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therealcocoshady · 2 months

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Recovery - Chapter 17

Eminem x FemReader Fanfiction

Summary : Em is on a date with Nicole when he learns about Y/N’s attack at the bar.

CW : Hospital

MARSHALL’S POV

Marshall was spending the evening at Nicole’s for their fourth date. They planned on having dinner and watching a movie, as they had done for their previous date nights. Granted, that wasn’t really original, but in his position, his options were kind of limited. He wished he could go places for dates, but it was a whole organization. He usually had to rent out the places he wanted to go to and have his security team nearby, which was sort of uncomfortable if he wanted to get to know someone “the normal way”. If he wanted to build a genuine connection with someone, it was better not do anything screaming “I’m a famous millionaire rapper and I can’t go anywhere without the risk of being harassed”. Thankfully, Nicole seemed happy with their simple dates. That was one of the many things he liked about her : she had simple taste and she was real with him. A common misconception that people had about him was that it was easy for him to date. He could certainly have a lot of opportunities with the ladies if he wanted to, but the ones who threw themselves at him were usually the type he disliked the most : attracted to him because of his name, his fortune, his fame, expecting him to take them to all sorts of fancy places and introducing them to famous people… After his second divorce from Kim, he had figured out he would never really find love again. For years, he didn’t get involved in relationships, choosing to focus on raising his children, working on his sobriety and making music. Sure, he’d had a few encounters, but never serious ones. He had made a point not to. And the couple of times he gave it a try, he ended up getting hurt. As he had entered his fifties, he was pretty sure he was going to end up alone. In truth, he didn’t mind that much. He was lucky enough to have a great family he was close to, including his ex wife, as well as amazing friends (who were basically like family anyway). Women were pretty much an afterthought. At least, that was the case before he met Y/N. In a matter of months, she had become one of the most important persons in his life.

From the first time they met, he took a liking towards her. Sure, she was beautiful, but it wasn’t the only reason. There was something about the way she carried herself and how she acted. She was always nice, respectful, sweet and kind. She had a very calm aura, a far cry from a lot of the girls who had come to the studio before. To the point where he had actually instigated a rule : no girls unless they’re long-time partners or family. He was almost pissed when Jamal asked to make an exception for his new roommate, but Talia assured him that Y/N would not be an inconvenience. She was apparently coming out of the hospital after an OD and would live with them for a few months, until she got better. And they were right : she was far from inconvenient. At first, she was barely noticeable, keeping to herself, scared to intrude. When he saw her for the first time, mindlessly playing with her NA chip, he had felt the urge to make her feel at ease, because he knew how stressful those first moments in a sobriety journey could be. He had been there. On that first day, he got to know her and felt drawn to her. For the first time in ages, he could relate to someone. And as weeks went by, he got to know her better, not as an addict, but as a person. She turned out to be extremely spirited, funny, with a sharp wit. It felt like they could talk about anything : she was educated and knew a lot about different topics, and the one she knew nothing about, she was interested in. Another thing he really enjoyed about hanging out with her is that she almost had no idea who he was. She acted insanely normal around him and asked him questions most people never did, mostly because they knew the answers from his interviews or his Wikipedia page. She didn’t. So even talking about something as trivial as their favorite TV shows or the place they grew up was extremely enjoyable. In a matter of months, he became best friends with her, which was as challenging as it was fun. It soon became clear that they were attracted to each other, on a night where he was having dinner at her place and they almost ended up in bed together. But it hadn’t seemed like a great idea : as insanely attractive as she was, no matter how horny she made him, she was too young for him (she could be his daughter, for God’s sake), she was just getting out of a relationship and starting to recover from addiction. For the most part, he managed to keep things friendly, which hadn’t been without trials. Even if he was trying to do the right thing, he was just a man and knowing Y/N was attracted to him drove him crazy. But after a few months of being emotionally and physically close and caring for her, he ended up giving up on his principles and considering dating her. However, this was cut short when they had their first argument.

To be fair, he was the one who fucked up, there was no denying that. But things had escalated and gotten ugly when she threw his past emotionally abusive relationship in his face and he responded very poorly by calling her a junkie and a whore, as well as suggesting that it would have been better if she had died from an overdose. In the span of a few minutes, he was brought back to the person he vowed not to be anymore. After a few weeks of thinking, he came to understand that Y/N had way too much power over him. With her, he could either be the very best or the very worst version of himself. It seemed like there was no in-between. Sure, that would make for great songs, but he didn’t actually want this, no matter how much he wanted her. Spending a month apart from her made him realize how much he cared about her, how much she meant to him, so forgiving her for hurting him was a no-brainer. But that was the thing : he wanted to be there for her, care for her, provide her with everything she could ever need, and he knew he couldn’t do that if he risked turning into the world’s biggest asshole every time they had an argument. Things were safer if they remained best friends, as there would be much less at stake. They would still be close, still be there for each other, and even though it hurt a bit, he was ready to renounce the possibility of making her his if it meant that they wouldn’t hurt each other. That was how much she meant to him. And when Hailie offered to set him up on a date with Nicole, it was a welcome distraction. He figured it wouldn’t hurt as much if he was focused on dating someone, which would also give him actual reasons not to give in on his attraction to his friend. Plus, Nicole was actually a great person.

He should have been the happiest man on earth, having found a solution to his problem, but he still found himself to be annoyed. One thing he had not taken into account was the possibility for Y/N to be with someone and how it would make him feel. Thinking back, it had been stupid on his part. Of course she was a catch, and of course she would have tons of men begging for her attention. And apparently, thanks to his own daughter, she happened to have found one that was actually worthy of her. Jury was still out, obviously, but if Y/N was to be believed, that Josh guy was pretty great. Apparently, he was going out of his way to treat her like the princess she was, showering her with flowers, gifts, cute texts and even taking her out to some cool places. Better yet, he actually understood her work (unlike himself, who wasn’t quite sure what her work entailed - because she was too fucking smart for him).

Josh was supposed to take Y/N on a double date with Hailie and Evan. Dancing. She seemed ecstatic. Apparently they had been taking dancing classes. That shit was insanely corny, but she looked so happy and cheerful that she made it look enjoyable. When he saw her walk back in the room in her black dress, his heart skipped a beat at the thought that Josh would be the one dancing with her tonight, holding her hand and taking her home. He was the one who got to do all these gestures for her, who was able to go out with her in public. Not him. And even though he hated to admit it to himself, it hurt a bit. But at the end of the day, what mattered was her being happy. And if being with Josh put a smile on her pretty face… so be it. As for him, he would try to enjoy his date night with Nicole. After all, he was still a lucky man by a lot of standards. Nicole was kind, thoughtful, laid-back and really beautiful. He would be a fool not to enjoy her company. Plus, this date was kind of a promising one. They had not slept together yet, but tonight was the night, he knew it as Nicole had hinted several times at him possibly spending the night. That wasn’t his first rodeo after all. Plus, he guessed that having sex with someone other than Y/N would be a nice distraction from his feelings.

The evening turned out to be enjoyable. He was half-naked, making out with Nicole on the couch, absolutely not paying attention to the movie that was playing, when he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. He didn’t answer, figuring that it wasn’t important and that, if it were, the person would call back. Which was exactly what happened. He kissed Nicole one last time before glancing at the screen. It was Hailie. She never called twice in a row, unless it was an emergency.

Is there anything wrong ? She asked as soon as she saw the frown on his face.

It’s my daughter, he said. She tried calling twice, it’s a bit unusual. Mind if I call her back ?

No, of course, go ahead, she said with a smile.

Both of them were in agreement that kids came first. She was a parent too, so she understood that perfectly. Of course, in both of their cases, the kids were grown up, but it didn’t really change anything. If anything, that was worse : grown up kids don’t call at night for no reason, unless it’s serious. He quickly put his tee-shirt back on and went to another room to call Hailie back.

Dad ? Hello ? She answered - and as soon as he heard her voice, he could tell she’d been crying.

What’s up Hay ? Anything wrong ? He asked, suddenly worried.

Dad… I need you to call Talia and Jamal, she said. Y/N was attacked.

What happened ?! He asked. Where are you ? I’m on my way, ok ?

He could feel his heart race. Thankfully, Hailie was fine. If anything, she seemed a bit shocked, but at least, she was safe. He immediately went back to the living room and grabbed his jacket.

I’m so sorry, Nic, but I have to go, he said.

What’s wrong ? She asked. Is Hailie alright ?

Y/N was attacked, apparently, I have to go and check up on her, he explained as he was putting his shoes on.

Wait… Who is Y/N ? She asked, confused.

She’s my… daughter’s friend, he replied, slightly annoyed by the question.

Oh isn’t she the one who was with you in the ER ? She recalled.

Yeah, he said. Look, I’m really sorry, I’ll make it up to you soon, ok ?

He quickly kissed her on the cheek and hurried out of her house and to his car before driving to the bar where Hailie was. He found his daughter crying in the arms of her boyfriend, outside of the place. They were both clearly inebriated, although he guessed that the shock had done a pretty good job in getting them to sober up. As soon as she spotted him, she hugged him.

Are you ok ? He asked.

Yes, she said, still crying. I can’t believe what happened.

Where’s Y/N ?

In an ambulance. They’re rushing her to the hospital, she replied. Josh is with her, but we’re waiting on news. I just gave my statement to the police.

What the fuck happened ? He inquired, not fully grasping the situation.

I’m not sure, Dad… We had a great night and we were dancing. She went to the bathroom and, when I went to go with her, I found her there, almost getting raped by some guy. She was unconscious, Hailie explained.

Shit, Marshall said.

She was only alone for a couple of minutes, his daughter continued with tears in her eyes. I was supposed to go with her… Dad, do you think it’s my fault ?

She continued sobbing. He gently held her and kissed her forehead.

You did nothing wrong, Hay, he said. Do you know who the guy is ?

Yes, I screamed for help and some people caught him and called the cops, she said. The police took him.

Good, he said. Come on, I’ll take you guys home.

Can we go to the hospital and check on Y/N instead ? Please ? She pleaded.

He nodded and they hopped in the car. Marshall drove as fast as he could, probably well over the speed limit. His thoughts were racing. How come she had been attacked ? Why the hell wasn’t her boyfriend here to protect her ? He had so many questions. As soon as they got out of the car, Hailie puked in the hospital’s parking lot. He frowned, but now was not the time to lecture her on her drinking. They rushed inside the ER and found Josh in the corridor, his back against the wall.

Any news ? Evan asked.

They said they’re doing some blood tests and pumping her stomach, Josh explained. She’s not waking up. They say she’s in a coma…

He had tears in his eyes and looked drunk as well.

How much did she drink tonight ? Marshall asked.

Nothing, Hailie said. She only drank mocktails.

Perhaps someone slipped something in one of her drinks when she went to get water ? Evan said.

She went alone ? Marshall asked.

Well… Yeah…, Josh mumbled.

That was it. He could not control his anger anymore. How stupid did you have to be to leave your girlfriend alone in a crowded bar full of men in heat ?! Without a second thought, Marshall shoved Josh against the wall.

You can’t even take care of her in a bar ?! He asked. How fucking retarded are you ?!

Look, I…, Josh began.

Shut up, you fucker, he spat. I swear to God, I will fucking destroy you if I find out that even one hair is missing from hear head.

Dad, Hailie pleaded - and he didn’t have to look at her to see that she was crying again. Stop, please…

He could feel his daughter and Evan try to intervene between the two of them. To be fair, Josh wasn’t putting up much of a fight. He looked absolutely terrified and seemed to be on the verge of tears. If it were up to him, if his daughter wasn’t here, Marshall would probably beat him up.

Your girlfriend almost gets raped because what ? You can’t handle your liquor ?! Fucktard, he said before letting go of him.

Dad, Hailie began, it’s not his fault.

I don’t want to hear it, Hailie, Marshall sighed. I’ll take you guys home so that you can sober up. I’ll come back and check on her, ok ?

Hailie and Evan nodded, not discussing his orders.

I’ll stay here, Josh said.

Man, you’re cross-eyed and you can’t stand still, Marshall groaned. If anything, you should be lying in one of the beds. You’re not going to be of much use. I’ll take you home.

Josh ended up agreeing and he took all of them to Hailie’s. His daughter seemed to be a little mad at him for threatening her friend. As much as he hated to see her displeased, he didn’t care too much at that moment. She could give him shit later if she wanted, when she was sobered up. He made sure they got home and he drove back to the hospital. He saw a nurse in the corridor and inquired about Y/N’s state.

I am sorry, but I am not at liberty to divulge this information, she said. Are you family ?

Yeah, he lied through his teeth. I’m her… uncle.

Well, her stomach was pumped and we’re waiting on the results from the blood tests right now. It may take a few hours. For now, all I can say is that it looks like she’s been drugged. We’ve had a lot of similar cases lately, the nurse said.

Is she going to be alright ? He asked. I mean… She’s going to wake up… right ?

She is, she reassured him. But we don’t know how much is in her system, or what it is exactly. So, depending, it might be in a few hours, just like it might be in a few days. We’re keeping a close eye on her. We are monitoring her heart and oxygen levels. So far, the vitals are good.

Thank God, he sighed in relief. What room is she in ?

Sir, visiting hours are over, she said.

He looked at her and crossed his arms, showing he had absolutely no intention of leaving the hospital. Still, she didn’t budge.

You can leave your number at the front desk and we’ll keep you informed, she offered.

She’s not waking up alone in a hospital room, he scoffed.

Sir, the rules are the…

Look, I get that you’re trying to do your job, I do, he said, but I’m not moving. You can call security, the police or whoever the fuck you want. I am not moving. If need be, I will sleep on the goddamn floor, but I am not leaving her alone for one fucking second. I don’t care what it takes, how much money I have to donate to this hospital, I am staying.

Sir, she said sternly.

Please ? He pleaded. She’s scared of hospitals.

Fine, she said. Room 457. Do not try to wake her.

Thank you.

Marshall quickly found the room and, upon entering, he found her lying in bed. They had changed her into a hospital gown. Her makeup was all smudged and she had a few bruises on her arms. The running mascara on her face was enough to know that she’d cried. His heart sank as he saw her lying there. He imagined how scared she must have been. His heart was pounding in his chest. He approached her and couldn’t help but check that she was actually breathing. Thank God, she was. He gently stroked her cheek and took her hand in his as he sat in the chair next to the bed.

Y/N, he said softly. It’s me, Marshall. You’re alright, ok ? You’re safe. I’m here, and I’m not leaving this place without you, alright ?

He knew she probably couldn’t hear him, but he felt the need to talk to her anyway, on the off chance she would. Deep down, he hoped that hearing a familiar voice would help. But of course, she didn’t move. He sighed and stroked her hand.

They say you’re going to be fine, he added, overcome with emotion. They better be right. I guess just… Hang in here, ok ? Can you do that for me ?

He gently kissed her hand.

I’m so sorry, he said as he let a tear roll down on his cheek. I wish I had been the one to take you dancing. I wish I could have been there to protect you. Y/N, you have no idea how much… how much I love you, he whispered.

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #eminem imagine #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine #marshall mathers headcanons #recovery fanfiction

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aihoshiino · 5 months

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can i interest you in a penny for your thoughts about aqua and ruby's relationship in the current stages of the manga? ruby's clearly projecting and im pretty sure aqua is kind of blocking that entire conversation? hes acknowledged it but i think hes avoiding thinking too much about it (in part due to *waves hand at entire movie arc* all that)

gosh since you've twisted my arm i have NO CHOICE...

But yeah, I think Ruby is pretty clearly doing a lot of projecting here — the consistency with which she's started calling Aqua 'Sensei' really jumps out to me and it makes me pretty certain she's basically completely overwritten Aqua with Gorou in her brain, completely discarding the 18ish years he's lived as her brother in favour of just viewing him as the doctor who supported her.

This is a two-part process of denial, imo. The first and most obvious is Ruby trying to convince herself that her supposed romance with Gorou can still happen and it's not the first time her sort of naive stubbornness on that topic has come up — we saw this before during the Private arc when it came to their age gap.

Like girl, I respect the cope but he would be nearly fifty old by now. That man would be old enough to be your dad LMFAO.

If Ruby can delulu herself about an age gap of that size, she can easily also come up with an excuse for herself as to why she would be able to date him now he's her brother. I mean, if you think about it, they're not really actually twins, right? They're just strangers who happened to be born together! Since he's really Gorou and NOT!!!!! her brother, there's nothing wrong with it!

It should go without saying that this is a pretty absurd justification and imo, not one I think the manga is wanting the reader to uncritically buy into. Ruby's feelings here are, I think, intentionally being portrayed as naive and pretty childish. The framing around Ruby when she talks about Aqua in this regard is consistently exaggerated and comedic in a way that is a pretty clear signal, at least to me, that she should not be taken seriously.

This could only read more plainly as shoujo brainrot exaggeration if Aqua's chin was seven inches long and sharp enough to cut glass...

Beyond the denial of convincing herself that this romance still has any chance to happen, I also think this is denial in the sense of grief, too. In a very real sense, by entirely superimposing Gorou over Aqua, Ruby is denying that his death has happened at all. She doesn't want to acknowledge the possibility that he could be different now, especially not in any way that is emotionally inconvenient for her. Because acknowledging that this change occurred and that Gorou is no longer the Gorou she needs him to be would force Ruby to accept that her beloved sensei really is gone forever.

It should go without saying but this erasure of Aqua's identity is, of course, cruel. It's a dehumanizing rejection of his personhood. That's not to say that Ruby is A Bad Person for doing this— she's a fucked up kid dealing with a INSANELY fucked up situation and I think it would be unreasonable to expect her to handle all this entirely gracefully. But I also don't know that Ruby is even aware that she's doing what she's doing, because she doesn't quite get that her relationship with her identities and her reincarnation is different to his.

The continuity of identity between Sarina and Ruby is more or less entirely unbroken— she sees herself equally as both girls. More specifically, as Ruby herself puts it in 115, Sarina and Ruby are both 'roles' played by the 'real her'; both equal in weight and authenticity. I think she expects this to be the same for Aqua as well but this simply is not the case, or at least it's not anymore.

My read on Aqua's identity is that while he used to have a similarly unbroken continuity of identity, the trauma of witnessing Ai's death created a split and separated the two. It's not that Aqua is entirely separate from Gorou or entirely unaffected by his past life but Aqua himself & the supporting framing of the manga draws a pretty clear line of distinction between the two of them that does not seem to exist for Ruby and Sarina. In fact, Gorou is explicitly portrayed as a negative, invading force, an unnatural encroacher whose presence in Aqua's life is actively preventing him from finding happiness and stability.

To Ruby, it seems natural for these two identities to comingle, or for one's priorities to cancel the other's out. For Aqua, this same overriding of priorities is the thing that causes him anguish. In fact, I don't think it's too much of a leap for me to say that Aqua does not want to be Gorou full stop.

With all that laid out, I think you can pretty easily see how that conflict starts writing itself. Ruby ignoring and erasing the 18 years that Aqua has lived as her brother to assign him the identity of a man he doesn't want to be... the discomfort of someone he has only ever had familial feelings towards projecting romance onto him... the Squick of it all... no wonder Aqua is doing his best to just not deal with it. I can't really blame him.

Something I also think is informing Aqua's behavior right now is guilt. As he puts it to Memcho in 130, he's using everything he can to ensure the movie's success and I think this also includes manipulating Ruby.

We get some hints at this idea from Crow Girl both in 123 and 127. She sardonically notes "aren't you glad?" that Ruby seems to have reacted so positively to this reveal and explicitly ties Ruby's wellbeing to Aqua being able to make the movie. Later, after Aqua's just witnessed the final script be delivered to the B-Komachi girls, she notes that Aqua has the expression of a person who has made the choice to "hurt people and to get hurt".

Ruby's shoujo brain reads of Aqua's intentions also are important in establishing this, I think -- these clearly read as intended comedy beats to me, both in their exaggeration and the fact that she is so obviously misreading Aqua's character and his intentions because of her rose tinted glasses. As that Netflix show about the cartoon show once said, the thing about seeing someone through rose tinted glasses is that all the red flags just look like flags. In keeping Ruby happy, Aqua is making sure she herself doesn't become inconvenient to the movie's creation.

I think you can see that idea of like, guilt and discomfort manifesting as avoidance in the twins' first proper on-page exchange since this reveal, in 132:

I didn't catch this initially (so sorry to the person on the OnK subreddit who did -- I completely forgot your UN!) but not only do we never get a proper unobscured look at Aqua's face during this exchange but he also never once looks directly at Ruby as they talk. His body language & expression at the end (literally averting his gaze!) just screams discomfort to me.

That's not to say that Aqua revealing himself to her was entirely cynically motivated -- I think he completely genuinely loves her both as her brother, Aqua, and as Gorou, the man who cared for a deathly sick child when she had no one else in the world by her side. But that's just the problem— Aqua's love for her is the thing that makes his manipulation of her so painful. He's taking advantage of his sister's emotional vulnerability and their unique connection to use her in a way that completely betrays and desecrates the bond of trust they should otherwise share. And he's aware that if (or, as I'm beginning to worry, when) this comes out, Ruby is going to crash even harder as a result.

#oshi no posting #oshi no ko #aqua hoshino #ruby hoshino #hoshino family

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starpirateee · 16 days

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I saw a headcannon once that Curt and Owen both have very strong Texan and Cockney (London working class) accents respectively, but have to use toned-down generic American/British accents when on the job. Do you think you could write something of them drunk, injured, sleepy, or stressed (basically in a scenario where theyre not thinking too much about their accent) where it slips out, and either confuses or entertains the other? Thanks! (also i love your writing so much its insane :D)

I have bought into this headcanon before, both sides of it! Working class Owen is something that can be so personal, actually, and full on cowboy Curt is so goddamn fun! Certainly will be good respite from the last fic 👀

Curt was bleeding and barely capable of holding himself together. He'd forced himself to keep face, not looking down enough to be able to see it. It was bad enough that he could feel it, sticky and viscous against his hand. That alone was enough to make him feel nauseous, but he was a professional. He knew how to deal with wounds without feeling the need to pass out.

Owen did as he always did. For him, it was just another part of the job, be it his own blood or someone else's, it was all the same when it came down to it. He had been the one to patch Curt up often enough, it was practically routine. This instance was no different.

With Curt suitably positioned, leaning back against his hands, Owen found the kit he needed and got to work. Curt dug his hands into the sofa to avoid having any kind of reaction to the stitches.

"I think you're lucky..." Owen remarked, laying his hand either side of the wound. "A few inches further down and you could say goodbye to ever charming a lady to the bedroom again..."

Curt tried to huff a breath of laughter, but that did nothing for him except make everything hurt more. "Ugh, god, please don't try an' be funny, I can't handle it-!"

Owen knew that Curt had always had a certain lilt to his words, some kind of intonation lost to time, but he'd never quite heard it like that before. He said nothing, but thinking about it had made him falter. The needle slipped a little, and Curt cursed under his breath.

"Jeez, Owen, ya couldn't take it easy?" He hissed.

No, he hadn't been hearing things. Curt really had slipped into a far more prominent southern twang than was normally present in his voice. One that he never even thought he'd hear from him. "Of... Course, I'm sorry." However surprised he was by that, it didn't stop the task at hand, or the need to finish it before it became too hard to see through the blood that was pooling.

Curt raised an eyebrow. "What'cha lookin' at me like that for?"

"I knew you were a southerner, but I didn't know it was supposed to be that obvious..."

"Wha-? Oh, fuckin' hell." Disappointment and something close to annoyance lingered on his face. He sighed, brushing a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I grew up in Texas. I tell people Austin, but that's just cos it's easier than sayin' some nowhere town 'bout fifty miles out."

"What's wrong with it?"

"Huh?"

"You don't seem particularly happy about it."

"It's just, I spent weeks on tonin' this accent down so I wouldn't stand out so much when I was on the job, y'know? All that, then it just goes an' comes back when I'm not thinkin' 'bout it..."

Owen nodded, and pressed down a little harder to alleviate some of the sensation from the needle. "It's a stress response, reverting back to accents that don't take so much strain to uphold." He answered automatically, feeling Curt shift a little bit under his hand.

"Right. Yeah. Somethin' like that."

"You don't have to think about it at all— you presumably grew up sounding like that... So you're focusing on something like the pain of being shot, and suddenly-"

"I'm seventeen again, and I sure as hell sound it, too." This time, Curt did manage a chuckle that didn't seem to hurt so much. Maybe it was because Owen was almost done patching him up, and there was less cause for every alarm bell in his body to be blaring... "Yeah, that's pretty much spot on."

"Would it make you feel any better to know that I have exactly the same stress response?"

"I'm sorry, what now?"

Owen didn't elaborate. He worked on finishing up Curt's stitches, and then started cleaning the needle and packing up the kit. Completely baffled by not getting a response, Curt held up a hand to stop him before he could move away. "Woah, woah, hold on. You're tellin' me you don't sound like that either?"

"It seems we've both been lying about exactly the same thing." A soft smile crossed Owen's face, and he simply decided to discard the kit on the coffee table for the time being. He'd played right into Curt's curiosities there, he supposed, so he might as well play into them a little more...

"I wanna know now!" True to his person, Curt remained ever the curious one. He carefully replaced his shirt, and leaned forwards as much as the pain would allow. "What d'you sound like? Where are you from?"

Owen raised his hands. "Would you let me clean up before I told you that, please?"

Curt resigned with a nod, and followed Owen from the sofa with a glance as he wandered away to wash his hands of the blood that may have otherwise stained his fingertips. When he returned, he was waiting eagerly, intrigued to find out where Owen had come from and why it seemed both of them held sacred the exact same lie.

"I suppose I had the same problem as you," Owen started, as he took a seat next to Curt and shifted enough to look at him. "It was a matter of just... Wishing to be invisible among the men at the agency, and then it became something of a habit..."

"So, what about it, then? Where'd you grow up?"

"I grew up in Southwark. It's... Close enough to Peckham? You've been there."

He had. And he remembered how strong the accents were around there, too. To hear something like that coming from Owen would probably send him into shock, he supposed, especially since he was so used to what he was hearing now. He caught himself staring and shook his head. "No way..."

Owen took a breath. He had to think about dropping the accent he had now, it had become a subconscious effort to keep it up, and he hadn't actively heard his own, true voice in a long time.

"People don't— y'know— really ask for clarification when you tell 'em you're from London, so I tend not to bother givin' any better than that... Besides," he smiled, "I get foreigners thinkin' I'm right posh, and that's kinda fun, really."

Curt stared. He'd literally been gearing himself up for the sudden change, but hearing Owen sound so rough was not something he'd previously ever imagined. "Oh my god... You really never run outta ways to surprise me, huh?"

"Well, you asked..."

"Oh, and I'm not complainin'! 'S just unexpected when I've known you with that other voice for so long."

"I could say the same..."

"Why'd ya let people believe you're posh if you ain't?"

"... 'S easier. Most people just assume all of London is exactly the same, and who'm I to argue?" He leaned in a little, letting his gaze meet Curt's. "But, you wanna know the hardest part 'bout tryna keep that up?"

"Shoot."

"I used to swear like a sailor."

Curt laughed. When he realised Owen was being entirely serious, he laughed only harder. "Now that, I gotta hear!"

"Get me drunk enough, and you have yourself a deal."

#spies are forever #saf #curtwen #agent curt mega #owen carvour #void offering #star mail #tw blood #tw injury #nova's tags →#i've said it before and i'll say it again #working! class! owen! carvour!!!!#at this point i blatantly refuse to believe that hes actually posh #but again... thats the projection :)#let's get these idiots stressed and fuck around with their accents :)#btw southwark is 'suh-thuk'#don't ask... we have weird ways of pronouncing places that look like they should be pronounced completely differently

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unproduciblesmackdown · 5 months

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from an interview with joe iconis about the christmas extravaganza 🎄🎄🎄

"…So for those of us who haven't seen it, or have only seen, like, the videos and clips and stuff, can you explain what exactly the Joe Iconis Christmas Extravaganza is?"

"I can, yeah. So, it is a, um—it is basically a full-blown Christmas musical that is pretending to be a Christmas concert. It is an extravaganza that is inspired by things like, uh, the Pee-wee's Playhouse Christmas special, things like the Radio City Music Hall Christmas Spectacular, things like Charles Busch's Times Square Angel—y'know, I grew up really loving Christmas and I love the, um—I—I've always loved the—the conceit of the Christmas special. Y'know, this thing like, where, um, y'know, characters you perhaps know, characters you don't, get to mingle and, uh, exist in this kind of, like, capsule that's solely about the, uh, trappings of the holiday. And so, this is a show that is really irreverent, it's, yknow, very wild, uh, and it's, like, slightly profane, but: it has a real, uh, a real heart to it, y'know. It's made by people who have a love of, uh, not just the holidays, but of, y'know, theatre and family and, um, yeah. So it just kind of feels like a really, y'know, insane, uh, Christmas party, um, that's, uh, y'know, that's just filled with, uh, seventy of your—your closest friends and enemies." 🌰🌰🌰

"How do you do this, do you just do, like, an open invitation to everybody in your contacts, or is it, like, everybody in your close friend circle, do you just say, like, 'Come one, come all, we'll figure out something for you to do'?"

"There's, um, it is—it is the most specific casting experience there could ever possibly be. It's actually—the only way that this show works is if it is cast, uh, within an inch of its life. There's nothing left to chance, there's nothing casual about it. It, um, and the casting—the casting, uh, organization that we use for the Christmas Extravaganza is the, uh, the Joe Iconis Casting Services? Um, just me, uh, y'know, asking specific people, um, because everyone has a different part, the size of everyone's parts are really different, and so it's the kind of thing where I'm, like, 'Okay. I know that AJ can do the show this year, but he's not really available for our five rehearsals, and so I'm gonna write something for AJ that, if he can't make any rehearsal, he can just read it from a card. Like, that character will have to be some kind of announcer.' It's, like, that kind of thing, y'know, it's, like, 'Oh, um, y'know, this person has a ton of availability to rehearse this year, so they're gonna get a huge part,' uh, and everyone who's in the show is someone who is, like, they all have to be great actors, they all have to be, um, uh, good to great singers, they all have to be willing to dance, […] and then we need, like, four people who are really good at dancing, y'know, um, a few people who are willing to, like, wear something skimpy, y'know, a few people who are willing to wear, like, full-body costumes where you can't even see their face—it's a very strange, specific thing, um, but it's just what makes the show the show, and so our—we have a cast of fifty at each—at each performance. Uh, and it's not the same cast at each show: there are some people who do all six, some people do five, some people do one, y'know—and so it's this really mind-exploding, uh, carousel of actors—to rehearse it is a, uh, it is a feat which, uh, I've never—never experienced. And, y'know, I've worked at all, um, at all levels of the theatre, I'm really used to, like, makin', y'know, ragtag theatre in basements, and do-it-yourself stuff, and obviously I've done shows on Broadway and the West End and I've had shows in Tokyo, and, uh, there's just nothing that compares to the level of—of, uh, stress, uh, and, uh, and talent, and just, like, y'know, the diggin' in your—your heels kinda work, uh, that is required to make this Christmas Extravaganza as extravagant as it is." 🎭🎭🎭

"…Over the years, we've had a few—y'know, a few rowdy audience members. When we did it in 2019, there were these two guys, who—it was so weird, they, um, they were very—they were very conservative Republicans, uh, who came to the show, and, uh, they were really drunk, I don't know why they came." ["On accident? Did they—did they stumble in the—?"] "No! They—it was actu—I mean, the honest reason was that one of them really liked the song 'The Goodbye Song,' which is a song that I wrote, and so they came to the show, um, uh, because they liked this one song, which is performed in the show, and, uh, but they also—they were like, young, it was very strange, and they were, um, and they were—they were so drunk, and they were just the world's worst audience members, and, um, and I—I had them thrown out, right, and so I—which is really hard, 'cause I'm onstage the whole two hours, and I was like, 'These guys—they're outta here,' and so, y'know, I—I passed on a—a, y'know, a whis—it was like a whisper campaign through the theater, one of the—y'know, the people told the stage manager, and like, they had to get 54 and eject these guys. And so they went to throw 'em out, and one of them ran into the bathroom. To like, hide. And he was like, 'You're not gettin' me!' Like, all during the show, right, so that like—this like, young, drunk, conservative Republican runs into the bathroom to hide, like, barricades himself in there, and so then 54 Below is like, 'Um, I guess we have to like, call the cops or something? 'Cause this guy won't leave the bathroom.' And so eventually people went in and like dragged this guy outta the bathroom, and my favorite thing is that as he was—as he was being dragged out of 54 Below, and like, up the stairs? Um, the stairs, and, like, all the nooks and crannies of the space is where, like, everyone who is in the Christmas Extravaganza, um, y'know, waits. And so he had to go through, like, the sexy Virgin Mary! And literal Santa Claus. And, y'know, reindeers as he's being dragged out. And then all of them just, like, barricaded the door so he wouldn't come back in, and it's like, this is, like, this is what Christmas means to me. Y'know? Having—having some rowdy audience member get thrown out of a—of a nightclub on 54th Street by the—the icons of Christmas, y'know?" 🎅🎅🎅

"…Do you have a favorite Christmas special, or anything like that, whether it's something that influenced this or not, just something that you hold dear to yourself?"

"Well, I love, um, I—I already mentioned it, but I love the Pee-wee Playhouse Christmas special, I—I think it's really the top of the tops. Uh, I love Emmet Otter's Jug-Band Christmas, uh, which also really heavily influenced this, and as far as Christmas episodes of shows, I really think the '80s were the, um, that was kind of like the peak of the Christmas episode to me, and so, uh, the—for people who love—who love Christmas episodes, the ALF Christmas episode is a really, uh, famed one, um, because it is so unspeakably depressing? Um, so I—I like the—I like the tension of a—of a show that's basically for kids with a Christmas episode that's just about children dying. Uh, in a very horrible way. Um, so yeah, I love—those are all—those are all good one—y'know, just could keep going. But also Christmas movies, too! Y'know, I'm just such a sucker for a Christmas movie, I love the great ones, I love the bad ones, um, y'know, the Hallmark Christmas movies, they're fun, they're a little bit, like, samey for me? But like, I love a Christmas with the Kranks, I love The Family Stone, I love anything that's, like, taking groups of people and putting them in a house together, and—and, uh, y'know, adding like, fuel to the fire, and so there—there's elements of all of these things in the—in the Christmas Extravaganza." ❄️❄️❄️

#joe iconis christmas extravaganza #11pm show going on Now!!!#tried to circumvent the emoticons being displayed in 500pt font here....#joe iconis #one segment/question about tuuhstm in there as well for interest

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inlocusmads · 2 months

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for the get to know you asks! 🍑, 🍓, and 🍍 Thank you! 🌺

🍑 Would you get along well with your first ever OC? (If they didn't know you had created them, just really in a scenario where you could befriend them)

my very first oc was actually three ocs lol, they were a friend group who get into this horrific battle with an evil warlock. I don't think I'd get along w/ them very well, because they're like insanely good at their character traits (literally the epitome of mary sue - you had the jock character who can brawl like fifty people at once despite being an average-sized middle schooler; you had the smart one who could plan ahead, make effective strategies etc; then you had the Morale Guy/Healer dude who knew like fifteen different medicinal plants and herbs but also a good joke to drop in at the right moment)

I think they'd be those middle schoolers who'd bully me lmao, even though I'm older than them - just hurl insults and give me a hard time at family gatherings and cheat at monopoly and plan this really strategic coup to prove that "being older doesn't make you wiser".

I do think I'd get along with the healer oc. he might appreciate the jokes.

🍓 What is something you swore you would never, ever do/watch/read/write, but have now done it?

watch horror movies.

Okay I was the kid growing up who could not handle horror, ever. one time i came down with a fever after watching a scary movie. now I feel like my handling of the 'supernatural oooh scary scary' elements has kind of become easier. I'm not easily scared by movie gore, i can attempt at writing gore as well. I thought i'd never watch scary movies - or movies at all growing up, but now I've grown a certain liking to the 'grim horror' genre.

i know 'time heals' is such a cliched expression, but time does heal your unhealthy perception of horror movies as this 'fever-inducing, terrible nightmare'. Some are actually good! You'd just have to figure out where your comfort lies. for me, i'd say the gore (on a familiar choices scale) would be on a range from that one skeleton dude in the haunting of braidwood manor to a level below that one scene in It where pennywise snares his teeth.

I can't handle teeth, I'm sorry.

🍍 What do you love to eat to feel better when sick?

okay so my ultra comfort meal at any given point of time includes: potatoes - smash em, mash em, cut em up and fry them - literally anything goes; can even be any kind of potatoes even - heck, I'll take sugar beet as well. A ton of spice, can't go wrong with the good old turmeric, chilli powder and so on. Then you're going to take your fried-up thing and toss it in boiled rice, pour in a hefty amount of curd on top of it and boom, literally one of the best things I've eaten.

you know how people go, "in college, i tend to eat the same thing every day" well that's legit, it isn't a hollywood thing! i spent one week eating this concoction for lunch and dinner and it's the best thing that's ever happened to me.

thank you so so much for the ask! i had a fun time answering them!

Link to game

#choicesmc #askboxed #get to know me asks

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sagau-my-beloved · 2 years

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The Helplessness of Unrelenting Time

Feeling kinda somber about the passing of time since my summer is pretty much over :(, university classes starting back up in a few days and all, so though I'd write something to reflect that feeling, completely self indulgent

Warnings: I really don't know how to describe it but I want to say ssomething similar to disassociation, feelings of helplessness, general sad thoughtful behavior, ig fluff, I would call it more 'comfort' though

Paring: Venti/reader

The day was beautiful, beautiful and familiar.

You stared out the window, watching as the midday sun, partly covered by a few clouds, cast everything in a soft hue.

Your fan was on, blowing cool air that brushed over your skin, occasionally causing things in your living room to rustle.

Something about this situation felt so familiar, as if you had been in this exact moment multiple different times before.

Staring out the window and watching the traffic go by, watching things move in the wind, sitting in this exact same spot while doing it.

You knew you had things you should be doing instead, things that were important for you to tend to, things you just couldn't bring yourself to get up for.

It sparked a sense of uneasiness, the unwillingness to leave this feeling that had accumulated, this sense of deja vu which was multiplied upon itself infinitely.

It left you thinking about the concept of time, how much of it you wasted, how often you found yourself in this exact same spot.

The unpleasant feelings that stemmed from this were amplified when you thought about him, about Venti.

How could he ever begin to understand the exact thing you were feeling now?

A God that would live as long as he pleased, one that wouldn't really get used to the mundane experiences humans used simply to pass time.

And worse, what did that mean about how things would progress between the two of you? When time affected you and not him?

Would time still affect you if you went back with him to Teyvat? Would it simply affect you at a slower rate?

You thought about it for a moment, if one year here equaled roughly sixty there, and you had, say, fifty years left...

Three thousand years, give or take, seemed like a long time.

You continued staring out the window, watching as the trees moved, the grass practically twirled, the thousands of times you had seen this exact same view and never found it less boring.

You watched the cars too, occasionally wondering how many times you had seen a certain one without realizing it, wondering if you would ever see the same one again. Would it matter if you could even recognize it?

It all felt so fleeting, so detached, you wouldn't remember this moment in a few days, maybe weeks if you were lucky.

It was kind of insane how humans forgot most of their lives, the small insignificant things that made up a majority of the day, reduced to dust.

What would that imply for your supposed three thousand years?

If you could no longer remember anything about your life before Teyvat, how could you claim to be the same person you started as?

You didn't feel stressed, didn't feel much of anything at all.

Deep in your chest, you could feel a sense of longing, longing for something you couldn't quite pinpoint.

To stop the flow of time maybe? To allow yourself to exist wholly in this one moment...

You didn't realize he was staring, you hadn't even realized he sat down.

Venti rested his head on his hand, watching you, as he had been for the past few minutes.

You finally pulled yourself out of your own thoughts long enough to feel the shift in weight on the couch, feel a pair of eyes on you that were all too familiar.

"You seem rather preoccupied, would you mind enlightening me?" He smiled as he said it, the exact same carefree smile you had grown to adore. One that you could never return in kind.

You contemplated your words for a moment, feelings like this weren't often easily described.

"It just feels all so out of my control, all so fleeting. It's frustrating, but I can't bring myself to feel any strong emotion about it at all."

Melancholy, that's the word you would use, a word that had been read to you in a book over a dozen years prior. 'A pensive sadness', what could be more accurate than that?

Venti's smile softened into one of sadness, into one not quite of understanding, but sympathy.

He didn't respond for a moment, choosing instead to simply lean into you, wrap his arms around you and close his eyes as he rested his head on you.

It was comfortable, having him here, having his complete optimism brighten up your days.

You hated time, hated how you looked back on everything with rose tinted glasses, simply forgetting all the negative things that happened then.

It felt almost as if you were betraying yourself, wishing for the past when you hadn't wanted it when it was the present.

How would you look back on this time, how would your senses warp it?

You were pulled back by the feeling of Venti pressing a gentle kiss on your upper arm where he rested.

"Why so far away my love?"

You almost felt the need to laugh at his uncanny ability to sense where you were, when you slipped further away from him, from yourself.

"I can't decide what to do with myself, it feels as though my mind is just as jumbled as the wind."

He looked up at you with his big eyes, contemplating your words.

"The wind isn't as unpredictable as you may think. It flows on a steady unbreakable path, moving up, around, and under things that block it. It's flexible, but it's not unpredictable."

Flexible but not unpredictable, it seemed as though wind and time were very similar.

"I enjoy having you here."

It was a simple statement, something vulnerable but pure.

You knew he already knew that, you knew he did, but something about saying it in this instance, saying it when it felt as though the world was falling apart and rebuilding itself all at once.

He giggled slightly and pressed a kiss to your cheek, enjoying the sight of the smile it caused.

His favourite sight in the world was simply your happiness, he would do anything for it.

You did take him by surprise when returning the kiss on his lips. His eyes went wide for a second before quickly glazing over as he pushed into you.

"I think we should go somewhere." You finally said after a minute.

This feeling wasn't something you could simply work through. It would always be there, lingering in the background, waiting until you decided to focus on it again, until you found yourself in a situation that you had been in a hundred times before and simply decided to acknowledge that.

A distraction was the best you could hope for, a distraction was exactly what Venti specialized in.

"I couldn't agree more, why don't we go back to that clearing we found last week, the one with the lake? I could pack food, anything you want!"

A picnic huh, how cliche, and how incredibly on brand.

"That's a good idea, hopefully we see the ducks again." You paused for a moment, choosing your next words carefully, "Maybe you could play me something when we get there."

His eyes lit up, there really was nothing in the world he would love more.

Venti jumped to his feet, pulling you up along with him, embracing you once before running off to gather everything the two of you would need for such an excursion.

You were lucky to have him, you wanted to express that more sometimes.

It didn't matter what happened in the future as long as you could continue enjoying the present with him.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin venti #venti x reader #comfort

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ramblings-of-a-mad-cat · 1 year

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Quidditch Culture: An honest look at The Wizarding Sport

Listen, I love Quidditch.

You love Quidditch.

We all love Quidditch.

If nothing else, it’s a funny word. But the Harry Potter books gave us a fully realized sport with rules that were easy enough to understand without being too simplistic. It was relatable to real sports, but with a bit of fantasy thrown in to make it feel other-worldly. Expanded content, like the book Quidditch Through The Ages, only fleshed the game out even further. (I’ll be referencing that book and bringing up details revealed within it, just as a forewarning.) Sure, Quidditch has been mocked over the years because of the unbalanced role the Seeker has over the other players, but they did manage to offer a counter argument in the form of the World Cup match in GOF (I’ll be talking about that too) and really, the isolation and heightened role for the seeker was basically just symbolism for Harry’s role in the wizarding community. The game is fun, plain and simple. It’s exciting.

But it is also shockingly violent, frighteningly competitive, and practically all-consuming.

There is no avoiding the fact that Quidditch is a dangerous sport. You play the game on broomsticks, flying a hundred feet in the air, give or take. To call that a health hazard is putting it lightly. Anyone can fall off their broomsticks at any time. It’s not just a hypothetical, either. There are numerous instances of this happening in-universe. Players fall, crash, or get deliberately knocked off their brooms. In every single game, they risk death. They risk severe, potentially lifelong injuries. While it is possible that there is some kind of cushioning charm on the field below, we don't ever get confirmation of that, even in Quidditch Through The Ages. That's literally just a head-canon. The Wizarding World itself is inherently dangerous, and that gets into a different (and much bigger) conversation. Flying isn’t exactly safe, but it at least has a purpose, that being transportation. Quidditch is a form of recreation. It’s not a necessity, despite what certain characters would have you believe, and I will get to that.

To be fair, the existence of magic renders many of the dangers of this world considerably safer, or at least less fatal. But that’s part of the problem. An ability to magically heal wounds has resulted in this society overall taking injury less seriously. It has led to a shared sense of overconfidence. Particularly since they have no concept of mental health. Like I said, this is a bigger discussion for another day, but I’d just like to draw the conclusion that witches and wizards don’t understand trauma, and how it can affect people. If you fall fifty feet and your arm snaps in half, that’s going to be excruciatingly painful and frightening. A Healer might be able to wave a wand and heal your physical injuries, but the trauma of such a shocking, painful experience won’t simply disappear. Mental health matters.

But if you thought that was the end of it, my friend, then I’m afraid you have forgotten about The Bludgers. Because if you take a step back to think about it, the existence of the bludgers is insane. Gigantic iron bullets that rocket around the field with the sole purpose of attempting to knock players off their broomsticks. One of the balls in this sports game will actively try to kill you. If nothing else, it’s exceedingly unlikely that you’ll go an entire Quidditch career without getting severely injured by one of them. Couple that with the anxiety, because I don’t know about you, but if I played Quidditch? I would be constantly paranoid about the bludgers. True, there are players on standby who exist to protect you from them…but that’s really not enough, especially since there are also players on standby who exist to use them against you. The two primary jobs of the Beater are to protect their team from Bludgers and hit them at the opposing team. That's not even acknowledging the risk that they might hit people in the stands. Again, we don't ever see this happen, so one can assume there are spells to prevent it...but that's still just a theory.

Quidditch is more violent than the likes of boxing, and there is little doubt that it can cause lasting damage to players just as easily. It could probably do so a lot faster. How any of them still have teeth, how most of them don’t have brain damage, is absolutely beyond me. Beaters literally exist to attack opposing players. In particular, the Seeker, because of their crucial role. What’s more, the Seeker has no counterpart like the Beaters and Chasers. They’re completely on their own, and frequently a target. Nowhere is this better demonstrated than in the World Cup game. Apart from establishing that The Seeker isn’t actually that overpowered if you have Chasers who are skilled enough, this match gave us an insight into just how ruthlessly violent professional Quidditch can be.

I say this unironically - Aidan Lynch sustained serious brain damage after that game. There is no way that he did not. He crashed into the ground at least twice. At least one of these crashes was deliberate on the part of Krum. I cannot stress this enough - there is an entire maneuver, a famous Seeker move, designed around tricking the opposing Seeker into crashing. This is something that the characters don’t see as a problem, either, beyond lamenting that it was done to the team they were supporting. Arthur condemns Lynch, the victim, for falling into the trap. Charlie writes it off by saying “He only got ploughed!” The characters, even the adults, are completely oblivious to the real problem here, and the lack of self-awareness is truly disturbing. Even Harry is susceptible to this. Muggle-borns (and those raised by muggles) are not immune to Quidditch Culture. To Harry, like everyone else, the Wronskei Feint isn’t horrific, it’s cool. The mark of an exceptional Seeker. The only bad thing about it was that Krum put himself in danger, apparently.

The utterly cavalier attitude that fans have toward the violence is not an isolated incident, either. It is the norm. It’s not only socially acceptable for Quidditch players and their fans to be bloodthirsty, in some cases it is even expected, and brings out viciousness among even the most level-headed people. Did you know this game has seven hundred fouls? At one point Slytherin gets in trouble for attacking Oliver Wood, but only because, and I quote, "You do not attack the Keeper unless the Quaffle is within scoring area." Apparently it's just fine to do so otherwise. There is a team in the British/Irish league known as the Falmouth Falcons, who are infamous for their violent playstyle. To the point where their motto is, I kid you not, “Let us win, but if we cannot win, let us break a few heads.” How in god’s name does a professional sports team get away with something like that? I’ll tell you how. Because Quidditch fans are nuts. Because Quidditch fans are no less desensitized to the dangers of this game than the players are.

This can be observed in virtually every character we see who becomes invested in the game. Oliver Wood is one of the finest examples, as is Skye Parkin from HPHM. While it's usually played for laughs, these tendencies are unhealthy and disturbing if you look at them realistically. Both of these characters take the game of Quidditch, specifically their goal of victory, way too far. To the point where they seem to value a match victory over things like the well-being of their team. There’s nothing wrong with a bit of healthy enthusiasm for team sports, nothing wrong with being passionate for a game that you love. But when Oliver tells Harry to “get the snitch or die trying” and it’s not entirely clear if he’s joking…then he’s putting the game itself over his team. Which, as the literal team captain, is simply not acceptable. Then Harry himself falls into this tendency. Even though a bludger is actively trying to kill him, Harry prioritizes defeating Slytherin over his own safety. Harry’s not even the competitive type, not usually. But he's never been one to take his own life that seriously this game brings out that side of people, and does so to dangerous levels.

Almost everyone who ever touches this game comes off worse for it. (The only exception I can think of being Ginny Weasley.) Ron playing Quidditch caused his inferiority complex to act up and gave him a healthy dose of stage fright. The HPHM Quidditch storyline sees multiple characters suffering for the sake of Quidditch, from Skye Parkin being pressured to live up to her family’s legacy, to Erika Rath being subjected to bullying and pressure from all sides, thanks to her own talents. Gwenog Jones, as we learn in HPHM, was a short-sighted cheat who never took responsibility for her actions. Ludo Bagman is no different. He’s a gambling addict who winds up stealing the life savings of two teenagers to cover his debt. The only character to ever criticize the negativity that Quidditch creates is Hermione, and like most of the time, she’s absolutely right. But the conversation never goes anywhere because she is always shut down, swiftly and without mercy. The other characters in the room act as though she’s blasphemed. All because she doesn’t like a sport.

This is what I mean. Quidditch is not simply a game to these people. To the witches and wizards who are into it, Quidditch is worshipped. It’s a lifestyle, a philosophy, that is shared across this society. There are no “casual” fans. People who follow this sport become invested, to an unhealthy level. To the point of rioting if it's taken away, to the point where Lee Jordan and Murphy McNully can't even pretend to be impartial, and this is treated as basically normal. When I use the phrase “Quidditch Culture” I’m not simply being pretentious. There really does seem to be shared understanding between the fans, and all of them take the game that seriously. I think the greatest example of this can be found in the Daily Prophet. When “stooging” was banned, people were outraged. Including one boy who claimed that he and his dad “liked watching them Keepers get flattened.” He tearfully claims that he doesn’t want to go see Quidditch games anymore. Kid was six years old, by the way.

I really feel like the culture speaks for itself at this point.

#Quidditch #Quidditch Culture #Harry Potter #Oliver Wood #Harry James Potter #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Harry Potter Analysis #HPHM Quidditch #Fandom Analysis #Ludo Bagman #Skye Parkin #Erika Rath #Gwenog Jones #Aidan Lynch #Victor Krum #The Wronskei Feint #Falmouth Falcons

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smokeybrandreviews · 1 year

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Scooby Dooby Don’t

I feel like I'm piling on with this post but, f*ck, is Velma bad! It is every bit as terrible as you’ve heard, and has uniquely offended every one. I’m talking both sides of the aisle and it’s kind of insane. I’ve seen cats talking about how Mindy Kaling, voice of the titular Velma Dinkley and executive producer of this show, is some sort of deep cover, radical Conservative, who created this show specifically to be a parody of everything the Left looks for in content. I read a whole ass article that basically said Kaling is a self-hating Indian woman because all of her characters are basically self-hating Indian women and that’s a fair analysis. What has that got to do with Velma? Probably a lot but I'm not here to unpack Kaling’s personal issues. I’m just her to tell you this show is f*cking awful!

Now, don’t misunderstand me, I'm not here for this superficial outrage. All of this “woke” diversity sh*t is not a problem for me. I love a re-imagining and making these characters racially diverse is a thing that i am more than okay with, red-headed, ambiguously Asian, Daphne Blake aside. I like the subversion of Shaggy, for the most part. Norville is probably my favorite character in this show and that’s only because he’s redeemable. I mean, the dude is a total simp for Velma, much to his detriment, but Shaggy is, quite literally, the only likable character (if you can call him that) in this entire goddamn show. Everyone on this cast is abhorrent. It’s like someone drunkenly said in some Hollywood party, “Hey, what if Scooby-Doo but Always Sunny? And way worse?” That’s Velma in a nutshell. That’s the entire f*cking show, right there.

The writing is f*cking atrocious. It's not clever or funny and is just kind of what you'd expect a modern sixteen year old would make if they were penning a Scooby-Doo fan fic. Like, i didn’t laugh at anything in this show. Not once. Not even a chuckle. It was edgy cringe, the whole way through. This sh*t is written in the most derivative, performative progressive, corporate woke way possible. I’m watching this show and it feels like I'm looking at all the Rainbow Flags being flown over f*cking Disney during Pride Month. Watching this feels no different than Nike posting a bunch of MLK quotes over whatever new Zoom Air product poster their releasing, in February. This woke bullsh*t says the thing but doesn’t go any deeper. It’s recognizable as “progressive” but doesn’t earn any of the weight which goes with that. I mean, Daphne and Velma kiss at the end of episode f*cking two. That right there is your “safe” LBGTQ+ representation. At the end of the second f*cking episode. Unearned. Inorganic. Just shoved in there because, gay needed to be checked off the list.

It’s all just dick jokes and terrible pacing and f*cking nonsensical tomfoolery. Nothing is funny. Nothing is compelling. This show is just a mess but the most egregious transgression committed by Velma is the fact that Velma Dinkley is the absolute worst! She is, without a doubt, the worst f*cking character in this entire f*cking show, and it’s HER show! How can your title character be this goddamn unlikable? Velma in this show, resembles no other iteration of the character. Because she’s not. This Velma is every other character Mindy Kaling has ever played, which is just her. This Velma IS Mindy. She’s a self insert and acts just like every other character Mindy has written, because all she writes IS herself. There is no difference between Velma or Mindy Lahiri or Bela from that other show Kaling produced, The Sex Lives of College Girls. If you’re Indian in a Mindy Kaling production, you’re going to be a self-insert whether it’s prudent to the script or not. And she got away with this sh*t for years because, you know, it was HER sh*t. Now it’s not. Now it’s Scooby-Doo, a franchise that has been established for more than fifty f*cking years. When an franchise has been around that long, with so many different iterations of those principal characters, your lack of nuance and creativity molding one of the core cast is definitely going to stand out. Velma is so goddamn bad, cats are questioning Mindy’s entire career. That’s how bad she f*cked this up.

Who is this for? Its too woke for the Right and too poorly written for everyone else. Like, don’t misunderstand me, this is a bad show. It was bad on the page before the sh*t even got ethnically diverse onscreen. Everything in this show feels like it was focus-grouped for Zoomers and Alphas, and then no one listened to the feedback. They just went off some notes they got from the Old Twatter guard. Those Bluehairs and Checkmarks and the like. How is this thing so goddamn bad? Harley Quinn is everything this show wants to be and done correctly. SO much goddamn gay in that show but no one complains about any of it. SO much ethnic diversity and big ass female energy coursing throughout, not a peep from those more Conservative viewers. Because it’s good. Because the writing is witty, satirical, genuine, and earnest. This is what Adult animation is supposed to be, not just gratuitously violent, overtly sexual in very problematic ways, and chock full of mic drop F-bombs just for the f*ck of it. This is written like some wish fulfillment from the chubby goth girl that no one talked to in high school. Velma is the Twlight-ification of Scooby-Doo and it's f*cking terrible because of that.

#Velma #Mindy Kaling #Some ol' bullsh*t

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talia-rumlow · 1 year

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My Saviour (Rumlow X Reader) Chapter Fifty - How can you be so calm about this? I stabbed you!

You look from the angel and back to Rumlow. Then you swallow. You don’t know what to say. So you put your hand on his thigh. Carefully holding the angel with the other one.

– Do you want to talk about it?

He slowly turns his head towards you. His eyes already wet with tears. He is actually crying. This must be something really serious. He looks at the bandaid on your arm.

– I made it for my mom….

His voice breaking when he says the word «mom». Then he bends down, puts his face in his hands, and the dam breaks. He cries so hard, he’s shaking. You place the angel on the table, and put your arms around him. Resting your head on his upper arm.

– I’m sorry, Brock. If this is too hard. You don’t have to.

He sits back up, dry off his tears. Looks at you.

– You deserve to know, YN! I need for you to know.

You nod, slowly.

– She’s dead!

Again, you don’t know what to say. So you take his hand in yours. He squeezes it.

– Thank you, YN!

– For what?

– For sticking with me!

– I’ll never leave you, Brock!

Then he tells you. About how he made the angel at school. Used the colors his mom liked the most. Carved her name at the bottom of the angel. Eager to get home, to give it to her. Like every eight year old would be. And about how he found his mom, lying on the kitchen floor, when he got home. And how difficult his life became after that. How he was moved from foster home to foster home, never finding his true place in life. How he acted out. Got into fights, and never excelled at school. And how he eventually in-listed in the military.

When he’s done talking. He just looks at you.

– Where is your father?

He squeezes your hand again.

– Dead!

He says it without any emotion. Not like when he talked about his mom. It’s like his father never existed to him. You swallow..

– Did…

– He killed her!

This is insane! How can anyone survive a loss like that? Losing both parents at such a young age… You felt bad too, when your parents made the choice about you. But at least they’re both still alive.

– So I killed him!

His voice so hard it almost scares you. He killed his own father?

– He didn’t just kill her, YN. He killed a part of me that day. And I promised myself that I would never feel anything ever again. And I managed that…. Until you showed up!

You? What does he mean?

– I… I never ment for…

He carefully lifts your face up to his.

– I didn’t mean it like that! I fell in love with you. I love you, YN! And I treated you like shit! And now… now I hurt you!

He touches the bandaid.

– It… It was an accident, Brock. It happens!

– Not with me. I TOLD Pierce that I didn’t want to do this. And I don’t understand why he insisted that I do it. Rollins is just as good as me. To draw a knife on a woman.. That’s something I swore I’d never do!

He starts to bend over again. So you strattle him. Grab his face with both hands, look him in the eye.

– Brock! Listen to me! I love you. And you didn’t draw a knife on me. We were sparring. Training. Accidents do happen you know.

– How can you be so calm about this? I stabbed you!

You place a soft kiss on his lips.

– No you didn’t, Brock. The knife hit my arm. If anything it was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention. Look. Let’s take a break. Get some food or something. And then we’ll find a different way to do this. A way that doesn’t get any of us hurt. Sounds good?

He nods.

– I love you, YN!

You smile at him, then you kiss him again.

– I love you too, Brock!

Your lips meet again. The kiss is so good, you don’t realise that he removes your gear belt.

– Come here, princess!

He stands up, and you wrap your legs around his waist. Between kisses and soft bites on your neck, he carries you into the bedroom.

You’ve never had this kind of experience with him before. At least not the sex part. He is so soft and tender. Exploring your whole body with his hands. Slowly removing your clothes, as well as his own. It’s like the most romantic thing you’ve ever experienced.

He’s usually rough, dominant, dirty talker. Not this time. This time he’s different. Takes his time with you. Only concentrating on you. No handcuffs. No orders. No hard or dirty talk. When he finally gets on top of you, you’re aching for him, all of him. His eyes on yours, when he enters you.

– You are so beautiful! I love you!

You touch his chest. Carefully exploring every part, every muscle.

– I love you too, Brock!

Having him inside you, and hearing him talking to you in this soothing, romantic way, is if possible even better than the rough dominant way. Feeling him massaging your walls every time he moves himself back and forth inside of you. His breathing and his moans in your ear, and against your skin. His lips tasting your skin, and yours tasting his.

– I… I can’t hold it anymore, YN!

You don’t answer. Instead you kiss his neck the way you know drives him insane. His moans, when he’s coming, is one of the sexiest sounds you’ve ever heard. He stays on top of you for a while. Looking at you. Before he lies down beside you. Pulling you close to him.

– I’m sorry, YN!

– For what?

– I didn’t.. You didn’t finish!

You smile at him.

– Brock.. It was amazing!

– Yes, it was.. But you still didn’t finish!

– It’s no big deal, Brock. It’s not like I expect to finish every time.

He slides his fingers up and down your spine. You lean your head back, and close your eyes. And Rumlow kisses your neck..

– It’s a big deal for me, YN! I want you to feel good!

He continues to kiss your neck.

– Mmmmmm.. You do…

– Then let me make you finish….

His fingers finds your clit. Massaging it. The feeling in indescribable. After everything this is insanely intense. His lips on your neck. And his fingers stroking back and forth over your clit.

– Goooood! Aaahhhaaa!

– Yes, princess! Do you like it?

– Yes! Don’t stop!

Soft bites on your neck.

– I’ll never stop. You’re so beautiful like this, YN!

You can feel that you are close. You almost forget how to breathe. Every muscle in your body is preparing for the tsunami that’s about to come, rushing over you. You move your head so you can see him.

– Look at me, Brock!

He ups the pace on his fingers. Looks at you, smiling. Then the wave hits. You grab his arm, holding it in place.

– You are so incredibly beautiful when you’re coming!

He continues to move his fingers over you. Your whole body spasms. Your moans echoing in the walls. You’re so sensitive his touch almost hurts. But you keep your grip of his arm. Looking into his eyes, looking at you with so much love, so much compassion, so much…

Finally he stops. Lets you breathe out the last few waves. Then he kisses you. A long, slow, soft kiss.

– I want you forever, YN!

– I am yours, Brock! Forever!

@nekoannie-chan @bat-mar @here4thefanfics @late-to-the-party-81 @there-goes-thefighter

Check out the My Saviour Masterlist HERE!

Check out my Frank Grillo Masterlist HERE!

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#brock rumlow #rumlow #brock rumlow fanfiction #brock rumlow x reader #rumlowsmut #writers on tumblr #tumblr writing society

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cricketnationrise · 1 year

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Fragment Friday (actually on a friday!)

So @indomitable-love tagged me last week and I was insanely busy and then @cha-melodius tagged me this week and I am less busy so here we go! The first three are from active wips, and the last two are eventually going to get worked on, so get pumped to see some of these relatively soon!

i'm tagging @weneedtotalkaboutfic @parvuls @the-lincyclopedia @clottedcreamfudge and @everwitch-magiks because i'm nosy 💜

RWRB Mummy AU:

“Face it old bean, if we don’t find someone in the next ten minutes, I’m going back to the hotel. There was an angel masquerading as a bartender and I’ll be damned if I miss my shot because you were skulking around looking for a guide to Hamunaptra.”

“Would you keep your voice down? We don’t need everyone in the nearest square kilometer to know what we’re up to.”

“Absolutely not. My voice is the perfect volume for every situation!” Pez booms, ignoring the dirty looks of the market vendors he had drowned out.

“I’m deadly serious, Percy,”

“—oooh, full name—”

“—we need to find a guide to the City of the Dead, today, or this whole expedition—”

“You’re looking for the City of the Dead? Why on earth would you want a guide to a fucking myth?”

2. OMGCP March/April snowed in prompt:

She reads the email canceling classes and makes the decision to ignore her inbox for the day, and goes back to sleep for another hour.

Well, she tries to.

“APRIL WE HAVE A SNOW DAY APRIL SNOW DAY!” March’s yells are loud enough to wake the dead, not to mention the rest of the volleyball house. Giving up on the extra sleep, April heaves herself out of bed and yanks the door open.

“Oh good you’re up!” chirps March. “Get dressed, I have a whole plan for us today.”

“It couldn’t have waited an hour?”

March just grins. “Absolutely not, I’ve been planning this since the season ended.”

3. RWRB sentient brownstone AU:

It’s a very odd sensation, having half of It’s occupants not present half the time. Sometimes it’s like part of The Brownstone is missing – original flooring pulled up during a renovation. Sometimes it’s like part of It is numb – a nursery closed up before witnessing new life.

When Alex is here, The Brownstone feels like It’s foundations have just been poured, like the bricks just got repointed, like a fresh coat of paint in every room. Henry and Alex fill It’s rooms with laughter and kisses and piano music and Mexican aromas and sex and comfortable bickering and celebrations and comfort and books and just – love.

But inevitably, Alex has to leave and It and Henry are left alone again. When Alex is gone, The Brownstone feels every one of It’s one hundred and fifty-two years pressing down. His absence feels like warped floorboards, like crumbling grout, like peeling wallpaper.

4. Tortall/Emelan Kel/Daja Tattoo AU:

As she pushed open the door, Kel was greeted by a welcome rush of cool air and soft tones from a wind chime just inside the door frame. The lobby was vastly different from what she had expected from a tattoo parlor. It had honey-colored wood floors, seating covered with cozy looking blankets, a huge tapestry of a thunderstorm behind the counter, and plants on every available surface. The counter itself was a piece of art: at least two different kinds of metal that had been painstakingly worked and twisted to look like the roots of a giant tree, and a dark walnut wood top, polish gleaming under the lights. In any other space it would dominate the room, but somehow everything seemed in harmony. Kel instantly felt at home, lingering nerves about getting a tattoo leaving her as she moved further into the space.

“Hi there! Welcome to Winding Circle Tattoos, how can I help you?” asked the blonde girl behind the counter.

“I’ve got a consult with Daja Kisubo? I’m Keladry Mindelan.”

5. OMGCP offseason 🍑 🍆 series zimbits (Explicit):

“Crisse, Bits,” Jack pants, “I think I’m dead now.”

Bitty giggles helplessly and hides his face in the crook of Jack’s neck. “That would be a shame, sweetheart, we haven’t even started on your wish list yet.”

Jack groans and Bitty can feel Jack’s dick twitch in interest, still inside him. “If I hadn’t just come, that would have done it.”

Bitty snickers and carefully lifts himself off Jack’s cock, cringing a bit at the empty feeling. He grabs a few wipes from the nightstand and starts cleaning both of them up. He knows he’s the one who brought it up, but Bitty’s definitely going to need something to do with his hands to get through this conversation.

“Lord knows you gave me that list and I sort of just pounced on you once I got to the end, but we should probably have a real conversation about it.”

“And you picked now?” Jack asks, incredulous.

“Well, I guess we can at least shower and get dressed before gettin’ into the gritty details of the highly kinky off-season sex you want to have.”

“That’s the least you can do.”

#cricket writes #fragment friday #rwrb mummy au #march/april snowed in prompt #sentient brownstone au #rwrb #omgcp #tortall #emelan #kel/daja tattoo au #jack's offseason wishlist fic #the wishlist is SPICY

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mikerickson · 1 year

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Today on the highway I saw a dump truck that had a decal on the back that read: “To those who thought I was crazy... this is truck #4”. Which is charming in a small business success story kind of way, but I started thinking about how I’d feel if it had a different number. “Truck #2″ wouldn’t be as impressive, but go too far the other way and “Truck #50″ is like okay, clearly this has progressed into a much larger operation and I’m starting to wonder if all fifty trucks are still in operation. I don’t know where the cutoff is between “good for you!” and “this is just another company now” is, but I know it exists.

But keep going further, and something like “Truck #402,162,838″ would be a fucking insane decal to see and loops back around to being funny again.

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echojulietfoxtrot · 1 year

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PSA - Tumblr, you always draw boobs way too high.

Tumblr femslash artists, I love you all, but the very welcome loosening of the rules recently has made it clear that we are struggling out here in Boobland. We've got some incredible all-over body artists, portrait geniuses, amazing spicemongers of all descriptions - but by God, we just can't draw boobs.

This isn't a subtweet style call out of anyone in particular, because like I say, this is just something I've noticed all over since the rule tweak. Very consistently, everyone's putting their boobs on way too high. And I don't just mean that in a feminist "normalize hang-low boobs!" kind of way, though that's great too - I mean y'all are literally drawing them way too high on the body, where they are not attached.

I get it - gay artist boob fear is a real thing, we all see clothed breasts more often than naked ones, and classical statues by breast-ambivalent dudes have been lying to us for centuries.

But just for fun, stop whoever you're drawing right now, and go lower her breasts by about an inch or two - there's a decent chance she'll make more sense when you do.

There's a succinct and really useful visual guide here to illustrate -

Now, I won't pretend it hasn't been a very long time since I drew anything myself, so feel free to tell me to take a hike, but for whatever it's worth, here are my own two big tips ( 👀 ) for drawing boobs.

Boobs do not behave like pecs.

I think we're all so used to seeing bare Greek style dude chests in art that we might forget this, but boobs aren't just pecs with grandiose aspirations.

Breasts are a distinct and unique anatomical feature - they don't just neatly overlay the same footprint as pectorals, and in fact contain no muscle at all themselves, so they sit and move totally differently to pecs too.

Breasts are actually anchored outside the pectoral wall, and lie almost entirely below the halfway point of the pectoral muscles - even for the funsize editions.

In terms of behaviour, well, among the special, wonderful - and if you don't mind me saying, highly enjoyable - things about boobs, is that, unlike pretty much every other body part, they don't really have rigid structures themselves.

That means they are visibly affected by just about every external influence on them, whether that's the enthusiastic mitts of a partner, or gravity, or even especially tight or inflexible fabric (ie you generally can't see the details of cleavage reflected by the shirt over them, for example, and naked boobs relax compared to clothed ones)

It also means that breasts don't stand, or pop out, or tower, or indeed strut around with the pretence of some haughty aristocrat who thinks she owns the place - rather, they hang, with the kind of easygoing nothing-to-prove confidence of that insanely hot music student you used to know in college who only ever left the house with fifty bucks in her pocket and a single loose house key.

Boobs have nothing to prove, because they're boobs, and they comport themselves with a demeanour of relaxed, self-secure charisma accordingly. They're fantastic and they know it, but they're still cool about it, you know?

As for location, a rule of thumb -

The crease of the armpit marks pretty much the highest point you should maybe indicate the start of the boob, and even then it should just be the start of the slope down to the star of the show. Boobs generally default to a kind of "blunted teardrop" shape, so for most artstyles, there probably shouldn't be a distinct "top" line to the start of the slope - the breast will largely be defined by the sides and underside.

Which takes us to our next point.

Boobs aren't ever spheres.

As we've also already noted, most of the breast sits below the halfway point of the chest.

And those babies are right out there, strolling into every room at chest level with no bony or anatomical structures to hide behind; so, once again, they hang, and they're subject to dynamic physics that more closely resemble "dense liquid in a balloon" than to the muscles, limbs, etc that your art teacher was less embarrassed to have you practice.

This means that on a standing figure, the top side of the breast is a slope and it's under tension, it's extended, with weight hanging from it; while the bottom side of the breast is a curve under compression, with the boobmass condensed, and usually forming a little crease where it rests against the ribcage (note again that the slope up top is more subtle than the resting curve down below)

On a lying figure, breasts are pretty much all compression, they're lying back against the torso. But they also tend to drift away from each other where they're heaviest, out towards the armpits/side of the ribcage - so again, you're not getting either a perfect sphere nor a perfect pectoral overlay. They still default to a kind of teardrop shape, the teardrop is simply flatter, wider, and further apart.

(And on a figure bent over horizontally, they more or less hang straight down.)

What they don't ever do is whatever shit Michelangelo thought was happening here -

So don't overthink it - remember, you just have to be better than Michelangelo.

Regardless of how they're shaped or depicted though, all boobs have one thing in common - they're just fantastic, and frankly I'm just glad to have been invited to any party they're attending.

I hope this was of some value all the same, because I'm a big fan of Tumblr femslash artists, and a big fan of breasts, and it's been wonderful to have my Tumblr feed bring the two back together as nature intended.

#art #femslash #F/F #Lesbian art #WLW art #Fanart

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