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#you probably think i'm just a silly shitposter

nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos · 7 months

Text

Here, have a casual glimpse into my thought patterns and creative process:

*just scrolling about Tumblr and vibing to "Too Much Wine" by The Fratellis*

Too much wine?

Mihawk?

Mihawk drunk??

Wait wait wait WAIT what are they all like drunk?

GASP s h i n y h e a d c a n o n s

BLANK DOCUMENT HERE I FCKEN COME—

So anyway here's some headcanons about drinking too much (insert adult beverage of choice) with the OPLA boyos.

Implied that Reader is already in a relationship with each character in question.

I shall call it.......

HAMMERED

OPLA!Zoro, Sanji, Shanks, Mihawk, Buggy X AFAB!Reader

NSFW Headcanons

Kinda Kinktober I guess? Borderline shitpost, I had way too much fun with this.

♫♬♫ Too Much Wine - The Fratellis ♫♬♫

I'll take the mead from the table

Talk straight while I'm able

Until I'm nothin' less than a crime

Zoro

"Y'know, I actually have four swords, but we're gonna have to go somewhere more private if you wanna see the other one."

Rum, sake, beer, wine, whatever you're down for drinking so is he.

Zoro's got incredibly high endurance and stamina—it's going to take a while for him to show that it's affecting him at all, but once it does, he goes from zero to one hundred faster than you can say "onigiri."

Literally no in between, no tipsy or buzzed. Just sober and then stumbling over his own feet and swearing he absolutely is not drunk the whole time.

All those repressed emotions that he hides behind a mask of dry sarcasm on a day to day basis are coming out in full effect.

That means you're getting one of two Zoros—goofy Zoro or sad Zoro.

Goofy Zoro's going to have his arm around your shoulders, laughing his ass off about that time he caught that idiot Marine brat swinging his sword around bare-ass naked so he chopped off half his hair.

He's likely to get pretty flirty in this state, even downright playful, especially if you initiate it, and it's almost definitely going to end in him dragging you somewhere private to fuck your brains out, because his restraint is totally out the window at this point.

If you end up with sad Zoro, he'll be laying his head in your lap and slurringly asking whether or not you think he's ever really going to be the best swordsman in the world, probably still beating himself up over losing to Mihawk.

Just comb your fingers through his hair and do your best to reassure him that you love him and genuinely believe in him. Whether it works or not, he's going ti end up falling asleep in your lap, so be prepared to be stuck there for a while.

"But like...you really think, like, I can beat that bird-eyed bastard? I mean he fucked me up with a goddamn butterknife."

Sanji

"There we are—a beautiful drink for a beautiful woman."

Turbo Flirt Mode: activated.

Sanji is all for pairing wine with food, but if you're looking to get a little sideways, he's going to want to show off his mixology skills to impress you—and he's going to be making some dangerous concoctions, the kind that taste like there's not a drop of booze in them.

The more lit he gets, the less subtle the flirting. If you thought he was clingy sober, you are in for a surprise, because that's just the tip of the iceberg.

Head on your shoulder, puppy dog eyes, telling you how pretty you are and how much he adores you every thirty seconds, with a big silly grin like you're the most amazing thing he's ever seen.

Brushing his lips along your neck and murmuring all the things he's going to do to you once the two of you are behind closed doors later—and he means every one of them, because you're utterly irresistible to him in this state.

He wants you giggling and blushing just as much as he wants you moaning and trembling under his touch.

Super playful once you are alone, even moreso than usual. He's definitely going to suggest doing body shots, he will beg if he has to, but honestly who in their right mind is going to turn him down?

"You're just...just so—so beautiful—honestly, it should be illegal."

Shanks

"Hold—hold my rum—no, no, just for a moment, I wanna see if I can do a backflip off the railing—"

Spoiler alert: he can't. Now he's lying on the quarterdeck alternating between hysterical laughter and "Oh God that hurt—"

Probably the most fun drunk in the world, but he can be a hazard to his own health as his judgement begins to lapse so someone's going to have to keep an eye on him.

If you're at a tavern or otherwise public location, do not under any circumstances let the man out of your sight for more than two seconds. He turns into a straight-up child, he can and will wander off, and you'll find him a mile away on top of a building, likely half-naked and singing sea shanties at the top of his lungs, with no clue as to how he got up there...or how to get back down.

He's developed quite a high tolerance over the years and tends mostly toward dark rum, though he won't turn down a stein of ale or beer.

Total life of the party energy—telling jokes and stories, he just wants to see everyone laughing and having the absolute best time.

Super, super flirty, he may as well have written the book on pick-up lines; and he doesn't care that you're already together, he's going to drop every single one of them on you just to see how much he can make you giggle or roll your eyes.

He's very likely to pull you onto his lap at some point and make out with you like no one's watching—he already doesn't really care who sees when you're both sober, but he really doesn't care after a little too much rum, so it's probably best to coax him to bed at this point.

He's perfectly happy with cuddling up, laying his head on your chest and draping his arm over you, just humming in contentment and falling asleep together...but if you want more, don't expect to get much sleep, because he wants you lasciviously.

To taste every inch of you, to suffocate between your thighs until you're screaming, to pull you onto his cock and watch you ride him until you're both too breathless and exhausted to do anything but tangle yourselves together in the sheets and drift off to sleep between slow, sensual kisses.

"Oh, princess, just when I catch my breath, you make me lose it all over again."

Mihawk

"If you insist on being such a brat about this, you're going to get what's coming to you."

Mihawk has a strong drive to be in total control of himself and everything happening around him at all times, which means he doesn't tend toward getting drunk.

But...he also has this wee little problem with his ego being larger than the entire volume of every combined ocean in the world. If you imply that you could drink him under the table...he's probably going to sneer and tell you to quit being a brat, but he's also going to be quite driven to prove you wrong.

He does love his wine, but it's generally only a glass or two to wind down and relax—he's definitely got a nice bottle of aged bourbon or eau de vie tucked away somewhere that's going to be coming out, because he's got something to prove now.

Unfortunately for him, due to the fact that he so rarely drinks heavily...he's a bit of a lightweight. Which he won't admit even to himself.

But it barely takes a single lowball of harder liquor to get that pale complexion of his a little flushed.

Perhaps just over three for him to start blinking a bit harder than normal in a futile attempt to get his vision to focus, to start speaking a bit slower to attempt to hide the slight slur in his words as you taunt him about it—which honestly only makes it more pronounced, and more amusing.

You had best enjoy it, because it's probably the only time you're going to hear the words, "Fine, you win," come out of his mouth—as well as perhaps the only time he won't be miffed about conceding. The alcohol in his system has him loosened up just enough that he can't pretend he doesn't find your boldness and sass at least a bit endearing...and even more alluring.

That being said, you're still getting punished for it, teased within an inch of your sanity, and he's going to enjoy every single second of it.

Setting his glass aside, plucking yours from your hand, pinning your hands above your head with a devilish smirk and slowly undressing you, his eyes on yours the entire time.

Trailing his fingertips across your bare skin, drawing closer and closer but never quite giving you want you want, his lips barely brushing against your neck, reminding you in an amused murmur in your ear that he could easily do this all night.

You did have the audacity to challenge him, after all—he has no choice but to remind you who's in charge.

"What is it, my little bird? Did you think you were going to get a consolation prize? You're still going to have to beg."

Buggy

"Bet you two thousand Berries I can shotgun two beers at once, watch this—"

And he basically ends up halfway drowning himself, but hey, you're two thousand Berries richer!

Honestly, there's no party like a Buggy party, because a Buggy party doesn't stop until someone loses a limb—probably him.

No, really. Don't let him use his devil fruit abilities. Keep a bucket of sea water on hand if you have to, because he may literally misplace one of his limbs and you're going to have to go on a Chop Chop Scavenger Hunt to help him find it while you're both completely smashed.

If Buggy's drinking, everybody's drinking, and everybody is getting completely fucked up. This is non-negotiable, he thrives on chaos and that's what he's intent on creating.

Anybody who passes out before him is getting something obscene drawn on their face in permanent ink. He can definitely hold his liquor, so if you can keep up with him then you can expect to be the last two living souls left conscious on the whole ship.

That being said, he doesn't care who's awake—things are going to get kinky, and he's really not bothered about anybody watching. Or joining in, for that matter. This whole operation very well may devolve into a drunken orgy if he has any say in the matter.

Then again, it may also devolve into him flopping dramatically across your lap and divulging absolutely all of his trauma in an emotionally-charged alcohol-induced rant. He won't remember it in the morning, so please do him a favor and don't remind him.

"Hey, uhh...I los—I lost my foot again. .....Sor—*hiccup* sorry."

1K notes · View notes

cuubism · 10 months

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based on THIS shitpost. nsft below the cut. inexplicably 7k.

Dream had promised Hob, since reuniting, since agreeing to see each other more often, that he would let Hob introduce him properly to human experiences. "It'll do you good," Hob had said. Dream thinks Death would agree with this also. He is now wondering, however, if this had been folly.

"I think I've given you the general rundown now," Hob says, leaning back in his chair, swirling his bottle of beer—mostly empty—idly in one hand. "The highlights. We'll be here for ages if you want to hear all of it."

Dream is surprised to realize he is curious to hear the stories of all of Hob's lovers. But he does not feel it is quite appropriate to press, no matter how open Hob has been in speaking of it. Dream is most interested, after all, in people Hob has loved, not just those he's had carnal relations with—stories of love are of much more interest to him than stories simply of desire, and Hob has already relayed these stories to him, each a glimmering jewel on the long chain of his life.

Each sticks in Dream's mind now, glittering in his peripheral vision. He cannot tell precisely what they want of him—the corners of his being are blurred, his thoughts wavering, at points clear and ringing and at others indistinct. A consequence of allowing alcohol to affect him, at Hob's bidding. It is... pleasant. Loose. Warm. Though Dream thinks, anywhere outside of Hob's flat, it would feel disconcerting instead.

It's this folly in allowing Hob to ply him with wine, perhaps, that has him saying, "Do you wish to hear of my own?"

Hob's expression sharpens. He is, perhaps, less drunk than Dream is, despite being on his fourth beer, while Dream has only had— ah. That bottle of wine is three-quarters empty. Hmm. "You mean, you want to talk about it?"

"I believe it is customary for friendship to involve a mutual sharing of stories?"

"Sure, if you want to." Hob's gaze on him is intent, curious, but still fond, always fond. "Usually you're like this." He draws his fingers across his lips in a zipping motion. "So of course I'm curious."

"Am I so reticent?" Hob is right, though. Dream can acknowledge it. He would not usually care to speak of these things. He could blame the wine, today. But.

Hob laughs. "Took me six hundred thirty-three years to get a name. You are the king of reticence." He dips his head as if bowing to this "king." "I would be honored to hear your stories, my friend."

Dream tucks his nose into his glass. He should perhaps not drink any more, but the smell is still pleasant, rich and sharp. "They are not so happy."

"Still. If you want to tell."

Dream is not like Hob. He does not have casual dalliances. Each collision was as bright as a falling star. He doesn't know if he has the strength, now, to relay all that terrible history.

Instead, he shares with Hob the early days of burning. Each of those bright, glowing moments. And glosses over the fall.

He thinks Hob sees it, though. He considers him from under his brows as Dream speaks, understanding in his eyes. Doesn't ask him about it, perhaps sensing that Dream does not have the wherewithal for telling and asking in the same evening. "Thank you," he finally says.

"Why?"

"For sharing."

Dream looks back down at his glass. It's empty again. Perhaps that is for the best. It is not often that he... shares. Particularly about this. But Hob is generous in not prying. In wanting to listen, for the simple sake of, as far as Dream can tell, understanding Dream.

When he looks up again, Hob is tapping the mouth of his beer bottle against his lips in thought. "Can I ask you something? It'll probably be utter silliness to you, though. Being this... beyond human entity that you are."

Dream's shoulders tense where they'd gone relaxed with drink and Hob's company. "Go ahead."

"Were all of your lovers women?"

And Dream relaxes again. Ah. This is just... factual. Not... digging in to his many relational failures. "I suppose. Yes."

"Is that by design, or...?"

Dream frowns. "I do not... understand."

"Well, since we've established that I'm an indiscriminate slut—" always so crude, but something about the click of Hob's tongue makes Dream shift uncomfortably in his seat on the couch— “I was wondering whether you were the same way." Then he winces. "Not the slut part. The indiscriminate part."

"Do you mean to ask if I care about the gender or sex of my lovers?"

"Yep. Knew I should have just been straightforward with you."

Dream thinks about it. He has never made a pattern of his relationships, the way humans do. He simply... does what his foolhardy heart commands. Usually with poor results. "I suppose I do not. Care, that is. But. My lovers have been women, yes."

Hob tilts his head. There's a new gleam in his eyes, now. He goes to finish his beer, but it’s empty. Dream watches the drag of his lips over the mouth of the bottle.

"Does that surprise you, Hob Gadling?" he asks. "That my amorous pursuits have been so much narrower than yours?"

"Mmm. Little bit? It's just, even if I hadn’t—how can I put it politely—fucked my way across half of London already by the time we met, I can't imagine making it six hundred years without ever at least experimenting?" He grins. "I could be straight as a nail and curiosity alone would've got me in some bloke's bed at least once. Hmm. Maybe three times just to be sure."

"It is good that you cannot die, for I believe curiosity would have sounded your death knell twenty times over by now."

Hob raises his bottle in Dream's direction. "True, that." Then he leans forward on his knees, eyes bright with, of course, curiosity. "But weren't you ever curious?"

"I contain the collective memory," Dream reminds him. "All fantasies. And dreams. If I need to understand an experience, I can simply consult that breadth of knowledge. I do not need to 'wind up in some bloke's bed.'"

Hob's leaning so far forward now he might come toppling off his chair. "But do you wanna?"

Dream frowns. "I do not..."

"Do you want to experience it yourself, though?" Hob repeats. "Cuz I could watch porn—" Dream wrinkles his nose at this crude analogy for his relationship to his dreams, but the offense is swiftly banished as Hob continues— “but that's not the same as—” his hand lands on Dream's wrist, fingertips pressed to where he would have a pulse— "that."

Dream freezes. Under Hob's fingers, his heart jumps once, quick as a mouse.

"I've no doubt you understand it, Dream," continues Hob, and perhaps he had drunk less than Dream had thought, for he seems very lucid now, "but that's not the same as being there."

Dream fixates on where they are touching. His skin feels very hot, at that point. "And what. Is being there like?"

Hob's fingers slip a little higher, just under the sleeve of his coat. He is still wearing his coat, yes, why is that? He feels very warm. "Could find out?"

"Are you suggesting I should find some man to bed me?"

"Some man," Hob repeats, jaw working. His gaze is hovering somewhere around Dream's collar. "Some man who knows what he's doing, yeah."

"And..." an echo of a breath is frozen in Dream's lungs. Some instinct saying, be still. A pulse at his elbow, in his thigh, at his throat. Hob still has his wrist pinned. "Do you know what you are doing, Hob Gadling?"

"Never in my life," says Hob, and leans in and kisses him.

He has to get out of his chair to do it. Has to lean down over Dream, taking Dream's cheek in his hand. Has to tip Dream's head back, and sweep his tongue into his mouth from above, or perhaps Dream only tells himself that he has to rather than acknowledge that it is Dream himself baring his throat, opening his mouth to Hob's.

If he wished to know what it was like to be kissed by a man, now he knows: strong and lingering and hungry. Or perhaps that is just Hob Gadling. Hob's stubble brushes his cheeks. He can smell Hob's cologne, rich and sweet like whiskey. He wraps a hand around the back of Hob's neck so he can't pull away far.

Hob's eyes are heavy-lidded when he looks at him. Dream touches his own lips, and Hob follows the movement. "I'm not certain I understand," Dream says. "This is not enough data to make a determination."

"Definitely not," says Hob, and kisses him again, pushing him into the back of the couch. The strength of his hands sends fire racing all the way up Dream's spine, curling around his neck, burning in the tips of his ears. He bites experimentally at Hob's lower lip, and Hob groans low in his throat.

"We're not—" Hob pulls away, lips shiny and wet, "we're not doing this here. Come on."

He stands upright again, and Dream will deny to the end of the universe the dissatisfied sound he makes when Hob's warmth leaves him. Hob smiles, soft and fond now, and takes his hand. "Come on, love."

Love.

Some man, Dream thinks, as he lets Hob pull him up. Join some man in bed. As he follows Hob down the hall to his bedroom. For curiosity's sake. As Hob kneels to help pull off his boots. Just to understand. As Hob divests him of his coat.

Experimental.

"You're so buttoned up." Hob smoothes his hands over Dream's shoulders, his bare arms under his t-shirt. "Let me know if it's too much, okay?"

"Yes." Too much, yes, it is too much, to see Hob look at him like that, with care and with hunger, for Hob to touch him gently, it makes his skin prickle, his cheeks heat, his throat terribly dry. It is too much; he will not tell Hob to stop.

I want to understand, Dream thinks. I want—

Hob smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Come on, then."

Hob is already barefoot, being less guarded than Dream, and he leads Dream up onto the bed. Dream follows, chasing his hands, and Hob does not deprive him. He leans against the headboard and lets Dream settle in his lap, immediately framing his face again between his palms. For the sake of learning, Dream pushes all the dreams of this aside, so that it is just him and Hob. New. Theirs.

He looks into Hob's eyes, very close now, and he feels light, floaty, good. Perhaps the wine was a bad idea. Perhaps it was right.

"What d'you want, darling?" Hob asks. Brushes his lips to the corner of Dream's mouth. "Tell me. This is for you, after all."

Yes. For Dream. A scientific exercise, he must remember. It will help him... understand. It will help him create more vivid dreams. That is all.

He can feel Hob's growing erection pressing against him. His own jeans growing tight. "I would like. The full experience."

Hob laughs, but it's a friendly laugh, not at his expense. Dream can recognize that, now. "There's no full experience. Sex counts as sex if you say it does. But if you're trying to say penetration, we can do that."

Dream shivers at the word penetration, sitting so matter-of-factly on Hob Gadling's tongue. "Yes. I believe that is what I meant."

"Alright." Hob may be matter-of-fact, but he does not sound unaffected. His voice has gone rough, his eyes dark, a flush along his cheeks. His hands fall from Dream's face to brace his hips, thumbs sweeping under the hem of Dream's shirt to touch his skin.

But he doesn't push Dream down into the mattress. Instead he pulls Dream closer by the hips, saying, "C'mere then," and Dream goes back to his mouth. Sinks into Hob's kiss, and the searing heat of his hands on Dream's hipbones. It's different. It's already different. But he can't yet determine if it's different because Hob is a man, or because he is Hob.

Hob, who has been a friend to him even when he couldn't recognize it. Who wants him to enjoy things. Wants to share with him.

Hob pushes Dream's shirt up over his head. Dream has not been bare in front of someone since his escape, but he doesn't think he minds, when it's Hob. When it means he gets Hob's broad, strong hands on his back, pulling him close, and Hob's lips on his shoulder, the crook of his neck, kissing and leaving marks.

"You know, once upon a time I thought you were above all this," Hob murmurs. He touches Dream's belly, his chest, his neck, holding lightly. "You were so... untouchable. Couldn't imagine you lowering yourself to engage in such—” he bites at Dream's earlobe— “such base activities."

"'Untouchable,' Hob Gadling?" Dream says. Hob's hands are cradling his throat now. Hob catches his point and flexes his fingers; Dream swallows under the grip.

"Always wanted to know," Hob murmurs, "if anyone'd touched you at all."

Not in a very long time, it is true. Dream burns with it, now, everywhere Hob touches him is alight. "What would you have done with an answer?"

"Dared," says Hob. "I expect."

"Always daring," Dream says. Indulges himself and slips his own hands under Hob's shirt, feels out his stomach, his hair, his back, all the strong lines of him. Hob's shoulders are pleasing, and his hips where Dream squeezes with his thighs, and these are not things Dream has thought of much, before. He wants to see more. To feel more. "Daring to be the first man to have me."

"Don't say things like that if you want me to keep my sanity." The words are rough like Dream has reached in and touched him instead of just spoken, and Hob's chest rises and falls heavily under Dream's hands.

"Maybe I don't."

This makes Hob chuckle, and Dream feels the rumble of it through his body. He wishes there was not the barrier of their clothes to dampen it; more than seeing Hob, he wants to feel Hob, his skin is prickling with it, his mouth is tacky and dry with it.

"How do you want me?" he asks, and whatever change Hob hears in his voice has him stiffening up, going serious. Dream doesn't know how he feels about it—he enjoys Hob's ease and laughter, but the intensity is... he feels it like a touch.

"How do you want to be had?" Hob counters, and before Dream can contemplate the myriad possible answers, adds, “Do you want to be? Is that what you meant? Only I would have thought— but then again—”

Dream does not interrogate the rambling path of Hob's assumptions. He says, "I would like to know. What I have not. Personally. Experienced, yes."

Daydreams poke at Dream's awareness as the image flashes through Hob's mind. Dream doesn't touch them, but the awareness of their existence alone has him shifting where he straddles Hob's lap. Hob's cheeks darken, and he says, "Strangest way anyone's ever asked me to fuck them. Yeah, alright. Budge up, love?"

Love. Again. Dream climbs off Hob's lap, kneeling beside him as Hob strips off his own shirt, flinging it somewhere--Dream doesn't see, for he is looking only at Hob. The solidness of him, where Dream often feels made of wind; the warmth of his belly, where Dream touches him, while Dream himself often feels cold. So made of earth, Hob Gadling.

Hob lays a hand on Dream's chest as if to push him down to the bed. No strength behind the touch, but the impression of it. "Need you to tell me if it starts going wrong. I'm serious, Dream."

Despite himself, Dream bristles. “You think me incapable of conveying my displeasure?”

Hob huffs. “I think you’re just prideful enough not to. Just be direct with me. You don’t have to prove anything.”

Perhaps... Hob is not entirely wrong. “…I shall," Dream vows at length. Hob nods, and smiles at him again, that warm smile. Dream can’t help but feel pleased to have made him smile so. Hob pushes, and Dream goes, lies back against the pillows, and Hob kneels between his legs. Hands sliding again to his hips, to the waistband of his jeans. Dream watches with fixation, caught on Hob's fingertips.

Hob has apparently decided he does trust Dream to interrupt if he doesn't like something, for he doesn't ask again before unbuttoning Dream's jeans. But Dream can tell Hob is still paying close attention to his reactions, and it's heady to be attended to so.

He lifts his hips for Hob to pull off his jeans, and then gets to bask in a look he can only interpret as adoring. Hob looks upon him that way, and strokes up and down his thighs, over his hips and belly. Dream's skin jumps at the touch.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," Hob says, sounding wounded by it. "Everyone who sees you must go home wishing you were going with them, I refuse to believe otherwise."

Dream smiles, despite himself. "This may be a particular bias of yours, Hob."

"Yeah, maybe. I'm right, though." He leans down, hovers over Dream, kisses him. Dream pulls him down so their bodies are pressed together. Hob's skin is so warm, his hair softer than expected, the fabric of his jeans a rough counterpoint where it scratches Dream's inner thighs, rubs against his cock lying hard in the crook of his hip. A wealth of sensation. A pleased, wanting sound escapes him, before he can stop it—but Hob catches it, looking delighted to do so, kisses it right out of Dream's mouth. "You've left broken hearts in your wake. Still can't believe this is your first time doing this."

"Revel in that victory if you must."

"No victory," says Hob. "Only privilege."

And he kisses Dream again even as he works a hand between them, takes Dream in his grip. Dream gasps at the touch, breaking the kiss. Hob's hand is warm and rough and very sure, and Dream can't help the way his whole body tenses with that simple touch.

He feels Hob's smile against his cheek. His voice drips with satisfaction. "Are you sensitive?"

Dream does not get a chance to answer. Hob strokes him again, hums as Dream bucks up involuntarily into his grasp.

"Oh, I'm going to make you feel so good," Hob muses, his voice a warm rumble in Dream's ear. "I know I can. You deserve it."

"Hob—"

Hob kisses his own name out of Dream's mouth, a deep, biting kiss, and this confidence, rather than being offensive to Dream's station, is riveting. Dream feels spelled.

"Just let me take care of it," Hob says, and moves away, and Dream groans at the loss of his body heat.

"You will take what you want now?" Dream complains, knowing full well even as he says it that it is nonsense. But having Hob's touch and then losing it is making him insensate; truly, he had not thought he could fall so far. "Is that what this is, Hob Gadling?"

Hob chuckles. "Oh, no." He kisses Dream's sternum, and down along his abdominal muscles. Mouths at Dream's belly, where Dream shifts under him, ticklish and affected, skin jumping, and then Hob noses at the base of his cock, and Dream realizes what he's gotten himself into only right before it comes to light.

"No, Dream," Hob says, lips now brushing the head of his cock, and like that he looks up and meets Dream's eyes. "I serve at your pleasure."

He takes Dream in his mouth, strangling Dream's response before it can even reach his throat. Not that Dream knows what he would have said. It's whited out instantly in the rush of pleasure that is Hob's mouth, and tongue, the generosity of his body, the vision of him between Dream's legs.

He's voiceless as Hob bobs his head, takes Dream deep, laves his tongue over his slit, applies what Dream must concede is his considerably greater experience to breaking Dream's ability to speak entirely. He grasps mindlessly at Hob's hair, it slides soft between his fingers, head tipped back against the pillows and thighs jerking restlessly, and still he knows this is but a precursor to what Hob truly intends for him. What he's... asked for. Folly. What had he been thinking?

Hob lifts his head to look at him, a line of spit dragging from Dream's cock to his lower lip. "Dream, you with me?"

Dream nods. His hand is still in Hob's hair. He pets at Hob's forehead, his temple, and Hob smiles. Like Dream is the one being indulged.

"Good?" he says, and Dream nods again. Hob takes his hand from his hair, kisses his knuckles, and Dream does not think this is how casual experiments are meant to go. He does not know what he is learning, except that Hob's kiss is soft and reverent, and the look on his face even more so.

"Is this," Dream asks quietly, hyperaware of how he's laid out on his back, Hob between his legs, "how you want me?"

Hob releases his hand. Drags a fingertip maddeningly up and down the crook of Dream's thigh as he considers. "Probably be a bit easier for you on your belly, but I don't want to make you feel vulnerable."

Dream is not certain there is a version of this that would not feel vulnerable. That it does not already. "I defer to your better judgment."

"Stay there, then." He moves away, and Dream takes the moment to gather himself. He's not certain he succeeds. He's spinning pleasantly, buzzing with the echo of Hob's touch. He wonders what might happen if he gives up on trying to right himself.

Hob comes back with lubricant, situations himself between Dream's legs again. Runs his hands up and down Dream's thighs and Dream spreads them wider on instinct. Hob swallows hard, Dream watches the harsh bob of his throat. He's still wearing his jeans, and Dream wishes he would take them off, he wants to pet at Hob's thighs in turn, he wants to see.

"You're a holy vision," Hob says, still studying him with that look, raw and strangled. Find some man to bed you, Dream thinks, feverishly. Some man.

He plucks at the fabric of Hob's jeans. "Hob—“

Hob chuckles. "Sorry, sorry. Bit unfair of me, isn't it? Got too distracted looking at you." He unzips his jeans then, pulls them off, and then is sitting there only in his underwear—something which Dream does not bother to manifest for himself because his clothing is made already of dream stuff, but perhaps he will start because Hob bare before him, his cock heavy and hard in his boxer briefs but still obscured by the fabric is—

"Dream?" Hob asks, as Dream pushes himself up on his elbows and reaches for him, mesmerized, cups his hand around Hob through the fabric, feels the warmth and heft of him, "did I break y— ah fuck."

Hob pushes into his hand, bends down over him again to kiss him as if summoned to it, and it is thrilling, sparkles along every vein, to get such a reaction. To have Hob caving to him. "Fuck, Dream."

Dream indulges himself further, slips his hand under Hob's waistband, takes him in his grasp, and Hob jerks against him. Dream's mouth waters at the weight of him, he has to swallow thickly to clear his throat, his own cock is heavy and straining, and he parts his thighs further for Hob. Vulnerable. Yes. This is vulnerable, and especially so in the waking world, and he wants, he wants Hob in him. A new feeling.

"Hob. I want—"

"I know, darling. Fuck, you're beautiful. Your hands—" He shakes himself. "Right. Right."

Hob sits up again. Strips off his underwear properly. His hair is hanging loose and messy now, eyes ever so slightly glazed with pleasure, chest rising and falling, his prick hard and ruddy at the tip. He is arresting.

He pushes Dream's legs up so his knees are bent, finds the bottle of lube where it's fallen into the sheets, pours some out into his hand. Leans in to kiss Dream’s belly, pleasant and tickling, and in the same motion drags a finger over Dream’s entrance.

Dream catches his wrist, inhuman pulse peaking in his throat, like a burst of dream stuff. “You do not need to put in such effort. This body does not have these human limitations.”

Hob tsks and taps his hand away. “You said you wanted the full experience. And the full Hob Gadling experience includes proper prep and aftercare, even if you're made of whims and fantasies. Free of charge, by the way."

"Oh, indeed?" This comes out significantly less teasing, and significantly more affected, than Dream had intended. "And what will the rest cost me?”

Hob winks at him. "Only your pleasure, darling."

This time, he leans over Dream, takes Dream’s wrist and pins it to the bed by his head. Dream lets out a choked gasp. The sudden pressure of Hob’s grip makes something stand out sharply within him, and then collapse again in relief. Hob makes a considering noise, and holds him there as he presses a finger lightly to Dream’s entrance with his other hand.

Dream shudders as Hob pushes his finger in, one knuckle, two, as he works in and out of Dream’s body, stretching him— it is an odd sensation, one he half-feels he should shy away from, but Hob’s grip on his arm is grounding, and Hob kneeling between his spread legs is tickling something in him that wants very badly.

Then Hob crooks his finger and pleasure rushes through him like a windstorm. Dream arches off the bed, grabbing at the sheets, and Hob laughs. “Thought you might like that.”

“Hob.” Dream thinks he means this to come out admonishing but it’s far more strained. Hob doesn’t give him time to recover, he drags his finger over Dream’s prostate again and Dream bites down hard on his lower lip. Hob slips his finger out, returns with two, and now it’s a stretch. Dream grinds down on him, resists the urge to whine as Hob works him over on his fingers, rubbing over his prostate on every other stroke.

“You are unbelievably gorgeous,” Hob murmurs, watching where his fingers slip in and out of Dream’s body, and then back up at Dream’s face with awe and fixation.

“Even,” Dream struggles over the words as sensation washes through him, Hob’s fingers in him, filling him, so much and yet he wants more, “spread out, like so?”

“Especially then. The way you move on my fingers,” he twists his hand to emphasize the point, and Dream shudders, "the fact that you let me. D’you know how long I’ve looked at you and wondered?” Saying this, he kisses Dream, sliding his hand up Dream’s wrist to clasp their fingers together. “Passing Stranger, your body has become not yours only nor left my body mine only. Fuck, I wanted to see you like that.”

You give me the pleasure of your eyes, Dream thinks, but doesn’t quote the poem back to him— Hob reels him away again by the touch of his hands. He pushes a third finger into Dream, and now it is tight, it is so much, but Dream pushes himself back onto Hob’s hand. Hob’s fingers move gloriously within him, touching every part of him, and he starts speaking again in his low, honey voice, that’s it, darling, good, feels so good, yeah? and Dream needs Hob inside him. Hob has pulled him by the throat from inexperienced to grasping, and he is grasping.

Hob keeps fingering him, spiking his pleasure higher, his cock hanging heavy and teasing Dream with each move he makes. Dream himself is painfully hard, and it sharpens the feeling of Hob in him from maddening to agonizing. Hob kisses him, licks into Dream’s mouth, and Dream opens to his tongue. He opens to him. Like a yawning, cavernous thing.

Wanting Hob in him has shifted to needing Hob in him has shifted to lacking Hob in him, that Hob is a fundamental part of him and without him Dream is bereft. “Hob,” he whines, mortified by the sound of it but unable to drag himself back to that place of control he had surely—surely?—started the evening with. “Please—”

Hob’s head jerks up and he looks at Dream in shock. And. Oh.

Shame rushes through Dream’s body. Who has he become, begging a human to fuck him? Is he not the Lord of all Dreaming, is he not above this? Once, Dream was a skillful and assertive lover, he could bring the full power of the Dreaming to bear for his lovers’ pleasure, he could craft every moment exactly as needed— and now—

But Hob doesn’t draw away in disgust. Or gloat over the position he’s maneuvered Dream into. He smiles down at him, a soft look that goes just a bit pained at the edges as Dream tenses. Then he presses his lips to Dream’s cheek. Even that simple touch makes Dream shiver.

“It’s alright, darling,” Hob murmurs, so gentle but the heat of it still winds through Dream’s insides. “Don’t you know I’ll give you what you need? You don’t have to beg for it.” He slips his fingers out and back in, only two now, working them as deep as they’ll go. “But you sound so pretty when you do.”

“Please,” Dream says, the words again dragged from him unbidden, unspooled by the feeling of Hob inside him, there but not enough. Hob kisses him, swallows his plea like sweet wine, works him on his fingers, grinds his cock in tantalizing lines over Dream’s thigh. And gradually something unlocks in Dream’s ribcage, each piece turning itself open in realization. Hob likes when he asks, begs even. But he isn’t going to make him.

Asking, then, feels less like a wound rent in him, showing all his torn pieces, and more like a spell that will draw Hob to him. Speak, and he will come.

“Please,” Dream says again, and this time the words don’t tear. He speaks into Hob’s mouth, and the wet warmth of Hob’s lips and tongue soothe him where asking might start to chafe. “Hob, I need—”

“Do you need my cock, love?” Hob asks, rough low and rough and burning. “Feels empty, doesn’t it?” He slips his fingers free, and Dream whines. “I know. I know. You’re just starving for it, aren’t you?”

Starving, yes, Dream would like to take Hob in his mouth, but right now he’s feverish for something else. Hob is so close, every touch of his skin already has Dream singing, but he still wants more. He tangles his hand in Hob’s hair, wraps one leg around the back of Hob’s thighs to pull him closer, and Hob laughs, breathless.

“Fuck, Dream, you’re so—” Hob sounds spun around, now, and it’s gratifying to knock him askew in the way he’s done to Dream.

“Hob Gadling,” Dream says, putting the weight of sleeping desire into his voice, “I need you. I’m waiting.”

“Fucking hell,” Hob groans. “I’ve created something terrifying.” He doesn’t sound displeased about it. In fact, he kisses Dream again, lets Dream pull him close by the hair, smiling into his mouth. “Gonna make it so good for you, I promise.”

“I can plague your sleep with eternal nightmares if not,” Dream says, with no intention of doing so.

“See, I’m so confident in my ability to fuck you” —Dream's skin prickles at the word— “that I’m not even worried about it.”

He makes Dream lift up so he can push a pillow under his hips, takes Dream’s leg and maneuvers it over his shoulder, bending his body back. Dream shivers at the vulnerability of the position, the way he’s pinned. Hob kisses the bend of his knee with a little smile, and then Dream watches down the length of their bodies as Hob takes himself in hand. He’s so hard, glistening with pre at the tip, and Dream swallows jerkily.

“Alright, love?” Hob asks, meeting his eyes. He has always had the brightest, loveliest eyes. Dream holds his gaze and nods. He is not certain that he is, in fact, all right, he feels strange and spun about and immersed in the waking dream of Hob’s bed and Hob’s touch, but he does not want Hob to stop, he wants Hob to fuck him.

Hob presses into him, slowly, pausing when just the head of his cock is sheathed. And Dream— Dream was not prepared, Hob’s fingers did not prepare him for the all around pressure of Hob’s cock, the way it would fill him. It dances on the edge of pain, but he wants more. Already, more.

“More,” he finds himself saying, and Hob chuckles, bracing a hand around the back of Dream’s neck as he complies. This time, he pushes all the way in, not stopping until he bottoms out, groaning at the feeling. Dream clutches at his shoulders, no doubt leaving indents in his skin, body clenching convulsively as he gets used to the feeling of Hob in him.

Hob is inside him. Hob is inside him.

“Dream, you alright? You’re… breathing,” Hob says, petting through his hair. He sounds awed.

Breathing. He is breathing. And he hadn't commanded it so. Hadn't even meant it. Normally Dream forgets to affect such human mannerisms, even when it might be advisable to do so. But now he is breathing. Each one is choppy, three steps up three steps down, somewhere between a breath and a sob.

“I am fine,” he says, and Hob shushes him, kissing his cheek.

“I know you are. It’s alright to get a bit overwhelmed, yeah?” Hob is still in him, Dream can still feel every centimeter of him everywhere, but he doesn’t move. Simply lets Dream settle.

Dream tries to stop the wretched breathing, it makes him feel human and mortal and out of control, but he can’t, this temporary body affixed to this plane by Hob’s weight, his touch. Hob kisses his cheek again, nuzzles at his ear, and gradually Dream finds himself subsiding, relaxing in increments. It occurs to him, through the distant knowledge of the Dreaming, that this softness would not be characteristic of a temporary, experimental experience with a stranger, should Dream have simply wanted to know what it was like. It occurs to him through his own knowledge that this vulnerability he feels, this ability to ease him, is characteristic only of Hob.

He does not yet know what to do with that, but he turns to find Hob’s lips. Hob meets him easily, smiling into the kiss. “With me?” he asks, and Dream nods.

“Yes.”

Then Hob starts to move, slow measured thrusts at first. Dream breathes through each, and perhaps breathing is not so bad, after all, for it settles him, and settling lets him take Hob in, and he wants to take Hob in. It is so good, the slide of him sends sparks all along Dream’s limbs, builds inexorable and tantalizing heat through his body, none of his many dreams conveyed to him just how good it would be, when brought from dreams to reality. From memory to the body. More, even, than this is the sense of Hob’s body over him, the heat of him, and the strength, the breadth of his shoulders, the drag of Hob’s belly over Dream’s prick, the way he moves, expertly pushing Dream higher and oh-so-much faster with each thrust, tapping against that edge of pain-and-too-much without ever letting him fall over it.

Dream is starting to think that, in addition to his general experience, Hob has become quite an expert in knowing what Dream, specifically, might like.

“Good, darling?” Hob asks against his jaw, and Dream means to respond but all that comes out is a whine. He feels Hob’s smile against his skin. “More, then?”

Dream evidently doesn’t have to respond. Hob braces himself more firmly over him, and then he’s moving much faster, and then Dream really loses his senses. Hob bears down on him, levering Dream’s leg back further and deepening the angle, and each thrust hits before Dream has recovered from the last, and Hob’s mouth is on his throat, right over his pulse, which is also hammering—

Hob hits his prostate, and Dream keens as lightning arcs through him. Hob is talking to him now as he does it again and again, saying through panting breaths something like, you’re so good, does that feel good? is’at good for you? fuck you’re gorgeous, but Dream can’t parse much detail. He feels he should be participating more actively, but the wherewithal to do so has slipped away from him, all he can do is take what Hob is giving to him.

Probably that is what Hob wants. Perhaps he has fantasized over their long acquaintance about having Dream bent in just this position. Many might wish to have the Dream Lord at their mercy. Hob’s mercy, however, is a burst of pure heat straight to the soul.

“Hob,” he’s saying when he comes back to himself enough to notice, “Hob, Hob—”

“You’re beautiful like that,” Hob says, voice rough. “Dreamed of it— ha. You make the most beautiful noises.”

They are, in fact, wholly undignified noises, but Dream can’t seem to bring himself to stop; Hob punches each sound of pleasure out of him. He floats. Holds onto Hob’s shoulders. Presses his face to Hob’s and feels the scratch of his stubble. The rough calluses of his hands. The rhythm of Hob’s body is sublime. The kiss that he presses to the corner of Dream’s eye is more so. He is… crying there. Tears spilling over and down his cheeks. Dream has crafted the heights of euphoria within the Dreaming. But. Has any of it ever been as good as this?

He has Hob close to him, around him, in him, and still he wants more. Never again will Dream be able to disdain the office of Desire, not without looking away in shame at the lie.

His release washes over him in a wave that he doesn’t even notice until it peaks, so great is the rest of his pleasure. He gasps as he comes, not even needing Hob’s hand on him, tips his head back on the pillow, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open. Chest heaving. Hob slows, cups Dream’s cheek—until Dream urges him on with an ankle hooked around the back of his thigh, do not stop do not stop do not—

“Alright.” Hob nips at his lower lip in admonishment but he does start fucking him again, clearly chasing his own release now rather than pushing for Dream’s. That edge of pleasure-pain now tips closer to pain but Dream relishes in it. Each stuttered motion of Hob in him is blessed.

“I want,” he manages, throat dry, voice scraped rough from his cries, “to feel you come. In me.”

“Oh fuck,” Hob swears. “Dream.” And that apparently is enough. Hob’s hips stutter quick and he comes, hot spurts in Dream’s body, he can feel it. When Hob's tension eases, when his breath catches up to him, he moves to pull out—but Dream drags him back in. He wants— wants to keep Hob inside him, belly spine lungs throat, bring Hob in and in and hold him there, wants that warmth with him always. He could live like that, with Hob close to him.

Hob helps him lower his leg from his shoulder, stretch out sore muscles, and then lets Dream pull him in close, hold him there, in him, even as he’s going soft. He turns them on their sides, tucks his face in against Dream’s shoulder. Breathes the same air.

“So,” Hob says, after several, very long moments where they’ve been lying quietly together, tacky with sweat, Dream’s limbs all wrapped around Hob and Hob running his hands up and down his back, “how was that?”

“Mm?” Dream is still floating. It’s very pleasant.

He can feel Hob grinning against his shoulder. “You wanted to know what it was like to sleep with a man.”

What it was like. Dream is not certain he knows. He knows that Hob’s arms around him are strong, the touch of his skin pleasant even with the combined heat of their bodies. That he smells of sex and sweat and Dream wants to mire himself in it. He knows that, as Hob does finally, carefully pull out, he can feel Hob’s come dripping sticky over his thighs and rather than being discomforting, it only reminds him how he was wanted. His own come is smeared over Hob’s belly in disorganized lines, and Hob’s hair is ravaged by his fingers. There are still tears drying on Dream’s face. He knows that Hob has had him, now, and is still holding him. That the force of his lovemaking annihilated Dream’s dignity. That Hob wants to kiss him during sex. That at his prolonged silence, Hob looks up, finds his gaze, questioning.

“I am not certain that’s what I studied,” Dream admits. “Or. Learned.”

“Oh? What’d you learn, then?” Hob touches his cheek, as if even parted for a second, he wants to be close to Dream again. “Least tell me if you enjoyed it.”

“I did.” Dream must look ruined, and still Hob must confirm he enjoyed it? “What I learned is not what it is like to be with 'a man'. But rather.” He brushes his thumb over Hob’s lower lip, and Hob’s mouth opens at the movement. “What it is like. To be loved. By a very good friend.”

Hob’s expression crinkles into the softest smile at loved. “Oh, a very good friend, hm?”

“Very good,” Dream says. Presses his hand flat to Hob’s heart. “Uniquely so. Uniquely good to me among friends.” Not that Dream has… friends, plural. Better, then, that Hob is so singular. Singular enough to have nestled somewhere within him, between one meeting, one drink, one kiss and the next, and Dream would no longer be without him. His heart is surrounded by a hazy warmth much softer than the sharp pang of desire, and Hob's bed, Hob's touch, is soothing to him, a blanket he has finally pulled over his shoulders after trying to brave the lingering cold. Like so much this evening, it feels strange, and like so much this evening, it feels too good to shy away.

Hob leans in to kiss him, a soft drag of lips over his. “Good. Can I convince my friend to go in for a shower? Tea, maybe? Can I convince him to stay the night and keep exploring that friendship?”

Hob has taken care of him this evening, has not yet lead him astray, and so Dream lets him pull him out of bed and to his feet. In the shower, under the rushing hot water, Hob kisses him, kisses him, kisses him, rough, inelegant, consumed by feeling, hands curled around Dream’s hips. Dream will not make dreams out of this night, after all, he thinks. Selfishly, he wants to keep it to himself.

Peerless among friends, Hob Gadling, he thinks, as Hob makes him tea. As Hob tugs him back over the threshold, into the bedroom, into the mess they’ve made of the sheets. Peerless among friends.

Among lovers, too, perhaps.

#tfw ur having casual sex with ur homie to learn what its like to get dicked down then oh no youre having a gay awakening oh NO youre having #a romantic awakening about your homie too. we've all been there #my writing #dreamling #dreamling fic #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dream x hob #you best believe 'i serve at your pleasure' plays over and over and over and over in dream's mind for weeks after #btw the poem hob quotes is 'to a stranger'#nsft

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sylveon-and-velveon · 2 months

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Oh God can we please see what the slashers would do if you played 'Hopelessly Devoted To You' from Grease? Just in time for Valentines Day 🥺🥺🥺

Happy Valentine's Day everyone! For couples and singles {like me lol}

OMG yes! I loved watching Grease as a kid!! AFTER MAKING THIS: Should say somehow half of these became "love language" responses- I follow you, hol' up

This will include: Michael Myers {OG & RZ}, Brahms Heelshire, Jason Voorhees, Billy Lenz, Freddy Krueger, Stu Macher, Billy Loomis, Thomas Hewitt, Bubba Sawyer, Harry Warden, Tiffany Valentine

Feel free to request any shitpost writing prompt ideas you can think of in my asks, I love silly non-serious ideas XD We besties if you give me Cupcakke remixes-

OG Michael Myers

It's giving lovesick, it's giving obsessed, it's giving "I'm not leaving you"

Well for Michael anyway-

He'd probably take the song a little too seriously, and think you're never gonna ever leave him.

He's never been the best at romance

Blame where he was "raised" for over a decade-

RZ Michael Myers

Just as much in the "never been good with romance" department

But hey, the music isn't loud and obnoxious so he doesn't mind as much to the music you're playing

Especially since it's not as vulgar like.... last time you played music around him

You music player lives to see another day!!

Brahms Heelshire

He sees it as a love language, that you're using music to properly show your love for him without feeling uncomfortable throughout it all

Yep, that's my new headcannon now. His love language is through music. Especially with pianos

He hears you playing that? Oh his heart is MELTING right then there!! He's gonna be giving you cuddles for DAYS after hearing that

Someone make this love language canon please-

Jason Voorhees

Imagine if his mom used to listen to this song?

Bringing him memories. Bittersweet ones probably

Unless you headcannon his mom's still alive, then just sweet

Unless you have a sad headcannon about his mom then you fucked either way mate TvT

But anyway, it brings him memories and he's enjoying the music with you

I kinda went on a Pamela rant there- XD

Billy Lenz

A little confused but he got the spirit

He ain't understanding a lot of it until he hears iconic line from the song

Then he running over to you and is NEVER letting you go

But he still confused

But he trying TvT

Freddy Kreuger

Okay.... here me out:

Yeah the dude will be ridiculous with goofy ass music

But with romantic related songs?

...

So you know how he has one hand that isn't covered with the glove?

And no, you're not getting anymore context to my thought process-

Stu Macher & Billy Loomis

Short and sweet, they'd both love it

Billy's calm about it, while Stu is just like a big doggy. Oh- he is SO happy!!

Billy ain't gonna stop him, it's a good song. And it makes the both of you happy

What's to complain?

Thomas Hewitt

Takes him a few seconds to understand the implications of this song but when he does he's gonna give you a big ass hug

Bone crushing? Probably-

It's Thomas, he'd probably accidently do it-

But he still loves you

Even if he accidently puts you in a wheelchair

Bubba Sawyer

Yeah you gotta explain the song, poor guy highly wouldn't understand the meaning

Or he would... but BARELY-

You gotta explain what the song's about, when he finally does understand he's gonna be so in love with you.

And the song

Like a little confession song... weird choice for a confession song. But you do you-

Harry Warden

A little old fashioned but he understands the song is romantic-esc

He'd vibe to song, bounce his head along to the beat a little

Tap his feet to beat as well, maybe change back and forth between the two

He's never watched the movie before but now the song makes him want to watch the movie

Specifically with you ^^

Tiffany Valentine

She's watched the movie, but she doesn't wanna admit it

But the second, THE SECOND, she hears you playing that song

Ohhhhhhhhhhh you two are singing that song together with no shame

It's her guilty pleasure song, but knowing that you listen to this song now makes her more confident!

Hell yeah!!!

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saltydkdan · 4 months

Note

Sorry, if you already got this question before but in your honest opinion, which friendlocke was your favorite?

It's pretty hard, because I do enjoy all of them... BUT

I think the second one was probably my favorite if we're speaking overall. The first playthrough (Emerald) will always have a special place in my heart, but it was a glorified test run of a concept that I had no idea would actually work. Season 2 (Black) allowed us to be way more confident, and expand every aspect.

And despite all the issues with streaming and editing which eventually allowed me to discover that I DO INDEED get overstimulated sometimes-

Season 2 just really allowed me to hardcore flex my improv and editing muscles in a way that previous projects just didn't. And while it was stressful at points, I felt so driven in every other instance!

Somehow recording a semi well put together shitpost roleplay for 5 hours at a time, as well as editing and creating numerous custom assets for every other scene, is something I'm still actively impressed by. Usually I cringe at previous stuff, but the edits especially on these I still like to brag about.

Like damn, I just need to pat myself on the back, I really did that. The custom sprites even had shading based on the time of day in game so they don't look out of place. It took hours upon hours, but I'm still so proud of the work I did in this season (as well as all seasons, but Season 2 had a lot of these sorts of edits in particular).

Not to mention that Friendlocke Season 2 was such a MASSIVE collaboration and one of the biggest I had ever worked on to that point. The list of credits in the description legit hit the character limit. Something that had never happened to me before that point!

So many musicians, editors, artists, voice actors, and other folks got involved. Even though it was stressful I wouldn't have redone those videos in any other way. It came out so much more amazing than I ever could have concieved!

I can't believe that all this had started from me wanting to do my own spin on a Pokemon Nuzlocke of all things, and what I thought was a silly idea that wouldn't work haha.

Anyway sorry for the gushing and dumping, was just nice to reminisce about this stuff in such a positive and self reflecting sort of way, thanks for the ask!

#saltydkdan #salty asks #friendlocke

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katiekatdragon27 · 6 months

Text

Thanks for 100 followers, take these as a gift :) My silly goofies.

First, aircorn being cute lol. Airy is strong, it's a given he's made of metal. Popcorn by physicality should be weaker, but she's not of this world sooooo f logic. Also, gurl be careful cuz if you drop him it's so over.

Ugly ass gijinkas.

Some old interview things I made a bit ago. Basically, me summing up what they see in each other and someone (probably Liam maybe) explaining why it's a poor choice in a partner. (Liam don't know the Popcorn lore yet >:) ).

There's gonna be Popcorn lore and more doodles below the cut.

[TW for creepy eyes ig???]:

For those who don't know, this is based on that one post about brown and blue eyes. It fit them perfectly, so here's a shitpost about it.

Also yeah, when I was developing my Popcorn lore, I knew she was gonna have scuffed eyes, but I wasn't sure what (I considered the current ones at first but I wasn't sure.) Then I saw some posts of him having Algebralien eyes and I thought "what if I made it scary?" Hence this.

Here's more bullet points about Popcorn to think about (I think I wrote too much oof):

She's not an object. She just feels most comfortable in the body she has right now (he's had some serious dysphoria in the past).

Although she has no real "sex", he goes by she/he.

She does not have a "real" name either. She just goes by whatever object (or other creature) she happens to be.

She is a shapeshifter, but it has limitations. Violent limitations. Her current body? He killed an empty bucket of popcorn and is basically wearing his skin. All her other morphs (including the non-object ones)? Killed them too. Her plethora of voice imitations? DNA takings, usually through violence.

She stole the 3D glasses from a store during her first week on Earth.

She has two very different personalities when he has the 3D glasses on and off.

When the glasses are on? Silly goofy. A ball of chaotic sunshine with little to no consideration for her or others' wellbeing.

When the glasses are off? She is incredibly angry and full of anxiety. He is incredibly violent and super unapproachable for the most part. Only a very small amount of people can see him with her glasses off and be okay. *cough cough* Airy *cough cough*

The only thing that remains consistent about all their morphs are the eyes.

Speaking of eyes, she's scared of eye contact because she loses control of her body when staring at someone. It's like a conscious form of sleep paralysis. She can only control her body when staring at someone if they're scared of her and actively trying to flee.

Also, since Airy really likes her eyes, they stare at each other a ton (even if Popcorn is sometimes uncomfortable). Airy gets good at reading Popcorn's eyes after a couple of times of that and learns when to look away for her sake. Airy probably stared at her for 10 minutes the first time he saw Popcorn's eyes and made her not want to look at him for a while after that.

If any of these intrigues any of you, feel free to adopt these headcanons into your own. I'm open about that 👍

Have a nice day fellas :)

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its-a-me-mango · 8 days

Text

Hi I've had several people ask me for my opinions on the movie so instead of answering them all individually, I'll give my honest opinion here. (There's a few focused one I'll answer but this is just my general feel for it)

Ok so, I'll be honest, not my favourite SMG4 movie, don't get me wrong I still enjoyed it, I enjoyed it a lot, but as a few people said, it felt more like a long SMG4 episode than a movie. I think if you see it like that then a lot of the flaws with it kinda melt away, at least to me lol.

We know the team can do absolute bangers (Western Spaghetti is still my favourite SMG4 movie you can fight me on it), I think they just missed the mark a bit this one, especially for someone as important as Mr Puzzles. You'd think if this was a finale to him they'd maybe, I dunno, show him more? It's hard for me to say personally what I would do differently, but I think what they did wasn't the best for him. I'm hoping he shows up again maybe, that'd be nice and would make the movie feel less anticlimactic for me and probably a few others.

Then again we've seen him non stop for like a month so I don't feel like complaining too much lol.

The gags though were super fucking funny and that's what I love most about SMG4, I ultimately don't care if the story is lacking, as long as I'm having a good time then the story can do whatever the hell it wants. I'm not a South Park fan AT ALL and even I was crackling at the South Park skit. The references and jokes, the live action bit, MEAT MALLET?! It's stupid shit like that that makes me love watching SMG4.

I do genuinely think a lot of you would be happier if you took SMG4 less seriously, no offence to any of course it's fun to take silly shitpost shows seriously, but at the end of the day they are shitpost shows, they're meant to be stupid and make dumb jokes, again this felt way more like an SMG4 episode than a movie and I'm fine with that.

Anyone saying SMG4 fell off or were horrifically let down or something like that is being silly, you can say you didn't vibe with the movie it's ok, subdue your expectations and watch Bob make a pickle rick joke with me, you'll understand my vision then.

I get the impression they wanted the movie to be more silly and stuff instead of serious like previous movies, Mr Puzzle is a villain yes but he's a horrifically cartoonish one. His main goal was to control the world though the TV or something like that, like compare that to Wren's goal, there's a clear difference in tone between the both of them.

Regards, I still enjoyed the movie, yes it was a bit over hyped but it wasn't a total letdown for me, it gave us Mr Puzzle characterisation which is nice, again it was REALLY funny, and I always love to the see the team try new and silly ideas! I hope they do more weird and wacky stuff like this in the future because you can tell the team was having fun with this! That's more important to me than anything else.

Also that song was an absolute BANGER, certified bop!!!!! 💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

#smg4 #smg4 spoilers #I'm gonna watch it again tomorrow I have so many memes and art ideas to draw from it!!!#To be fair it's hard to beat western spaghetti because that is cinema. You can't beat that one

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fatuismooches · 3 months

Note

Beaming more Dottore brainrot into ur head rn..

Akademiya Dottore having to stay out late for an assignment and when he gets back to his dorm he sees reader passed out on the couch, they tried staying up to wait for him but got too eepy and went zzzzz...

I like to think he quietly puts a blanket on them before sitting on the couch and just doing his own thing (eventually he also falls asleep on the couch)

When reader wakes up they notice the warm blanky on them and smile :) especially after they notice the usually stubborn man sleeping on the other side... giggles 😊 I like soft Dottore... he's so stubborn and in love..

(Reader totally teases him about it when he wakes up and in return gets ignored for the rest of the day... if they're short they also have all their akademiya supplies put onto a high shelf💀 cuz Dottore's mean like that and REFUSES to admit he likes reader :3)

Also If u want u can rb my art LOL I'm guessing u mean my silly Dottore shitposts n stuff? I rlly don't mind :D I'd prob just have 2 stop using my silly lil chicken disguise 💀 cuz it'd be obvious who I am at that point.. - 🐓

It's not very often that Dottore stays out late, he much rather be in his dorm doing his own thing rather than out and about (the darkness is good for being elusive, however, more light is necessary for certain experiments.) Unfortunately, group projects and meetings exist and he has to be on his 'teammates' time schedule... ending his day with his peers is certainly not what he considers favorable.

Meanwhile, you feel quite lonely without your crush, the dorm is oh so quiet without the sounds of his tinkering or the playful banter between you two. Not to mention how you miss his touch, his voice, his overall presence... do you miss him? Yes, of course, you're not in denial all the time like Zandik is. So you decide to just stay up, he can't be out for much longer, knowing Zandik, he'll wrap it up as soon as possible. (You could laugh imagining his expression right now, having to do an assignment with others instead of you.) Sadly, your body gives in to your tiredness and you slumber earlier than you wanted to.

When Zandik comes home and sees you slumped on the couch in dreamland, he scoffs and rolls his eyes... muttering under his breath about how careless you are and how you're going to wake up with cramps in that position (he says as he fixes your body to a more comfortable angle, and drapes a blanket over you before you wake up sneezing and complaining to him. Yes, he just doesn't want to listen to you complain, he totally doesn't care for your well-being.)

When you wake up to see him sleeping on the other side you just smile... you wish you two were actually dating so you could cuddle with him, but unfortunately, Zandik is a man who'll always be in denial when it comes to his feelings, it seems. At least he felt comfortable enough to fall asleep with you like this, that's progress! Even he was lured in by the warmth, despite probably wanting to pull another all-nighter...

Teasing him will result in a not-very-happy and annoyed Zandik who constantly rebuts your claims... he's not very amused at your "theories" and would prefer if you put your mouth to better use by assisting him with his research. (He derives some kind of sick pleasure from watching you struggle to obtain that hard-to-reach item.)

#smooches talks #🐓 anon #dottore love notes <3 #HELP IM REALLY SORRY I REALLY DIDN'T MEAN TO EXPOSE U.... but thank u for the reassurance ur posts r very cool 😭#thank u for the dottore brainrot as always u keep me FED

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terepi · 26 days

Text

I think im going to take a small break from the homestuck fandom.

Not for any one reason, but a multitude that I don't think I can explain fully in one post. If there had to be a main reason, it's honestly because i'm tired of all the weird ship-bashing i've been seeing recently. Maybe it's just me seeing things, I don't know.

Again, not the only reason but it's led to a bit of burnout. If you're intrested in my art or just wanna come say hi I have a multifandom blog (@sushipillar). I'll probably post ocs and shitpost a lot, so the usual then.

I do want to say despite what people say, you all have been wonderful. I know I just complained about ship-bashing, but the fandom so far has been really nice, you all are creative, silly, and you don't care about stupid things like "cringe culture". All things I hope I can be.

This isn't a goodbye post, by the way, it's a see you later, becuase I know I'll be back. I just don't know when.

See ya! And thank you :3

#☆ | mewling | ☆

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cadmusfly · 3 months

Text

Analysing the Quality of Napoleon's Marshals With Silly Data Science

Let's talk numbers and laugh at funny graphs with missing data!

Other people in this fandom do really lovely detailed information posts, I do weird fanfic, dragon shitposting, body pillow design shitposting and run a stupid Lannes ask rp blog. But! I'm also a programmer with an interest in Numbers, and today we're going to Analyse These Dead Frenchmen with a bunch of screenshots of graphs.

Ethan Arsht published a really interesting article called Napoleon was the Best General Ever, and the Math Proves it., where using data scraped off Wikipedia articles, he creates a statistical model drawing from multiple variables per battle to calculate How Good A General Is At Winning.

Give the article a read, it's great stuff, but if you don't feel like it, he basically applies WAR - "Wins Above Replacement" - which is a value from baseball that measures how many wins a player is worth when compared to a replacement.

So the general's WAR would be how well they compare to a completely average general who replaced them. Yes, as Arsht says, "in other words, I would find the generals’ WAR, in war."

But as he says, this is not a stringent historical analysis and is more of a fun thought experiment. Wikipedia is probably the most comprehensive dataset on this topic that he had access to, but it is Wikipedia the crowdsourced online encyclopedia, so it is going to have holes and inaccuracies. And this was written seven years ago, and the data was collected then, so any updates to these articles since then wouldn't be reflected.

And it's not a perfect model that takes into account everything - it's an approximation, a whole bunch of number crunching. I haven't looked too deeply into how the numbers work exactly, even though I could.

I think that 0 would be "completely and utterly average"? A positive WAR is good, a negative WAR is not. Napoleon is the best general ever at 16.679 WAR, the next highest is Caesar at 7.445 WAR.

(Link, you can hover over each battle and look at each datapoint!)

But I'm interested in Napoleon's marshals. The 26 men he raised up to military nobility! The dramatic assholes who kept arguing with each other. I'll post links for all of them at the end of this, but I won't be screenshotting each of their WAR graphs, just a few.

I'm not entirely sure how the scraper collected the information about what battles a commander is considered in "charge" of - I tried looking at the provided code repository but I am reminded that data science people bless them are not really good at structuring or publishing code and why are all the html pages just straight up saved in the root folder why are the jupyter notebook outputs just uncleared aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Oh yeah this was scraped from seven years ago so current wikipedia pages won't be reflective of what's on the graphs - so we can assume that this is just grabbing stuff from the "Commanders and leaders" part from each individual battle page and collating them into numbers

Anyway let's look at the iron man himself, Davout, considered to be the best of Napoleon's marshals.

(Link)

Heh, here we see the first hole in the dataset - Jena-Auerstedt is considered to be one battle, and Napoleon would like you to think that's the case.

Anyway, pretty good! Let's look at Jean Lannes, the lively Gascon

(Link)

Oooooh, even better than Davout! Helps he didn't go to Russia. Wait, why is Aspern-Essling dated to before Ratisbon, especially when Lannes died in the former?

Let's look at André Masséna, also known as being pretty cool:

(Link)

Damn, neat, though I think there's a lot of omissions here.

Here's Murat:

(Link)

Lol Tolentino, I do like how Murat Peaked there a little bit

But we're forgetting a certain redhead, aren't we?

(Link)

Ouch. But also Waterloo not appearing there, hmmm.

Anyway let's finish off the screenshots with Napoleon's greatest strategist, Jean-de-Dieu Soult, the man that Wellington called a master of the defensive!

(Link)

honestly this is the entire reason why i wanted to write this post

in soult's defense - as a soult defender - he had a pretty shitty army full of conscripts, was isolated, was occasionally pretty bad at adapting tactically to new surprises and had to deal with the english being stubborn fuckers, but he was brilliant in setting things up strategically and forcing the english to catch up through a fighting retreat with a demoralised army, stopping them from closing in on france too

but also the way this graph bullies soult so hard makes me laugh a lot

Anyway, yeah, these graphs are definitely inaccurate and I'm also posting these to see the Napoleonic community on tumblr's reaction to them, but they are a fun way to engage with history!

Just don't take them seriously, and feel free to argue in the tags/comments/reblogs

I could theoretically use this guy's code to rerun this just for the Marshals now - I know my way around some data science code - but I do have a lot on my plate, but it would be a fun experiment!

Marshal WAR Graph Links

Note: So these are under the Wikipedia article names at the time that the web scraper was run seven years ago so some of these names turned out to be different from what they are now and I had to do a bit of digging to fix some

you can definitely tell that the information is incomplete on a lot of these, again i repeat the information was scraped off wikipedia seven years ago

Louis-Nicolas Davout

Jean Lannes

Joachim Murat

Michel Ney

André Masséna

Jean-de-Dieu Soult

Bon-Adrien Jeannot de Moncey (one battle lol)

Jean-Baptiste Jourdan

Charles-Pierre Augereau

Jean-Baptiste Bernadotte aka Charles XIV John of Sweden (Two battles and only Swedish ones I think)

Guillaume Brune

Édouard Mortier (two battles)

Jean-Baptiste Bessières (two battles)

François Christophe de Kellermann (one battle, Valmy)

François Joseph Lefebvre (two battles)

Charles-Victor Perrin (ouch)

Étienne Macdonald

Nicolas Oudinot (lol)

Auguste de Marmont (loll)

Laurent de Gouvion Saint-Cyr

Józef Poniatowski (three battles but hmm. pretty bad but feel like there's too much missing info here)

Emmanuel de Grouchy (two battles, can't make a Where's Grouchy joke)

Marshals Without Graphs Not because they didn't command anything but I couldn't find their graphs on the website or in the code repo

Catherine-Dominique de Pérignon

Jean-Mathieu-Philibert Sérurier

Louis-Gabriel Suchet (wtf? maybe seven years ago the documentation on him was sad)

EDIT: wait i was looking at the notebook (the uh place where the code was being run, to see if i could run the code myself)

soult is one of the lowest ranked generals overall on this initial list pfftHAHAHhahahahahahahaha

#napoleon's marshals #napoleonic era #napoleonic wars #napoleonic shitpost #cadmus rambles #cad rambles about dead frenchmen on main #jean lannes #louis-nicolas davout #joachim murat #michel ney #andre massena #im not tagging all of them #jean-de-dieu soult

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i-am-totally-not-a-lizard · 11 months

Note

*looks at you like a kid in bed awaiting a bedtime story* what was reddit like…?

Ahh my old home... It was beautiful... Well actually not really it kinda sucked but it was home. After a long day of hard work I would kick back and relax by immediately getting into arguments with conservatives about whether or not I deserve to exist, spending all night moderating every new post made to r/familyguyporn (erm... You broke rule #274, how dare you, permabanned for life), and visiting 30 different subreddits only to see the same unfunny joke recycled and reposted for the thousandth time!

Haha but seriously though it wasn't all bad I actually really enjoyed my time there. If Reddit ever becomes not stupid again there's really great communities on there and it provides a much more structured and useful method of interacting with interests you like. There are some great communities that I honestly can't find comparable groups to on Tumblr that I wish I didn't have to continue using Reddit or a discord server to keep in touch with.

If you guys ever want to see what's up with Reddit I'd highly recommend r/196 (currently not allowing posts but maybe someday, also it's just fun to look through the old posts) and its little sister subreddits r/691 and r/19684 because they have a similar Tumblr (queer, lefty, shitposty) vibe, it's where most of the Reddit refugees on here came from initially. Also r/Tumblr and r/curatedTumblr (both private right now), because it's just reposts of Tumblr screenshots so the people there would probably be more accepting of you little tumbleweeds. r/wunkus (silly cats and stuff, I love that sub so much, criminally underrated). r/vexillologycirclejerk and r/mapporncirclejerk (private) are some of my favorite communities and I'm sad there's not a similar big community here. They're pretty left wing and focus on shitposting and jokes about flags and maps, they're very funny but some of the jokes get old quick. As well as literally any community you can think of! I swear, no matter how niche your interest is, there's probably a subreddit for it. And if there isn't, you can make it!

I'd avoid major shitposting subs, as that seems to be where the 'edgy teenage suburban white boy with unlimited internet access' archetype tends to congregate. I'd also avoid sorting by controversial in the comments when LGBT people get brought up on mainstream subs. Reddit takes itself a lot more seriously than Tumblr does and people will not be afraid to argue with you. A lot. Also you get punished with downvotes if people don't like what you say.

Anyways that was a lot. I hope Reddit stops being dumb because it's honestly hard to replace and it's such a great place to find things and people that you're interested in. Not to mention if you have a very specific question about basically anything, Reddit will literally save your life. I like Tumblr a lot, but Reddit will always be near and dear to my heart.

#guys i did Reddit spacing I'm sorry i reverted to my instincts #reddit #reddit migration #reddit refugee #196 #tumblr

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gffa · 5 months

Note

(About your ‘not being cool’ post)

Your love for things is what I love about following you though! Because I’m here to enjoy things too! So for what it’s worth, I think your blog is pretty cool, and at least if it’s not then we’re uncool together. And now that I think about it, isn’t that the point of fandom? Being ‘uncool’ together? 😂

High five for another uncool person! I admit, I sometimes desperately want to get in with other fans who are writing things that hit me in the metaphorical solar plexus because they're so sharp and have such delicious bite and they're incredibly cool, even when I suspect they would probably find me deeply annoying, but that ultimately I also very much admire people who embrace being silly and goofy and flailing around a lot, because I love those people, too. I pine wistfully sometimes, but then get over it, because I know that if I remade myself into being 'cool', I would only stare even more wistfully over at the people being silly and just having a silly good time. And I want to cozy up to people like you as well, who are so sweet to reach out like this, like I want to talk to people about silly things, I don't want to be intimidating (well, okay, maybe a little, it might be nice for five minutes, but ultimately, no, I want people to feel they can approach me and talk to me genuinely), so I'm just kind of settling in the middle with "acknowledge my genuine desire to be cool, but that it's a temporary want, and the home I really want to make is in the silly goober camp, and then make fun of myself a little in a silly shitpost to get it out of my system". And you are so right! It's not that the cool people don't openly love things as well, they do! But often times they're not as goofy about it (and I find that admirable, none of this is about saying any way of behavior is more right or wrong than any other way!) and they're having fun in fandom in their own way and, who knows, I have met so many genuinely cool people like this that do like me back! I'm just up in my own head sometimes (Star Wars fandom did a number on me), but also I want to agree so wholeheartedly with your ultimate point: It's okay to be uncool in fandom, like we're nerds on the internet, we're watching/reading often very silly stories and there's nothing wrong with embracing that. We can take them seriously, there's a lot of genuinely thoughtful and depthful things to discuss here! But it's also okay to be silly and goofy and sometimes I need the reminder that others are happy to be here with me, too. <3 (Can you tell I'm avoiding cleaning? I have drafted so many character ask game responses to schedule for tomorrow to spread them out a bit, because I really don't want to have to go organize the bathroom. orz)

#lumi.txt

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eldritch-spouse · 6 months

Note

Bro you mentioned visual novel and I instantly thought of those like romance games like “Your Boyfriend” and some Ikemen games *cough* obey me *cough*. No joke if you actually one day made one of those romance games with your characters I would buy it like it would be so much fun especially if characters had different ending depending on your action. I know it is like impossible but I just wanted you to know anyways

God it would take like forever to make.

Because I'd either do something with the same setting as "Gifted", or I'd have go for a goofy narrative where you end up in Hell, smuggled into a meeting by one of the Icons, who didn't have time to hide you away or something. A very silly and probably more light-hearted shitpost of a game.

That's why sometimes I humor the thought of an illustrated narrative where you can kind of pick and choose? You've probably seen some of those games, right? Mostly just walls of text, but you can make choices, and sometimes characters are drawn interacting with you, or the settings you're in get visually represented. That's less work, a smaller bite, you know?

It's fun to think about, and I'm super flattered you'd consider buying it, but for now it's only a far away possibility. :]]

#unrelated⭐️#comegetmemonsters

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sylveon-and-velveon · 3 months

Text

@fandomhungryuwu You son of a bitch I'm in! I love that song so much XD

Playing "Here Comes the Hurricane Bitch" around the slashers

This will include: Michael Myers {OG & RZ}, Brahms Heelshire, Jason Voorhees, Billy Lenz, Freddy Krueger, Stu Macher, Billy Loomis, Thomas Hewitt, Bubba Sawyer, Harry Warden, Tiffany Valentine

Feel free to request any shitpost writing prompt ideas you can think of in my asks, I love silly non-serious ideas XD

OG Michael Myers

Silently judging you

Also probably just hearing a bunch of random noises instead of the absolute banger that is this short song

Yeah my headcannon still stands on this man being a Kate Bush fan. That man would would fucking listen to her songs while killing people

Slowest middle finger you've seen someone give you while "HERE COMES THE HURRICANE BITCH" is blasting out of the speakers

RZ Michael Myers

Confused would be an understatement for him

But he'd mainly be annoyed by the loud noise blasting from the device you're playing it from

Reminds him of the shitty people from his past :<

Just turn down the music enough for you both to vibe to while eating some yummy food :D

Brahms Heelshire

Bro hears "hurricane" and one of two things happen:

1: He thinks a hurricane is nearby.

2: He's confused as fuck on what a hurricane is

Secret third option is BOTH-

Please reassure this poor man that it's just a song, until he either understands or stops freaking out TvT

Homie only knows the sound of pianos

Jason Voorhees

Nothing sexual? Damn he's fine with it, just a little uncomfy with the continuous "bitch"

Other than that he's happy to watch you enjoy the music, even if you're going full gremlin mode throughout it all

If you're happy, he's okay with it

Just don't start blasting NSFW music in his vicinity-

Billy Lenz

Wanna see a gremlin be a gremlin with you? Billy's got ya back!

Whether he understands the song or not, he will be a gremlin with you the second he sees you are now a gremlin to the music.

You are now one with his gremlin kind, you can't run now

I dunno what that means either, but it makes sense XD

Freddy Kreuger

Pure chaos, that's the song. Of course he'll love it

But the second he finds out there was indeed a hurricane called "Katrina"? Ohohoho.... ya fucking lost him

What, is he dying of laughter? Dunno, but ya lost him XD

Oh he'd totally copy how "bitch" is said in the song as an inside joke between you two

Stu Macher and Billy Loomis

Oddly enough I think they'd be their own type of gremlins to the music

Billy's killing someone to the beat of the chaotic music that's somehow a vibe

Stu's just going fucking feral to the music, enjoying his heart out

You're either watching the chaos unfold or joining in with one of them

No inbetween-

Thomas Hewitt

Oh look another judger-

Probably not judging as much as the others

If the music makes you happy, he doesn't mind

But that ain't stopping him from being confused at your taste in music being in his mind "loud and obnoxious"

Bubba Sawyer

The most confused out of all of them, change my mind

Doubt anyone's told him what a tornado is, let alone a hurricane

Also I highly doubt he's seen either in action, that be on TV or not

He'll probably vibe with you, but just a little confused on everything about the music lol

Harry Warden

My point still stands, I need GIFs of this man-

But with the music? Most traumatized

You've somehow unlocked some kind of PTSD that motherfucker had in the back of his mind

Totally not helping when you're blasting the music that literally says:

"HERE COMES THE HURRICANE BITCH-"

Tiffany Valentine

All here for it

Oh she's slaying the music with all her outfits

Probably would join in with you dancing to the music, but would take it a little more seriously lol

Is my love for her fabulous outfit choices too obvious?

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7grandmel · 2 months

Text

Todays rip: 07/03/2024

Mr. 2.718281828459045235360287471352662497757247093699959574966967627724076630353547594571382178525166427427466391932003059921817413596629043572900334295260595630738132328627943490763233829880753195251019011573834187930702154089149934884167509244761460668082264800168477411853742345442

Season 6 Featured on: SiIvaGunner's Highest Quality Rips: Volume FF

Ripped by The Green Spy

youtube

I'm forever going to be mad that I missed the chance to post this rip on February 7th (2.7) instead of Battle Emergency...but hey, 3.7 is pretty close to e as well, isn't it? Also, formal congratulations to the longest-yet title of a rip to be featured on the blog, up against stiff competition like The expanse of meme in past was split, A fiendish trap has now been set; Behind a tree the villains sit, Terror of sport, the Robbie's Net. and If I chopped Pikachu up in a meat grinder, and the only thing that comes out and is left of him is his eyeball, he's PROBABLY dead. Nay, I say, today's rip stands head and shoulders above them both! Today's rip, is Mr. 2.718281828459045235360287471352662497757247093699959574966967627724076630353547594571382178525166427427466391932003059921817413596629043572900334295260595630738132328627943490763233829880753195251019011573834187930702154089149934884167509244761460668082264800168477411853742345442.

Setting aside the absurdity of the title for a moment though, there is some really fun stuff to dig into with this rip. You may recall, be it through having kept up with the blog or just being aware of SiIva's most well-remember rips in general, one of MtH's finest works in 【＝３】e-MUNO Disco (vs. 音MAD AGENT) - a Season 2 rip that I think permanently altered the way my brain functions in some way by being my first-ever exposure to Yousuke Yasui's music. Yet sitting amidst the primary jokes in that rip, be it "Minecraft With Gadget" as part of the Inspector Gadget takeover, as well as other then-relevant sources such as Rock My Forum of LAST YTPMV^2 OF 2016 fame and the greatest French rapper of our lifetime, there was one quite bizarre source - "e", by the math education YouTube channel Numberphile.

Numberphile's channel itself is incredibly wholesome and useful, and the people contributing to it like James Grime have a genuinely excellent knack for explaining and demonstrating complex concepts in a concise yet wholly understandable way. Their output isn't exactly something you'd think of as memetic - that is, of course, with the exception of the video featuring the funniest thumbnail ever put onto YouTube: e (Euler's Number) - Numberphile. It was simply a perfect storm: the rise in the use of "e" as part of deepfried ironic shitposting of the mid-2010s, the absurd enthusiasm James Grime shows in both the thumbnail and the video's introduction, the eloquence of which he explains the meaning of this silly letter. It only first showed up on SiIvaGunner itself during the start of Season 2, with the aptly titled rip "e", and became sort of a sleeper hit gag during the Season: hell, during this year's SiIvaGunner MAGFest panel, channel manager MtH confirmed that e is still one of her all-time favorite channel memes. And, yeah: its funny factor is shown to great effect in (brace yourselves!) Mr. 2.718281828459045235360287471352662497757247093699959574966967627724076630353547594571382178525166427427466391932003059921817413596629043572900334295260595630738132328627943490763233829880753195251019011573834187930702154089149934884167509244761460668082264800168477411853742345442.

You take a source as prime for YTPMV-ing, sentence mixing and pitch shifting as the original Numberphile video, and attach it to perhaps the greatest YTPMV song of all time in Mr. Patch from Banjo-Tooie (Mr. PACs ~ Obamjo-Roomnie, anyone?), and the result is almost destined to be gold. Putting a source so reliant on making out what the narrator is saying together with a song infamous for its hectic tempo may well have been the biggest challenge preventing a rip like this from having been made, but let us not forget that this is The Green Spy we're dealing with here. And if there's anything I've gathered about The Green Spy as an anonymous contributor through their rips alone, rips like (YTPMV) Bob-Omb Battlesources and ESPECIALLY Mad Mew Mew Becoming Uncanny, its that they truly know their stuff about YTPMVs.

The added visuals is just the cherry on top of it all. Though its standard for YTPMVs off of SiIva, and occasionally even on the channel itself such as with Crompton Racing, the visuals on Mr. 2.718281828459045235360287471352662497757247093699959574966967627724076630353547594571382178525166427427466391932003059921817413596629043572900334295260595630738132328627943490763233829880753195251019011573834187930702154089149934884167509244761460668082264800168477411853742345442 are so effective at punctuating every little surprise and detail made to the rip. Be it the surprise appearance of Jack Black's famous "dick!" sample, the brief change to suddenly start listing the number One repeatedly instead of the sequence of numbers that define the joke (and the title!), the uses of "e" from the fonts of WarioWare Smooth Moves, feature in the aforementioned first appearance of Numberphile on SiIva...while the joke hasn't been featured all too frequently on SiIva as of late, its rips like this that make the joke's reappearance always feel triumphant - its the kind of source you have to WORK for to make funny, and The Green Spy pulls it off with absolute aplomb.

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