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chaotic-iguana · 10 months

Text

Tease

Based on this ask here. Here’s my masterlist and ao3 link.

Summary: Reader teases Joel all day, seemingly getting away with it until a few days later when he decides to get his payback, with a little bit of angst and plot sprinkled in. based on above request. (no/pre-outbreak AU.)

Pairing: husband! joel x reader (no use of y/n)

Wordcount: 4k (yeah i know. i know)

Warnings: bondage, dacryphilia, edging/denial, overstim, mean daddy dom! joel basically just fixing your attitude, smut and fluff, a little angst but its ok he takes care of it, implied/referenced age gap, husband! joel, soft joel but also most importantly malewife! joel ofc. MDNI please

A/N: so i went way off the prompt here and fleshed this out into a whole fic (my longest one yet actually); i hope you dont mind. i did change some elements, but it is still a pre-outbreak fic with an established relationship, and joel does technically punish reader for the pool party. i sprinkled some (~2k words) plot in to sort of have the forgetting about it element yk? and also im just feral for husband joel so this was an extremely experimental fic. i really hope you like it!

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So far, it had been a really good day. Your newly-moved-in next door neighbors invited you, Joel, and Sarah over (along with half the block) for their housewarming party. For the first two or so hours, you sat on a reclined chaise next to the pool, watching Sarah splash around with the kids down below while Joel sat next to the grill with the other men, drinking a beer and in a seemingly animated conversation with someone.

You wanted to laugh at the scene, witty comments about white men crowding to gossip about one of their three common interests - football, grilling or women - sitting just on the tip of your tongue while you chatted with Mia, your long-time neighbor and friend. Lying in the sun with a mimosa in hand, a book on one side of you and a companion on the other made something itch in your brain; a need to break the comfortable lethargy that had set in your bones.

You were just this close to melting into the lawn chair out of boredom - lifting your head to scan your surroundings for Joel again, squinting underneath a furrowed brow when you can’t seem to find him. He was just there. Huffing, you grabbed the overshirt you had on-his flannel, actually, and pulled it up over your head. Gesturing for Mia to pass over the sunscreen, you took some out in your hand before starting to rub it in circles all over your arms, chest, stomach and legs.

You were about to turn and try and get some on your back as well, when a man you don’t remember meeting before walked up to you and asked if he could “help you out”. You stuttered and told him it was alright, your husband would do it for you, swiveling your head to find him but gritting your teeth when once again, you couldn’t find Joel. Growing increasingly irritated, you turned to your friend, rolling your eyes at her teasing grin. “Where is he?” you mused, equal parts irritated with Joel for going MIA and with the creepy man you could see still hovering just a few steps away. “Why don’t you go find him? I’ll look after Sarah and yell for you if something happens,” she offers, smiling with a knowing glint in her eye.

He’d been busy with some big construction contract these past two weeks, and the one morning you thought he’d be able to spend with you was spent with him passed out on the couch; apparently Tommy had needed to be bailed out late the previous night and he’d slipped out while you were sleeping. You missed Joel. He should have been the one helping you with sunblock, not some random guy-John, you’d learned, from two streets down with a chihuahua and a dentistry clinic not too far-who also evidently lacked the ability to shut up, because now your head was swimming with useless things about him he’d offered up to catch your attention, obviously thinking your “husband” was an excuse to end the conversation.

So maybe you conveniently forgot to put the shirt back on and decided to find Joel in your skimpy swimsuit. Maybe you even batted your lashes at a few of the men gathered on the other side of the pool, and laughed a bit too sweetly and easily at their terrible jokes and obvious flirting. Just as you were about to ask if they’d seen where Joel went, the man himself materialized behind you. You felt a possessive hand grip your waist as he peered at the guys you were talking to with something in his gaze aggressive enough to suddenly make all the men stuttering, bumbling fools who were instantly unable to meet your eyes, sheepishly muttering excuses before turning back to each other. Suppressing a grin, you turned to him and brought a hand up to his cheek, peering up at him through your lashes. “So evasive, Mr. Miller. I was having such a hard time finding you, I had to settle for spending some time with other people, instead.” You watched his gaze get darker, hardening as he trailed it over your form. Got him.

“Let me introduce you to my new friend, John. He’s a dentist and he has the cutest dog,” you grip his wrist and tug him behind you before waving at John enthusiastically and walking up to him. John, you found, was also a complete idiot, because he choked on a greeting when he caught sight of your nipples through the swimsuit. Nevertheless, you persisted. “Meet my husband, Joel.” You point at John, explaining to Joel “Y’ know he’s also really kind? Offered to help me apply my sunblock without me asking. I was struggling with my back and chest, wasn’t I John?” you turn back to the man in question with another deceivingly charming smirk, watching him wither under Joel’s scowl and nod meekly; mumbling an apology and slinking towards the drinks.

Catching sight of Joel’s thunderous expression, you innocently raise a brow at him before stretching exaggeratedly, palming his bulge subtly as you move your hands over your head. “Sitting around in all this heat, think I need to cool off for a bit. See ya later” is all you offer to him, slipping into the adults’ side of the pool before he can retaliate, biting your lip in an effort not to snicker at the frustration teeming from him: clenched fists and tightened jaw, narrowed eyes and furrowed brows. He let out a long, shuddering breath before waving back to Sarah and stalking back to his friends.

Overall, the party was pretty boring. But holding Joel’s gaze every time you bent forward just a littlemore than necessary, giggled at someone’s musings more than was warranted, or bit your lip in that way you knew drove him crazy before turning away from him and back to whoever you were speaking to? Priceless. You’d be willing to pay to do it again.

His breaking point was when he saw you get out of the pool, water dripping from your hair and mascara smudged just enough to send images of you with his cock down your throat flashing in his mind - him slamming his beer bottle down before smiling tightly at his companions and thanking the hosts, grousing something about an early morning before his hand was around your wrist and Sarah bundled in his other arm - barely giving you any time for goodbyes as you were being dragged behind him in the direction of your home.

Laughing at his desperation, you cocked a questioning brow at him before feighning naïvety to the situation. “What’s wrong? I thought you were kept plenty busy at the party, no? Why’re we leaving so soon?” you questioned, capturing your bottom lip between your teeth as you frowned at him and searched his face. “Not early. Been five hours, sweetheart. ‘S a school night, remember?” was all he remarked to you before opening the door and carrying Sarah up to bed.

You honest-to-God waited for him in bed, but the fatigue from such a thrilling evening caught up quickly after the adrenaline faded. Before you knew it, you’d fallen asleep in your new set of lingerie, blinking awake when your alarm went off at 5 am the next morning. Blearily pulling yourself out of bed, you groaned in frustration at the fact that you still hadn't gotten time with Joel and it was Monday again. Which inevitably meant he'd be caught up in his important contract this week too; coming home late, leaving early, the whole spiel.

The week passed by in a monotonous blur, and you got increasingly snappier with Joel in the short minutes that you did see him, frustrated with the distance that had developed between you two. On top of everything at home, work had gotten more stressful lately as sales didn’t meet the quotas and your boss decided to take it out on all of you. Normally, it wouldn’t have bothered you; he was a dick to you most of the time, but you couldn’t even rant about it to your favorite person because you barely saw him. You needed Joel - not just on top of you - holding you, talking to you, comforting you as before.

Friday rolled around, and turned out to be extremely shitty while it was at it. Your alarm didn’t go off, thanks to which you reached work thirty minutes later than usual after dropping Sarah off. Some intern had fucked up paperwork, and the fallout was promptly handed to you with a jeering tone and sharp glare as if it was somehow your fault. You’d forgotten lunch at home, so you had to spend the day on stale coffee and somehow bitter biscuits, and when you reached Sarah’s school to pick her up as usual they told you Joel had done it already. Feeling tears of frustration build up in your eyes, you dialed his number while climbing back into your car. Was it so difficult to communicate simple things like ‘I’ll pick her up today’? A text or quick call would have worked; saved you the trip and your boss’s biting remarks about your “priorities” while you walked out of the office to get to Sarah’s school in time.

When he didn’t pick up, you drove straight home. Fuck going back to work. You needed your bed. And Joel, but he clearly was too busy to so much as pick up a fucking phone. Wiping your eyes, you slammed the car door shut and started trudging to your bedroom, too overwhelmed to notice that the door had been unlocked. Jumping, you gasped in surprise when you walked it and saw Joel sitting on the bed, holding two wine glasses and looking up at you. “What the fuck, Joel? What are you doing here?” you bit out at him. He blinked up at you, frowning at your anger and the tear-stains on your cheek while you glared at him with eyes red from crying.

“Told the boys to handle it today, thought you looked a bit rough lately, wanted to spent the evening together. Dropped Sarah off at her friend’s house an’ was just about to call you to take the day off. You okay?” his tone was so gentle, concern evident in his voice as he reached a hand out towards you.

“Call me? Oh, so suddenly you’re capable of using a phone?” you bat his hand away and continue “And I’ve been looking rough?” your laugh is bitter, but your anger morphs into something sharper. “Maybe I’d look less rough if I saw my husband more often or if he could just pick up the damn phone and text me when he’s picking our daughter up so I don’t get into deeper shit with my stupid fucking boss!” You’re yelling by the end of it, but you can’t stop the words tumbling out now. “And I’ve missed you so much, tried so hard on Sunday, but you just didn’t come to bed. This week has been absolute dogshit-fucking interns messed everything up and somehow it’s on me-and you’ve been so distant,so I’m so sorry for looking rough, Joel.” Your tears return with a vengeance, and you turn away from him as you feel them spill over your lashline, pressing your hands into your eyes as your shoulders shake.

And suddenly he’s in front of you, solid and warm and there again, crowding you into his arms and holding you tight against him. “I’m sorry, honey. I’m sorry. I know I haven’t been here, and it’s been tearing me apart too. Missed you every damn day, shoulda seen how I’ve been at the site all week. Been snapping at everyone left and right. And I’m sorry I didn’t pick up - my phone was chargin’ an’ Sarah was telling me a story the whole way there so I didn’t see you’d called till just now.” His hand cradles your head under his chin as the other strokes your back, and he’s so gentle you want to cry harder.

You stay there for a while until you feel calmer, pulling back to look up at him. His eyes are wide, swimming with worry as he wipes your cheeks with his thumb. You sniff, bringing a hand up to swipe your nose, and grimace apologetically at the wet patch of snot, tears and makeup on his chest. At the quizzical way he raises a brow, you clarify, with a grin: “I’ve completely ruined your shirt.”

“Could think of better ways to ruin shirts, baby. An’ don’t think your effort on Sunday went unnoticed either. Was so damn ready to rip that lacy set off ya, but some idiot kid told Sarah a ghost story an’ I had to check under the bed n’ in the closet every two minutes till she fell asleep. By the time I crawled into bed, you were asleep and looking so peaceful I didn’t wanna wake you. ‘M sorry, honey”. His thumb was rubbing circles on your cheek now as he looked down at you, regret written all over his face.

Softening, you reached up to press a kiss on the corner of his mouth. And another on the other side. And another, until you were just ghosting your mouth all over his face and jaw, giggling when his lips twitched into a smile. “There’s my girl” he whispered into the kisses, making you beam as your kisses got more feverish, more urgent. All the need from the past few weeks came rushing back, making you dizzy with desperation as you caught his bottom lip between your teeth and tugged, moaning softly at the hitch in his breath.

Suddenly, your wrists were caught by one of his hands and he was stepping back. “Then again, honey, found it really fuckin’ difficult not to notice you at that party when you were teasin’ me all evenin’. Did ya enjoy putting on a show for our neighbors, hm?” his thumb trailed your jaw, fingers curling under your chin as you nodded. “That’s not something good girls do, is it now?” And then he was ducking his head, sucking bruises into your neck and soothing them with his tongue. He chuckled at the whimper that escaped you, his hand coming down to swat your ass. “Answer me, sweet thing. Do good girls go around begging for attention when they know daddy’s gonna take care ‘f them?” the rasp of his voice cut through the haze building in your head as you gasped when he nibbled your ear.

“N-no daddy. Plea-please take care of me,” you whined, trying to pull your hands from his unrelenting grasp as you felt him swat your ass again. He just gripped them harder, nipping at your neck before he pulled away completely, chuckling at your alarmed whimper.

“Relax, sweetheart. Course ‘m gonna take care of you. But I gotta punish you, too, remember? Didn’t think I forgot John and his adorable dog so quick, did ya?” His smirk became animalistic as he nudged you to the bed, pawing at your clothes to guide you to take them off.

“Wouldn’t know how it works at your age, old man. Thought your memory mighta started to go by now,” you coo up at him, eager to see him undone. His answering snarl prompted your smirk to widen before he looked down at you with a tight set to his jaw.

“Got such a mouth on you, babygirl. ‘S okay, I’ll take care ‘f it,” was all the warning you got before his hands were everywhere, groping and grabbing at you while his mouth resumed its assault on your neck. His bites got harsher, making you yelp, and he grinned against your skin before lapping at the near-broken skin before trailing his lips downwards.

He pinched your nipples harshly, rolling them between his thumb and forefingers before ducking down to catch one between his teeth and tug cruelly, making you release high-pitched moans as your back arched into him. Switching sides, he starts flicking the other one and smoothing over it when you whimper before trailing hot open-mouthed kisses into your sternum and moving down your body to settle with his head between your legs. Turning to the side, he started nipping the inside of your thighs; rolling the flesh between his teeth and sucking at it till they were matted blue and purple. Leaning back to admire his handiwork, he brought his mouth down to press kisses just above your mound, moving back to your thighs before you huffed and bucked your hips. His eyes glinting dangerously, he smiled up at you before tilting his head. “Need somethin’, baby?” his voice was laced with amusement as he drawled the question up at you, watching you buck under him.

At the stubborn shake of your head, he laughed before dragging a thumb down your folds, holding it up for you to see the slick coating it. "Y'sure, pretty?" you could hear the cockiness creeping into his voice and it just made you needier, whining down at him to do anything. His mouth ghosted over your clit, stubble scratching right there before he moved down to your thigh again, making you wind a hand into his hair and pull, albeit harshly. Tutting, he pushed up onto his elbows. "Wasn't very nice, now was that?” his lips quirked to the side at the sight of your frustration before you stuttered out a pathetic "t-touch me, please", at which he laughed again.

“Needy little thing. Let’s fix that attitude, hm?” and he pushed off entirely, stalking to the closet and pulling out a tie. Looming over you, he weaved the strip of fabric between your headboard and secured your wrists to it. “Too tight?” he checked, looking down at you to sense any discomfort. When you pulled experimentally to check and showed him it was alright, he went back to his earlier position. Blowing a breath over your cunt, he relished in your squirming before grazing your clit with his teeth and pressing down softly before lapping at it. Pressing kisses against you, he slid a finger inside you and began pumping it at an agonizingly slow pace. Feeling your orgasm approach embarassingly fast, you opened your mouth to warn him, but just as you began clenching against his finger, he pulled away to pull the hood of your clit back and blow on it again, making you keen.

Smiling, he inserted three fingers into you roughly before using his teeth on your clit again, your sensitivity making you mewl and rock your hips away, but his other hand attached itself to your hip to pin you to the mattress before his fingers began fucking into you in earnest. Pulsating in his mouth, you felt yourself about to clamp down again before he pulled out and away once more. Whining and kicking your legs out in aggravation, you frowned down at him and watched him smirk at your tantrum.

This time, he kept his head up to maintain eye contact with you while he ground his palm against your clit and squeezed three fingers into you again. Bringing you to the edge once more, he answered your devastated whimper at the denial by slapping your clit in rapid succession, each hit harder than the last and making your thighs twitch.

He continued for what felt like hours. The sun went down, and with it the lingering scraps of your pride and expectation to come. He edged you until you were a mumbling mess, babbling broken pleas down at him; till your clit was painfully red and swollen and your slick was running down your thighs. Tears were flowing down your face as you bucked your hips in search for his fingers, but his merciless chuckle taunted you again as you sobbed. “P-please, please, ple-please, gonna be g-good, please…” Your voice broke with every word you wailed, and he contemplated for a second before nodding and entering you in a single thrust.

You could feel the tip of his cock kissing your womb, overwhelming you to the point of pain. A wince marked your features, making him pause and strum your clit before starting to fuck into you at a brutal pace. You were yanking against your restraints now, eyes rolling back into your head every time he entered into you - hitting the spot that made your thighs begin to shake uncontrollably.

Your babbles were reduced to mono-syllabic moans, rendering you unable to warn him of the release you felt coiling in you. When you started clenching against him, he just doubled down the force of his thrusts and the movements against your clit, delighting in the way you twitched at the oversensitivity as he drew out your orgasm. “D-daddy, nnh-D-Da-Daddy” was all you could get out as the oversensitivity consumed you, making you go limp as his pace didn’t falter.

He gripped your chin and leaned forward to spit into your open mouth, eyeing the drool dribble down your chin as your jaw hung slack. “What is it pretty girl? Use your words.” Another thrust. You opened your mouth to answer him, to beg him to slow down, but all that came out was a pathetically shrill “ca-can’t” as he rolled his hips into yours halfway through your word, making you choke. “Eager enough to whore herself out in public, but when she gets what she needs she can’t? Too bad, pretty girl, you’re gonna get it now.” He stopped for a glorious second, reaching down to rest his forehead on yours before planting kisses on your face and forehead to give you a second to breathe. Glancing up at your straining wrists, he pulled at the knot of his tie to free them, then resumed his previous speed.

Raking your fingers down his back, your eyes fluttered shut at the continued drive of him impaling you on his cock, meeting his mouth in sloppy kisses as his fingers came down to flick over your clit again. “Again.” His command sent a jolt through you, pulling you taut as every cell in your body pushed itself to overdrive to obey and every sensation seemed to multiply tenfold. Joel was everywhere, consuming your entire being, and you felt your joints lock up as your hips arched off the bed before you were cumming devastatingly hard, soaking him with the force of your release. His fingers kept abusing your clit, your whole body jerking with the force of the hypersensitivity. He pressed in impossibly deeper, sobs hiccuping from you and weak hands pushing at his chest. He pressed into you languidly, in slow, deep strokes that left you ruined before gasping in your ear and cumming deep inside you.

Going limp on top of you, he pressed his face into your neck and lay on you as you both caught your breath - ruining the peaceful moment by looking up at you with a boyish grin and a twinkle in his eye, glancing down at your joined forms and snickering like a child finding much-coveted candy. At the furrow in your brow, he elaborated - “Who knew all it took was a little edgin’ to make you squirt, huh?” And judging by the tone of his voice, you knew it wouldn’t be long before he was going to test that theory. And he did - twenty minutes later. And again. Over and over, until your cunt was convulsing and throbbing with oversensitivity - only then did he pull away, gathering you in his arms and holding you to him before suggesting softly, “Sarah wanted to stay over for the rest of the weekend. Let’s pick her up on Sunday, and how about you and me take some time to ourselves, hm?” You nod into his chest, voice too hoarse to reply, and hum in contentment as he starts stroking your hair. You needed to act out more often.

hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones @breakfastatjoels

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doobea · 10 months

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Hi! Hello! Hope you're having a great day. I recently started following your acc and ur works are great. I'm not sure if reqs r open but I'll try to ask. Any bllk character in a scenario where their partner randomly said 'please don't leave me' at midnight or smth. I'm craving for some rlly good fluff rn. Thank u smm!

omg yes i am taking requests haha and you're actually the first one! it flatters me that you like my stuff because its been such a long time since I've written anything fandom related! I'll try my best with this scenario and hopefully you'll end up liking it too! :)

contents: gn!reader, established relationship, fluff, hurt and comfort (slightly), sfw characters mentioned: rin, oliver a/n: omg i hope this didn't take too long, I tried incorporating two different scenarios where the statement could be applied :) and decided to pick rin and oliver for this bc they were the first ppl to pop in my mind

"N-No, get away from me!"

The man runs away from the clouded figure in the shadows and into the thick open wheat field. He's frantically looking around, body and vision slowly getting disoriented as panic washes over any logic that was left. His beaded eyes dart towards the distance where a shed stands proud and breaks for it. Sounds of his heart thundered against his chest and he's trying so hard to ignore the fatigue in his legs.

Soon, he thinks, soon this will be all over. Soon everything will be back to normal and --

He trips over a stray log and watches over his shoulder as the shadow enigma creeps closer and closer until the screen fades to black.

Rin scowls as he watches the credits roll, seemingly unimpressed by the whole film, and is quick to find the remote to turn the TV off. "It's not the director's best work and the ending is completely different from the book." He complains, failing to realize that you've practically buried yourself underneath a mountain of pillows and plushies since the start of the movie. "I've heard the sequel is better, do you mind if we watch that tomorrow?"

You had no idea why you even agreed to join him on his sudden horror movie marathon. The whole genre made you queasy and leaves you feeling paranoid, wondering if the monsters on screen could come and haunt you next.

"Maybe we can watch Ponyo instead?" You suggest, voice muffled behind the stuffed animals.

"Ponyo?" Rin's teal eyes advert from the screen and now sees your shaken appearance and his gaze softens. "Was the movie that scary?" He says in a whisper.

Your head pokes out, teary-eyed and cheeks flushed. "Yeah."

His arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you into his warm and calming embrace, as his slender fingers rake through your hair. You have no idea how he manages to stay composed after every horror movie and wonders if he could hear your own hammering heartbeat. "Please don't leave me in the dark."

A longing kiss is pressed against your forehead followed by a quiet string of apologies. "We can stay up however long you want tonight."

"And do we get to watch Ponyo tomorrow?"

You feel him smiling against your skin. "We can watch Ponyo."

⋆˙⟡♡✧˖°

Rough noises of tossing and turning are heard from the opposite side of the bed as Oliver slowly awakens from his deep slumber. He groggily calls out your name before taking in the time that flashed across his phone.

"Baby, is everything alright?" He sits up and leans against the headboard, arm reaching out to wiggle your sleepy figure.

A low groan escapes your lips and he soon recognizes that you're experiencing a nightmare. Oliver doesn't hesitate to pinch your cheeks and start tickling your sides, it was his favorite way of waking you up and is definitely a lot more effective compared to shaking.

Your moans soon turn into full-on laughing fits as his hands made their way up and down your waist and dance across your stomach. Your eyes shot open and you see your boyfriend's proud expression beaming in the moonlight.

You rolled your eyes before smacking his hungry fingers away, pulling the blankets closer to your violated body. "What was that for?"

"For the record, you woke me up first."

"I hardly believe that."

Oliver sighs and pinches your cheeks again. "No seriously, were you having a nightmare or something?" He watches your mouth contort into a deep frown and felt a tense shift in the air.

After a long pause, you smile sadly. "You left me for someone else."

Oliver mimics your expression and presses his entire body weight on top of you, earning a loud 'oof' from your lips. "It's just a crappy dream, don't think too much about it."

He feels your arms wrap around his neck, shaky breath against his skin. "Mhm, sorry I guess sometimes it's hard to not think about your past sometimes."

"Definitely not gonna leave you, if that's what you're thinking." He starts peppering your shoulders and collarbones with his stubby kisses. "You're mine no matter what, okay?"

You roll your eyes and gently punch his back, feeling slightly better now that he can't see your reddened face. "Whatever, I think you owe me a date night tomorrow."

He pulls away and fakes a pout. "All because you dreamt of me cheating on you?"

You tug on the collar of his t-shirt, pulling him in for a brief peck on the lips. "Especially because of that."

#blue lock #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock x reader #blue lock headcanons #doobea writing #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi #itoshi rin #oliver aiku x reader #oliver aiku #doobea requests #blue lock fluff

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artbychromo · 19 days

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(little comic + 1.7K words, inspired by chatting about timezones + @swbookerr's fics uwu)

To be honest, Ace had partly forgotten about the Den Den Mushi. It sat on its own little table outside the Spade Pirates’ galley, and the thing hadn’t been touched since Shanks gifted it to him a few weeks ago. It also hadn’t rung yet, and Ace wasn’t certain what was appropriate grounds for calling the Red Force, anyway.

Maybe it was only meant for emergencies? That had been Ace’s assumption. Meaning, he was startled when the thing first let out its odd, burbling call around dusk one day. He ducked out of the kitchen—he’d been helping Deuce and Skull prepare that evening’s supper, but now the two of them peered after Ace from the doorway.

Heart in his throat, he lifted the receiver.

Sounds of chaos blared out from the little creature. Ace’s pulse raced even faster. He wasn’t sure what to make of it, until finally, the cacophony resolved itself into songs and shouts—and above that, a slurred, cheerful drawl.

“Angel! Hello, angel? Are you there, gorgeous?”

Ace’s nerves transformed into appalled heat, sensing the start of Deuce’s laughter from behind him.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he managed. “Shanks, what’s going on?”

The other captain let out a meandering whoop. “I just missed you, baby! Wish I could see your smile so bad. How am I supposed to dance, when you’re not here in my arms-s-s-s—arm?”

On his end, Ace wondered if the Den Den actually replicated the waft of alcohol, or if it was just his imagination. At least no one was in danger.

Shanks went on, “The boys here got me thinking about you—”

“More like,” a voice interjected, “he wouldn’t shut up about your ass.”

Ace flushed, hearing Skull’s chuckles join Deuce’s. It only got worse when Shanks replied, “It’s a lovely ass, I’ll have you know.”

“I didn’t mean his literal ass, Captain, though I’m sure it’s wonderful—”

“It is! Abs-o-lute heaven!”

“Shanks!” Ace yelled (cutting off the man’s claim of “To die for!”). Chancing a glance over his shoulder, Ace was chagrined to find Skull with a hand slapped over his mouth, trying to remain composed, while Deuce had fully given up on standing and was now doubled over against the galley wall.

Before he dealt with them, Ace had to address the matter at hand.

“Look, we’re a little busy here,” he said tightly. “Anything else you needed to say? Otherwise, I’m gonna have to talk to you later.”

After a moment without response save for some shuffling, Ace added a cautious, “That alright, old man?”

Finally, Shanks let out a dramatic sigh. “Stars, but I missed your voice.” The background noise from the other side grew muffled, as if he’d at last found a spot away from the hubbub of his crew. He went on, drawn-out and wistful: “I don’t mean to keep you, sweetheart. Just wanted you to know I was thinkin’ about you all day, and I’ll be dreamin’ about you all night.”

Ace cursed himself for flushing further. Turning away from the galley (and the growing sound of cackling), Ace mumbled, “You’re drunk as fuck, Shanks. …Don’t go falling overboard tonight, okay?”

“In vino veritas, little flame,” Shanks said with dignity. Then, more groggily, “Or, in sake veritas?”

Ace put his head in his hands, but couldn’t stop the wobbling, frantic smile pulling at his cheeks.

“Gods. Good luck with your hangover.” Then, in a rushed breath—because this whole situation was bizarre and new, and his heart was racing, but he was also so, strangely happy—Ace said, “Love you.”

Actually, this situation might be too bizarre and new: Shanks was taken off-guard. Ace heard a swift intake of breath, and then in a flood of boozy admiration, he swore, “Oh, baby, I’ll sail to you tonight! The boys’ll listen—I’ll follow the moonlight off the water, we can be together by dawn—what do you say, angel? We could spend all day together, having just the filthiest, crazed-animal se—”

Ace hung up.

—

Ace sagged against the doorway of his quarters. Even though most of his crew had retired for the day, he could feel his insomnia acting up like a jitter in his limbs. He probably wouldn’t land a good night’s sleep no matter what he tried.

The issue wasn’t helped by his swirling thoughts. For the sake of restocking supplies, the Spade Pirates had docked in a town with some heavy anti-pirate sentiment. Somehow, the crew hadn’t been particularly bothered. Ace, on the other hand, was on edge the whole time, tensing up whenever he felt anyone’s eyes lingering on him too long.

There was no way anyone knew the truth about him. Even so, he couldn’t help superimposing faces from the rundown taverns of Goa onto those of the locals. Ace could feel the old, familiar unease simmering in his veins, like everyone had just finished hiding a sneer from him; like a knife was waiting to catch him unaware at any turn.

But he was on his ship, now. Safe. Ace took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair, yet the tension remained. A night like this one was better spent in the open air of the deck. He was just about to make his way out, when the Den Den Mushi reflected a hint of moonlight, catching his eye.

After a moment of hesitation, Ace gathered the little thing in his arms, and took it with him to the bow of the ship. He stared contemplatively at where he’d set it on the rail. Since that first fiasco, he and Shanks had used the device a few times; their calls made it clear that he didn’t need to wait for some emergency. Still…

Watching starlight glint off the Den Den’s metal trim, he wondered what time it might be where Shanks was. The last time they’d talked, Shanks had been about half a day ahead of him. Who could say if they’d kept pace since then, though.

Stealing a glance at the crow’s nest—he was pretty sure Finamore was on shift tonight—Ace’s hand hovered over the receiver. His thoughts roiled. The tranquil rocking of the ship and the peaceful glow of the moon should have soothed him, but for some reason, they just made Ace more agitated.

He finally thought, Fuck it.

Ace waited, feeling suspended in time as the call went out. Then, he heard a click.

“Mm… Hello?”

Ace’s mind stalled. He was thrown off, watching the snail mimic a very sleepy Red-Haired Shanks. It was amusing at times to see the creature capture the other man’s expressions, but a little unsettling for this call; Ace directed his gaze out toward the ocean instead.

“Shanks?” he ventured. “Um. Morning?”

There was a yawn. Then, “G’morning, little flame.” The cadence of Shanks’ voice was even slower than usual, syllables softly melding into each other. “To what do I owe the pleasure, sweetheart?”

Ace’s mouth quirked, impressed at the immediate smooth-talking. He was also, undeniably, taken in by the calming lilt of Shanks’ words. Ace twisted and untwisted a ringlet of the Den Den Mushi’s cord.

“It’s nothin’ important, just… checking in.” Ace was unable to keep himself from adding, “What time is it there? I can call back later.”

He heard a gentle sigh.

“It’s never too early for you,” Shanks said. “A bit ahead of when I usually wake, but…” he hummed, exceedingly smug. “It’s cute, how you just can’t wait to hear my voice. So precious, baby.”

Ace rolled his eyes toward the starry sky. “Yeah, I’m hangin’ up.”

Shanks let out a laugh. “Wait, now, come on. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“It’s just… been a long day.” After a few moments of curling the cord tighter, Ace asked, “Actually, could you talk about your day? What’ve you been up to?”

A thoughtful hum came over the line, followed by a snort. “You should’ve seen the damn mess Yasopp got us into yesterday. There we were, perusing a market, when the man starts haggling…”

Ace sighed. It was nice, listening to Shanks describe the people he’d run into, the locales he and his crew had explored. Really, it would’ve been nicer to be there at his side for it all, but… the timing wasn’t right. Not yet.

Still, Ace could imagine it. He laid his head in his arms, and let Shanks’ voice carry him over the water.

Finally, as Shanks murmured about dishes they could try “just a few islands over,” Ace felt his eyelids drooping. He gave himself a small shake.

The nighttime breeze was cooler now, biting against his skin. Ace noted the hazy ache of tiredness beneath his eyes; the rhythmic lap of the ocean and its vast, ceaseless waves. Domed above him, the crispness of the stars only added to his sense of the world being yawningly immense. It would have left him unsettled… if not for the sound of Shanks’ steady breathing over the line: a tiny, precious tether in the dark.

Ace cleared his throat.

“Thanks, Shanks.”

His conversation partner snickered. “Good rhyme.”

“Yeah.” Ace smiled. “I mean it, though. For this, and… everything you’ve done. For being you.”

Ace hesitated, stomach churning at his trite words. The night’s darkness helped mute his embarrassment, though; same as the blush on his cheeks.

“It means a lot,” he finished, voice soft.

There was a brief, yet heavy silence after that, like Shanks was lingering in the pause between one breath and the next. Finally, he murmured, “We’re lucky bastards, aren’t we? I mean—” He waited a moment, so Ace could finish chuckling.

Then he said, “I’m grateful too. To have found you.”

Ace blinked, staring out into the moonlit night. All he could offer was an agreeing hum.

After lingering in the contented silence a moment longer, Shanks finally gave a soft laugh, and said, “Guess you should give sleep another go.”

“Ugh. Yeah.” Ace wiped a hand down his face, but turned toward the Den Den Mushi with a smile. “Alright. Love you.”

“Love you too, little flame. Goodnight, Ace.”

He grinned. “Good morning, Shanks.”

Shanks’ laugh was just crackling out when Ace replaced the receiver. He heard enough, however, to be flooded with warmth on the way back to his quarters; and as he laid in bed, easily welcoming sleep.

#shanksace #red haired shanks #portgas d ace #one piece #set at some ambiguous point of time in an established relationship...??

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pebiejeebies · 5 months

Text

Uhh weird chat abt why I think nickel’s apology was sketchy

NICKEL.. wasn’t the one who said sorry.

AND BEFORE YOU SCREAM AT MY FACE ANYTHING LET ME SPEAK!! I HAVE A REASON!

let’s talk about clover.

remember an/some episode(s) ago when nickel went on a therapy session with clover? Right?

she told him to rethink his whole life right??

NICKEL DIDNT RETHINK HIS LIFE. CLOVER DID.

It was all clover. Think about it

she’s lucky. She gets whatever she wants because of it too.

if she WANTS nickel to be friends with balloon, she will WISH that he becomes friends with him.

WHICH MEANS. there’s a high chance this whole apology was all just clover’s luck

we’ve seen how that stupid box was forced to do something it mentally/physically couldn’t. And it ended up doing what clover wanted (or at least keep her safe)

think about it. One episode, therapy with clover, next episode? Magically becomes the most nicest man ever and supports balloon while giving him his own space.

His apology felt so off, at first I was like YOOOO NICKLOON!! But in reality it was all clover, it’s just so off to me man.. maybe I just hate nickel or smth

But really think about it, there’s no way ANY person or object would do a full mental switch up THIS EASILY?! I took YEARS to stop abusing my sisters mentally and physically. There’s no way a fucking month will change him this quick. TRUST. ME.

I was as horrible as nickel and even worse too, it took years of struggle and patience to obtain what I have today! But nickel? NICKEL? NICKEL?!?! makes the luck do it all for him.

and that made me so fucking angry. you made me question myself and why I took so long to change, you are making other people think change is THAT EASY. you PEICE OF SHIT. (Not you dw, I mean AE)

Literally to the point I feel like nickel was like some sort of puppet or smth

Clover: do this

Nickel: alright

AND EVEN WHEN HE DOES IT ISNT EVEN HIS FUCKING CHOICE. IT ISNT. ITS HER LUCK. NOT NICKEL. now nickel feels like he fucking achieved something, when it was all clover.

LIKE COME ON. you made the fandom happy over something that could potentially be a lie?? There’s no way he magically becomes all cute and sweet and STAYS like that after her luck goes away. There’s just no way.

and ofc it had to be clover, it was all just to say “Oh he changed so quick because of—“ EXACTLY. they are cowards. they don’t wanna make the character slowly struggle and try to get better

they wanna get to the point and that’s it

so everyone goes WOAHHHH NICKLOON!! YAYY!! (no hate to the nickloon shippers btw) without taking so long, because they don’t know how to write any characters without some big flaw

So let’s just make clover “help” him!! Cause she’s lucky!! Yay!! And he can just change in a day or two!1 YAYY!!!/s

HERES ANOTHER POINT TOO. SHE CAME OUT OF THE FUCKING BLUE IN THAT EPISODE. “oh I just wanted to be a detective” yeah sure ae. Sureee… sure thing mf. Just solve one fucking word puzzle game and call yourself a detective. Idiots. (Again, pointed towards ae)

take a moment and think about this. Because maybe I’m just wrong, I’m usually wrong anyways. I just need to know I can’t be the only one who thinks that clover was the one who apologized, not nickel.

But for once I feel like I’m right about this, and if I am.. AE im fucking onto you. You fucking cowards.

(and before you ask, no. I’m not okay. I hate how they made me question myself. And I hate how they’re saying it’s so easy to change, and I hate how they’re so lazy about someone’s personality shift)

I don’t hate the animators. I don’t hate the storyboarders, I don’t hate the voice actors, I don’t hate ANYONE in ae. EXCEPT these fucking writers. There are so many better writers out there with ACTUAL ideas and ACTUAL talent, and experience and so much more about life and personality.

even I can write better characters without even planning it out. Imagine. Skill issue fr.

Please note that this isn’t targeted to you either, your opinion on this is valid, so is mine. Let’s keep this chat friendly though.

#ii neg #clover neg #nickel neg #pb vents

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fp-am · 1 year

Note

something to write?

hmm...

First time that Orange sees snow?

kind of short, but here’s a young Second discovering snow

heehee

(Third Person POV)

Circa, 2015

“We have another animation to make, Second.”

“Ok!”

It was around Christmas time of 2015. Second was still young and curious, being nurtured and cared for on Alan’s current computer. He’d never seen much of the outside world besides a few scenes and drawings of nature.

He always asked his friends about all the things he’d yet to learn. So far, he loved every drop of information he has consumed.

Today was another busy day. A simple background animation commission for Christmas time. Second was still new to the whole Christmas thing, but was excited to learn more.

Second started drawing pine trees and sketching a landscape, giving it a cool night sky with stars. He glanced over at Alan. To his confusion, he was drawing some white marks on the perfect trees and grass that he had just drawn.

“Alan, what are you doing?”

“wdym?”

“Why are you putting white marks on the background?”

“do you not know about snow?”

“..snow?”

“it’s something that comes around during the winter. when it gets too cold, the rain drops in the clouds freeze up and turn into little shards of ice. that’s what we call snow. once the snow falls, it bunches up and stays on the ground due to the cold weather.”

“Ohh.. it’s like ice.. but smaller?”

“kind of. Why don’t you touch it?”

Second curiously looked at the snow Alan drew. Leaping over, he stuck a hand in. He pulled it out almost immediately.

“Ah! Cold!”

“pft. well of course it’s cold. but its fun to play around with. watch.”

With a smile, Alan drew some more snow, then used his mouse to roll it up into a few balls. Placing them on top of eachother, he drew some accessories for the snowman.

“Woah!”

“see? here, try.”

Drawing some accessories, Alan handed them to Second and backed up.

Scooping up some, Second started building his own snowman. But, every single time, the snow crumbled. He started to get angry, but eventually, he figured it out. Carefully, he stuck on the accessories.

“There! It’s not.. uh.. good but.. I did it.”

“I think it looks great.”

“You’re just saying that..”

“no. It’s really great, Sec.”

“But yours is way better.”

“It’s only ‘better’ because I used a mouse. I didn’t put any effort into it. yours has heart put into it.”

That made Second smile a little.

“Yeah. I guess you’re right. Well..”

..Second jumped directly into his own snowman, letting it crumble and go down.

“?????”

“Haha! Sorry, I couldn’t help myself! I like how soft it is.. I could take a nap in it.”

“why are you always so sleepy”

“I don’t know, but I feel like if I closed my eyes right here, I could just sleep.”

“wouldn’t it be too cold?”

“I don’t think so..” Second yawned, snuggling into the cold, soft lump of snow that used to be a snowman. “Mmmh.. I actually think it’s just right.”

Slowly, he closed his eyes and drifted into sleep.

…

It was hours later when Second awoke.

“Mmmph..? Huh?”

“oh, you’re up”

“Did I fall asleep?”

“Yep”

“Oh.. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. I finished it anyway.”

Second looked around. With all the shading and the snowflakes falling from the sky, it was beautiful.

“Wow..”

“what is it?”

“It’s so pretty..”

“hm. I guess you’re right.”

Suddenly, Second sneezed and sniffled.

“Ah.. what was that?”

“It looks like your sick from sleeping in the snow. you might have a cold.”

“Like.. a sickness?”

“Mhm. cmon. let’s get you in bed so you can get to feeling better..”

“Ok.”

Second left with a smile that night.

Snow. What a curious thing.

#alan becker #animation vs animator #ava #animation vs minecraft #avm #ava the second coming #ava tsc

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bloodgulchblog · 3 months

Text

Okay. Alright. Here we fucking go again.

S2E4.

I already have one spoiler I'm completely unsurprised by, let's make it more.

I survive the LAST TIME ON HALO and my increasing desire to not be doing this right now, and am rewarded with one of this show's only endearing qualities: Vannak's ongoing animal guy personality trait. He gets to feed the pigeons for 2 seconds before the explosions start.

Cut to Perez and Jimmy Rings running through the streets while Perez yells about having to get back to her family and Jimmy yells about how they're gone, Perez! (Also sorry I'm going back to calling him Jimmy Rings because I hate having to distinguish him from actual Chief and might as well do it in the most ridiculous way possible.)

Then we immediately jump to Soren and Halsey in the funbox.

Did you know that one of my least favorite things TV shows do is cliffhanger on a situation that could've been interesting, then ~subvert your expectations~ by making it completely uninteresting and resolving nothing?

Yeah.

Gold star, no notes.

Then the power goes out.

Soren just kinda leaves because the security system's off. Bye!!!

Meanwhile again, Perez is very upset for obvious reasons and has a disagreement with Jimmy about what they should be doing. Jimmy wants to go back to FLEETCOM, while Perez wants to start warning everyone to evacuate RIGHT NOW.

Perez this isn't gonna work I'm sorry.

Anyway.

Suddenly Stealth Elite.

Sorry it's so hard to get caps of these guys, I think the sfx people don't want you to look at 'em too close.

On the bright side, Halsey leaving with Soren shows they do have a chance of unlocking the comedy duo power I believed in.

Back again.

They're really trying to speedrun some shit here.

Like, this is so close to being in character (even though it isn't quite) but the problem is that they want to have this character say so much shit when the guy they have been trying so badly to emulate doesn't open up and it feels unearned/not worked up to. The problem with trying to crack open a character like the actual Master Chief is that it requires a ton of space and focus on doing that, and this project is so full of subplots and has scrapped so much of its own first season that it has even LESS time to develop enough rapport for me to not feel like I'm being hit over the head. Like I get it, I write insane shit with Chief trying to figure out how to communicate with people after he's decided he might be okay with it, but this just doesn't work for me.

This could work, but it kinda came in from the factory pre-bungled.

Anyway.

Jimmy Rings walking around this random building they're escaping through while holding a fucking axe he found is so funny to me.

Speaking of the axe, it's apparently an antique!!! And this random building is a shop belonging to a British lady and, suddenly, we are going full WWII stiff-upper-lip blitz speech.

Fuck, hold on, I need another post for full effect-

#s2 liveblogging #halo tv spoilers #paramount halo negative

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whatsnewalycat · 1 year

Text

Psychomanteum / Chapter 4

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Chapter 4: The Past Is A Grotesque Animal

Chapter Summary: You and Dieter use the psychomanteum.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 7.6k+

Content / Warnings: alternating POV, death, drug addiction, grief, dead parent, psychomanteum, PTSD, flashbacks, cocaine use & dependence & comedown, cannabis use, homophobic hate crime mention, suicide mention, angst, YEAAAARRRRNING, fluffy things, dirty talk, nipple play, fingering, cuddling

Notes: Chapter title from "The Past Is A Grotesque Animal" by of Montreal. Which is honestly one of my favorite songs ever. The lyrics are fucking beautiful and weird UGH. 10/10 recommend listening lol. Hey so, about this chapter... the top half is pretty heavy but there's some cute stuff in there. I read through research papers on psychomanteums to get reports of people's experiences, and these are things that were actually reported to fucking happen. Which I think is neat.

[ Tag List ] [ AO3 ] [ Spotify Playlist ] [ Series Masterlist ]

Psychomanteum Recipe

Ingredients:

Mirror

Comfortable Chair

Lamp with 25-watt bulb

Room draped in black

Directions:

Mount mirror on one side of the room

Place chair about 3’ in front of and facing mirror

Place lamp directly behind chair

Surround area floor-to-ceiling in black

Eliminate all light except the lamp

“What now?” Dieter asks, wiping beads of sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, “Do we do some kind of a ritual or something?”

He’s standing in your bedroom, hands on his hips, panting from the exertion of dragging an armchair from the living room into the closet.

“Let’s see…” you hum to yourself, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth as you scroll down the webpage and nod along, “Ok. Yeah, ok, now you go in there and I murder you as my human sacrifice,” you keep your face neutral as you peak over the top of your laptop screen and watch his body relax into amusement.

“Counter productive,” he states in an accusatory fashion, pointing at you, then adds with a scoff, “and rude.”

He walks around the bed and sprawls out atop the terracotta comforter. The mattress shifts, jostling your body from side-to-side as he rolls onto his side, propped up on an elbow, cheek pressed to his palm.

You smirk and return your attention to the computer screen, scrolling down the page as you skim the article, “I don’t think we have to do anything else. Just go in there and, I don’t know, try to talk to them? See what we see? I think it’s kind of up to you what you do. Pretty subjective.”

He doesn’t say anything, but you feel his eyes on you. You turn your head and meet his gaze. Heat creeps up your neck, tinging your cheeks, “What?”

His mouth gapes open like he’s holding words hostage on the tip of his tongue, then he shakes his head, “Nothing. Who’s going first?”

“Do you want to?” your eyebrows press together, hope creasing your forehead.

“I, um…” he glances at the closet, then back to you, Adam’s apple bobbing before he says, “Ok, yeah. I’ll go first.”

“You sure?” you search his face, watching the way his jaw gnashes back and forth, the way he's staring at the closet door with dimly lit eyes.

Dieter nods, then pushes himself off the bed with a grunt. He shakes out his wrists and rolls his shoulders as he approaches the closet, then turns back to you, “So I just go and think about him and ask him questions?”

You close the laptop and slide it towards the foot of the bed, then sit up and cross your legs into a pretzel. Your guts are tangled in a similar knot. But you ignore it and confirm, “You got it, chief.”

“Alright,” he strides towards the closet door, looking back to salute you before crossing the threshold, “See you on the other side."

Dieter sinks into the armchair. Black sheets hang on all four sides of the setup, which was a real pain in the fucking ass to hang up. It’s dimly lit and insulated by your clothing. His leg bounces on its own accord, and he stares down at his hands for a minute before gaining the courage to look up into the mirror you propped up on a tall chest of drawers.

It reflects a black void.

His hands find the tops of his thighs, thumb rubbing against the mound of coke contained inside his shorts pocket. Temptation hooks his insides. The barbs tug his skin tight and uncomfortable. It would be so easy to snort just a little before doing this. Just enough to make this bearable. Something, anything, to sheath the knife ripping his stomach into pieces.

It would just take a second. Barely a second. He could have been done with it already if he didn’t start fucking arguing with himself.

He shakes the devil from his head and slides his hands onto each armrest, feeling the grooves of the tangerine colored cotton upholstery on his palms. His voice is quiet and shaky when he asks the mirror, “James, are you there?”

The blackness of the mirror stares back at him.

Unease settles into his skin when he realizes that he may have to dig deeper than surface level into his memories. The painful things he’s been hiding from for decades.

The thoughts of James have been locked away, buried beneath a growing pile of coping mechanisms and bad decisions. Every time James comes crawling out from his designated lockbox inside the depths of Dieter’s mind, he comes out swinging, seeking to collect the compounded interest for grief unfelt.

Whenever he sees a man with straw blonde hair and an Appalachian accent, James peaks out and asks, "Would I look like that if I were still alive?"

Each attempt to empty a screenplay from Dieter’s brain onto paper, James is there, reminding him, "You'll never be able to write without me."

Once, Dieter met a flight attendant who asked him politely what he'd like to drink. When he looked up to meet her eyes, they were too fucking familiar. Brown irises bleeding into ocean blue like another BP oil rig spilling petroleum into the Pacific. As if they had been plucked from his dead body and squeezed into her eye sockets.

He ordered a double shot of whiskey.

And another.

Dieter’s brain is haunted by the ghost of him. Each brawl with James leaves Dieter broken and bruised, brittle and hollow. Alone. Guilty. He numbs himself, doing anything to get rid of the agony burning him alive from the inside out. Anything to get that beautiful voice out of his fucking head. Each and every time, right before the point of oblivion, he hears James whisper, "I feel like I don't even know you anymore," before disappearing into his lockbox again.

When Dieter saw the way you were reeling from your drunken confession, wearing that tortured expression of self-loathing people only get when they're deeply ashamed of themselves, he knew he had to tell you about James. He needed you to know that you're not the only one who has wanted to go beyond the grave to get answers to the questions that keep you up at night.

You’re not alone.

He needs you to know that.

Dieter stares into the black nothing of the mirror and opens the vault, willingly this time.

As a kid, Dieter had seen best friends on TV shows and in movies, and his parents always talked about best friends, but he never saw them. These “best friends” seemed like a myth, only existing as pictures on screens and voices in telephones. But on the first day of school after the Bravos were stationed at Camp Lejeune, Dieter sat next to a kid that drew comics in the margins of his notebook. His name was James, and Dieter found out that best friends were real.

They clicked immediately. Both boys were innately creative and rebellious, but not in a “cool” way, like the teenage heartthrob stereotype of a misunderstood bad boy. No, they were more like the stereotypical theater kids. Minus the theater, since, of course, Lejeune High School only offered sports as an extracurricular activity.

Regardless, Dieter and James created new worlds, people to fill them, stories for them to live out. Dedicating whole school days dressing up and living as the characters they invented, bringing them to life. They made scripts and screenplays, then acted out scenes for the one person audience of Dieter’s mom.

Then there were Saturdays at The VIP Lounge.

Every Saturday morning, Dieter trailed behind James, eyes glued to the freckled, sunburned square of skin between his shimmering golden hair and sweat-drenched t-shirt collar. Tree branch shadow puppets danced on his shoulders as he breezed past the ferns and milkweed that littered the soft forest floor.

And every Saturday morning, they stepped out from the treeline onto a secluded patch of sand that they had lovingly dubbed The VIP Lounge. A sanctuary for the boys to be themselves, carved from the New River’s bank with their awkward teenage hands. They packed blankets, snacks, sketchbooks, notepads, ditch weed, and stolen cigarettes.

It’s all they needed to conjure half-baked schemes for fame and fortune, really.

Over time, their close friendship had begun to take on a new dynamic. Touches and glances would linger longer, sending Dieter's heart racing. Soft, fluttering feelings crept around the edges and closed in on their relationship. Dieter, aware of the attraction he started to feel towards his friend, would test out these new waters occasionally. When sitting next to James, he'd inch closer, carefully studying his reaction for signs of disapproval as the proximity between them decreased.

James didn't flinch away. In fact, he often would smile and blush, or sometimes even scoot even closer, until their legs were touching and their palms were sweaty.

During one sleepover, James’s voice cut through the pitch black of his bedroom, asking Dieter, “You ever think ‘bout what it’d be like to kiss a boy?”

Dieter remembers his heart thudding so loud it’s all he could hear in the silence. The wet squelch of his throat when he swallowed hard and whispered back, “Yeah.” The sigh of relief James exhaled through lips Dieter always felt drawn to. Dieter blinked his eyes open and rolled on his side to face James, trying to see his face through the darkness, "Do you?"

"Yeah," James confessed.

“Do… Do you want to try?” Dieter heard himself asking, lowering his voice even quieter to make sure nobody else could hear, “With me?”

James slowly rolled on his side to face Dieter. Adrenaline flooded their nervous systems and poured into their bloodstream. Teen hearts beating as fast as a hummingbird's.

Dieter reached out with a shaky hand, finding James just inches away, fingers landing on his freckled cheek. His thumb brushed against the flushed skin. Their faces grew closer, until they could both feel the other's trembling breath, and they were certain they couldn't miss.

It was awkward the way first kisses always are. A hesitant peck in the dark with stiff lips. They got better at it, though, over the next year.

Until General Thompson found out about them.

Dieter realizes the reflection shown by the mirror is no longer a featureless black void. He squints and sits up straight, leaning towards it. The image being displayed… isn’t really an image at all, because it’s in motion. A current of midnight blue with occasional sprays of white.

A river running from the left side of the mirror to the right.

Once he realizes what it is, he leans away, back pressing against the chair. His brain fires off smoke signals to the rest of his body, tapping into the ancient part of his brain that responds best to danger. He scrambles backwards out of the psychomanteum, trying to get the fuck away from the mirror as fast as possible.

“Already?”

Your voice faintly reaches Dieter's ears as he stumbles out of the closet. By the time the word has finished crossing your lips, he's no longer in your bedroom. All he can think is GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT.

He hears you calling his name, but it’s just background noise that’s silenced when the apartment door closes behind him.

You’re perched on the edge of your bed, staring after the sound of your apartment door slamming shut, face twisting in bewilderment. The quiet lingers with an edge that slices your ego. You get to your feet and pad into the kitchen, grabbing your phone from the counter to see if he sent you an explanation.

Nothing.

What the fuck happened to make him storm out like that?

When you call him, the loud hum of vibration sounds from your living room. You follow the noise like a beacon and sigh as you push aside a few stagnant takeout containers, then pick his phone up off the side table.

You set the phones down side-by-side on your kitchen counter and return to your bedroom, then poke your head into the walk-in closet, narrowing your eyes at the black bed sheet hanging across as a divider. Your teeth clamp down onto your tongue as you take a step forward, carefully pulling a corner back to inspect the psychomanteum’s contents.

There’s nothing odd about the setup that isn’t overtly obvious. The small space encloses a dim standing lamp, your plush, orange armchair, and a mirror that holds your reflection. Your hand rests on the back of the chair and you take a deep breath, thrumming your fingers against the upholstery.

A compulsion wills you forward. You settle your body into the chair's embrace and swallow hard as you look up into the mirror. This new angle shows you a black abyss. You stare into it and fill your brain with fond memories of Ethan.

You think about the passenger seat of his car, how you carved out a home for yourself there, tagging along when he went to do drug deals. The two of you would get stoned and drive around the city streets, listening to music, telling stories, doing whatever the fuck you felt like.

One night you confessed that you missed seeing stars in the night sky. He drove out to Jones Beach and the two of you laid on the hood of his car, staring up at the expansive galaxy for hours. Neither of you could identify a single constellation except for The Big Dipper, but it was fucking beautiful. The next day he bought two packs of those glow-in-the-dark plastic stars and stuck them to the ceiling above his bed.

“So you can see the stars every night.”

Tiny pinpricks of white light surface in the black reflection of the psychomanteum’s mirror. The shimmering lights vary in size and brightness. Stars in the nighttime sky.

Your lips part, and you’re struck by the sensation that you’re no longer alone. The already small space feels even more crowded. Your hair stands on end. Icy cold air surrounds the chair and you shiver. Your left hand begins to feel like it's been dipped in frigid water.

“Heya, sweet pea,” a familiar voice echoes through your head.

You haven’t heard it in ages. His presence wraps around you, squeezing you tight like one of his bear hugs. Memories flood out in an unstoppable tide. Being taught to ride a bike. Road trips to papa’s cabin. Playing scrabble. Watching baseball. Stargazing. Making breakfast for mom on Sundays.

On your next breath in, you smell pancake batter and maple syrup. Despite the temperature drop that raises mountain ranges of goosebumps across your skin, a warmth radiates from your chest. You feel completely at ease. It’s just like that feeling you had when you died. An omnipresent sense of oneness and belonging.

You blink.

When your eyes open, you’re in an infinite white space. Your father, as you remembered him when you were a child, is in front of you. He's absolutely beaming at you, radiating light that heats your skin like sunshine. An otherworldly sense of love spreads across your consciousness.

Your vision blurs with tears and when you respond, your mouth doesn’t open. Rather, the message is sent telepathically to him, “Hi Daddy.”

The "place" you're in, although to call it that might suggest it abides by Earth's rules of time and space, feels like a room. There’s an indefinable quality of insulation to the area, but there are no walls or floors or ceilings. Just this endless, bright warmth that hosts the two of you in its clutches.

A sea of love.

Your dad steps forward, holding his arms open, and envelops you in a hug. His arms squeeze around you tight, tighter, as tight as he can. As always, you try with all your might to match his strength when you return the hug.

Safety and comfort radiates from him to you, and you hear his voice in your head again, “I love you, Lou. I’m proud of you. You're right where you need to be.”

“I love you too,” you tell him, still squeezing him, inhaling the familiar scent of citrus and musk. Then you open your eyes to look up at him… and you’re back in the cold psychomanteum, holding nothing.

It’s long past sunset by the time Dieter returns.

In that time, you cleaned your apartment from top to bottom, dismantled the psychomanteum, made a batch of cannabutter, prepped for the next day’s orders, and started to worry-bake. You're pulling a pan of chocolate chip cookies from the oven when the intercom buzzes. The aluminum pan clatters on the stovetop as you toss it down and nudge the oven door closed with a thunk. You yank your oven mitts off and walk over to the white box, then press TALK.

"Yeah?"

"Hey, I left my phone, can I come up and grab it?"

You hold down the DOOR button for a few seconds. A current of nervous energy starts flowing from your scalp to your toes. You wring your hands together and start pacing the floor in an attempt to calm yourself. When he knocks, you swing the door open, "Jesus Christ, Dee, I was so-"

Thoughts flee your brain when you lay your eyes on his face. It's pallid and gleaming with sweat, eyes hidden behind a pair of rectangular tortoiseshell sunglasses. His jaw gnashes from one side to the other as he raises his eyebrows, "What?"

"Are- are you ok?" you reach out and grab ahold of his clammy hand, pulling him through the doorway.

"Of course I'm ok, why wouldn't I be ok? Totally fine, doll," he follows your guidance inside, then promptly shakes off your grasp as he peers around the apartment, "Do- do you have my phone? Did I leave it here?”

His speech matches the erratic, jerky pace of his body movements. Dieter spots the device on the kitchen counter, picks it up, and starts texting someone, unbothered by your watchful eye. He rips off his sunglasses and tosses them on your counter, then resumes texting. A familiar kind of unease sets your hair on edge.

You bite the inside of your cheek and cross your arms in front of you, "Where'd you go?"

His blown-out black eyes peek over the top of his phone and he shrugs, "Met some friends."

You nod and drop your gaze to your feet, "You left without saying anything. I- I was worried about you.”

"What is this, a guilt trip?" he scoffs, tossing his phone onto the counter with a thud that makes you jump, then tilts his head to the side and sneers, "Sorry I didn't want to do your little uhh... mirror trick thing. I had to get out of this creepy fucking apartment, Lua. I mean, you get that, right? How fucking creepy it is in here?"

Earlier today, before he left, it was impossible not to notice the way Dieter’s eyes would linger on the hallway or the spare bedroom door. You’d interrupt his teeth grinding, foot tapping, absent stare and ask what’s wrong, and he’d dismiss your question with a wane smile.

But you feel it, too. The ever-present tingle at the back of your neck that tells you that you’re being watched.

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment, and you nod again, trying to ignore the tears burning behind your eyes, "Yep."

"You know he's still here, right? Ethan, I mean. I see him in that fuckin' room. Saw him in there last night," he presses a knuckle to one of his nostrils and sniffs a postnasal drip back into his skull, "Just standing in the dark like a fuckin'- like a fuckin’ uhh…”

He snaps his fingers a few times in rapidfire, trying to jog his own tenuous memory. Agitation spikes your blood pressure.

“Fucking hell, Dee, go sit down,” you pinch the bridge of your nose and point to your couch, then breeze into your bedroom before Dieter can start running his mouth again.

You pull open your bedside drawer, grabbing an ashtray and a joint out of its designated altoids tin. When you return to the living room, Dieter is pacing back and forth, running his fingers through his hair, muttering to himself.

“Sit,” you command while raising a lighter flame to the joint, puffing away until its tip is glowing orange and spilling thick plumes of smoke. He ignores your request, but stops pacing and watches you. The THC blooms in your lungs and a haze begins to settle in your brain. You take another puff and hold the joint out to him, “Hit this. You’re crashing hard.”

He accepts the offering and takes a hit while you go fill up the biggest cup you own with ice water. You drop cookies onto a plate, then return to the living room, “You wanna stay out here or go lay in my bed?”

His brow furrows and he frowns, “I- I- I- no, I have to meet-”

“No,” you shake your head, “You’re gonna be out of commission for a while, love, so… living room or bedroom?”

He takes a hit off the joint and exhales, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, swinging his hands around in grand gestures as he talks, “I’m gonna be fine, Lua, look, I know what I’m doing, ok? I just need to call my guy-”

“The fuck you are, Bravo,” you interrupt, setting down the glass of water and plate of cookies on the side table, “When’s the last time you slept?”

“Doesn’t matter, I’m fine, I know what I’m about, babe,” he scoffs, puffs the joint, starts pacing again, “You- you- you can’t tell me what to do, you know. I’m my own person. Everyone always trying to tell me what I can and can’t do and I’m fucking sick of it,” he stops, sniffs away his coke drip, and narrows his eyes at you, “This is your fault, anyway. You know that, right, Lua? If I didn’t have to think of fucking James, and that- that- that fucking river,” his voice cracks and his shoulders sag, face falling into sadness as his eyes well up with tears.

His accusations pierce sharp and precise into your heart. You remind yourself that this isn’t Dieter. It’s the obvious cocaine binge that has set his brain on fire, steering him towards self-destruction. Your lips remain sealed and your eyes drop to the black stain on your carpet. You remind yourself that this isn’t Ethan, either. Dieter can still be brought back to sanity.

He takes a puff off the joint and exhales, staring up at the ceiling with watery, far-away eyes, “I loved him, you know. First love. But his dad-”

Abruptly, he plops down on the floor, crossing his legs as he buries his head in his hands. All is still for a moment before his body starts to heave with sobs. You crouch down next to him, plucking the loosely held joint from his fingers. As you stand up, you take another hit, then crush the glowing cherry in an ashtray.

You return to the heap of a man crumbled on your floor and sit facing him, knees pressed against his shins, and remind him, “I’m here, Dee. Talk to me.”

“His d-dad saw us k-k-k-kissing, and he- he- beat the shit out of him, Lua. Almost fucking killed him. And I just stood there. I didn’t do anything. I- I let it happen,” he takes a deep, shattered breath, then continues, “He wasn’t the same after. It’s like he fucking died right there in front of me and I let it happen. Word got out, and we moved to a new base. And-” a high-pitched squeal of agony fades into more choked sobs, and he looks up at you, face sopping wet with tears and utterly fucking tortured, “He drowned himself.”

“Oh, Dee-” tears blur your vision as secondhand sorrow aches your chest. Your hands find either side of his face, thumbs wiping away his tears in vain, “Can I hug you? Is that ok?”

He nods and you climb onto his lap, wrapping your arms and legs around his torso. You squeeze him tight. Your best attempt at a bear hug. He buries his face in your neck and continues to cry. You slide one arm around his head and cradle him against your chest, petting his sweaty, messy, hair, and you whisper to him the phrase you tell yourself every day, “It’s not your fault, ok? Not your fault, Dee, I promise. It’s not your fault.”

His sobbing starts anew, and he pulls you close. Hot, wet tears drench your neck and shirt. Anguish rolls off of him in waves, and you wish you could absorb every ounce of pain from him like a sponge. He nuzzles in closer, and you allow yourself to sink into the comfort of his body wrapped up with yours. You trail your fingers through his messy locks with one hand while the other gently scratches his back.

Something stirs inside you, soft and sweet.

You think about the numerous phone calls with him throughout the past few months. FaceTime, text messages, Snapchat. How his name popping up in your notifications always makes your heart skip a beat. How seeing his handsome face, or hearing his voice, always seems to make your day better. How he flew across the country for the sole purpose of spending time with you for a few days between projects.

Granted, this visit has been a complete and utter shitshow so far, but there have been moments that you find yourself staring at his lips, longing for his hands on your bare skin, imagining the heat of his body pressed against yours.

In his absence today, you couldn’t stop from wondering whether or not he would return, thoughts always drifting to the worst. You typed his name into Google, searching for the latest headlines to make sure he wasn’t found dead somewhere. Nothing surfaced, of course, except for the latest exposition on his divorce, which you avoided reading even though it piqued your curiosity.

The idea of losing him ate away at you more and more with every second. You’re grateful to be curled around his shattered breaths, knowing that even though he’s crashing and burning, he’s alive.

It occurs to you… that you care about him deeply.

He takes a deep, shaky breath, and it seems that the active flow of tears has slowed to a stop. You close your eyes and squeeze him hard. He pulls back to look at you, eyes all swollen, red, and glassy. His hands slide to your waist, and his thumbs smooth circles against your sides. The contact pools liquid hot in your belly.

You search his puffy, tear-stained face, running a hand through his hair, “Wanna go lay down for a bit?”

He nods and peers behind you, sniffling, “It smells good in here.”

The corners of your mouth upturn, and you bring your hands to meet at the nape of his neck, “I made chocolate chip cookies, do you want some? You must be hungry.”

“Fucking starving,” he admits, but his grip on your waist tightens and he nuzzles back into your chest, “I don’t wanna move, though.”

Warmth radiates across your chest and you hope he can’t hear the way your heart just started pounding.

“We can cuddle in my bed. I’ll bring cookies and make a frozen pizza. Does that sound ok?” you rest your cheek on the crown of his head and stroke his hair.

He hums in the affirmative, pulling you closer, and mumbles against your drenched t-shirt, “Dibs on little spoon.”

This pulls a chuckle from your belly, “Fine, but you have to drink at least two glasses of water and take a shower. Then you’re gonna stay here while your comedown passes. Deal?”

“Deal.”

After eating half a dozen cookies and two frozen pizzas that have to be at least 50% cardboard, guzzling down 2 quarts of water, and taking a hot shower, Dieter lays his head down on your bosom and promptly passes the fuck out for 12 hours.

Withdrawal keeps him pinned down at its mercy for another two days, allowing him to only exist as a hollowed out zombie who shuffles from your bedroom, to the bathroom to use your toilet, then to the kitchen for food and water, then back into your bed to sleep.

It’s a miserable kind of half-existence. Blanketed in a thick, web-like fatigue that anchors him to the bed.

He catches glimpses of your day-to-day routine while cycling through this pattern. Sometimes you would be in bed next to him, watching tv or writing in a journal. Sometimes you were in the kitchen, dancing and singing along to music while baking. Sometimes you were in the living room, reading or fucking around on your phone. Once, you were talking to a client who spotted him and asked, “Is that Dieter Bravo?”

You gaslit the shit out of her and shooed her from the apartment.

Now when he wakes, blinking his eyes open to find the sky is still a dimly lit dark blue, casting a cool light onto the room, he is relieved to find that the fog in his brain has lifted. There’s a tranquil silence in the apartment that he inhales like his first breath. He rolls onto his side, relaxing into this unfamiliar feeling of peace, sinking even further into your mattress.

This is when he notices that you’re in the bed, too.

Your back is facing him, body completely still except for the gentle expansion and compression of your ribcage, quiet puffs of air escaping your nose.

His stomach churns when he remembers how he treated you when he was strung out. The hurt he saw in your eyes when he mocked the psychomanteum. How he tried to pick a fight with you. He was angry, lashing out at you for making him confront James.

You didn’t really make him, though. It was his choice. His anger was misdirected.

It was like all his emotions were collapsing in on him at once. This crudely pasted together façade of a man crumbled into pieces on your living room floor. And what did you do?

You looked at him, a sobbing trainwreck on the ground, and embraced him. Told him it wasn’t his fault. Let him empty his tears onto your shirt. Fed him, sheltered him, nursed him back to some semblance of a human.

Without hesitation, you graced him with a kindness he’s never encountered. How could he ever repay you?

Nothing he can think of is adequate enough to express his gratitude.

You take a sharp inhale and start to stir. Dieter scoots closer, drawn to the notes of vanilla and macadamia nuts that waft from your hair. To the warmth of your body that he longs to feel against his skin.

He reaches out and hesitantly presses the pads of his fingers to your shoulder. Testing the waters. You hum and lean into the touch, scooting back towards him.

In one swift movement, he pulls you into an embrace, snaking an arm under your head, draping the other over the dip of your waist. Your back against his bare chest. The sections of skin peaking out from beneath your tank top stick to him like glue, both of you tacky with a gleaming coat of sleep sweat. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, taking a deep breath of you, letting your presence consume him.

Tears burn behind his eyes as it dawns on him: you mean more to him than he ever anticipated.

When he met you and recalled his visions of your future together, he expected something, of course. Although a skeptical part of him always had reservations.

But he never expected to feel safe with you. Never thought another person could see his ugly, broken pieces and beckon him closer instead of shoo him away. His heart thuds with humility and adoration.

You hum again, wriggling further into his embrace with a sleepy sigh, “G’morning.”

“Good morning,” he whispers back. A fat, salty tear breaks loose and rolls down his cheek, onto your shoulder.

“Feelin’ better?”

He nods, mumbles against your neck, “Much better,” then his voice cracks as he says, “Thank you, Lua.”

You reach back, finding his cheek with your hand, and rub your thumb against his patchy beard. The motion sends tingles all the way down to the base of his spine. His hand at your side slides up to your belly and grips the fabric of your baggy tank top.

“I’m sorry for being a fucking asshole to you,” he adds in a whisper, “I feel terrible.”

The gentle circles against his jawline continue to trickle down the center of him as you mumble, “I’m just glad you’re feeling better, love.”

He hums and closes his eyes, concentrating on the tiny movements of your body against his. How you’re arching towards him ever-so-slightly. The soft little huff you let out when his grasp on your shirt tightens. He feels the muscles in your legs tense and shift, like you’re trying to create friction between your thighs.

When he thinks about sliding his hand between them, his heart starts to thud in his chest. Blood laced with desire, spreading this aching, heavy-handed lust throughout his body like a virus. His fingers twitch at your belly, where they release your shirt and slip underneath, splaying across the heat of your skin.

You hum in approval. He swears you try to move even closer.

“Let me make it up to you,” he wets his lips, then presses them against your pulse. You gasp and grab ahold of the hair at the nape of his neck, and he starts to back away in a panic before realizing that you’re pulling him closer.

He lays another kiss down on your neck, then mumbles against your skin, relishing the salty bite of sweat that transfers to his tongue, “No strings, right? That’s what you want?”

Beneath the covers, his fingertips slide across the soft skin of your belly, and you let out a soft gasp as you nod, “Can- can we still be friends, though?”

His fingertips graze the elastic band of your underwear and he leans into your ear, “Nothing has to change if you don’t want it to.”

Dieter props himself up on his elbow and stares down at you, watching your eyes flutter and face flush in reaction to his wandering touch. The tip of your tongue darts out and licks your lips. He imagines what the soft muscle would feel like in his mouth. Against his neck. Along the length of him.

The thought pools hot lava that urges him to touch you more, grip your skin harder, move this along faster. He wants to feel your arousal douse his fingers. He wants to taste you on his tongue. He wants to hear your moans when you're falling apart in his hands.

His muscles burn as he tries to keep himself tethered, reigning in this mounting animalistic need to devour you.

“I want to show you how grateful I am, Lua,” he lays a slow, gentle kiss on your shoulder, pressing his lips to a torn up, blackwork tattoo of a pomegranate. His fingertips trail along your abdomen, entranced by the way your whole body trembles under his touch, “Do you want that?”

You nod, peering up at him through your lashes, meeting his lust-blown black eyes. Desire rolls off of him in waves, washing over you, condensation collecting hot and damp at your center.

He tugs at your underwear under the sheets, sliding them down your legs inch by inch, his whisper burning in your ear, " Say it , baby. Tell me what you want."

A whimper escapes your lips and you arch your back up towards him, "Touch me, Dee, please."

Your underwear at your feet, he pulls the covers back and reveals you to the morning light.

He hovers above you, licking his lips, drinking in the sight of your pussy as his hands ghost along the tender skin of your thighs. When his gaze falls on your tank top, he shakes his head and yanks on the thin fabric, "We gotta do something about this."

Without hesitation, you pull it off over your head and toss it on the ground, "Better?"

"Fucking perfect. You are-" he cuts himself off with a groan, biting down on his plush bottom lip. Dieter sits up and stuffs a few pillows behind your back. The heat of his palm presses against the base of your skull and his warmth drips down to your cunt. His other hand splays across your sternum, pushing you back until you're resting atop the pile of pillows, head cradled in his impossibly large hand.

You follow his wordless guidance, watching him in awe, completely mesmerized, aching at the thought of what he'll do to you.

The bridge of his nose presses against your cheek, his breath a furnace on your skin, and his fingertip traces the outline of your mouth, "Open."

You obey, parting your lips for his thumb. It scrapes against your teeth and draws circles into a pool of saliva on your tongue. He withdraws and brings his hand to grip the soft flesh of your breast, brushing his wet thumb across the bud. The contact is electric, sending a current of pleasure rippling across your skin, dripping down your spine.

A whimper escapes your lips and he hums in approval when you puff out your chest against his hand, "That's it, doll, I wanna hear how good you fucking feel."

Your gaze drifts to his face, and you lift a hand to his chin, turning his head to meet your eyes. When they lock on, all the air whooshes from his lungs. You drag your thumb along his bottom lip, and he opens his mouth for you to enter.

Mimicking him, you collect spit from the soft velvet of his tongue. When you pull away, a web of his saliva gaps the growing divide and falls across your chest as you grab your unoccupied breast, using his lubrication to tease your nipple. He groans, eyes drifting back to watch you squeeze and pinch yourself.

"Do you like to be handled rough?" he asks, gaze returning to study your face when he rolls your nipple in his fingers, applying firm pressure.

You shudder, "S-sometimes."

"Is that how you want it now? Hmm?" he brings his lips to your shoulder and catches your skin in his teeth, making you gasp. His fingers clamp down on your nipple hard and he growls, "You want me to fucking wreck you?"

And- fucking hell - the way he talks to you like this, so direct, so eager to learn exactly what sets you on fire, it fills you with a heavy, aching need. With a breathy moan, you answer him, "Yes- yes , fucking destroy me, Dee."

His grip on your head tightens, balling your hair tight in his fist, tugging at your scalp. Your body shudders and you bite your bottom lip, closing your eyes to revel in the ecstasy. His lips press against your neck in a gentle kiss that makes way for his tongue to roll circles onto your thudding pulse.

A trail of trembling nerves follow the pads of his fingers down your torso to your vulva. He stops here and tugs at your thicket of pubic hair, "You like having your hair pulled?"

You gasp in surprise and your eyes snap open to meet his hot gaze on your face. He has a mischievous grin plastered on his face as he pulls at your hair from both sides, watching the way your face contorts with bliss. In a half-chuckle, half-moan, you admit, "That's really fucking good, actually, holy shit -"

"Yeah?" his smile widens and he pulls harder, sending a jolt of electricity to your cunt that makes you moan.

"That's what I want, sweetheart, want you to feel fucking amazing. You deserve that, you know?" He drags a finger along the seam of you and purrs, "You're a caretaker, aren't you? Always taking care of people?"

Your eyelids flutter and you nod with a moan as he spreads your lips and runs his fingers through your arousal.

"Mmm, yeah you are," he finds your clit and traces the swollen bud with precision, "Well right now, I'm taking care of you, ok?"

"Ok," you pant, swallowing hard as you look up at him and whimper, "Fuck , Dee, that's so good ."

His dark eyes meet yours with intensity, searching your face as he draws tight circles that echo pleasure throughout your body. Ecstasy rolls steady in your center. You buck your hips against his touch, hungry for more friction as your body starts to feel weightless.

He takes your cue and applies pressure through his fingertips, rubbing you harder, faster.

You nod and gasp, "Yes, just like that, baby, yes."

His grip on your hair tightens and a moan rips from your throat. He growls, "Pussy is just fucking dripping wet for me. So fucking-"

His hand slides down your front as he sinks two digits deep into your cunt. A wrecked sob bubbles out your throat as the sensation electrifies you. His palm bears down on your clit, and he starts to rock his hand back and forth, fingers squelching in your arousal as they slide in and out.

You are enveloped in a haze of lust, completely fucking lost in the feel of his hand stretching your walls.

"So- fucking- wet, sweetheart, do you hear that?" he starts at a brutal pace, broadcasting the unmistakable sound throughout the quiet apartment. His jaw is slack and his eyes wild as he meets your gaze.

You nod and whimper frantically, glancing down at his parted lips as his tongue darts along them.

The thought only crosses your mind for a moment before you're grabbing his face and pulling him towards you, pressing your lips against his. He responds with a moan against your mouth and returns the kiss with enthusiasm.

It's just like you hoped it would be.

Messy and passionate, painting his saliva on your tongue and lips, bodies bumping together as his fingers slide in and out of your cunt mercilessly. Your body finds a new plane of existence, twisting and turning into a thick static of pleasure that starts to overtake you.

"Dee , I'm-" you whimper against his lips, "I'm gonna fucking cum, don't stop-"

"Good , baby, that's good, cum for me, Lua," he pants, stealing pecks from your lips between breaths, "Cum all over my fucking hand, baby- wanna feel you squeeze my fingers-"

Bliss crashes down on your body in waves, hot and all-consuming, making every part of your body tremble with ecstacy. You cry out as Dieter works you through the orgasm, pressing kisses to your sweaty forehead, to your cheek, breath hot against your face as he groans, "Fuck, yes, oh that's so good, sweetheart, fucking amazing."

"Holy fuck, Dieter," you pant as your body starts to soften and relax.

He grins down at you, chest heaving, and pulls his pussy-drenched hand to his mouth. His lips wrap around each digit, licking them all clean before he leans in to kiss you.

The kiss is soft and slow, generous with an intimacy that tugs at something warm and cozy inside you. He pulls back and meets your eyes again, a new kind of hesitancy lingering in his gaze.

"Will you cuddle me again?" you ask in a shy whisper, face heating with embarrassment.

"C'mere, doll," Dieter grins wide and nods, beckoning you closer.

You roll to face him and his arms wrap around your naked body, pulling you flush against his skin. His hard-on, still trapped within the confines of his boxers, presses against you. Your body flushes when you start trying to picture it in your head, imagining what he would feel like inside you, wondering if that will ever happen or if this is a one-time occurrence.

"So, are you going to run away from me now?" he rumbles, cupping your cheek, running his thumb along your cheekbone affectionately. He reeks of you. And you like it.

The question rolls around your head as you consider it. What does this mean for the two of you? Your friendship? He said it doesn't have to change anything. Unlike the variety of bar and tinder hookups you've had in the past, you don't immediately want to banish him from your life.

This is actually… really fucking great. The warmth of his body against yours, his touch on your skin, the closeness that feels natural when you’re with him. You don’t want him to leave.

Which is a good sign, right?

"We're still friends?" you ask in return, searching his face. Your palm rests against his chest, soaking up the heat from his pounding heart.

He nods and cards his fingers through your hair gently, "Absolutely."

"Then, no, I think... I think I'll keep you around," you meet his warm eyes and shrug jokingly, "I guess. If you want. Or whatever.”

"Wow! So nonchalant, Lua," he grins, then pulls you into a bear hug against his bare chest as you giggle. He mumbles into your hair, "I do, I do want that."

With a content hum, you ask, “What now?”

[ Next Chapter ]

#dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo #pedrostories #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal fandom #psychomanteum

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animehouse-moe · 10 months

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Jujutsu Kaisen Season 2 Episode 3: Hidden Inventory 3

I'll be the first to say it, this episode is markedly better than the prior two. It's better in quite a few different ways, though is still peppered with quite a few complaints. Would I say that things are looking up? Probably not, no. Would I say there's a chance at this adaptation getting better as we go on? Quite possibly, yes. It's a very weird spot, but this episode does well almost because it doesn't try to be Jujutsu Kaisen, rather it tries to move as far away from it as it can, and it's in the pieces that are central to JJK that you understand something is wrong. Confusing yes, but hopefully I can break down my thoughts into more detail with this post.

I like to call what I've just described the "Tanya The Evil Effect". It's an aspect where the depiction of a story and its events ends up so far deviated in tone and experience, that when under good direction and work you can still value and appreciate it as something disparate from the source material.

The episode director isn't in over their head this episode, Gosso isn't hamfisting excessive and incoherent direction into the content at large, there's just a lot of stuff that greatly divorces this episode from Gosso's vision at large, and is part of why it remains successful.

I still think there's things that are silly and pointless changes for the sake of cutting corners, like this sequence of Kuroi and Geto talking where they're static in the anime vs in motion in the manga. It's just one of those simple things that provides context and agency to the situation. Why would Geto and Kuroi be standing still if Amanai is in danger?

If you take a closer look at the episode, it's actually quite odd. There's a lot of direction that's bog standard, just characters in frame standing still. But then you get random bursts of direction that are surprisingly solid, like this piece of Amanai behind the fence/bars, symbolizing her isolation and feeling of being prisoner to her role as the Star Plasma Vessel. Arguably one of the only scenes that makes proper use of the change of scenery from the rooftop rendezvous of the manga.

Anyways, onto Okinawa. I'm disappointed, but also surprised. Incredibly sad to not see Gojo's summer hairstyle on display, but I also feel like with a lot of these scenes, this is the closest we'll manage to S1/manga humor parity.

Alright, back into disappointment mode. Very sad that they didn't include this pose/panel for Haibara and Nanami. Why don't we just continue to strip the characterization and style of this cast more, MAPPA? Also, poor Haibara man. Nanami's already a lost cause sadly, but I at least had a bit of hope for Haibara in spite of the early showings of their character design. Even worse than I was expecting to be honest. The energy and slightly goofy nature just does not exist within him in the anime.

Have to shout out my boy Asta/Tadano though. Love seeing Gakuto Kajiawara getting more and more VA roles.

Where was I? Oh yeah, Okinawa. This is now a drama anime, plain and simple. The framing/layouts/etc are all very much drama leaning, and it's well done. It's just that compared to what the manga offers.... it's, well, decidedly not it. Also, unsure why, but random scenes in the episode are very low-res? I know Tumblr compression does not help at all, but this scene in particular is incredibly grainy and odd. There's also something wrong here in how dull Gojo and Geto's colors are in the shade compared to how vibrant the scene is in the light. I wouldn't call it bad compositing, but the color design doesn't feel quite right. I mean, the second image is of them in the exact same spot under the shade, but it looks so much better? The environment art is sharper in their vicinity, the character designs are more detailed, there's proper shading, and the colors seem way more accurate/realistic.

Maybe I've just gotten used to the poor compositing/coloring of the series to be honest, because at first glance I didn't actually think it was as inconsistent as I'm finding it to be.

Also, shoutout MAPPA hating on Geto again man. This dude is just stepped all over through these episodes and it hurts me so much. His expressiveness is totally stripped away from him and replaced with some hollow smile that I'm sure anime onlies can even tell carries no weight. Like please tell me, who are these two people in the anime??? It just hurts, and it's the tip of the iceberg for the issues with faces and expressions.

Personally speaking, I think this one is the biggest failure from MAPPA. They literally did this exact defeated smile Geto loves to wear in JJK 0, and they can't repeat it for S2? It's just so painful to see them totally mismanage the characters despite having simpler designs so they can "be more expressive".

That's enough bemoaning what's happened to poor Geto, allow me to return to why this episode is actually better (though it only really borders on good) than the prior ones: that drama feel. They extend what's displayed in the manga of Amanai and co's Okinawa trip, and it's pretty well done. I'd say as a manga reader though? I don't really care, and I don't think it adds a great deal to the experience in the first place with how they chose to add things. The scenes are pretty and some of the best displayed in the episode though, of course. The good old MAPPA special of placing insane effort into original pieces while giving the source material the cold shoulder.

Okay, one little piece of criticism (though it's actually sorta big). MAPPA just can't keep their little paws off of messing up characters for some reason. It's a simple thing, I know, but it's also why I'm complaining about it. There was no need. No need to have Amanai place her hands behind her back, to do something that her character never did even once in the manga. But they do, and it changes the tone of Amanai simply walking through an aquarium, to Amanai placing more thought in the experience. A very frustrating and needless change that weighs down the actual potential displayed in the sequence at large.

Anyways, what makes this piece of the original adaptation good? Well, the use of the symbolism of fish was already strong in the manga thanks to Gege, as its used to further show Amanai's isolation and the lack of a group that she can exist alongside/be with. That part remains clear in the anime thankfully. The piece that adds to it though is the parallel between the aquarium and its customers. They place the idea of Amanai's isolation compared to the fish on top of the people visiting the aquarium. Sounds a little odd maybe but I'm bad at explaining, but the point is to show the isolation Amanai feels from seeing the fish (and whales) in the aquarium as a palpable and noticeable thing that she actively experiences.

Of course, I'm not without complaints, but I feel like it's easier to let it slide if you don't look deeply at this sequence. If you see it as something untethered to Amanai's character, the weird extra cuts of the fish swimming freely in the aquarium is fine, but putting it alongside the context of Amanai's character it's pretty confusing and excessive. Why spend all that time fixating on the movements of the fish trapped in an aquarium, relegated to their current fate? Feels like a tone deaf movement for some odd pursuit of artistry that neglects the function of the sequence.

Alright, on to the next butchered character/sequence! Toji and Gojo. Man, I knew what to expect considering they showed viewers as much of the "good" stuff as they could, but I didn't think it was going to get this weak.

I knew Toji was going to suffer, but I mean, how different can you really get and still call it the same character? What a weird shit-eating grin in the anime versus the far more creepy and naturally twisted smirk that rests on Toji's face. It's just incredibly bothersome to see them fail so miserably with reactions that are so important to characters.

And I mean, they do it again, and again, and again. The whole flashback sequence is meant to be played off like horror, and up until the reveal is well done. It's got tension, a cheesy horror soundtrack. It's got the potential to actually do something with the appeal it's aiming for, but it ultimately fails because what is Toji's reaction here? It's supposed to be the thing that he fears/despises/disgusts, but all that shows on his face is plain surprise? Compare that to the manga, and you see how flat and lifeless this reaction is.

Okay okay last one before I move on. What kind of pose is this? He's so relaxed and standing like he's already superior to Gojo, like he knows he could win effortlessly. It is absolutely not the pose and expression of a man set to go up against arguably the most feared sorcerer of his time.

Anyways, action and stuff. I don't think it's terrible. As I'd already established though it's not JJK action. It takes well done choreography and layouts, and reduces it to flashy cuts that viewers can barely piece together in time. What's more worth talking about is how dim and over processed the sequences are. They just end up looking so out of place no matter what MAPPA tries to do. Also man, the S2 OST really does stink. Even in a tense action sequence there's just zero heart in it. Such a massive flop compared to the electric work on S1 and 0.

Okay, yes, Keiichirou Watanabe's animation for Gojo's Blue is well done. But, if the camera wasn't having a seizure I'm sure it would be better received. Of course, same issues in regards to the prior statement about action with the dimming and over processing too. Wastes a lot of potential that the cut had to be a genuinely great piece of animation in the context of JJK. It still undeniably is, beneath all of the additional oddities that bury it, but it's pretty far removed from JJK.

If you want to understand what I'm saying, take a look at Hanami vs Yuji and Todo (Watanabe did the cut of Hanami's massive branch attack). Yes, the compositing is better for Gojo's blue, but take a look at the camera work. How much effort it places into keeping the duo in frame, how hard it tries to keep things cohesive and easy to follow. It's a night and day difference that shows the importance of a director in delivering the best version of someone's animation.

Anyways, here's Gojo's Blue sequence, as a video. Too long to make into a reasonable quality gif, and also insanely flashy and all over the place so nicer than having seizure material auto-play in two places at once.

Alright, so uh, Gojo dies, Toji pulls up with the gat and domes Amanai right in front of Geto, following it up by announcing that he killed Gojo. And then the episode ends. Honestly? I loved the ending just cause I know it'll cause so much chaos for viewers.

The episode overall though? It's weird that I think it noticeably better than the prior two when I've complained about so much, but maybe it's one of those things where the closer you get to being correct, the more faults you find in the thing being examined. Regardless, it feels like Toji's been incredibly nerfed from a viewer's perspective compared to the manga (alongside Geto and plenty of others), and honestly I had next to no hype for their actual sequence because it all felt so disjointed. The pacing of it felt off, and the action just didn't grab me with it's super flashy, highly processed, up close and personal so you can't quite tell what's going on combat. I'd say it's still a flop compared to what S1 would offer in comparison for big moments, but it's also done better on average when compared to the prior two episodes.

Pacing is of massive concern now though. We're three episodes in, with a total of five. It took us three episodes to make 8 chapters total, and we've got 6 though more likely 7 chapters of content left to cover for this arc, with only 2 episodes remaining. "Oh that's not too bad", except for the fact that there's the massive upcoming fight alongside us still having to get through Toji vs Geto. Even with the 6 instead of 7 chapters, even if they don't add any original content, they're speed-running at a minimum of 3 chapters for the last two episodes, which is pretty damn bold.

Is Hidden Inventory/Gojo's Past going to hold on and make it to the end in its current state, or will it rush itself to an early grave? Next episode will certainly be the deciding factor, but whatever it is, I'm not exactly hopeful of where we're going to be left.

#jujutsu kaisen #呪術廻戦 #jjk #sorcery fight #gojo satoru #geto suguru #toji fushiguro #anime review #anime and manga #anime

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suffarustuffaru · 8 months

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hey so not too long ago, i saw a post from rz twitter that said that during the first loop where subaru meets otto, when subaru met the witch cultists and were chanting something to subaru before they left, that these cultists left because some outsider (who's therefore an enemy to their witch and its prophecy) was nearby. And the tweet said how that "nearby outsider" was actually otto who stayed behind because he was worried that subaru, (whom he met only as a customer in that loop and otto had already fulfilled his job) would succumb to danger. And despite frufoo's warnings, it's heavily implied that otto had in fact died in that loop waiting for subaru to come back. And the replies were saying that it's common knowledge?

First of all, is that true? I can see how one would come to the conclusion that the cultists left because otto, an outsider, was nearby. But i haven't seen proof of the implication that otto died from that loop. Secondly, with this perhaps being true, does that confirm that any loop in which otto was nearby and subaru is in danger, that otto risked his life for him? Some ppl say "but the whale incident!" But like you said way earlier, otto came back to him after pushing him off, and it's implied that he died trying to save subaru. There's no loop i can recall otto leaving him to the dust, even when he doesn't know who subaru is. And thirdly, Otto get some self-preservation skills, you barely knew the guy and already risk your life for him. What the fuck.

HAH anon your ask intrigued me so much i immediately went to the anime to try and confirm this. and bc the anime is the closest bit of info i got wjdndn i dont have arc 3 ln or access to arc 3 wn (i do not understand japanese either, sadly) but!! while the anime doesnt explicitly confirm otto died in that first loop his character debuted in, i think its definitely a possibility that he died to the witch cult there. (if anyone knows the lore on this for sure though feel free to add?? yeah)

also regarding about whether this is common knowledge or not—id argue its kind of not, at least in certain circles, bc im gonna be completely real i had to double check the anime to see how well i remembered it bc its 1. been a while since i’ve watched season 1 in full and 2. when i was looking at it on my first watch i was focused more so on what the hell was happening to subaru, rem, emilia camp rather than otto, who at the time seems like just some random guy who wont appear ever again. but also maybe im a little too used to people misinterpreting rezero over on reddit ajfbdnd bc some people STILL completely forget that otto went back after pushing subaru off the wagon. and some people still forget ottos died for subaru even though its super obvious in arc 4?? so i dont think ottos involvement with subaru across loops is really common knowledge? or at the very least its not common for Certain portions of the rezero fandom bc i see ottos whole fixation on subaru gets glossed over at times. but i do genuinely think moments like the first loop with otto are probably easy to sort of miss if youre not paying attention. but also again i might be a little bit brainwashed by rezero redditors misreading things bc the amount of people that forget otto went back for subaru in the white whale loop made me doubt my own memory of that scene to the point where i rewatched it in the anime just to be sure wkdndnd. i dont really see any english rezero people talk about this loop in particular too unless theyre referring to you know, rem arlam and emilia camp dying. but anyway moving on for now…

alright!! lets go over this scene i suppose. the anime doesnt go into like. Specifics, like how the tweets you mention do anon, but it does have some interesting stuff.

in the anime, the first loop with otto happens in episode 14 to about the beginning of 15, but the focus is of course more so on subaru, rem, arlam, etc, bc rem left for the mansion and subarus trying to get there quickly so he pays otto to do that. otto takes the time to warn him before they even set off, not only for his own sake but also for subarus:

but you know, bc ottos desperate for money bc hes in debt, he takes up the job. but once otto and subaru actually get to the road leading up to arlam and the mansion, otto stops bc frufoo’s frightened and shes warning them of danger—

but subaru being subaru jumps off anyway and leaves. he says this quickly before he goes:

otto replies by trying to call out to him desperately as he runs away:

your point about ottos self preservation is super interesting anon because otto DOES have self preservation skills. he almost kind of prides himself on it, sometimes—as a merchant, especially from a merchant family, hes been raised to treasure it. to go for things that work in his favor. especially with his bad luck fucking him over too. and he can be slightly morally ambiguous at times, so he is Very aware of self preservation and staying out of trouble. but at the same time, leaving behind innocents does kind of weigh on him bc. well hes still human. that and the further into rezero you get, the more clear it is that ottos self preservation skills just get thrown out the window the moment he sees subaru. like otto takes a significant amount of time on screen to complain about danger or trouble hes found himself in, or go on and on about how the moment he sees danger, hes just gonna turn around and run—but its just COMPLETE AND TOTAL BULLSHIT SOMETIMES. he has plenty of chances Every Time to turn around and run and the moment subaru enters the picture, he doesnt take it. the only exception to this was him leaving subaru in greed if, but thats because he saw that subaru didnt give a shit about him and even then. he made that choice FOR subaru’s sake too, bc he recognizes that greed if subaru is just gonna micromanage everything and deal with it on his own. otto knows he’d just be another burden to subaru, so he leaves to lessen the load.

main route otto though? yeah youre absolutely right his self preservation is way beyond dead at this point. his self preservation is absolutely gone when it comes to subaru. this first loop is an example of it—while of course ottos you know treating subaru like a stranger bc thats what they are, he goes out of his way to warn subaru repeatedly. at first it looks like its mostly just for his own benefit bc hes Also in danger here, but then he says that he cant just accept taking subarus money and items. he talked about how hed accept subarus payment just a few minutes before this?? and we know in retrospect that he desperately NEEDS money bc hes in debt??? and subarus giving him an out right now to just leave and not look back but he still hesitates and frantically tries calling after subaru??? he has EVERYTHING to gain from just taking the money and subarus things and just leaving, but we dont actually see him leave on screen.

and then right after this, we cut to subaru running to arlam. of course, the witch cult stops him, and in the anime, all they do is circle him, then bow (to foreshadow how the witch cult + petelgeuse think that hes one of them, im assuming), and then they disappear without saying a single word.

its interesting to note though that when they leave, they run towards the direction subaru just came from. which is where otto was.

and then subaru keeps continuing on to arlam and the mansion where he finds out that the witch cult Basically wiped everyone out there. episode 15 continues this loop and then quickly ends it bc subaru is having a mental breakdown finding everyones corpses and then he promptly proceeds to die to puck (iirc?) inside the mansion. and thats all the details the anime gives about the ending of this loop. so no clear hint like the white whale loop that otto Died from this, but i think the implication is definitely there if you choose to read into it. (again, im not sure if the ln adds more details to this or not, but iirc the anime doesnt touch on this much.)

its strange that the witch cultists that find subaru just. up and leave in the direction where we Know otto likely is, bc 1. the cultists move Fast and 2. only a couple minutes passed at most, so its likely that otto is Still There, even if he did start trying to leave. even then though, i think its in character for him to still be there and try to wait for subaru. or, at the very least, otto waited there debating with himself on whether he should just leave or not. waiting there satisfies both his self preservation and the guilt he’d feel if he just abandoned subaru—he doesnt go any further to minimize the danger to himself and frufoo, but he doesnt completely leave just in case subaru comes back or if otto decides to move forward and check on subaru or something. but then we see subaru find everyone at arlam and the mansion dead, and we the audience know the surviving witch cultists left in the opposite direction (where otto is) after killing everyone at arlam, so—i think theres a connection there. as in: yeah. if otto was still there, hes probably dead.

additionally, of course later in arc 3 we see that otto gets captured by the witch cult. this time he was captured bc the witch cult caught him hurrying to get to another location for its job offer, so the witch cult captured him to interrogate him on what exactly he was doing iirc?? so in that sense yeah he was caught by the witch cult for being an outsider getting into witch cult territory while they were in the middle of doing shit (and he likely wouldve been killed if ricardo and the others hadnt rescued him) o.O

but yeah thats all the animes got regarding the first loop (aka ottos official debut into the main story as well)!!!

“There's no loop i can recall otto leaving him to the dust, even when he doesn't know who subaru is." also anon youre so right for saying this bc. yeah i cant recall any loops either bc every time otto is there near subaru. hes risking his life for subaru. hes so incredibly ride or die that its concerning. it kind of boggles my mind that some people overfixate on how he pushed subaru out of the wagon in the white whale loop and YEAH that was fucked up, but not only does he feel bad and die trying to go back for subaru later, but when you watch that scene in the anime and think about it from ottos perspective. yeah some guy you just fucking met is yelling at you about how you apparently forgot about some person youve never heard of in your life, hes yelling at you to go back and TOWARDS THE WHITE WHALE when all youre trying to do is save both of your asses, he starts trying to wrestle with you while youre both being hunted down by the whale, and then he starts rambling to himself about how maybe its his fault the white whale is chasing after both of you while you keep hearing the white whales deranged thoughts in your head the whole time bc of your dp??? its a miracle otto didnt push subaru out of that damn wagon sooner and its a miracle otto even decided to go back for subaru after all that T^TT any person in ottos shoes would be RUSHING to push subaru out of that wagon.

but like. once you think about it - yeah Every Time in the main route that ottos been near subaru and theyve gotten into danger? otto actively puts himself at risk for subarus sake. and he doesnt always die or get hurt for it, but we know that he ALWAYS goes out of his way to help subaru. hes been like this since his debut in arc 3, practically, regardless of whether or not he actually died there. bc he still Lingered around and tried to warn subaru not to leave.

so what im saying is that so much of ottos screentime is spent helping subaru in some way.

#rezero #ask #otto suwen #natsuki subaru #ngl if otto was a girl literally no one in this fandom would be ignoring how fixated and concerningly ride or die he gets about subaru o.o

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coridallasmultipass · 4 months

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Has Dirk ever actually eaten steak?

(TW casual animal death I guess, sorry)

Okay, so this is a total shitpost idea I had last night on Tweeter and I said I'd make it a post here, so I'm following through. Bear with me, because if I jump past my thought process, I'll probably sound like a total maniac for even imagining this.

Let me back up.

I was thinking about Dirk (a normal occurrence). Then I start thinking about Nepeta, since they have the same Aspect. And then I start thinking about Tavros' cat allergies. So then I circle back to Dirk, since Dirk has obviously never seen a cat in person before, and therefore has no built-up immunity to cat dander, and would definitely be hella allergic. (Also, it's been my headcanon since, like, the dawn of time, that Dirk would have a shit immune system when it comes to humans, on account of never being around another person in his life, and he probably gets super sick upon meeting up with people in person for the first time.)

Back to the steak quote. Dirk has obviously never eaten like, actual steak from a cow before. Cows probably don't even exist anymore, outside of maybe a scant few super high elevation places on the other side of the globe. He probably wouldn't be able to digest it well regardless, since he's never had red meat. Dirk says he fishes, and he's obviously got seagulls around, so that's probably also on the menu (besides the super expired canned and dry ration shit left behind), and it's as natural as eating chicken is for everyone else (cough chicken of the sea joke cough), and he assumes that's what chicken is supposed to taste like, which leads to a hilarious spit-take for his first time trying actual chicken.

Moving forward to post-game. We're gonna set this scenario inside a neat little anime beach episode setting where everyone is happy and alive, because that makes it hilarious. Everyone's having a chill day at the beach. The seagulls presumably pester everyone who has a shiny bag of chips in their hands. People are playing volleyball. It's lunch time.

Dirk is looking at the seagulls eyeballing his bag of chips like, "Man, these guys are so dumb, watch this." And he calls a seagull over because he knows how to call them in a way they immediately trust him, and just... kills it quickly, and goes, "Alright, that was easy, let's start the barbecue, guys."

But there's a pall that's fallen over everyone. The beach ball blows past like a tumbleweed. Everyone's* mouth is agape in pure horror.

Dirk looks at the seagull in his hands. And back at the group. And he's like, "This is another one of those things I needed to deprogram, isn't it."

Everyone is whispering like, "What the fuck..." But to make things worse, Jade declares that there needs to be a funeral for the seagull, because literally no one else there is okay with eating it (and no one told Dirk beforehand, but someone already brought store-bought and pre-seasoned chicken for the barbecue, which doesn't make sense to him because it's not even fresh, aren't you supposed to have like a 'catch of the day' type of thing? Someone has to tell him that that only applies to fish, however arbitrary that seems). And Dirk has to stand there, living the most embarrassing moment of his life, keeping his cool, while perfectly good seagull meat is being lowered into the ground. People build a fucking sand castle memorial.

Jade like, gives him a hug like, "It's okay, Dirk, you didn't mean to do it." And Dirk has to bite back a 'Yeah, I kinda did mean it. This is stupid, and if anything, even worse to waste its life for nothing.' But he has enough self-awareness to know when to at least keep his mouth shut to prevent further damage.

He never could get over how weird chicken actually tastes, it's like fluffy and weird and doesn't even fit the theme of a beach party.

*everyone, except Jake and Nepeta/Davepeta, is completely scandalized at the image of Dirk just snapping a seagull's neck like it's nothing. They still wouldn't eat it, but they at least don't think he's a murderer for doing it.

#im sorry okay i just thought of it and laughed and had to share it #rest in peace gullie #wait also include feferi and eridan in dirk sympathizers but it feels weird to think of them having an interaction with him #homestuck #dirk #dirk strider #dirk homestuck #homestuck headcanon #homestuck headcanons #headcanon #ShitPost.exe #Cori.exe #Post.exe #*obligatory 'pls dont talk to me about anything that happens after Homestuck bc i didnt read it and dont plan to'*#animal death #watch this post gets blacklisted after tagging that and ill never be able to find it on my blog again #i have never tried seagull its illegal here bc theyre protected but i did look up what they taste like for this post and #apparently they taste fishy which is fucking wild like... does that mean that chicken tastes bug-gy?#is that why people always go 'hm it tastes like chicken' when eating something weird?#bc thats the taste of the bugs they spend their life eating?#idk its just weird to think that seagulls taste fishy for eating fish thats so fucking wild but i guess makes sense #also i know fish produce 'steaks' too but i kind of doubt that dirk is out there catching full size tunas #im at the point of typing where im having second thoughts like is this an okay thing to post or are ppl gonna think im a nutcase #i cant do that to animals i promise lol i was a vegetarian for a long fuckin time bc i felt bad about it like i still rarely eat meat

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azumasoroshi · 11 months

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guess who just watched summertime rendering (it's really good)

guys what the FUCK

(spoilery-review stuff will be below the cut but tldr: summertime rendering is really good, subverted a lot of my expectations, gorgeous animation, keeps you on your toes and has smart characters and good writing, just try not to cringe too hard at some of the haha boobs/haha panties jokes i swear there's not too many)

okay funny story. i got interested in this anime literally yesterday because one of my favorite channels was analyzing its ending song by chance

and i was like oh it's like anohana but a murder mystery? interesting premise. doesn't necessarily guarantee that it's good, the animation looks pretty at least, but it's 25 episodes and my attention span kinda sucks...

and i see the main girl in a swimsuit and im like alright. the second there's a really weird zoom on her chest im out

(my live thought process pictured below)

and the first shot or so was of the swimsuit girl (ushio) without any weird zooms so i was like okay hey we're in the clear so far

AND THEN

one minute ten seconds. dawg. that actually has to be a record of some sort

and i was 🤏this close to dropping the anime but i really wanted to see the dark horrifying stuff so i continued anyway

like. maybe that's a one off joke. maybe they wont do it again and that was just to get weirdos to be like AYYY and keep watching. maybe there is hope

there was no hope.

but i hung on anyway because right after that was the OP and it looked really interesting mostly because there were no anime visuals at all until the very end

which was. shinpei being a little bit silly. little but quirky. vibing persona 3 style baby baby baby baby baby baby baby

so yeah i decided to keep watching until the end of the first episode despite my apprehension because i just. wanted to see the dark shit go down. uaghhhhhh

and i kept watching EVEN THROUGH the clear insinuation that the mc's adopted sister was in love with him and that the mc was in love with his other adopted sister and the police officer was looking at porn in public and then FINALLY

FINALLY

(major + ending spoilers start here)

they killed my favorite character.

and then they killed the younger sister and then they killed the MAIN CHARACTER AND I WAS LIKE DAWGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

like i was expecting it to be dark but i didnt expect them all to straight up die on screen with blood splatters n everything :sob: wasnt expecting the time loop either

like. you gon have this gorgeous animation just to make the characters' deaths that much more brutal. holy fuck

i realized the other anime this reminded me of. this anime is a anohana x kagerou project crossover. thats fuckin crazy i kinda dig it

people also compare it to re:zero which is fair cuz it has the time travel, the unexpected brutality, the short haired girl who gets rejected in favor of the long haired girl (lmao) i just like kagerou project more

it somehow didnt connect the first time that it wasn't mio and i was like huh i wonder why they suddenly skipped time

and then when this scene rolled around for the second time i literally like. it hit me so fast and i was like FUCK. i was like genuinely terrified help

and then she started stabbing the ever loving shit out of totsumura and i was like oh okay! guess i dont have to wait in suspense for what she'll do at the very least

and then she stabbed shinpei in the throat and i was like OH OKAY

that scene also terrified me cuz like the phone call happening while the killer is nearby is a classic horror trope but like. i dont watch horror usually. that's my worst nightmare

it was on his third death that shinpei really started to shine for me as a protagonist because like. he's smart. notably so! it was really nice because the classic horror starts to fade away at this point and everything becomes a giant chess match

fair enough though cuz bro was like "LMAO NAH I REFUSE TO DIE AGAIN THAT SHIT PAINFUL AS FUCK" (and then repeatedly died a bunch more anyways)

it's interesting that his whole "take a step back" thing is like. a trauma response too. we love dissociation representation lmfao

shinpei was also really quick to adapt to everything and it took a LOT of shit going down to make him finally lose his composure, but he gets back in it and doesnt waste time and it was really refreshing because yknow anime (and the horror genre in general) with its overdramatic clueless protagonists

and also!!

i immediately pegged sou as the loud dumbass yosuke/ryuji type (i love them and their depth, im talking about surface level) best friend who wingmans for shinpei and immediately gets sus of shinpei and gets killed first n shit

but that was my bad like damn sou was a really good character

to be fair this was his first introduction

and the line "I should tell Sou everything" with a shot of the sky is REALLY FUCKING OMINOUS, so i feel like that was a bit of a bait and switch on the author's part lmfao

i stopped taking screenshots around this point so ill just talk about a bunch of parts that stood out to me pff

HIZURU MINAKATA MY BELOVEDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

she's so autistic and so smart and so just. god. i love her

AND RYUUNOSUKE IS BABYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

i literally wanted to cry seeing him in the ending like dawggggggg he's SO cute id marry him no questions asked

he and hizuru were my favorites along with nezu because badass old man SLAYS

i also surprisingly really liked ushio lmao i thought she'd be like the usual manic pixie dream girl and then just based on her being in a swimsuit but like. she was honestly a joy as a character lmfao

like. her being the biggest powerhouse next to hizuru? did not see that coming, we love a girlboss!! and she's also smart and forward-thinking despite the airheaded vibes so like damn. good character! i really liked what little we got to see of the real ushio interacting with her shadow too, it was a nice bit of character building + it was funny lmao

mio was the only character other than shide that i just straight up did not like lmfaosgkjhsjg the whole "im in love with my stepbrother" was just. fuckin. weird to me from the start and you have no idea how fucking relieved i was that shinpei didn't accept her confession or get with her at the end

of course it's like. not any better that he got with his other stepsister. but like mio was more annoying so it's fine (😭)

she ended up being a damsel in distress who didnt really do anything up until the school fight where she still didnt do much, and with how much ushio emphasized "protect mio" you'd think she' have some sort of plot relevance but nope she just. thought about her brother a lot and confessed after 20 episodes and got rejected and cried

it's like all the buildup to her confession was PURELY to buildup for the ACTUAL confession which was shinpei telling her that he was in love with ushio

which is lame

like jesus her shadow had more plot relevance than her. i literally liked her shadow more than her like ????????

tokiko was a good character though i liked the "i didnt dirty my hands for this" foreshadowing and also her being a lesbian was an unexpected surprise that i liked lmfao she's a fuckin real one for still encouraging mio to be with shinpei despite being madly in love with mio. what the hell was that "i want her to see all of me" line like girl????

shide was a good smart villain, he kinda started getting cheesy typical anime villain by the end but by that point the anime was pretty firmly in the action/strategy genre and relying a lot less on the horror/mystery part so it was alright

i did love the talk he and shinpei had about video games and the FF7 namedrop was hilarious lmfao

it was cool how they had the callback to him being a video game nerd during the first fireworks festival with that 2d 3d king thing

absolutely despise him for what he did to hiruko though like. ew.

i didnt really get why hiruko deadass reverted into this weird lookin baby thing at the end but like haise was cute i liked her

didnt understand how they literally changed history either but i guess the magic eyes are like "fuck time lmao all my homies hate time" so oh well, i guess it works

the ending was really a full on "everybody lives and is happy" type deal but like. i didnt even mind man i was literally ecstatic seeing hizuru's boobs again like holy shit. you know you're watching a weird ass anime when you start crying at the fucking fanservice scenes like ohhhh my god

and like goddammit they deserve happiness

although. i was a bit pissed that they brought ushio back to life. like yeah she deserved to be brought back and yeah i do love her but rip the themes of grief and regret i guess

the show was never really about grief so i get why she was brought back but like ueeeuueueuueuee the whole "i don't want to do anything i'll regret again (including leaving ushio before we had the chance to say goodbye) so i have to keep moving forward" was really good character stuff and hrekjajsghjhsg i guess it paid off at the end???

whatever ill take getting hizuru and ryuunosuke back no matter the narrative costs

anyway yeah really good anime, definitely exceeded my expectations (which were pretty low to be fair though), i did watch all 25 episodes within 24 hours so i might be a little insane

#summertime rendering #summertime render #summer time render #summer time rendering #god. i fucking knew the tags on tumblr would be a mess the second i saw the name #shinpei ajiro #ushio kofune #hizuru minakata #ryuunosuke minakata #tokiko hishigata #sou hishigata #ginjiro nezu #not tagging mio for any mio likers out there im sorry :sob:

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