood tea, adorned with small pieces of eyeball floating on the red surface to give it texture.
Your gaze traveled to the chessboard, it had been a long time since you had seen the king playing. You knew from the other servants that he was a good player and only plays with Uraume or some brave guest. This was no ordinary board. You could see that each piece was handmade and had luxurious detail. The pieces were made of white quartz, the eyes of the horses were rubies and the crowns of the kings were made of jade. It was the most beautiful board game you ever saw.
“Do you know how to play?” Sukuna asked out of curiosity.
Being a servant, you surely had not received the same education as he did. Well, almost no one was on his level when it came to education. Sukuna was a master mathematician, a skilled debater and could threaten his enemies in 5 different languages. You hadn't been as lucky. You're good at cleaning, cooking and taking orders, but what else can you do?
“Yes,” you answered with a smile.
That answer surprised him quite a bit. Although chess was a game that was rapidly gaining popularity among the middle class, it was not a game for women. It was a game that required intellect, always thinking two moves ahead and knowing how to read your opponent. You didn't look like a girl who could do all that.
“Sit down,” Sukuna ordered you.
“I warn you that it may be a short game. It's been a long time since I've played,” you warned him as you sat down.
Sukuna watched you with great attention. Your eyes scanned the board as if it was the first time you had ever seen one, your hands rested gently on your thighs and you smiled nervously. You may have known the rules of the game, but you didn't know how to play. The king took your word for it.
“Ladies first,” he asked you to start.
“My pleasure,” you said as your dominant hand moved over the pieces to decide what your first move would be.
Your father had taught you how to play. He always wanted a son to inherit the family business, but your mother only kept giving birth to women, so he had to resign himself to you. Your mother taught you how to be a lady so you could get married as soon as possible and your father taught you about the business so that your future husband wouldn’t take advantage of the family money. You used to sit in front of the wooden board and talk for hours after dinner. Your father may not have been the wisest or the most astute man, but he had left you a very important lesson: Always look people in the eye to know their true intentions.
This was one of the few times you came face to face with Sukuna. Because of his title as king and the great difference in height, you were always beneath him, physically and psychologically speaking. You were a simple human, while he was a king with the power to get rid of whomever he wanted with a simple movement of his fingers. Although his presence made you feel vulnerable, you didn't resent him. You had a relatively comfortable life serving him, but sometimes there was a need for you to show him that you were more than a servant. This was a good opportunity to do so.
Sukuna's eyes were not on you, they were on the board. His gaze denoted boredom. He was waiting patiently for you to make the first move. If you waited a little longer, maybe he would yawn. He overestimated you, you had to use that feeling against him. You moved a pawn to the C4 square, a common move among beginners.
“Finally…” He said in a monotone voice before quickly moving the knight to the F6 square.
Each of you took turns to move the pieces quietly as time went by. You took your time with each move, while the king only needed to look at the board from time to time to know what to do next. You could take all the time in the world, but he would still eat all your pieces. Even though it didn't seem to be an interesting game, you could at least keep up with him. Sukuna's queen advanced towards yours, standing face to face. One false move and your king was in trouble.
“Check,” you said as the queen retreated two squares diagonally, leaving her free to begin the attack on the king.
At that announcement, Sukuna woke up from the trance he was in to concentrate on what he was doing. He smiled with satisfaction as he noticed the change in your body. Your hands had relaxed, your back was straight, and your eyes were glued to his. You knew exactly what you were doing. You didn't need to tell him verbally that you would destroy him at his own game, your eyes told him clearly. It was as if you were dissecting his soul bit by bit until you left him completely naked.
Your hands were interleaved with each turn. You moved quickly as you realized that Sukuna had already noticed your active presence on the board. Sukuna returned the queen to his side. An interesting move. It was wise to know when to back away, but you noticed one thing in his eyes. He had no plan, he just acted based on his understanding of the game. He moved like in real life, using only his killer instincts.
“Check,” you announced again by moving a knight up.
“Not so fast,” Sukuna told you before taking the horse that was threatening his king using a queen. You smiled as you saw that his majesty had fallen into the trap. By moving his pieces like that, Sukuna had fully exposed his king.
“Checkmate,” you announced the end of the game as soon as you moved the white queen close to the black king. And only then, the poor maid defeated the almighty king.
“Well, well...” Sukuna sighed in awe as he looked at the board with extreme curiosity. He couldn't be mad at you. He had let his guard down. You were playing even before the game started.
There was someone special he loved to watch, no matter what you were doing. Sukuna would always hyper fixate on you whenever he noticed your presence around him. You could be cleaning, chatting with your companions or eating some dried fruit in the garden, and he would still only notice you as if nothing else in the world existed. You were the most interesting human he had ever seen. Sukuna tried to look for a logical reason for his obsession with you, but he couldn't do it. You looked like a simple being with clear goals, but he was sure you were hiding something behind your perfect facade.
Someone knocked at the door. Sukuna sighed, he wanted to be alone with you longer, but now was not the time. Uraume entered the room and was surprised to see you sitting with his majesty. Something strange had been going on between the two of you for months. They had even debated the idea of asking the king directly about you, but hadn't worked up the courage to do so.
“There was an inconvenience in the kitchen. Sorry to keep you waiting, your majesty,” Uraume bowed in apology.
“Lucky for you, you sent a good replacement,” Sukuna said before smiling at you in satisfaction.
Uraume instantly understood just by glancing at the board. You had beaten the king, something even they could not easily accomplish. They could tell that he was looking at you like no one else. It wasn't a look of disgust or boredom, it was a curious look. Like that of a child looking at a group of kids playing in the playground, wondering if he could come over to play with them.
“If you'll excuse me, I have to go,” you said as you got up to give the seat to Uraume. “Good game. It was a pleasure to play against you, my king,” you bowed.
“Good game,” Sukuna whispered so you could leave the room.
Sukuna and Uraume started a new game as soon as you returned to the kitchen to peel potatoes. They quickly noticed that something was occupying her majesty's mind. Their white pieces were eating his black pieces easily and his moves were slow compared to previous games. Uraume could tell that the game against you had changed the way he played.
“What do you see in her?” Uraume asked him after a move.
“Am I too obvious?” Sukuna asked them before getting up from his seat to start prowling around the library to clear his mind. “What do you think of her?” He asked her as he stopped in front of the window to admire the land. The large green lawn stretched all the way to the intimidating entrance of his wonderful castle.
“She is a dedicated servant and a perfectionist. She does all the chores in a timely manner. She is as good a servant as any other. The real question is: What do you think of her?” Uraume asked as they watched him from their seat.
“She has potential.”
“Potential? Potential for what?” Uraume arched their eyebrow at the confusing statement.
“She has the potential to become a queen,” Sukuna replied confidently.
Sukuna Ryomen was known among the kingdoms for being an unorthodox king. Not only because he took kingdoms left and right as if it were nothing, but because he has a strange way of ruling his people. He did not care about social classes, behavioral labels or unwritten codes of human coexistence. Everyone was inferior to him regardless of gender, race, or religion. He was the god of this new world and everyone had to obey him, just like that.
The fact that he wanted to have a queen went far beyond just following the established patterns of classical monarchy. Sukuna must have a reason why he wants to have a queen other than just because, but there was a more important question on the table.
“Your majesty, you can get any woman you want. You can get a beautiful woman, with more training and presence, why would you settle for a servant?” Uraume asked in confusion. Sukuna smiled. It was a good question.
“She has something much better than that,” he answered before continuing the game as if nothing happened. Uraume looked down to see that Sukuna had checkmated them.
Author's Note: I poured my poor knowledge on chess for this lol I hope it makes sense.
Order your own fanfic!
Masterlist.
#fanfic#fanfiction#jujutsu kaisen#sukuna ryomen#jjk imagine#ryomen sukuna#sukuna#fluff#jjk fluff#king x servant#sukuna x reader#ryoumen sukuna#jjk sukuna#jujutsu kaisen sukuna#sukuna ryomen x reader#sukuna ryomen smut#jjk ryomen#jujutsu kaisen ryomen#ryomen x reader
307 notes
·
View notes
Note
how about a gavi fic where they’ve been dating for a long time but long distance so the whole relationship is basically a secret and the public finds out and the internet sort of breaks and keeps commenting on how gavi is so different with her. if you do end up liking this and writing this please tag me <33
sant jordi - pablo gavi
summary: you visit your long-distance boyfriend Gavi and he accidentally hard launches your relationship.
genre: fluff!
a/n: @weekendlusting that request was so cute, thank you for your patience!🫶🏼 Also, i was listening to this song while writing, check it out for the full experience;)
———
Exhausted, you placed your school bag onto the floor of your hallway, walking towards the darkly lit living room. Just as you sat down, your phone buzzed and Pablo appeared on the screen.
With an immediate smile, you pressed the green button, accepting his call.
„Hello my love.“ He chimed, already laying in bed with his hood up.
„Hey amor.“ You tiredly answered, now also kicking your feet upon the couch.
„How was your day?“
„Exhausing but I wrote my last exam today.“ A feeling of relief washed over your body when you realized you‘d have now two weeks of pure relaxation, without having to do any schoolwork. But this feeling of relief was over quickly. Being in another country, several hours away from your boyfriend was hard. Especially if you had now so much freetime, you would love to spend it with Pablo.
„I‘m proud of you. Any plans for the upcoming days?“ Your boyfriend asked while playing with his hair.
„Not much. I wish I could spend them with you, I miss you.“ You pouted, feeling sad for only seeing him through the screen.
„Fly to Barcelona. I‘m having a few days off and I wanna see my gorgeous girl again.“
That’s how you ended up on a plane on a Tuesday, flying two hours to visit your long distance boyfriend for the next week.
The reunion was more than sweet. Pablo surprised you with flowers as he waited in his Audi for you. You two were over four months together, but still kept the relationship from the public. You wouldn’t actively try to keep it a secret, but also didn’t have the need to show everyone you two were together. After all, Pablo was Spain‘s teenage heartthrob and you were just a normal girl going to university.
He drove to his house first, giving you time to freshen up and put down your luggage. As it was the 23rd of April, also known as Diada de Sant Jordi, a catalan holiday, the city was decorated in red roses and Catalan flags.
As you two strolled aimlessly around a more quiet part of the city, Pablo never let go of your hand. To be not recognized too often, he wore his sunglasses and a cap, looking as handsome as ever.
The touch of his hand made you blush and the smile never left your face.
Suddenly, Pablo walked towards a little shop at the end of the street. It was so small you wouldn’t have noticed it if it weren’t for your boyfriend. Outside, there was a shelf filled with second-hand books and roses. Like the tradition says, Pablo grabbed a book with the most romantic title and went inside to pay. He stood in front of you, his signature smile plastered across his face as he gave you the book and the red rose.
„Feliz dia de Sant Jordi mi amor.“ You couldn’t help but blush, your face turning red from the charm of your boyfriend.
„Muchas gracias Pablito.“ You mused and stepped closer to press a gentle but yet passionate kiss onto his lips.
After you two enjoyed a fun day in Barcelona, you headed back home to cook dinner and have a relaxing night together.
During cooking and occasionally dancing to the music playing in the background, your phone started buzzing almost every two seconds. At first you dismissed it, thinking it was your friend filling you in on one of her hookup stories, but even Pablo turned his head in curiosity after the buzzing wouldn’t stop several minutes later.
„Don’t you think it’s important? It won’t stop.“ He asked with furrowed eyebrows, just as confused as you were. Your phone screen was flooded with people you barely knew asking about Gavi. Gavi here Gavi there, things like „you’re really together?“ or „could you ask him to sign me something?.“
It was so confusing until one of your family members told you to check Pablo‘s instagram.
You opened the app, seeing your boyfriend posted a story. Clicking on it, you saw a picture of you, holding the rose and book in your hands. Written was next to it „Feliz dia de sant jordi mi amor💞“
The blood froze in your veins. Did Pablo realize he just hard launched you?
„PABLO! why did you post me on your instagram account?“ You asked, eyes wide while he just shrugged his shoulders.
„I always do that. I thought you were okay with me posting you on my private account. You know only my family and close friends follow that account.“
Now it dawned on you. Pablo mistakenly posted the picture on his official account, the one with sixteen million followers instead of his private one with only twenty-seven.
„Baby… Of course I‘m okay with that, but you posted it on your main one. The one with sixteen million followers.“ You started laughing in despair, finding the situation oddly funny, even though whole Spain now knew about your relationship with the famous footballer.
Pablo grew red, standing in front of you in horror as he took a look himself.
„Fuck… I‘m so sorry. I swear I didn’t want to post that on there.“
„It‘s fine. I bet there are picture of us anyway from today.“ You said and assured him it was alright. He embraced you in a hug, kissing your head softly.
„At least I don’t have to hide you anymore.“
———
footy.gossip: teenage heartthrob Pablo Gavi is not on the love market anymore ladies!💔
He was seen spending the romantic holiday Sant Jordi with a mysterious girl by his side, buying her roses and a book. What a true gentleman!
view all comments:
user1: she’s really living the Y/N lifestyle…
user2: Gavi is for sure such a sucker for his girlfriend
->user3: I mean you can even see the heart eyes behind the sunglasses😭
pedri: yn finally you came to visit… he wouldn’t shut his mouth
->pablogavi: how could I not
->user4: HE‘S NOT EVEN DENYING IT??
user5: not pedri exposing gavi😭😭
user6: WE WANT A GF REVEAL!!
user7: I just know she dresses him
->user8: fr, the change from skinny jeans to this is a blessing
->user9: pedri step up your game
user10: don’t know who the girl is but… mamá y papá.
author: wish that was you huh?🫵🏻🤨
———
pablogavi: whoops accidental hard launch… anyway yn te amoo🫶🏼
comments are turned off
#pablo gavi#pablo gavi x reader#gavi x reader#gavi#football x reader#gavi one shot#football one shot#fc barcelona#football imagine#football fanfic#barça
206 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hiii!! I see ur taking request for cooper Lmaoo I love Coop too!! Could you maybe write what cooper is like after reader and him have their first baby (a girl preferably) and maybe a few months after!! Thank youuuu, I’d prefer prewar but if you wanna do headcannon style you can do prewar cooper and a world where ghouls can yk have little ones, all up to you!!
* Coop stays in the delivery room with you, he doesn’t care if that’s not what men of the time did. He wants to be in there to support you during this huge milestone.
* He sits right next to you and he doesn’t move, even when the doctors and nurses insist that the husband should not be in the room. He doesn’t budge.
* When the contractions start to get real bad he holds your hand talks you through them. He doesn’t care if it hurts with the way you’re squeezing his hand, he knows that’s this is his only purpose right now.
* When you do finally give birth, Cooper allows himself to breathe, your safe and the baby is safe too.
* Cooper is over the moon to find out that the baby is a girl. The doctors kept making comments about getting a son next time to cooper, he was not amused.
* When you finally get home from the hospital he’s there wherever you need him. He helps you with the healing process however he can.
* When the baby wakes up at night he’s there before you, he insists that you need the sleep.
* Cooper compared the first month of having his daughter home to being in the military (in a good way) he had time shifts to check in between his two special girls.
* Watching all the milestones is magical to him. Listening to her laugh and watching her sit up for the first time makes him so proud.
* Tummy time was not just a thing your daughter did. Cooper also participated during tummy time and he would play with the little blocks in front of your daughter.
* Cooper got a kick out of watching his daughter crawl around. Other parents would joke that once she learned to walk it would be the end of both your worlds. (Coop is not amused)
* Speaking of other parents, they kept making comments about how it’s a women’s job to care for the baby and it drives cooper up a wall. He’s always polite when he responds but he hates when people talk to him like he shouldn’t be in his daughter’s life as much as he is.
* When your daughter takes her first steps, cooper feels his heart stop beating for a second. The two of you are on the couch together while your daughter was crawling towards the coffee table. The two of you looked away from her for one second and when you both looked back she was standing with no support and waddling towards you.
* Cooper can’t wait to watch you grow up. He can’t wait to experience all the milestones and be the biggest support.
142 notes
·
View notes
Text
l(over)
when someone else flirts with you in front of them.
heizou, wanderer, neuvillette ♡ gn!reader
warnings: not proofread, neuvillette may be ooc, wanderer is a little crazy 😊
notes: i played heizous hangout quest and he got me 😭😭
frankly, heizou is amused.
"you're beautiful," some random stranger states, "do you happen to be free this weekend?"
you blink in confusion, glancing back and forth between the detective and the strange person. does he not see the way heizou's hand is linked with yours?
"well, someone clearly isn't a detective," heizou states, not bothering to lower the volume of his voice. when the person still doesn't quite understand what heizou means, he lifts your laced hands up to eye-level, emphasizing the fact that he's not letting go anytime soon.
"please don't interrupt," the stranger states, suddenly feigning ignorance to heizou's presence.
"oh!" heizou exclaims, unbothered. "sorry about that!" you can tell by the look on his face and the tone of his voice that shikanoin heizou is, in fact, not sorry. he's not sorry at all.
heizou brings the back of your hand up to his lips, staring directly at the stranger whilst doing so. still, the random man does not budge.
"what's up with this guy?" heizou mumbles, loud enough for just you to hear. you laugh, and heizou can't seem to tear his eyes away from you, his gaze belonging wholly to your existence.
when the stranger glares at him, heizou merely shrugs, a smirk fixed onto his face. the oblivious person then turns to you, a gentle smile on his face.
"might i have the honor of knowing your name? i am kenzaburou kadenokouji, and seeing you has blessed me with the inspiration to write my greatest upcoming novel: 'i was reincarnated as the raiden shogun's plane of euthymia, where i did nothing for 500 years before finally meeting the love of my life in the middle of the city?!'"
your mouth hangs agape, flabbergasted at this surreal experience.
heizou, however, is not fazed in the slightest. "is this based off of true events?"
"do not interrupt an artist's craft," kadenokouji replies, before extending a hand towards your free one.
so he knows i'm holding their hand, is all heizou thinks. without another thought, the detective pushes the writer's palm away, tugging you towards him.
"you're going to need to find inspiration from someone else! my intuition tells me that this isn't going to work out," heizou declares, his thumb coming to rub the back of your hand, as if he's trying to reassure you.
(you think that it's more for him, though. because although heizou is a self-assured, confident man, he is sometimes shrouded deeply in fear, swayed by the same emotions that make him so human, so lovely.)
(it also doesn't help that you adore novels. a majority of heizou's worries are attributed to how you devour those absurd reincarnation stories.)
"no, no... together," kadenokouji trails off, dismissing heizou with the flick of his hand. "together, we will defy fate! and with you, beautiful stranger, i will publish the greatest novel known to inazuma!"
"he's delusional," heizou mutters, but it sounds as if he's more impressed than incredulous.
"i have a boyfriend," you reply, still recovering from shock. "he's right next to me."
kadenokouji takes it the wrong way. "wow, you move pretty fast! although we just met, and i still don't know your name, i am completely fine with this sudden turn of events!"
"wow," heizou mutters to himself, almost amazed, "this guy's pretty good."
"he's like the opposite of you," you whisper, leaning closer towards heizou, "completely oblivious."
that gives heizou an idea.
"sorry pal, but they only like detectives," he declares.
"that's okay! i've been meaning to write a detective novel, you know, i am always switching things up!" kadenokouji exclaims, not taking the hint (but it's not even a hint, it's a full blown answer).
"oh, really? have you ever heard of shikanoin heizou?"
you and heizou exchange not-so-discreet glances (it's not like kadenokouji notices, anyway). heizou winks at you, as if urging you to stay quiet so he can get the spotlight in a novel that he's always been dreaming of.
"yes, yes! i love doushin shikanoin's work—in fact, i've been meaning to ask him for some information regarding his famous intuition! i plan on basing the main character of that novel off of him, really!"
"that sounds great! you know, doushin shikanoin believes that he needs the publicity, so your novel would be the perfect match!"
"is that really so? that's incredible! i must reach out to him immediately!" kadenokouji says, his attention belonging wholly to this newfound idea.
"i can relay the message to him," heizou replies, "what would you like to ask?"
"yes, thank you! please ask him if he's willing to meet me outside the tenryou commission for an hour or two for me to ask questions! and if he's willing to tell me about his intuition and how it works! my novel's main character will also have something akin to his intuition, but not exactly because i am always original and meaningful with my work—"
"alright, i will!" heizou declares proudly, "he'll hear of it by today!"
"thank you, kind sir! if i might be so bold to inquire, what is your name?" kadenokouji asks, suddenly becoming heizou's biggest fan whilst forgetting about your presence. how the tables have turned.
"shikanoin heizou," he states, the smile on his face never wavering. "my intuition tells me you're going to fall to the floor in utter shock!"
his intuition, as always, is correct. kadenokouji collapses to the floor as if he had just witnessed the most terrible thing, all the color draining from his face while his jaw hangs wide open.
"d-doushin shikanoin?!"
"that's me! also, could you include me in the novel's credits? you know, being a detective isn't always just about skill. in this day and age, we need publicity! we need a name for ourselves!"
kadenokouji faints.
"did you come from another world?" someone asks. "'cause you look otherworldly."
"that was ridiculous," wanderer mutters, "and redundant."
"is he bothering you, your highness?" the person queries, taking a step towards you. their hand reaches out for yours, as if they're trying to take you away, but wanderer is quick to intervene.
he blocks you with his figure, the vision on his chest beginning to glow vividly as a gust of wind rushes through the akademiya's library, sending papers and books flying. scholars panic as their research projects flutter all across the marble floor, and usually, that'd be enough to deter a sane man.
unfortunately for you, your admirer (the other one) is no sane man. you suppose that you attract a certain group of people.
"so you think you're a big shot 'cause you have a vision, huh?" the stranger asks, unimpressed.
"hah! you don't even know who you're talking to," wanderer replies, clenching his fists. he takes a step toward your admirer, the air around him becoming tense and unwelcoming as it begins to manifest into something grim, something violent.
you're not in the mood for a suspension right now.
"wanderer!" you exclaim, tugging at his sleeve. "let's go somewhere else. this guy's just weird."
"you go first. i have things to deal with," wanderer replies, irritated. but the way he looks at you doesn't quite match the tone in his voice, because when the wanderer's cornflower pupils fixate on you, they melt. you mold him into something quiet, something lovely, when you do so much as exist.
briefly, the wind brushes past your face, kissing you with its tender touch.
(all you have to do is exist, and that'll be more than enough for him.)
"he's not worth your time," you say, not releasing your hold on the puppet's wrist. even though wanderer could easily escape your grip, he chooses not to—instead, he basks in your touch, inching closer towards you, letting you hold the strings of his artificial limbs to move him as you please.
wanderer relinquishes himself to you. wholly. and he trusts you with his fate, with his severed strings.
"whatever."
his severed string manifests anew, wrapping around his pinky and yours, turning red—not red from blood, but rather, from love—and knotting.
you are bound to him.
and then he gives in.
(he does a lot of that when it comes to you.)
"surrendering already, huh?" the stranger asks, clearly not knowing his place. "i knew you were nothing but bark."
oh, you think, sighing, this guy's an idiot!
"does the akademiya accept anyone who applies?" wanderer asks, contemplating murder. still, he doesn't release himself from your hold.
"that's what i was thinking when i saw you. leave us alone!"
a category 5 hurricane begins to brew in the akademiya library at the word "us." scholars begin to evacuate the premises whilst the insane man stands amidst it all, still trying his best to court you despite getting blown away.
i tried my best, you tell yourself, glancing away.
you let go of wanderer's hand, and then you close your eyes.
"let me know when you're done," you mutter, voice drowned by the whistle of the winds and the screams of scholars whose projects are getting engulfed by the storm.
wanderer, of course, hears you. he can always hear you, picking out your voice from the cacophony, taking the sound and placing it deep within his empty chest, letting it resonate and replay there. instead of a heartbeat, wanderer has your voice echoing throughout his torso, fusing into his artificial ribs.
he is bound to you.
a breeze wisps past your nose. even with the whirling winds and the threat of suspension lingering around your figure, no harm ever comes your way.
you are in the eye of the hurricane.
the eye of the beholder. it melts.
neuvillette is flabbergasted.
back in fontaine, he had the luxury of comfort. everyone knew that the two of you were together, so he never had to deal with someone trying to court you, much less in front of him.
this is how he experiences culture shock. not by the customs of other nations, but rather, by the sheer audacity that some people have. especially when your hand is laced tightly with his.
"i think... i think..." the stranger trails off, his voice filled with an adoration that makes neuvillette's stomach churn. "... i'm getting lost in your eyes, beautiful."
the stranger reaches his hand out to give you a rose, a dashing grin on his face. you smile awkwardly.
"sorry, i'm taken."
"taken... by my good looks?" the stranger asks, putting a hand under his face to emphasize his features. neuvillette squeezes your hand.
"no, they are taken by me. we are partners," neuvillette explains, his tone remaining polite.
"partners in work?"
"yes, but—" neuvillette starts, but is quickly interrupted. you spare him an endearing glance, charmed by his honesty.
the tips of his pointed ears begin to blossom red. again, he squeezes your hand.
"no, we are married," you state blandly, and the stranger's gaze flickers over to your hands, searching for a ring. neuvillette doesn't like the look on the stranger's face; it's evident in the way the iudex narrows his eyes, the way he steps forward a little even though he'd usually try to avoid confrontation.
"i could get you a ring," the stranger says, clearly not getting the hint, "and you wouldn't have to lie about being married."
"there is nothing we owe to you that requires us to prove our marriage. we are married, and that is all you need to know," neuvillette declares firmly, his tone becoming harsh.
"but words alone don't mean anything," the stranger replies with a shrug.
neuvillette furrows his brows, clearly stumped by the stranger's statement. he disagrees—words don't mean everything, but they are definitely worth something.
"just back off," you suddenly chime in, tugging neuvillette closer to you. he lets you string him along to your whims, allowing his figure to inch towards yours, finding its place by your side.
"i'm not interested in you. i already have a lover."
the stranger rolls his eyes.
"ugh. i didn't even like you anyway."
neuvillette frowns. "now that is completely incorrect. just moments prior, you were—"
"just shut up!" the stranger yells, not even bothering to listen to neuvillette's explanation.
clouds begin to form.
"let's go, neuvillette," you say, rubbing the back of the iudex's hand with your thumb. "don't worry too much about that guy."
he looks at you, and the sun emerges.
"you're right. thank you, [name]."
a ring dangles from the silver chain on your neck; it's a vibrant shade of blue.
it glows.
"and you wanted to try this land's water, right?"
he lets you string him along, a gentle smile on his face.
"yes," he vows, "i do."
his hand slots perfectly into yours, and the world is engulfed by a radiant glow.
#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#genshin x gender neutral reader#genshin#heizou x reader#heizou x you#shikanoin heizou#genshin heizou#neuvillette x you#neuvillette#neuvillette x reader#neuvillette x y/n#wanderer x you#wanderer x reader#wanderer genshin
126 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi, I have some questions regarding confusion over a certain topic. First off, I have a character with a severe scarring on the upper right side of their body. I've heard in some tumblr ppsts that such appearance shouldn't be fetished. Then I stumbled across some posts, mentioning how the character can be described as 'pretty with it'.
For sure, I'm trying my best to normalize the looks. Because I have a love interest set up for them and while they don't mind the looks, I feel confused on how to convey their appreciation for the character's looks even with the scarring. They like the character as they are and stuff.
Sorry if this is a lot, I tend to get confused on how to handle such scenarios. And this sort of varying opinions is making me go '???'.
It's okay if you take your time to answer! Have a good day ahead of ya!
Hi!
"Fetishization of a disability" and "thinking that a disabled person is pretty" are two very different things. Despite the somewhat similar sound, they're not connected by much.
In the context of scars, fetishization would be what I would call the "Zuko situation" (yes, I love ATLA as much as the next guy, let me explain) - the scar isn't really a scar, it's more of a, I don't know, make-up? It's just the color that changes, it's all sharp edges and intricate shapes, the facial structure stays the exact same. There's no physical symptoms. Essentially, it's permanent body paint.
It fetishizes a disability by making it inaccurate, sometimes almost mystical. You don't see anyone fetishizing how real people with facial burns look like because they only like the idea of it. They don't care for us; they don't care for Face Equality or why we are offended by "villain with scar #32482". It's just a fun splotch of color to add to your OC when you're out of ideas.
Another aspect of fetishization is the "a scar is the worst thing in the whole world", the tragedy porn. It's using a disability for cheap drama. Again; it's inaccurate and exploitative. I don't see writers excited to depict my "coming to terms with my facial difference as a teenager, and eventually being proud of it" experience because where's the shock value and pity points? Fetishization, again, is about liking the idea of it, not the real thing.
Describing your character as beautiful, well, isn't any of that.
The point that I tried to make on that post was that a scar is often considered inherently ugly. That it's a stain on someone's beauty, that it would be better if it wasn't there.
"Brown beautiful eyes, thick facial hair, strong cheekbones - he managed to be irresistibly handsome even with that nasty scar going across his nose."
This, well, sucks. It's as if the character's beauty and their disability are contradictory forces that have to fight each other. But in reality, scars and any other visible disabilities are neutral. If the character is pretty, their scar is pretty too. It's a part of them, so how could it not be?
"She was a cute girl; her pastel pink, thinly braided hair framed her face, defying gravity by curling towards her mouth. The burned skin on her lips shifted as she smiled, revealing a tooth gap. She played with her equally pink 'white' cane, holding it between the two fingers she had on her right hand, bopping it against the ground to the rhythm of the song."
This, on the other hand, just states her disability as a part of her person. It's nothing weird or shocking, she's pretty, has a burn on her face, she's blind, she's missing some fingers, she's enjoying the music - it's almost boring when compared to the usual "scar introduction". There's no "even with her horribly burnt face", no "if only she wasn't scarred she would be beautiful", no "poor thing, lost her fingers in a horrific fire" - instead, she is beautiful, and she has scars, and she sure is having fun. That's it.
This is my best shot at explaining the difference between "fetishization" and "yeah they're pretty :-)" ft. my questionable writing - I hope this makes sense.
I definitely took my time to answer, sorry about that. Thank you for your ask!
mod Sasza
104 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ways to piss off an Italian
Alternatively three ways to cartoonishly piss off an Italian
Hazbin hotel x reader [Platonic]
Warnings:
Italian stereotypes, just jokin' around this is all in good fun! I put an Imp OC of mine in as the reader assistant! She just pops in and out to stir things up! Reader's learning to cook other types of food because they've hadn't had to cook for themselves in ages they just had others do it. Ending is a little off but we don't talk about that I finished this at 6 am I need sleep, Angel isn't that pissed mostly dismayed
Good evening folks! This is a side story with Eldritch horror reader and Angel dust because he's Italian, this is somewhat inspired by my own bit of how my younger self made it her mission to piss off Italians because of that Italian TikTok duo back in 2020-2021 [???] She did not succeed as she did not know any Italians and all she did was eat spaghetti noodles with anything but a fork.
this is also the 100 followers special! Now at the time of posting we are FAR past that at 207! but better late then never! Thank you so much for the support, I genuinely did not think this many folks would like my silly little writings, I adore getting y'all's requests, comments, and just appearing in my inbox genuinely it makes my day thank you! And I hope you enjoy!
Angel Dust took great pride in his Italian heritage and culture, as he was truly Italian.
Unfortunately he lived with a centuries old Eldritch horror who may or may not have lived in Europe during the bubonic plague and didn't understand the more "modern'' Italian or Italy at all, and others that didn't understand the "sacredness" of the Italians.
🍝The spaghetti.🍝
You took over cooking in the hotel, you and Alastor had begun fighting over the kitchen, whoever got there first got to cook and today, you were victorious.
You were exploring new recipes you had thus far made spicy tteokbokki and Korean corn dogs, some type of curry that was sonic blue, teriyaki chicken, hummus and other things! You experimented with different flavors, seasonings,
These tasty things would've ended you if you ate it back when you were alive and not dying of the bubonic plague.
Anyways, you decided to give making spaghetti a try because you were in the mood for something fairly easy to make.
As you perused the recipe book while humming along to the songs playing from Alastor's radio show, you nodded noting down the ingredients before pulling out the phone that the little Imp that worked for you had bought you insisting you should have one to contact her instead of hunting her down at random and dragging her away.
You squinted as you scrolled through the few contacts you had until you reached said imp's phone number and slowly texted her a barrage of ingredients to buy.
Cece carefully opened the hotel doors and skittered over to the kitchen, having memorized the route since she delivered ingredients to you almost daily at this point.
You grinned as you took the ingredients from Cece's hands turning around to place them on the counter while she pulled up a chair and sat down waiting for the inevitable "Dear Cece can you cut this" or "Dear Cece can you stir this"
You washed off the tomatoes before slicing in an x and blanching them, you peeled the tomatoes after and diced them up before putting them aside to cut up yellow onions, you gathered them up and placed them into a pan, sprinkling in salt to unleashed the onion liquids and sweetness.
You added in some prechopped garlic and let it saute.
While that was happening you took the tomatoes and crushed them, once done you combined the tomatoes with the rest letting it simmer.
You added other components like herbs, basil and a little olive old at the end just for fun.
You filled up another pot with water to boil, sprinkling a twinge of salt and stirring it in.
You brushed your hands on your apron, as you scooted around to find the box of spaghetti noodles, grinning you opened it and take out the pasta.
It was at this unfortunate moment Angel dust decided to waltz on into the kitchen, intending to see what was for dinner and maybe snag something to munch on, you held the dry pasta over the pot, both hands gripping the ends
"Hey tentacles, what's for- WHAT THE FUCK!''
"Good evening Dearest Angel! I'm making spaghetti!"
You said unfazed as the pasta snapped in half and dropped into the pot as Angel dust watched in pure horror.
"Why would you do that?!" Angel asked, his voice pitched as he asked arms gesturing to the pot of sad broken pasta boiling away.
"Make spaghetti? I didn't think it was such a controversial meal"
"No! You broke the pasta! That's like the biggest sin ya can do! What is wrong with ya?"
"We're already in hell, I don't think sins matter much here," Cece popped in, you jumped slightly forgetting the imp was there.
"They do when it comes to' fuckin' pasta toots!"
Angel dust shouted before promptly turning around and leaving the kitchen, leaving you completely confused and Cece amused, unfortunately her amusement turned into irritation as you asked her to grab the ground beef and roll it into balls so you could cook them because meatballs.
During dinner time your spaghetti was a hit!
Charlie complimented your cooking saying you outdid yourself while Vaggie was grabbing a second serving, Sir Pentious enjoyed slurping up the noodles, Niffty kept stabbing the meatballs foe whatever reason, Husk seemed to enjoy the meal however Angel dust had one pair of arms crossed while he reluctantly ate, it was good he could admit but he knew the sin that you had committed while cooking, he knew that innocent pasta had been broken.
Angel dust almost died a second time when he walked into the kitchen later that night for a midnight snack and witnessed a probably drunk Husk eating leftover spaghetti pasta with ketchup because the sauce you had made was on a higher shelf in the refrigerator and he didn't feel like climbing.
🍕 pineapple pizza time.🍕
You and Alastor had... For lack of better words got into a little fight over the kitchen, tentacles, shadows, mild mind control and other things were used until Vaggie stepped in and separated the two of you,
It was decided that pizza would be ordered for the hotel, much to Alastor's disapproval.
Cheese, pepperoni, pineapple and ham, and supreme were the pizzas ordered unbeknownst to Angel dust since he was coming back to the hotel from a hangout with Cherri.
"Angel! Welcome back we ordered pizza!" Charlie said waving the spider over as Vaggie placed the pizza boxes onto the table.
"Great! I'm starvin'!" Angel walked over just in time to see the box containing pineapple pizza opened up.
"Nevermind I'll starve."
"We have other pizzas Angel."
Vaggie did not get paid enough to deal with this, she didn't even get paid!
Angel dust was extremely disappointed in you, you were the one to suggest getting pineapple pizza because you quote, "Never had it before and wanted to try it",
You were well over a few centuries old, you weren't a child, you had gone to hell and become an overlord that rained terror for a couple of years and therefore you should've been able to tell that pineapple on pizza was a crime against humanity, so what if pizza wasn't a thing during your time, it was a thing that came to be while you were down here!
He had later lectured you about it, it was amusing to you! You were a feared overlord and yet this little Italian guy had the gull to lecture you, this was normal in families right? To not be afraid of each other? How wonderful!
The lecture eventually switched over to Husk who was eating pizzas folded which was just weird because he was just tasting the crust! What about the cheese? The sauce? THE SAUCE HUSK? DO YOU NOT TASTE IT?
Husk was too sober for the lecture, Alastor found it amusing though.
🇮🇹Italian PowerPoint presentation 🇮🇹
"Alright tentacles, we're havin' a intervention!" Angel dust said throwing his hands down on the coffee table as you sipped something from a teacup, probably tea.
"Is what you dragged us here for? This shit?"
Husk was here, how did he always get dragged into these things? Niffty was beside him trying to stab a roach, Charlie and Vaggie were out of the hotel, Alastor was hell knew where, probably doing radio stuff and Angel dust had somehow tracked down your assistant and dragged her there.
"Oh! Whatever for dearie?" You asked head tilted as you placed your cup on the table,
"You've committed so many fuckin' crimes in the past week! Ya' broke the pasta before puttin' it in the pot! Ya' put cream in the carbonara! Ya ate pineapple on pizza, I get we're in hell but are ya fuckin' kiddin' me?-" Angel moved his arms around to empathize his point "Not to mention that little fusion stunt, ya' deranged octopus!"
You hummed thinking about the meals you've made recently before responding, "I don't think I made anything bad?"
"You decided to put tomato sauce, cheese and pepperoni on cooked ramen and stuck it in da' oven and ate it."
"It wasn't as good as the little people on the interwebs said."
"OF COURSE IT WASN'T GOOD IT WAS A CRIME! IT CAME OUT OF THE DEEPS OF HELL."
"Eh, it wasn't that bad" Cece popped in to stir the pot, Angel slowly turned around becoming slightly more spidery
"The fuck did ya just say?"
Cece shrugged, "Food's expensive and I need to eat."
Cece was picked up and thrown on the couch with you as Angel dust set up a PowerPoint presentation about the history of Italian food and whatever else, You did not want to be here you'd rather be drinking your drink in peace, Husk didn't want to be here he'd rather be drinking, your hellborn imp assistant didn't want to be here, she's never going to Italy she didn't need to know this and Niffty, well she's still stabbing things on the floor.
By the time Charlie and Vaggie returned you had zoned out completely and your mind was elsewhere, Niffty was napping on your shoulder, Cece had escaped by asking Angel if garlic bread was Italian and while he went on that tangent she ran out abandoning everyone.
Husk was more dead inside then per usual, he wasn't paid enough for this, the first hour was fine but this had been going on for five hours at this point, how did Angel dust manage to drag this PowerPoint presentation out so long?
Vaggie shut it down after it was realized that you weren't responding and they thought you had somehow died,
You did not die and you eventually snapped out of it when a white cloth was put over you in order to hide the body.
Good evening folks! Thank you for turning on in! I hope you enjoyed, my apologies for taking forever to get this out, if your wondering why it feels like there's a missing gap that's because I wrote a whole lil' thing of reader and Alastor combining forces to annoy Angel and I accidentally deleted it.
I'm gonna rewrite it eventually and add it to a different fic with Eldritch horror reader, also If your wondering why I have an imp OC in here there is a reason with Eldritch horror and their family complex you'll see eventually
I'll be getting the readers backstory which will be the 200 follower special out [hopefully] soon so tune on in for that! Thank you again have a wonderful day!
#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x you#angel dust & reader#angel dust x reader#hazbin x reader#hazbin x you
59 notes
·
View notes
Text
end notes for 'translation' (spoiler warning!):
hello <3 if you're here then it means you read my cursed aventurine fic about cultural loss and the fear of being understood. thank you for sticking it out with me! much appreciated.
i wanted to add some notes here to explain my intention with some of the details in this story, because it touched on some very sensitive subjects and I don't want to be misread:
I do not believe that dialects or any type of language variant born from displacement, genocide, or diasporic communities are somehow lesser than the “original” dialects. However, I do think first/second gen speakers that lose their language (especially for political reasons or displacement, etc) can experience a lot of anguish over it, and that’s reflected in Aventurine’s narration.
Aventurine did not believe the racist Avgin stereotype he brought up (nor would I write a narrative where such a stereotype were true). However, the stereotype happens to overlap with some of his survival traits that he hates about himself, hence he used it as part of his power play. The interaction also has some relation to the way that marginalised persons sometimes weaponize or internalise the stereotypes they need to endure, as well as what it means to be the only representative of your race, but that's a whole other subjectivity in this narrative that I will choose not to discuss.
I think this will be obvious to multilinguals so this is a note directed at monolinguals: I don't think enduring abuse in a formative language necessarily “ruins” the language and turns it into a “dialect of abuse” in the way that having a second language being violently forced upon you will. In my experience, a mother tongue is a mother tongue, and it will always hit you in a sensitive way, particularly if you are experiencing cultural loss—which the MC has, in the context of colonialism and displacement (only vaguely implied in the story but it's relevant context). Nevertheless, the MC has a much more complex, adult native-speaker relationship to their mother tongue than Aventurine does with Avgin. This is what those ending passages were getting at.
Finally, I am aware the relationship between the MC and Aventurine is unhealthy, and I hope that this would have been obvious from the narrative. I don't condone relationships like this and I think both characters should get some therapy instead of routinely gaslighting gatekeeping girlbossing each other (and themselves). But for better or worse, that is a narrative I will not write for this couple.
59 notes
·
View notes
Note
Any chance you'd expand on the hank hill trans guy post? (Sorry, best indicator I could come up with.) The concept interests me as I decidedly know my maleness, yet don't feel impeded by for the most part, any male gendered norms/boxes. I am fairly masculine, though I rarely use those kinds terms to describe myself.
I have found I often do stray outside of what society pushed for me when I transitioned, yet I again do not feel it has taken from my right to maleness whatsoever. I am just me, who happens to be male. I have had friends try and suggest I am NB adjacent but I do not feel this way whatsoever. I feel more people are outliers to gender expectation than we care to admit and it's disappointing the way cis-people deny that.
Hope this wasn't too long winded, I value your writing and perspective, and wanted to hear more of your thoughts on this.
Yeah, well so many things all get conflated by gender labels, and it's all so personal, you know? Masculinity does not have to mean maleness, and a person's gender identity might be a reflection of some innate quality they experience themselves as having, or a general summary of their tendencies, or their desired presentation, or their sense of affinity with other people, or an interpersonal tool, or something they just go along with because it was given to them by society, or any other number of things.
I think my recent substack piece on detransition goes into this pretty well, and I have an upcoming piece of what @pastimperfection calls "bilateral dysphoria" that comes out next week that delves into it too.
I think I mostly saw taking on a male identity as a means to an end more than any kind of innate reflection of who I was, though I did feel an affinity with effeminate men for a lot of reasons. I think I also discounted how much I have in common with my fellow nonbinary people of all stripes, because that identity became so strongly associated with being an annoying type of queer person that everybody else just wrote off as ultimately being their assigned gender at birth anyway no matter how much they protested. it doesn't help that 'nonbinary' is a catchall term for literally thousands if not millions of very distinct experiences and desires.
transitioning gave me control over how i was perceived, finally, but hormones are a throttle that only go in one very specific direction, and you don't really have all that much control over which changes kick in at which times and what people will make of you once you do start registering to them as some identity other than what you were first saddled with. it's an incredible gift to be able to toggle that throttle. but it's limited, not because medical transition isn't incredible and needed for so many, but because there is no escaping the goddamned binary cissexist logic that influences everything about how people treat you, how you navigate institutions, who finds you desirable and what they want out of you, and so much else.
if you're able to cast a lot of the external societal bullshit aside and feel strong in your maleness, maybe you're stronger than me or maybe our orientation to these things is just different, i don't know. i was never all that sensitive to feedback that i was doing the whole being-a-woman-thing all that wrong. i reveled in violating those rules to an extent. succeeding at being a woman despite my best attempts was what felt super dysphoric. and now i guess im succeeding at being a man, insofar as im always read as one, and it feels just as uncomfortable and objectifying and false. i thought that with manhood i could probably just grit my teeth and deal with it, but i'm finding that i can't.
ive always been very open that for me, gender is a thing I Do, and i guess to those who know me well it wouldnt be surprising to hear that i have gotten tired of Doing Being a Man and dont feel like playing that particular gendered game anymore. I tend to get bored of things! and find the flaws in things. and find my comfort in being fault-finding and contrarian and not being a joiner. and thats okay. i learned a lot along the way. not having to try any more is a huge relief. i can just do whatever. and know actively that people will more often than not be wrong in what they make of me.
maybe it was natural feeling for you to decidely 'know' your maleness without a care for masculine standards because that is the right identity for you! and maybe i only feel secure in the "not knowing" realm and in letting go of what people think of me or finding any kind of tidy categorization for it because that's the right spot for me. for now. until i find a new interesting way to be unhappy and striving for more and different again. :) that's just part of being alive, for me.
52 notes
·
View notes
Text
Violence and Love in Monkey Man
Dev Patel's Monkey Man has played at my mind for two weeks now. This is for reasons that I'm able to articulate and for many that I probably have not yet been able to find the words for. This post is, in part, my attempt at sorting through some of my thoughts. My tumblr is all spoilers all the time. If you don’t want that, then please don’t read on.
Violence
Like most places in the world, systemic violence is a scourge in India. Monkey Man does not shy away from this reality and depicts Hindu nationalist state violence and violence against women and gendered minorities in the country to chilling effect.
We come to see this in the brutal rape and murder of Kid's activist mother at the hands of the police, while she tries to shield her child and her land from police and state terror. We see it in the treatment of (largely femme-presenting) sex workers in the two brothels featured in the film, including one frequented by the police and political elite. We see it in the violence and ostracisation meted out against the hijra, or third gender community by individual actors and the state more broadly. We see it in the state-orchestrated razing of an entire community after the land on which it sits is declared a "holy site". We see it in the movement of people from the regions to the city after their land has been stolen and the grinding poverty they face as a result.
Unlike so many action films, none of the violence in Monkey Man occurs in a vacuum. Even Kid's original means of making money in an underground fighting ring is done against the backdrop of his forced displacement from regional India to the city - a migration pathway that many in the country have been forced to take and which is a direct result of land theft and resource extraction in the regions by local and multinational corporations as well as federal and state governments.
The truth is that so much in relation to state and societal control is enacted in painful and violent ways on the bodies of the marginalised and oppressed. And I often think about how the horror and action genres are some of the best suited to speak about systemic injustice because of their capacity to make that violence uncompromisingly visible (one recent example is Mike Flanagan’s Midnight Mass which depicted the bloody fallout of the Christian missionary/colonial project in vivid crimson, splashed all over a non-descript maritime town in present-day America). The violence in Monkey Man is no different.
While Kid's realisation of the interconnectedness and heavy hand of the state not just in the violence experienced by his mother, but also by the hijra, and by sex workers like Sita comes later in the movie, we as the audience are given this insight earlier. Recall Kid pointing out to Sita that her tattoo is of a koel, not a sparrow as originally misidentified by the Australian client sexually assaulting her minutes earlier in the film.
Kid goes on to say that he grew up in the forest and woke up to koels singing everyday. Its the longest conversation that the two have but in those brief words, we understand that Sita too has likely been displaced to the city from the regions, probably under very similar circumstances to Kid. The way this displacement maps itself onto her body is distinctive to how it does so for Kid, with gender playing a large role in this.
Other factors like caste, class and religion also impact on how the characters in this film experience or perpetrate violence. I would write more on these intersections but then this post is going to get more unwieldy than it already is.
I will say though, that in India, where fascist Hindu nationalism is being used by government to harm minority communities, steal land and secure populist votes, Patel makes a distinction between revelatory and weaponised faith. Kid is raised in peace by his mother with the former, but as an adult he lives in a world where the latter has taken hold and is being used by those in power to shore up more of that power for themselves.
For me - as the descendant of parents, grandparents and great grandparents who lived through anti-Tamil pogroms led by Sinhalese chauvinists weaponising Buddhism as part of their fascism in Sri Lanka, who like the rest of us, is living in an election year for Hindu nationalist Prime Minister Narendra Modi in India, and who is also frustratingly, helplessly bearing witness as the state of Israel and it’s allies conflate Zionism with Judaism in defence of the genocide being waged against Palestinians - watching this action film make the distinction between revelatory and weaponised faith was profound.
Love
Patel makes it a point in this film to show how Kid's most nourishing relationships, the ones that sustain him - indeed the ones that literally save his life - are those that he has with women and with people who don’t conform to the gender binary. In doing this, we see what Kid is fighting tooth (quite literally) and nail for throughout the film. We see what is at stake - what we stand to lose - if perpetrators get to rule without accountability.
Its also no mistake that these relationships are all tied visually to the natural world in the film: Kid's mother's deep ties to the earth, rivers, trees and roots that she leads him through as a child. Alpha and the hijra's sanctuary, the Ardhanareeshvara temple with its most sacred space being the roots of a holy tree. Sita and her koel tattoo: the memory of the forest carried on her skin while she traverses the brutal reality of the city. Patel is making a point here too. About nourishment of another kind, through our connection with the earth instead of extraction from it. The visuals in the film drive this point home, particularly when contrasted with the industrialisation and poverty of the city.
Two particular loving relationships that stood out for me were the love shared between Kid and the hijra community as well as between him and his mother.
Alpha, hijra Elder and the hijra community
Keeper of the Ardhanareeshvara Temple and hijra Elder, Alpha becomes a mother-figure to Kid after he is rescued with near-fatal injuries. It is Alpha who keeps watch over him as he recovers, helps Kid to confront the totality of his past memories which his trauma has kept fragmented, and who ultimately leads a veritable hijra army to join forces with him to assassinate some fascists.
Alpha's gentleness with Kid was so moving to see, in particular during the conversation they have about his attempt as a child to save his mother from the fire set by her rapist and murderer. That exchange moved me to tears.
Kid: I failed her.
Alpha: No. You tried to save her. You see scars. I see the courage of a child fighting to save his mother.
The wider hijra community at the temple also take Kid in and care for him during his recovery. Truly, the scenes at the temple were some of my favourite in Monkey Man. Outside of his memories of his mother, they are the only scenes where we see love, peace and joy on the faces of any of the characters in this film.
Also witness this moment of delight below as the hijra at the temple appreciate a fine ass man channelling his righteous anger and fucking up a punching bag full of rice. I note that the music during this training montage is simply stunning. Ustad Zakir Hussain's rapid fire tablas punctuated by each of Patel's landed punches and kicks and then followed by Jed Kurzel's achingly soaring instrumentals (listen to "The Kid" from the movie's score) were just *chef’s kiss*.
Another favourite moment for me was when Kid decides to go back to the underground fight ring one last time and not throw his matches (as he had been doing prior). He bets on himself and when he inevitably wins his fights, he takes the money and gives it to the hijra, ensuring that they can continue to live at the temple without fear of being evicted. We love to see a man who literally pays his rent.
Neela, his mother
Kid’s first teacher and the center of his life as a child. In almost every memory we are shown of her, Kid remembers his mother walking through a forest, sharing her ecological and religious knowledge with him and in doing so, positioning him within the wider world.
GIF by dailyflicks
We watch as he takes this understanding with him forward through the remainder of the film. His conversation as an adult with Alphonso as they drive through the city in the latter's tuk tuk is emblematic of this. "They don't even see us", Kid says of the elite who frequent the club where he has just gained employment, "they're all up there living and we are stuck in this."
His mother showed him what it was to live: to be still and in concert with the world and the Divine around you, to be loved fiercely, and to thrive as a result. This is in stark contrast to what Kid has had to learn to do in the city: to survive, to merely exist. He is never depicted resting or at home as an adult. He's always working, hustling and planning for the next thing, his next step. When he loses his village, his land and his mother as a child, Kid also inevitably loses his sense of home. It’s no coincidence that the tracks “Home” and “Mother” on the movie’s score sound almost identical.
Later at the end of the film, we see Kid close his eyes, having done what he set out to do. The last thing he sees is his mother, smiling at him in the forest. Her face is the face of God he gazes at before he succumbs to his injuries. This devotion to his mother is not just that of a child to a parent. Its also deeply tied to his Hindu faith which calls on its followers to honour the Divine Mother, the supreme feminine energy, Aathi Parashakthi, in all her manifestations including in those who mother us.
The movie ends with Kid’s deep, revelatory faith - instilled in him by his mother - and with the death of the man who weaponised that faith for power and wealth. It left all of us in the cinema seated in stunned silence even as the credits began to roll.
To describe Monkey Man as simply a revenge film does it an absolute disservice. This is not revenge. It is defence borne out of deep love for community and righteous opposition to injustice. Seeing hijra warriors dressed as Kali, the goddess of destruction, dealing death blows against fascists while spinning in the most beautiful lenghas was exhilarating (I literally screamed “YESSSSSSS!” at the screen when they arrived). Seeing Sita take out pimp Queenie got me cackling and yelling “whoooop!”. Seeing Kid, a masculine character act to defend women and people outside of the gender binary, from further systemic harm without any ulterior motive was absolutely unreal to witness on the big screen. Seeing a person of faith act in deep connection to that faith without judgment against anyone but those who perpetrate harm made me feel hopeful in a way that took me by surprise. Kid acted out of love and respect. I would argue that Sita, the hijra and Kid all acted out of recognition of a shared humanity.
And at a time when folks from marginalised communities are being subjected to horrendous violence worldwide, both interpersonal and systemic, watching the oppressed take their perpetrators out…and I mean out (see: a rapist and murderer getting bludgeoned to death with a glittery high heel and a fascist, self-proclaimed “holy man” being stabbed in his third eye by the blade he hid in his own “sacred” pathankal/paduka), well, it was cathartic to see.
Am I saying violence is the answer to systemic violence? I think the answer to that question is context-specific. Non-violent resistance has a place, but it’s by necessity a performance and requires an audience. What do you do when no one’s watching? What do you do when the people who are watching are doing nothing to stop your suffering? What then? These questions are what many liberals refuse to grapple with because the answers are too uncomfortable for their polite sensibilities. But if you keep your foot on someone's neck long enough, you should expect them to fight back, by any means necessary. In Monkey Man, we have an action film where we get to witness that resistance in all its visceral glory.
#monkey man#dev patel#jordan peele#vipin sharma#adithi kalkunte#sobhita dhulipala#reva marchellin#dayangku zyana#this post is so fucking long but this movie has been sitting on my heart and my chest for days
41 notes
·
View notes
Text
Saga Anderson, and Nordic rep in Alan Wake 2
Early on in Saga Anderson’s exploration in Alan Wake 2, she runs into Ilmo Koskela. Fiercely proud of his Finnish heritage, Ilmo gregariously makes note of Saga’s Nordic sounding name and the familiar design of her knitted sweater. Perhaps a fellow Finn?
Alas no, Saga’s mom is Swedish she informs him. Immediately Ilmo’s face falls. I’m not sure if it’s actually just the animated character defaulting to his resting face, but either way the timing is too perfect. Cue uproarious laughter from me. People in the Nordics are on friendly terms of course, but we gotta have the tiniest bit of… scornfor each other. All in good fun of course. It’s traditional.
Now, I’m Danish, not Finnish, but still, I feel right at home in the towns of Bright Falls and Watery in Alan Wake 2. All of the little nods to Nordic culture and mindset feel so wonderfully familiar to me. The melancholia, the irreverent sense of humor, the affection for the Finnish and Swedish quirks of the characters. The game feels all the stronger in tone and narrative for Remedy embracing the Finnish roots of the studio.
Which is exactly why it sucks that I almost immediately saw the charm of those narrative decisions weaponised against Saga.
I first watched the scene between Ilmo and Saga on a lets play when I was trying to figure out if I should finally dip my toes into survival horror and buy the game. Delighted by the writing I took a look into the comments to see if people were vibing as hard with it as I was. They were. But I also saw a comment that made me frown.
Paraphrasing, it basically went, come on, like hell a guy like Ilmo would make the assumption that a black woman is Finnish. There are a multitude of reasons why I think that person was wrong, mainly that Nordic people love it when we run into each other in other countries, but it also just made me sad.
Saga being black does not negate her Swedish heritage. Formally, she is American, sure (I assume, not sure how that works in the US), but she’s raised by her single Swedish mom, of course she’s going to identify heavily with that part of her herself. It’s a profound and essential part of who she is.
But hey, I’m a white potato Dane, so I’m not gonna argue that I know much about the experience of being biracial. I’m gonna stick to what I know, which is that Saga is a very moving and beautiful example of something that I’m actually not used to seeing much of - a story about connecting with your Nordic heritage and roots. And it’s part of why I love her so much.
When Nordic people show up in big, international productions, it’s usually as Vikings, and sure, it’s fun to see our wild ancestors, but contemporary questions of Nordic identity and heritage is not something I often see explored. Not even in our own productions.
So much of Saga’s story is about family. Fighting for her current one, Logan and Casey (and sure, David too, lol), and rediscovering her first one. Tor and Odin.
Her discovering her ties to Tor and Odin is profoundly moving and made me teary-eyed several times over. And sure, a lot of those ties are fantastical in nature, but they still feel very much grounded - and what makes us Nordic if not the ties to our myths and legends that Tor and Odin have made themselves the living avatars of.
While Saga’s mom, Freya, had good reasons for leaving the Anderson seer magics behind, seeing them as part of what made her family fucked up, she also cut Saga off from the fullness of her capabilities. It is only through Saga reforming her family, healing its scars and fully embracing the Anderson heritage that she becomes as powerful a parautilitarian as she is at the end of the game. That’s beautiful.
And in fact I think Saga being black only deepens the richness of those themes rather than negate them or make them irrelevant. Because yes, Saga’s story would have been moving if she was a white character too, but I am very well aware that a lot of biracial people of Nordic ancestry can feel alienated from that part of themselves. Not least because questions of who gets to claim a Nordic heritage can get pretty ugly around here. There are most definitely people who share the racist mindset of that commentator. It adds an extra dimension. Which is why seeing Tor and Odin’s eagerness to claim Saga as part of the Anderson heritage is all the more moving. Through her magics, she’s just so obviously an Anderson, and they’re so damn proud to call her theirs and fight alongside her. Because they all got that wild Viking blood in them. They’re part of her and she’s part of them.
Roger Ebert, the film critic once called movies empathy machines. I think games, when they’re at their best, can be an even more intense variation of that. Which is exactly why it baffles me that some people can play through Alan Wake 2 and still think Saga is a stunt-woke character rather than someone fully and beautifully integrated in the narrative. A narrative which, at its most basic level – in my opinion – is about the mystical bonds we form with each other and the rest of the world through art and love and blood and family and heritage. All the great horror doesn’t negate that either, it amplifies it. Kind of like that clicker.
#I really didn’t mean to write like… a fucking essay#so this is probably gonna flop#but I love Saga so much#and as a Scandinavian woman#I feel so seen by her#and I hate that people are being so vile about her character#Saga Anderson#Alan Wake 2
49 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sam Kiszka x Reader
Uncharted Territory
Summary: A weekend trip with your high school best friend Sam leads to new experiences you've never had before.
Word Count: 3.7k
Taglist for Oneshots
A/N: Hi everyone! Here is @mar-rein12 and I's second oneshot. We've been in a Sam mood lately so this was so fun to write. Thank you for all the support on the last oneshot! Please enjoy our first Sam oneshot, Uncharted Territory.
Warnings: 18+, SMUT, penetrative sex, oral (f + m receiving), praise, VIRGIN SEX, fluff, dirty talk, submissive/dom, alcohol, flirting.
Y/n’s POV
“Sam, what should I wear?” You shout at him from your room. You both had rented an airbnb for the weekend, to see some of Sam’s friends play in a concert a couple town’s over. You stare at all of the outfits sprawled across your bed, as Sam makes his way in and plops himself right onto all of the options.
“Sam. I can’t really decide what to wear if you’re laying on top of my clothes.” You giggle at him, and shove his shoulder playfully. He looks up at you from the bed with a big smile plastered across his face. “Get up, come on.” You reach your hand out, for him to grab and pull him up off the bed. He takes it and stands up beside you.
“Okay so I have this purple corset with blue jeans. A black leather tube top, with a black leather mini skirt. And a…”
“Okay before you continue on, I’m gonna need to see these on before I can make a decision, sweets.”
Sweets. Something that Sam had called you since your freshman year of high school. You met Sam when he was a Sophomore in band. Both of you played piano and often played together in shows so you learned to become friends pretty fast. After he graduated, he started to play in a real band with his brothers and friend and they were slowly gaining traction. As a little graduation treat from Sam he wanted to take you on a little road trip to Ann Arbor. He lied to Airbnb saying that he was 21 so you guys could have a house in the area for the weekend.
“I’m waiting, y/n.” You roll your eyes at him, picking up the purple corset and jeans. You work to remove the leggings you are wearing, when you realize Sam is still looking right at you.
“Excuse me sir, I’m gonna need you to look away.” You give him a little smirk.
Sam rolls his eyes, laying back onto your bed. “If you insist.” After covering his eyes you wait there for a moment to see if he’d keep his promise. Like clockwork, he peeks through his fingers and sees that you are still staring at him.
“SAM!” You playfully scream at him. “Keep them shut, or else I won’t try them on for you.”
“Whatever you say, sweets.” He closes his eyes again and you quickly change into the first outfit.
“Okay, you can open your eyes now.” You take a step back and let him take it all in.
“Okay I like it, I don’t know if that’s the vibe for the night though.” He begins to grab the next outfit to throw it to you before inspecting the skirt. He holds it up in the air while making a face. “Y/n, what the fuck is this gonna cover?”
“It’ll be covering just enough.” You walk over and grab it from him along with the tube top. You shove a blanket over his face and change into the second outfit. You push your feet into the black leather boots and tell him to remove the blanket. After his eyes adjust to the light he takes a long look up and down your body, not saying a word. “Sam, say something. Is the skirt that short?”
“Sweets, I’m not going to lie. You look really fucking sexy.” You feel your cheeks blush at his words. “I have such a stunning best friend. I think that’s what you should wear.” He takes one final look at you before he gets up and walks out of the room.
He turns around quickly when he reaches for the door, “I’ll be waiting in the living room for whenever you're done.” You can’t help but be taken aback from the fact that Sam called you sexy. You kind of liked it? Was it wrong to like being called sexy by your best friend? Maybe. You choose to push the thought to the back of your brain and continue to get ready.
Once done with your makeup and hair you walk out to the living room and Sam grabs the keys to drive you both to the concert. After a 30 minute drive you arrive and Sam walks around to help you out of the car. He told you that you “weren’t allowed to get out yourself”, and that he would be covering you when you got out of the car “in case something popped out.” You don’t get why he cares so much, but you figure he is just trying to be nice.
As you make your way inside the loud building, you find an empty spot in the crowded music venue. As they begin to play you sing along with some of the songs you recognize and dance along with Sam as much as you can. Sam was being recognized by a few girls in the audience. They wanted to talk and take pictures with him, and you didn’t mind. You liked that he was getting the recognition he deserved. After finally returning back to you he apologies for having to talk to so many people.
“It’s okay, I know that they are just excited to see the cute bassist of Greta Van Fleet in public.” Sam smirks at you, refocusing himself on the band on the stage.
“How are you liking the music? I know it’s kinda different. I wasn’t sure if you would even like it in the first pl-.”
“Sam, I’m having fun. I’m enjoying the music too. But, It would be way more fun if someone would dance with me.” Sam grabs your hands and begins spinning you around before grabbing your waist and pulling you into him. He was very handsy, much more than he had been in the past, at prom and other events.You sway along with him for the next couple songs, your ass presses harder against him as you feel him growing beneath you. You knew this had an effect on him whether he wanted it to or not, you began to feel like he was enjoying it more than he led on. His hands trail up your stomach, resting right below your tits. Your legs feel like jello beneath you, and a wetness is forming between your legs.
“Sammy, I don’t know if this is alright to say to your friend but this is really turning me on, like more than it should.” He smiles down at you, beginning to rub his hands over your hips. He leans his head down, bringing his mouth close to your ear.
“If you think it's wrong then the stuff I think about is criminal.” He presses a light kiss to the side of your face, refocusing on the band. The rest of the time spent in the crowd was a blur. All you remembered was Sam’s arms wrapped around you the entire time, and feeling like you were gonna pass out in them. After the set finishes up, Sam says a quick hello to his friends. You both begin to make your way to the car and drive back to the Airbnb.
Once your boots are off, you make your way to the kitchen and sit down on one of the bar stools.
“Woah what is this?” Sam says from inside the fridge. He comes out and shows a bottle of wine. “I guess the last group to rent the house left some wine in the fridge. You want a glass?” You nod your head and he searches for glasses for the two of you. After filling two glasses, he places them on the living room table, coming back to you to carry you to the couch.
“If we're gonna watch something Sam can I at least change into something more comfortable?” You say as you feel your skirt begin to ride up on you. He looks down to see your skirt becoming smaller and looks back up to you.
“You can just take everything off, and leave it off.” He says, placing a hand on your exposed thigh.
“You're being very different tonight Sam, what's come over you?”
“I don’t know sweets, I mean you’ve always been hot but something about tonight is just making me realize it even more. You in that tiny little skirt and having you dance all over me, is making me lose it. Like I need you, badly y/n.”
You didn’t know what to say, or what he was alluding to. “What do you mean Sam?”
“I'm saying I’m really turned on y/n, and that I want to please you. You can say no, but I want to so badly, and I’m thinking you might feel this way too.”
You’d be lying if you said you haven’t thought about him like this before. Thinking about your best friend late at night when you couldn’t sleep, slowly inching your hand into your underwear.
“Sam I would I just- I never really did anything with anyone before.” You say shyly, even though you know he would never judge you.
“And? I’ll take good care of you baby, and make you feel so good. We can take it very slow, how does that sound?”
“I… don’t know what I’m doing, but if I am going to lose my virginity to someone my first pick would be you.”
“You're not losing anything, sweets, you're gaining an experience with someone. And I’m going to make sure it is perfect for you. So how about we take this skirt off.” You stand up and turn around, allowing him to unzip and pull it down to the floor. His hands trail over your hips, giving a light squeeze to your ass.
“So beautiful…can’t wait to have my face between these gorgeous thighs.” He says, while gently squeezing your thighs. He sits you back onto the couch, “can I take this off for you too sweets?” He grabs the hem of your top, giving it a light tug.
You nod and he takes his hand around your back, unzipping your top. You were left in nothing but your thong, since you had not worn a bra tonight.
Sam’s eyes take in your whole body, his eyes lingering at your bare chest. You can’t help but feel exposed, maybe that's because you were fully naked in front of your friend. You begin to close your legs, but Sam interferes immediately. His hands grab your knees and peel them apart.
“What do you think you're doing y/n, I can’t eat that pretty pussy with your legs closed.”
You have a sudden rush of confidence. You sit up just enough, slipping your thong off and tossing it onto the ground, and spreading your legs for him. “Go ahead then, Sammy.”
“You’re so sexy y/n. I’m gonna make you feel so good. Don’t you do a single thing, just sit back and enjoy the feeling darling.” His hands travel up and down your thighs, rubbing them soothingly to calm your nerves. You tense up a little at his touch being so close to the heat between your legs. “Just relax, and let me know if at any point you want me to stop.”
You give him a nod and watch his head disappear between your legs. You feel his lips kissing up the inside of your thigh, as a shiver travels up your spine. You shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as you are. His lips are inches away from your pussy now and you are getting impatient.
“Sam…please.” You practically whine out, definitely sounding ridiculously desperate.
He lifts his head up to look at you. “Aw, does someone want something? You're gonna have to beg for it.” His finger goes through your slit, collecting your wetness. “I wanna hear you whine for me, and beg for me to eat your pussy. You think you can do that for me, be a good girl?”
“What do you mean?”
“If I’m doing a good job, you’ll have no control over it. So don’t be holding any of those pretty noises of yours in. Got it.” You nod your head and Sam goes back down between your thighs, leaving light kisses all the way down to your heat. When he finally reaches your core he lightly flicks his tongue over your clit, something you had thought about many times but could never prepare for this feeling.
Your hands immediately connect to his hair, wanting to push him further.
“Sammy… Oh my god.” You push his face impossibly closer, his nose resting on your clit as his tongue fucks into you. You let out a loud moan, only spurring him on.
“There it is baby. Let it all go for me.” He continues lapping you up and you’re practically squirming beneath him. “Don’t hold back for me, yeah?”
His voice. His filthy words. It was pushing you towards climax.
“Sam, I think I'm gonna…”
“Go ahead baby, let it go. Cum all over my face.” He attacks your pussy with his tongue, giving it his undivided attention. You were feeling the knot forming in your stomach, you knew you were close.
“OH FUCK SAM!” He continues to lick you through your release, your whole body feels like it's floating. You’re sure you’ve never felt this good ever in your life. When you come down from high, you regain your senses. You look down at Sam, as he peels his mouth off of you.
You pull his hair slightly, for him to look up at you. “Now, let me return the favor.” You stand up from the couch and grab his hand to pull him up with you. You position yourself in front of him, sinking down to your knees. He smirks down at you, as you begin to unbutton and unzip his pants. You slowly pull them down his legs, when you hear his raspy voice.
“Sweets, I can’t believe this is happening right now.” You look up at him, as his pants reach the floor, with concern in your eyes.
“Do you… want me to st-” You question, not what to push his boundaries. You are already pushing the “friend” boundary.
“Fuck, no. Keep going.” He gives you the sweetest smile and that is all the reassurance you need. Your fingers find their way to the waistband of his boxers and give them a gentle tug, releasing his cock. He kicks the boxers off with his feet and you can’t help your stare.
His dick was right in front of your face, you felt all the confidence you had dwindling. You gulp harshly. You weren’t sure what to do, you’ve never sucked a cock before.You didn’t want to accidentally hurt him. Sam can sense your dilemma and moves to take your hand in his. “It’s okay, sweets, don’t be scared to touch it.”
He moves your hand to his shaft and you gently wrap your fingers around it. The skin is so velvety soft, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. His hand wraps around yours and begins to help you stroke him. “That’s perfect y/n. Stroke it just like that.” His hand releases itself from yours, moving it to rest in your silky hair.
You stroke him a little faster and in a rash decision, you let go of him to spit into your palm. When your wet hand lands on him again his head flies back. “Fuck, y/n. Feels so fucking good. Put your mouth on me, wanna feel your wet tongue swirl around my cock.” You never knew Sammy was capable of speaking with such vulgar tongue.You are fucking loving it though. You follow his instructions, leaning your mouth down to be level with his cock.
“Yeah, Sammy?” You lick a stripe up his shaft to tease him. “You’re supposed to be my best friend. I don’t think best friends suck off their best friends, Sammy.” Your mouth encloses around his swollen, leaking tip. He lets out a needy whine. You pull off of him. “I think that’s what you like about it though, right? You like that it's wrong?”
“Y/n… please. Just fucking suck me. I’m so hard, I need to cum so bad.” You glare up at him, as he looks down at you with pleading eyes.
You can’t let him have what he wants that easily. “Answer the question.” You grip his dick in your hand again, giving him a hard stroke, hoping to coax the answer out of him.
“Sweets, I fucking love that it’s wrong. I’ve wanted you for so long though. Just never thought you felt the same way.” He admits, you never thought you would love having power over him this much.
“I’ve wanted you for so long too. Now, since you were a good boy and answered my question…” You take his cock in your mouth. Engulfing and welcoming him into your wetness and warmth. You moan around his cock, when you feel him twitch inside your mouth.
“Yep… better than I could have ever imagined.” His hands are gripping at your hair, curses and moans flying off his plump lips. “I’ve pictured this so many times.” You too have pictured this too many times to count. You pick up your speed, humming lightly around him.
“Y/n, I’m not going to last. Feels too good.” You smile around him, continuing on with your steady pace. “Y/n…” He pulls you off of him, taking a step back to look at you. He reaches up to unbutton his shirt, now standing completely bare.
“D-did I do something wrong?” You stumble out. Great, you successfully fucked everything up.
“No, sweets. Quite the opposite, but I need to feel what it’s like in that beautiful pussy of yours. Couldn’t take not knowing anymore.” He pushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “Do you want that darling?”
You soften your gaze, and quickly nod your head. You were thinking the same thing, just too nervous to initiate it.
“Words.” He has a certain tone of authority in his voice, that you can’t help but rub your thighs together after hearing.
“Yes, I want it so bad.” You stand up from your knees right in front of him.
“Go lay down on the couch, I’ll be right back.” He says, disappearing up the stairs. You walk back over to the couch and lay down on your back, your head resting on one of the decorative pillows.
Moments later he is making his way back down the stairs. You look over the back of the couch, to see a shiny foil packet gripped in his right hand. He walks around the couch to stand above you.
“Whatcha got there Sammy?” You smirk at him, he just rolls his eyes at you.
“Can’t be getting you pregnant, although I wouldn’t be opposed. It would be a beautiful baby, looking just like you.” He says pushing his fingers through his hair. After unwrapping and sliding on the condom he meets you on the couch, hovering above you.
“Were gonna take this slow y/n, I need you to talk to me here okay? Tell me if you need me to stop or slow down.”
“Okay Sam, I trust you.” He smiles at your comment before leaning down and spitting on your pussy to wetten it even more than it already is.
He lines himself up and pushes into you slowly, filling you up with his thick cock. A slight sting hits you but after a few seconds you get adjusted and give him the okay to continue. Sam slowly pumps in and out of you, trying to read your body language. After seeing that you were used to it he began to speed up.
“You feel so good y/n, so wet for me.” He pants as his thrusts get sloppier.
“Sam, please I need more, harder.” Your hands reach around him, leaving scratches on his back.
“Such a slut, begging for more. You think you’ve been a good enough girl? You think you deserve more?”
“Yes please Sam, I’ve been a good girl. I wanna feel you hit the back of my pussy.”
The need for him was strong, and he could tell. His thrusts pick up, becoming more direct and forceful.
“Right there, Sammy. Fuck.” You clench around his cock, nails digging deep into his back.
“Oh god baby, I’m gonna cum if you keep squeezing around me like that. So tight.”
That was enough to send you over the edge. As your moans fill the air the familiar knot begins to form in your stomach once again.
“Oh fuck Sam I’m cumming don’t stop.” Your body squirms around underneath him.
“That’s it baby, all over my cock. God, you feel so good, oh fuck-.” With that, he releases inside of you.
You feel the wave of pleasure wash over you and soon after Sam pushes his final few thrusts into you, before pulling out. Sam’s body collapses onto you as you try to catch your breath.
“God I wish we could have done that sooner.” Sam says as he begins to pick his warm body off of you. He removes the condom and puts on his boxers. You hear him run to the room and grab some of your pajamas from the room for you. As he slides them onto you, you wonder how you hadn’t acted on this before. Not just in a sexual manner, but something more than just a friend. He had always been like this and maybe you were just blind to never see before.
“Sammy, that was amazing. Thank you for making my first time so special, I wouldn’t have wanted it with anyone else.” Sam grabs a blanket and wraps the two of you up while turning on the TV.
“There's no one else in the world I would have wanted to experience that with more.” He pulls you into a tender kiss, and in that moment it feels like there are no worries in the world, just you and him, and that’s all that mattered.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Anyone else feeling fertile after reading this? Just me...
Taglist: @peaceloveunitygvf @mar-rein12 @terry-66 @jennabobenasblog
#greta van fic#greta van fleet fan fiction#greta van smut#gvf#gvf fic#gvf smut#sam gvf#sam kiszka#sam kiskza#sammy gvf#sam kiszka smut#sam kiszka gvf#sam kiszka x reader#sam kiszka fic#sam kiszka fanfiction#smut fic
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
An Open Letter to a Professional Author
I came across a writer here who I imagine will probably never see this, but their presence was enough to make me pretty mad for two days now. I've decided to pen a little statement to this Long-Term, Professional, Full-Time, Published Author who makes a habit out of being deeply unpleasant in a way that apparently has only attracted an audience of other deeply unpleasant people.
People here seem to like it when I get mad. So, uh, enjoy?
Dear Professional Author,
I came across a post of yours on some feed here the other day and enjoyed your commentary. It was one of those writing memes that sort of called attention to actually writing as opposed to just thinking about your project - the kind that people usually respond to with some sort of joke expressing their repulsion at the concept.
You responded with distaste and I generally agreed. The tone was a little aggressive for me, but that kind of humor also leaves me generally confused. I personally ended up concluding that the self-deprecating humor was a coping mechanism for a larger issue that keeps these people from writing - intimidation, lack of confidence, physical or mental pain, things like that. You seemed to think it was a matter of will, which I found to be an approach that at the very least was well-intentioned.
Turns out it wasn't.
First off, I should say that this isn't about your political beliefs. Your political beliefs that are really more like general human beliefs. I don't want to get into that. Instead, I just want to talk about your writing. You are a full-time, published author, as you say in nearly post where you talk about writing. A major point of pride to you seems to be the fact that you are traditionally published. Any other method doesn't seem to be as legitimate to you. That's interesting to me.
You also don't seem to have much of an audience outside of people who mainly come to agree with your politics. I didn't really see a single positive interaction between you and another writer on here for as much as I was willing to scroll through your blog. That's also interesting to me.
I didn't spent too much time on your blog once I realized that you were definitely not the kind of person I would ever want any interaction with. What I did want to do is use your presence indirectly to prove a point that I've been wanting to get into for some time now.
To put it simply, I'll say this: a career in professional writing is not actually as cool or important as you might think it is.
Now I'll be direct and say that I've never been traditionally published for anything longer than a short story or long-term, unpaid column. You don't give any details on any of your writing, as far as I've seen (Once again - interesting!), so there's a chance you've made more in contracts and royalties than I have. But I'm a working writer. I've had a career in ghostwriting and technical writing. I've written and produced plays that have been featured in festivals in multiple states. I'm not speaking from a place of no experience, is what I mean to say.
What I also mean to say is that - while I view writing in many ways as a spiritual and healing act that I couldn't live without - it's also a job. It's not always exciting, and even when it is exciting it's only exciting to me. I consider the best date night to be when my wife works on video game development while I write my draft. I leave the house on a regular basis, but it's mainly to go to different places to write.
In short - I love to write, but I don't think it makes me cool. Or interesting. Or valuable. Or intelligent. Or just generally fun to be around and talk to. These are things I strive to cultivate in other aspects of the way I live and grow as a human being on this planet.
Being a Professional Author in one particular genre doesn't give you authority over the craft as a whole. You can't just throw yourself into conversations and start with I'm a published writer and assume that means you have the final say on any discussion. Believe it or not, in many cases it does not matter.
Lots of people are published traditionally, and it does prove some level of validity in their line of work. But there are a huge variety of people in the world of trad pub. There are people who write books in genres that don't apply to writers here. There are people who write books that aren't very good. There are even people who write trad pub books that are very good, but their careers are sullied by the fact that the authors themselves are not good people.
Being a successful writer does not mean you're a good person. Being a writer at all does not mean you are a good person. I believe in Death of the Author to an extent, but when that author insists on making a presence on a public website and doling out advice and opinions to other writers the lines start to blur considerably.
Writing is a job. You work it over a period of time and learn skills and strategies that work for you. The same applies to virtually every other job, including ones that society views as less romantic as something in the arts. Can you imagine me breaking into your home while you're making lunch and telling you how to arrange your cheese slices based on what I know as a full-time, professional sandwich artist at Subway? You might be interested based on leaning something you didn't know about a place you might've eaten at before. But that does not entitle me to your respect on its own.
I am not entitled to your respect based on how well I learned how to make a sandwich based on my hypothetical career at Subway. Just as I don't deserve it solely because I know two card tricks, can get out a variety of stains, read most of the works of the major beatniks, can make a really good carbonara, or any other specific about my life that ultimately does not play a huge part in who I am as a person.
When I am on my death bed, I hope to god the core of my character was not the fact that I typed stories from my brain until I got carpal tunnel. If my obituary begins and ends at "writer", no matter how positive the qualifier is before that, it will be the greatest failure of my life.
Because I am a writer. But that does not matter. It does not matter if you're a writer. It can be fun and enjoyable if you are, even better if you make a living at it, but it doesn't mean you'll be happy. It doesn't mean people will like you or perceive you to be the leader and teacher you might think you are. It certainly doesn't give you a free pass to throw cruelty at strangers for truly no real reason.
Professional Author, you had a chance to raise up the next generation of an industry I assume you must value. You're choosing not to, and that's fine. You don't have the obligation to. You do have the choice to not get involved and pretend to give advice that ranges from vague to untrue. You seem to be taking that responsibility very seriously.
It's like some twist on crab mentality, where instead of dragging crabs trying to escape the bucket you're swiping at anyone who tries to crawl in with you. Then, as they struggle, you're looking down at them and making comments on how easy it is to get in the bucket, if you only just do it and maybe read some books.
To all of us, I say this: question authority, even in the arts. Especially in the arts. Nobody knows as much as they say. That includes me, but I do know this - any branch of publishing feels really good. It's scary but it's fun. If you're traditional published or indie published or self published, it says nothing about how good your book is or how good you are as a writer or how valuable you are as a human being.
Don't be this lonely bucket crab. They seem mean and I'm tired of talking about them.
Best Regards,
Clove
#writeblr#writing community#writers on tumblr#on writing#writing#authors of tumblr#writer community#writing inspiration#writing inspo#writing rants#personal#clove is angry
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
the disconnect between the storytelling of the show and of the fandom
lately, I've been thinking about storytelling and storytellers in the context of 911.
like, there's two sides to this storytelling business, right?
there's the small group writers and showcreators who have an idea for the characters and plots and have to come up with a way to share those ideas within the constraints of a network television series
and then there's us, a massive international community with a wide-range of life experiences, who watch their show and then go on to tell our own story about it.
and i wonder if we're always watching the story they're telling.
im not even necessarily talking about the buddie goggles right now.
what got me thinking about this was ana flores.
and the one scene the fandom likes to pretend sealed her fate (when in actuality, let's be quite candid, it was the fact that she was a beautiful woman who dared to date eddie instead of allowing him to remain a viable option for canonical/fanonical offscreen cannoodling with buck)
"there's a lot to be said for getting back on the horse, but there's also some value in learning that you don't like horses."
eddie: "i'm sorry?"
"sometimes, our limitations tell us when to stop. but sometimes, they can show us where to look next." (romantic, feelingsy song starts playing) "today, he falls off the skateboard. but tomorrow, he writes the great american novel."
see, the problem here is that this is CLEARLY meant to be viewed as wise and deep advice. as a moment of connection between ana and eddie... the way the scene is cut, the music that plays in the background, the intense eye-contact between the two characters, the way eddie reacts to her words... we're meant to enjoy the simmering tension and potential between them...
but... it's not great and deep advice, not really. it's been pointed out that it comes off as ableist. and ana is supposed to be a teacher at this excellent inclusive institution; she is meant to have experience with children of different abilities feeling frustrated and wanting to do the same things other children are doing... someone on here pointed out that if they were the teacher, they would seek to understand what need christopher was trying to fullfil by getting on the skateboard and help him achieve it by other means
but what ana comes up with is this awkward horse metaphor that doesn't really make sense for the situation, and a condescending: "awwww, well, im sure he's the next hemingway"
BUT SEE, THAT'S NOT THE STORY THE SHOW IS TELLING US. the show is ostensibly framing this scene as romantic and great and deep. and that is NOT ana's fault. the character of ana didn't travel to our reality, didn't block the scene, didn't cut it and add the soundtrack. that's on the showcreators.
but somehow, it's really difficult for us to see it that way when it comes to ana.
in a way that it's not when it comes to Hen, poor little Mara and the Doberman.
because we know Hen and Karen, and we like them.
so we awkwardly shuffle around, side-eyeing each other, quietly nudging each other and going: "bit of a fail that, huh? kinda a weird thing to do on the part of the show, huh? comparing a little Black girl to a dog...why did they do that???"
or there was an excellent post floating around about whether Buck and Eddie realize they can say no to sex, that their consent matters.
"what if i come home and she wants to haaaaaave..."
"well, you'll get through it somehow," says buck with an amused grin on his face.
see, the problem isn't necessarily whether the characters know that their consent matters, but whether the showcreators do. because this is clearly meant to be viewed as a joke.
eddie is a macho guy, who tends to keep his cool in difficult situations, so it's funny when you see him freaking out over the fact that his girlfriend wants to have sex with him and he doesn't want to have sex with her because her former chosen-profession taps into his well of Messy Catholic Feelings.
isn't it? isn't that just fucking hilarious?
and the answer to that is: no. it's not funny to any part of the audience who's ever felt pressured (by a partner, by society, by their own expectations) to want or to have sex.
but does the show realize that?
i'm sorry but i don't think so. this is the show that framed dr.wells sexually assaulting buck during a therapy session as a joke to casually bring up and needle him over later, that felt the need to reassure us that chimney and maddie can and do have wild, passionate monkey sex (you remember, albert teasing chim, then the hotel with the revolving room, etc), that had karen ask hen what the point of a relationship was if the couple weren't having sex...
now, i genuinely don't think the showcreators mean to be hurtful, or harmful. i don't think they realise how all these things come off. because they're a fairly small group of people from Los Angeles, America, and are working within the constraints of a network television show
(and the point of the Eddie and Buck scene was Buck coming out to Eddie, so maybe they felt Buck saying: "you know, you can tell her you don't want to have sex, right? that's allowed." would fraction the focus of it? idk)
but what happens is that there's this disconnect between the story they're telling us and the story we continue to tell among ourselves.
when it comes to the characters we like, we tend to ignore the unpleasant meanings and messages in relation to the character, or we retcon it in fanfic, or we Fix-it with some heart-to-hearts and apologies.
(for example, i haven't seen many fics that show athena being a Cop as not-a-great-thing. but are we really ok with her saying "i wasn't on their side, but i understood their side." when her son expresses some reasonable dissatisfaction with her reaction to a cop pointing a gun at him and michael? or are we just ignoring it because we love angela basset?)
when it comes to characters we are predisposed to dislike, this disconnect makes us dislike them even more. which leads to the writing of bashing fics, and in some cases harassing the performers online jfc do not do that people that's never ok
(of course, some characters are hated justifiedly imao, like the buckley parents and chimney's father...)
maybe this is the frustration that makes for such a prolific and active fandom?
I don't know.
but I think it's something to keep in mind when watching the show. because that disconnect is always going to be there and I know that for my own personal mental health, it's easier and nicer to believe that a group of RL people might be just a bit ignorant at times, than that my favourite characters are massive assholes unpredictably and randomly
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
I have thought on Jadzia Dax from Star Trek Deep Space 9.
I'm currently rewatching the show (midway season 2), probably my 4th watch through over 8 years? My first time with slightly more youtube-essay-driven media analysis skills. I'm enjoying picking up on a lot more things than I used to but there's one thing that bugs me above all else.
Jadzia Dax doesn't really have a strongly defined character that shines through.
I've spent a while thinking about it. Obviously as a science officer its a little harder to tell stories the audience can understand and relate to compared to Odo's murder investigating or Sisko's exasperated diplomacy, but her stories have issues greater than that.
Both the stories centred on Dax, in season 1 where she stands trial for a crime supposedly committed by a former host, and in season 2 where someone tries to steal her symbiont, are about things that happen to Dax. Not the things Dax does. She is neither the perspective character through which we can see the world of Star Trek, with her own unique views and feelings, nor is she the one actively moving the plot forwards. She's either the victim who sacrifices herselr or quite literally refuses to do anything. Unfortunately this is quite a common failing of writing that's easy to fall into, writing about a character instead of the character making decisions that drive the plot. Its one that sci fi writing at the time seemed to do quite often with a lot (but not all) female characters. Ivanova and Talia from Babylon 5 fall victim to this too, especially in early seasons. In contrast, Major Kira, and even Ezri Dax later on have stronger characterisation and are the centre of their own stories.
I doubt this was intentional, its clear through the successes of writing other characters in the show that the writers, actors, and showrunners are trying to make everyone alive and meaningful, so what went wrong?
Looking at Jadzia Dax's character, I think what's clearly missing is a strong drive for her character. No real desires or vulnerabilities. No questions either. To provide constrasting examples:
Odo (who gets almost too much screen time in season 1) is clearly driven by a sense of justice no matter whatever starfleet rules say. He's in constant conflict with Quark, ever vigilant, somewhat isolated from other people. No one ever asks "Why does Odo do what he does?" His motivations are clear, and they even tie it up with an extra motive that's very plot relevant: the mystery of where he comes from. All things a single episode writer can use and explore.
Major Kira has her own conflict with starfleet, her desire to do right by her own people, to get justice for Bajor, and always stand up for the underdog which creates really good stories as she struggles with her own values and constantly has to make choices that affect the story.
Bashir wants acclaim, accomplishment, romance, and also for everyone to like him. Quark wants profit without putting himself at risk. O'Brien wants to just do his job and go home to his family. Sisko wants to hold everything together with the responsibility of peace and reason on his shoulders while singlehandedly raising his son. Jake wants community, friends, and freedom in his life. Funnily enough Ezri Dax has far better drive. Trying to figure out what she wants in life, handling this enormous change and overwhelming personality, and her own lack of confidence that she's useful to anyone sometimes. She grows and changes more over the course of a season than we ever see in early seasons Jadzia.
What does Jadzia Dax want?
I think in attempting to make a wise 300 year old person who's seen everything, they accidentally wrote themselves into a corner. Jadzia has no strong motivations to do much at all. She does fine as a secondary character, and I love how her friendship with Sisko plays out on screen, but beyond being surprisingly enlightened about a lot of things as the result of age and experience there's no drive there.
And so no drive or motivation, and no stories told from her perspective. We have ourselves a problem.
I thought for a while if I could find a solution to the issue rather than just offer criticism. I originally tried writing an outline for an episode. Jadzia would be a fantastic protagonist for any wacky sci fi short story concept that required a scientist to explore, such as time travel paradoxes, simulations, weird space anomolies that do "plot relevant thing" that she would be perfectly posed to actually explore instead of "technobabble and tap console" until the problem is solved.
Then I decided that all we really needed to have a framework any writer could use is to establish a strong character motivation for her. Here's my shot at it.
Jadzia Dax, in harmony with seven lifetimes of experience, is an extremely competent twenty seven year old woman. She can almost certainly do the job of anyone on the station better than they can. Fix a computer? Better than O'Brien can. First aid? She's there and solved the issue before Julian can get there. Solve a murder? A past host was an invesigator of course she can to Odo's chagrin. She has better ideas of what Sisko can do to bring the Bajorans towards the federation. Hell she's the best representative of federation values on that station and could constantly be presenting that of the story.
Dax struggles to hold herself back when she sees her friends failing at what she can solve the problem for them. She tries not to, that's what her training tells her to do. But out here on the edge of Federation space where there's constantly lives on the line? She finds herself interfering in other people's work more and more often. She just doesn't want it do be done wrong. She pushes herself hard to do too many jobs. She doesn't sleep or eat enough while telling everyone else to take care of themselves better. After a while people start relying on her. It turns from her helping to her having those responsibilities. Pilot. Diplomat. Linguist. Researcher. Mechanic. Leader. So much emotional support for her friends because everything they're suffering she's been through herself. It becomes too much for her and you could make the core of one story her just crashing. Learning how to balance her experience with giving room to other to shine through and solve their own problems, which they're very capable of doing. There's plenty more detail to elaborate on but I think this gives a core drive and conflict that lasts a character a couple of seasons at least to explore and grow through.
I happily invite thoughts as to whether my original observations are astute, or wether you think there aren't any problems with how Jadzia's passivity plays out in the show. If you think there are problems, do you think my perscribed solution helps fix them? How would you go about it?
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
Blue Lock in Japan fandom diary
I was in Japan for my holidays, which was incredible—it's somewhere I dreamed of visiting for a long time, and it lived up to every expectation.
I'll talk a little bit about my experience from a Blue Lock fan perspective, as it's something that interested me prior to going. April 2024 was a good time to visit, thanks to the Episode Nagi film coming out. There was a lot of pop-up cafés/collabs open, and no shortage of merchandise.
In Harajuku's Takeshita Street, there were a series of banners/pendants for the new film, featuring all the main characters. There were also digital ads for Episode Nagi in a few places—I recall the trailer playing at Shibuya Crossing (which is exactly as surreal and overwhelming a place as I'd imagined).
Rambling and pics under the cut, including gacha machines, stores, general anecdotes and my merch haul.
In case anyone's uncomfortable seeing IRL pics, be warned there's couple shots of my hand below. No face reveals 😛
Gacha
So, gacha machines are EVERYWHERE in Tokyo and other cities, often randomly in the street, but also in dedicated stores. The biggest selection tended to be in arcades or shopping centres. Akihabara had a few big ones (Gigo comes to mind), but I found multiple. And Blue Lock is really well represented! There's loads of stuff to waste money on, from little acrylic keychains to small figures to... tiny cushions with characters' faces on them 👀
One minor annoyance is that the gacha merch for a fandom doesn't tend to be grouped in one place, so you spend a lot of time wandering around stacks of machines squinting at their content. Only one store I visited in Osaka had all the Blue Lock stuff grouped together.
In general, most of the machines are priced between ¥300 and ¥500 a spin (€1.80 to €3.00 at time of writing), so it's reasonably affordable unless you're a completionist set on collecting ALLL the merch.
Much of what's in the gacha machines is seasonal, so it's worth snapping up anything that you like while it's there. That said, I found a few stores selling same season or older gacha merch at a markup. The most expensive ones were older merch/limited edition, which can cost many multiples of what you'd pay originally. Other places (like Ani Ani) sell current gacha merch at a small markup. I was able to buy a Rin to finish a seasonal collection for only ¥100 more than I'd pay at a machine, which saved me whatever multiple of ¥300 I'd have paid on spins to get him in addition to the four others.
Throughout the trip I saw the same gacha content over and over again in various places. Specifically for Blue Lock, you don't generally have to worry about throwing money at the first set of machines you find or risk missing out. That said, one regret of mine was passing on some really cute gacha figs of the Bllk boys in casual clothes on a street on Akihabara, which I never saw anywhere else.
There's also heaps of claw machines in similar locations, which mostly had figures of Nagi and Reo in their Hakuho uniform.
Pop-up stores/collabs and merch stores
Blue Lock is well represented in cafés/pop ups. This is likely due to the EpiNagi film releasing this month, but with some research beforehand, you'll likely find a venue should you wish to get some Bllk themed food/venue exclusive goodies. Be warned—many of these will require a reservation, and they book out quickly. That's the case for most of the fandom cafés. If it's a must-do for your trip, research a venue before you go and try booking a slot if you can.
I only went to one myself, which was a place in Harajuku that did Blue Lock themed drinks. I chose Nagi's, which looked mysteriously black on the menu. It turned out to be tea with lemon flavoured jelly—tasty and canon inspired! I also got a free card of Bachira, which the store assistant handed to me at random. This was overpriced at ¥800 (€4.77) compared to what you'd pay normally in Japan for a drink, but that's the branding mark-up. In comparison, a bottle of soda, tea or coffee from a vending machine costs on average around ¥150 (€0.90).
Regarding stores, there was a Blue Lock pop-up in Ikebukuro in an electronics store which had SO many acrylic stands and plushes. A lot of this was bishounen/pretty boy appreciation material for each of the characters. Think stands of the boys smiling handsomely at the camera in various outfits.
At time of writing, merch tends to feature just the characters from season 1 of the anime, specifically the Egoist Four, Nagi, Reo, Rin and Sae. I saw little for the other characters, and next to nothing for manga-only charas. My favourite manga character find was a sticker of Hiori, which has subsequently gone missing amidst the chaos of unpacking 🥲 If it turns up, I'll add a picture. Found it!
In terms of spots for Blue Lock merch, Ikebukuro and Akihabara were the best and most concentrated. Akihabara gives tourist trap vibes, but if you're willing to navigate every nook and cranny plus the crowds on the hunt for blorbos, you'll almost certainly find merch to your taste.
Ani Ani in Akihabara was pretty good for BLLK, and excellent in general for its selection of fandom merch. Smaller shops have more niche content, which is great if you favour side characters.
Ikebukuro has a more chill vibe than Akihabara (less tourists) but still a decent selection of fandom merch. Hands down the best spot for Blue Lock on my trip was the Animate store there (pictured above), which had five or six shelves just for our favourite football prisoners. Lots of plushes as you can see, but also things like clear files, acrylic stands, keychains, stickers, pins and more. Again, big focus on pretty boy appreciation, but there were also cutesy things like chibi figures/stickers. There's also heaps there for other animanga fandoms.
Animate Ikebukuro had the Blue Lock fragrances! I only sniffed a couple of these—both Isagi and Kunigami's were reminiscent of blue shower gel, but with woody notes in Kunigami's case. Chigiri's fragrance was more floral and fruity. They cost somewhere between ¥7000 to ¥8000 I think (around €45ish).
In addition, Harajuko has a lot of anime stuff along Takeshita Street, but the selection can be hit or miss. I found two shops there that were reselling Blue Lock goods (things like gacha figs and limited edition merch). These could be pricey, but these were the best for cute/older Chigiri and Kunigami merch IMO.
Snacks
Again, availability may relate to the timing of anime releases etc, but I tried a bunch of BLLK snacks in Japan. The most common type were these chocolate wafers, which you could get cheaply in convenience stores for loads of different shounen fandoms (I recall seeing One Piece, JoJo and MHA). The wafers themselves were mid, but the packaging was cute and you get a free sticker or card in each. I managed to get a Kunigami card on my first try 🥹
"Slowbar" is like a protein or granola bar. Again nothing to write home about taste-wise, but I saw a few with Bllk packaging. Go figure, I bought one that had Kunigiri. No freebies, but it was a more substantial snack than the wafers.
My merch haul
Here's what came home with me! It's modest as far as fandom hauls go, particularly next to all the stuff I bought in the Pokémon centres. I didn't go as nuts as I thought I would, but the gacha machines definitely put a dent in my bank account. They're fun, but should be treated with caution by anyone who likes owning complete sets of things.
Close up of gacha figs, minus Rin + the bonus Chigiri I picked up on.
I ended up spending around ¥3000 (about €18) to get the full set of sleeping figs (including duplicates). Spent around the same to get the sleeping bag figs, then at least half that again on Chigiri's when I spotted him at a resale store (he's from a previous release).
As a result of my gacha spree, I have a bunch of duplicates 🥲 It would be a shame to bin 'em, so might do an interest check to see if anyone's interested in taking them off my hands.
These are the cards/Zantetsu sticker I got from the combini wafers, the Bachira card from the juice café, plus a random cushion of Rin from a gacha machine. It's way too small to be practical, but still cute.
I bought the two Kunigiri chibi plushes at a resale store for ¥3000 altogether. Chigiri was twice the price of Kunigami, lmao.
Kitty!giri came with a little sleepy eyemask. As soon as I saw him, I had to have him. Bought him at Ani Ani in Akihabara for ¥2500 I think? (€15 approx). They had kitty Isagis and Bachiras too.
Now for a story: there's a gacha series out now which has gold rings featuring the names of the main BLLK cast + Aryu. I swore not to buy any of these, cos it's a little self-shippy; no shame in that, but it's not really my bag. I also dislike gold jewellery.
Relatedly, partner and I just decided to get married, and half-talked about looking for a engagement ring in Japan before we travelled.
So. A few weeks later, while wandering around Harajuku, partner walks back to me after disappearing for two minutes. They hold out a gacha capsule with a shit eating grin—"Hey, got ya something!"
I shit you not: not only was it one of the stupid rings, but out of eight choices, they managed to pull Kunigami's 😭 I laughed/despaired for about five minutes. Partner was amused.
I don't have small hands (¥100 for scale); Ringsuke loosely fits my baby finger but gets stuck on my ring finger if I shove it on past the bottom knuckle. Based off my own measurements, the BLLK rings are probably around 50-53 mm in size (Japan size 12 maybe). It's surprisingly good quality for a ¥400 capsule machine prize.
So yeah: that's how this Kunigiri stan ended up with an ill-fitting engagement ring with her favourite blorbo's name on it 🙃 ...I'll get a proper one eventually, and Kitty!giri will inherit Ringsuke. Y'all are about the only people I'm ever admitting this story to.
Finally, my favourite purchase is these two acrylic stands of Chigiri and Kunigami, with pop ups of their stats. I'm not big on acrylic stands generally, but this was one of my favourite official art releases and I couldn't pass it up. They were ¥1800 (€11) apiece in a Harajuku resale store—probably more expensive than their original sale price, but I'm not complaining.
That's about it, I think! I've tried to recall as much detail as I can about places/prices here, but happy to provide more info if anyone's curious about anything—just ask!
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
Louis Tomlinson – LIVE
An excellent document of his live experience...
CLASHMUSIC REVIEWS 26 · 04 · 2024
A fifteen-track production that spans multiple tour dates, over multiple countries? Louis Tomlinson is back with a bang.
‘LIVE’ was captured over the course of three years, all while the talented artist embarked on two world tours. That is why this new body of work has come as a surprise to many, but it’s an emotional rollercoaster that keeps fans wanting more.
Doncaster’s very own, Louis Tomlinson, is no stranger to writing and creating music that moves people. This is especially the case with this album as the high-quality production of the band is booming, the crowd’s enthusiasm, and the beautiful songwriting is perfect. There are two personal favourites from this writer, which are ‘We Made It’ and ‘Common People’.
Regardless of whether it’s the atmosphere that is felt between the artist and the crowd or if it is the nostalgia brought with memories of summer 2022 that ‘We Made It’ brings, it’s a fun part of the album. ‘Common People’ is a favourite because of the simple fact it was performed in Sheffield. Too many shows are played in the likes of London, and there are many cities across the UK that have thriving music scenes, which Tomlinson was able to encapsulate in this track.
There is a constant theme running through ‘LIVE’ which is the appreciation of what the artist has through music. No matter if on tracks such as ‘Chicago’ where the talented artist is encouraging the crowd to sing louder, or if it is hearing pure enjoyment from him, this album is truly something special.
Hearing the addictive guitar riffs of ‘Out Of My System’, which was performed in Brisbane, was one thing, but the crowd knowing every word brought a smile to this listener. This body of work is not just a love letter to fans, but it shows how music can connect to others on a much deeper level.
‘Get as loud as you can’ is shouted from Tomlinson on multiple tracks, which is exactly what every lover of his music is doing as they rundown the tracklist.
8/10
Words: Josh Abraham
27 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
vendor95jualmurah-blog
Vendor Jual Murah
fromkimsasperspective-blog
From Kim-Sa's Perspective
coldexpertbird
제목 없음
livonline1
liv
coldexpertbird
제목 없음