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#maybe find a way to sublimate these desires
konigbabe · 6 months
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eleusinian mysteries
DAY 7 ⇢ Gangbang Pairing: Satoru Gojo x fem!reader x Toji Fushiguro x Kento Nanami x Choso Kamo Word count: 4k Tags/warnings: no y/n; smut; gangbang; oral sex (F & M receive); p-in-v; anal sex (F receive only); pure filth; fingering; cunnilingus; rimming; deepthroat/throatfucking; praise kink; protected sex; ass slaping (like once); pet names (each one calls you differently); basically 4 men 1 female gangbang Summary: How did you find yourself passed around by four men might remain a mystery; at least it's off of your bucket list now. [Part of NSFW Gojo Week 2023]. Divider is mine. A/N: With NSFW Week oficially over with this piece, I wanted to give special thanks to the radiant Fae (@kennedyswhore) for her unconditional support [that kept me from dropping the event], sublime Kit (@vagabond-umlaut) for her encouraging and kind words (that subconciously pushed me to finish each piece), Karma (@kazushawty) who infected my mind with her filth (in a good way) that resulted in this mess (and kudos to her tutorial for this GIF) and to you, who's reading this [series]. Thank you for the support! ♡
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There's a thin line between reality and a dream – which can easily be blurred. Especially when the present blends with the past and gets a hold of the future within its grasp.
"What's this?"
Satoru lies spread wide on the bed; torso bared to the world and stretched out, his physique like an invitation to explore. Especially with the way the moon casts its shine onto the mop of silvery strands that crown his head.
With a soft sigh, you position one knee on the plush expanse of the bed, flicking your eyes on your lover. His curious fingers dance towards the petite diary on your nightstand; a beacon of secret desires nestled in the soft glow of tonight's moonlight.
"A journal," you reply, "of sorts," the mumble that leaves your lips is faint, tinged with skepticism. Unease. Shame maybe – even.
"Can I?" With the book already ensconced in his slender fingers, he throws you a questioning look. Seeks your permission. Your silent approval is conveyed through a gentle dip of your chin.
Satoru unfurls the pages. Flips through them. Hair clinging to his forehead, eyes darting across each paragraph and list; he takes his time reading, studying each entry. Flipping through the pages, you notice the crease between his eyebrows deepen as he reaches the last page.
The last page.
There are no hidden feelings between you. You are an open book for him – now in a more literal sense than ever before.
"This page's interesting," he mumbles to himself, yet his words reach your ears clearly. And you know what he means. A warm flush sweeps across your cheeks, causing your eyes to divert towards the sheets, where your nervous fingers fiddle with the fabric, "is this a bucket list?"
His utterance is clear, and you grasp the implication quickly.
"Yeah, well, everyone has dreams."
You feel the bed on your side dip. Satoru shifts, sits up, the sheets cascading around his lithe waist. Warm breath fans over your cheeks, adding fuel to the fire smoldering beneath your skin. His hand finds its way onto your exposed thigh, thumb caressing the damp skin.
"Yours are rather," searching for the right descriptor, the hand that was on your thigh now slips underneath your chin, gently lifting it to align your gaze with the deep, cerulean depths of his eyes, "provocative."
Filthy. That'd be more fitting, you think.
The answer on the tip of your tongue refuses to budge.
"I like that," he adds after a while. "And if you want," sitting straight, his face now stands in front of you, a breath away, "we can do number three now."
When you don't respond – only watch his face inch closer, lips hover over the curve of yours – he licks a thin stripe across your lower lip.
"And I can arrange number seven if you want," he mumbles against your lips, pushing your face towards his.
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How such a simple conversation led to this will probably remain a bit of a head–scratcher. How Satoru managed to have all of them agree to this will be a mystery. Maybe he has a knack for bringing out people's hidden desires or a way of making everyone comfortable enough to do this.
But these thoughts don't really stick in your mind. Especially with the way Nanami's tongue continues to lick thick stripes over your drenched walls. Back flat against the table, legs up and spread wide. Toji keeps a vice grip on one of your ankles with Choso gripping the other one – the two men keeping your legs open for the blonde man to devour you comfortably.
You'd never imagine there would be a day when all of them would see you like this.
And that there would come a day when you discover the taste of each of their lips; the unique sensation each of their kiss can bring.
Satoru you were familiar with – hungry. Sloppy. Messy. Remaining filled with passion even after years of familiarity. Holding your face with both his hands, cradling your cheeks. Like the first plunge into a lukewarm sea that turns into swirling foam – enveloping and capricious. He always speaks with his entire body; grinding up against you and wrapping his arms around your back. A boisterous lover.
Nanami – Nanami's kiss, on the other hand, is a contrast to Satoru's intensity. It's precise, measured, and full of depth. A slow dance of passion; like the waltz. His hand comes to your face and cups your chin, lifting your head up just the slightest amount of space so that when his lips meet yours, they nestle in there perfectly. His lips meet yours with a calculated tenderness. There's a sense of control and mastery in his kiss, and it leaves you with a feeling of being cherished and understood.
Toji – like a storm. Wild and untamed, coming out of nowhere with an intensity that left you breathless. An untamed force that sweeps you off your feet. Fingers gripping your chin with iron strength, thumb pushing against your lower lip to part for him more. Tongue both demanding and teasing, as if he can't decide whether to be gentle or let the beast out. The taste of danger and desire both eminent on his lips.
And Choso – the perfect blend of sweetness and ardor. His kiss is unexpectedly tender, considering his broad, rough exterior. A hand resting on your nape, not pushing or anything, with the other sliding up and down your arm; making you feel like he had waited a lifetime for this moment and wanted to savor the warmth of your skin under his palms. He tastes like moonlight on bare skin.
So when all four kiss you, the sensation is a whirlwind – a summer storm. A combination of the intensity of Satoru's kiss, the depth of Nanami's, the wildness of Toji's, and the tenderness of Choso's.
"Mmph–fuck," Toji rumbles, teeth showing in a grimace as nails dig into the flesh of your calf. Your fingers tighten around his base when you feel Nanami's fingertips collect your wetness, spread your lips apart before his finger teases your open hole.
You want to answer, urge Nanami to finally let go of the restraints – feeling like hours have passed since he went down on his knees and buried his face between your legs. Yet it's hard to do so when Satoru's cock plunges into your mouth. So deep in your mouth that you can barely breathe as he thrusts it into you; our lips and the back of your throat rubbing raw against its pulsing flesh. You feel him hit a soft barrier and push harder.
Hands slide across your chest. Slick with saliva before the softness of someone's lips envelops one of your nipples. A kiss, soon followed by a nip of teeth. Gentle, exploring – Choso, you guess. Compared to how Toji keeps squeezing the other one. All rough and fast, his thumb flicking over your erect nipple whenever your finger presses against his slit.
"Daamn, baby," you pick up Satoru's mumbles. And with your head thrown over the table's edge, you manage to look up. To see the underside of his chin, see how he's looking up; how his hand continues to caress your hollowing cheek, thumb collecting the tears that spill over your waterline.
A moan slips past the tight seal of your lips when Nanami's finger is finally buried all the way inside your drenched cunt. You arch against him, hips grinding against his moving hand before another one presses down onto your lower belly.
"Don't move, love," Nanami's voice echoes, hot breath skittering over your wet folds moving to your aching nub, "just let me prep you."
You tighten your grip – both of them – which only earns you deep grunts. Choso's teeth swipe over the tender flesh of your breast, over the soon-to-be bruise forming upon his attack. Tongue swirling over the silk-soft skin, making it stiffen with prickly heat. Your moan and twitch at the touch.
Toji flicks your nipple, rolls it between his fingers. Eyes drawn onto the sight before him. On the way your body lies completely bared; body offered on a platter of lustful ecstasy, like a sacred offering.
As Nanami's hand slides inside of you, heat spreads through every inch of your body. His fingers are merciless, relentlessly adding another finger and curling them both up to press against your walls. Searching for that sweet spot, that one point of ecstasy that will have you seeing stars.
"Baby," Satoru whines, thumb pressing against the corner of your mouth to draw your attention to him, "gonna cum. Think you can swallow me?"
Your hands continue to slide up and down Choso's and Toji's cocks, each on either side of you. Satoru stops moving, the throbbing tip of his cock resting on your upper palate. Your tongue swipes over his leaking slit, collecting the briny, pearlescent droplets before swallowing.
"Mhm," you attempt to nod, taking a deep breath through your nose.
"Good," Satoru responds, holding you in place by digging his fingers into the nape of your neck as his cock expands against your throat walls, pushing every nerve ending until a burning pleasure washes over you.
You can feel the heat spreading through your body, coalescing in the space between your legs.
Nanami's fingers continue to massage your walls, pressing against that slightly ridged spot deep inside – the one that tightens your throat, makes you clamp down on his fingers, grip Choso and Toji tighter. Everyone feeling your pleasure rise–
Satoru stills inside you. And you feel him spill. All hot and heavy; flowing over your tongue and melting on your taste buds like an ice cream cone in the summer sun. Tengy but savory.
–and rise until the dam breaks. Warmth flooding your nerves, overwhelming your senses until you surrender to it completely.
Nanami doesn't stop moving. Instead he speeds up, his fingers working you over until you are soaked in sweat; not a single inch of your skin dry or cool.
Fucking you through the first orgasm of the night while Satoru withdraws from your mouth. A feral groan escapes his lips as he watches scant droplets of his cum escape your mouth and rustle down the side of your cheek, smearing the sensuous skin with slick fluids that threaten to drip into your eyes. He leans down and sweeps up the droplets; plunging his sticky fingers deep inside your mouth.
All while the azure depths of his eyes lock onto your hazy gaze, you watching the upside down image of your boyfriend.
"You're so good," he praises, withdrawing his fingers and licking them clean. You can taste it on his tongue; the saltiness, the sweetness of his spent, "ready for the real fun?"
Nanami's fingers scratch your quivering walls once last time. His lips – soft and velour – press against your opening, tongue teasingly licking along the entrance before he stands up.
"Mhm–definitely," you murmur and watch. Watch as Nanami stands up, torso sculpted into perfection. Muscles rippling under pale skin, the veins visible beneath the surface. Your fingers itch, coming closer until the tip of your middle finger nudges against the graven abdomen.
His hips pitch forward upon your touch. Hand tightening around his cock as he gives it a few pumps.
You want it. Want him. Want to feel the stretch as he sinks inside.
"Condoms," Satoru chimes in from your side, stern but only reminding everyone as his hand strokes your cheek. Nanami grips your thighs to spread your legs wider for him. Nodding, he reaches to your side, grabbing one from the small stack of them you prepared beforehand.
With one hand on your inner thigh, her rips open the foil packet with his teeth and rolls it down the length of his leaking cock.
"Ready," he asks to which you nod.
The burn is intense, numbing as you're filled in one smooth motion. His cock feels even better than you imagined it would; slick and hot inside you. You can feel every inch of him, every inch that fills you up. His hands tighten around your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he stays still.
A mewl cascades past your parted lips. Body shifting, seeking more friction; movement. Nanami responds with a roll of his hips – exploring. Testing whether you opened up for him enough. And when he feels the unrestrained slide of his cock inside you, he can't help it any more. At first it's slow, shallow thrusts that have you biting your lip in anticipation.
"Fuck, get it over with already Nanami or I'm gonna explode," you hear a gruff voice.
Toji.
"Y'know," it sounds more like a moan rather than words but all four sets of eyes snap to your face, "I have two holes, don't I?"
Nanami shudders against your cunt, and you could swear he got more swollen upon your words. Choso's eyes snap to Satoru as Toji grabs the bottle of lube from the table. Yet Satoru's gaze lingers on your blissful expression.
"You sure about that?"
When he asks, your chest tightens, pulse gallops.
"She's a big girl, she can decide for herself," Toji responds, hand on your hip. He nods at you and then turns to Nanami, who looks up at him. They exchange a few words, a conversation that passes by your ears.
"Hey–"
"Satoru," you interrupt the man by your side, hand reaching upwards to touch the side of his neck, "s'okay. It's a gift for me after all."
You whimper when Nanami's cock slides out; now feeling the emptiness all over again.
"Gonna move this to the couch," Choso retorts–
Everything feels weightless. Surreal. Each kiss a caress, each touch a fire. Your thoughts are muddled, consumed by the need for him. For all of them.
–and soon enough, your legs are spread wide around Nanami's waist, his cock nestled deep inside you. You move in tandem, slow and shallow thrusts as you straddle him. He leans back against the couch, his head hidden in the nook of your neck; while at the same time, Choso stands behind it, with your lips sealed around his dripping tip.
Toji stays crouched behind you. Any other day, your face would burn over the thought – of having someone's finger up your ass. It's a strange feeling – the steady pressure of his middle finger as he twists inside you. Even with the generous amount of lube, it takes Nanami a few good thrusts and encouraging words – You feel good. Relax for us, yeah? – to get you mellowed enough for Toji to add a second finger and scissor them inside.
All while Satoru stands by the doorframe; fully naked, skin pale with pinkish hue. It feels as if he's glowing, radiant, when your eyes open and he's standing in your peripheral vision.
The motion tugs at something deep inside you. And you moan around Choso's cock. Hollowing your cheeks, tongue pressing flat against his underside as you feel pleasure washing the shame away.
Suddenly, Toji's presence leaves your body. Letting go of Choso's cock, you hold it in your hand, thumb swiping over the sensitive slit, earning you a grunt of appreciation as Satoru's eyes lock onto yours – and you feel a small smile tug at your corners before–
"What–"
Something wet slithers around your rim as Nanami stills once again. Teeth nipping at the skin on your clavicles, your lips press momentarily against the ridge of Choso's tip, tasting the saltiness before you use Nanami's shoulders to steady yourself enough to twist around. To look at Toji, crunched down, hands spreading your cheeks apart with face buried between them. His eyes, verdant windows to his carnal soul, glint in the faint luminescence as they look up at you; you can't help but gasp, mouth running dry. His tongue like fire, skin searing under his touch as he swirls around your ass before pushing inside.
"Wait, I–ugh–"
Satoru shifts in the corner of your eyes.
But somehow, it feels good. So fucking good and delightful.
"Relax, not my first rodeo," Toji rumbles when he pulls away, sinking his teeth into the plump flesh of your ass; then he goes back for more.
"Feels weird," you let out a chuckle, nodding in Satoru's direction, "but good." Hand grasping Choso's cock – who's been patiently waiting for your return – you kiss the side of the burning flesh while letting Toji devour you.
Nanami's hands slide from their spot on your hips, tracing the curves and dips of your body; settling around the globes of your breasts. They squeeze the abused flesh, kissing the tender spots. Hips having mind of its own, you circle them on top of him, causing Nanami to grow into your skin.
For what feels like an eternity, you stay this way – squeezing, warming Nanami's cock inside your dripping walls. One hand resting at the back of his head as he kisses your chest, massages your nipples and caresses your sides. The other hand moves along Choso's length, lips tightly wrapped around it as you bob your head, Choso's hand resting on top of your head, gently urging you to take more.
With Satoru watching over it all.
"Good," a sharp slap, sting on your ass when Toji finishes and stands up, "arch your back for me, kitten." His hand presses against your lower back, urging you into position.
Your body curves into Nanami's, like water around a rock.
Nanami spreads his legs more, opening you when Toji spread more lube over his cock. Tugs a few times to spread the slick, sticky substance over the condom, dipping the fingers in your ass to loosen the upcoming friction more.
You expect pain; pain of being stretched to the limit. Yet there's none when the tip of his cock slips past your rim and slowly slips inside you – further and further, until his hips are pressed against your ass.
"Fuck–good girl, ain't ya," Toji mumbles, more for himself as he feels the heat of your insides hug him tightly.
"You're doing great," Nanami's lips brush against the shell of your ear, tone quiet – just for you. "Wanna ride us?"
"Mmph–," you nod. Fingers sliding along Choso's cock, taking him in your mouth when you start to move on your own accord.
Which doesn't last too long as pleasure increases, makes it difficult for you to find a good pace. As if he can feel your struggle, Toji grasps your hips, stabilizing the pace as Nanami moves his hips.
Satoru watches on with a mixture of curiosity and admiration as Nanami starts to move; his cock sliding inside you with ease, meeting up with Toji's pace. You can feel both their cocks pushing deep within you, adding fuel to the fire inside.
Their hands never leave your body, grasping at whatever they can reach.
"Ah–" Choso's hips stutter the moment his cock breaches the entrance to your throat. You keep going, deepening the movement with each plunge. The sensation builds up in seconds, making it impossible to keep still as he grunts your name, feeling himself nearing the edge. "Gonna cum–ugh– damn."
His hands grasp your face, hips rolling forward. You grasp Nanami's shoulders, letting Choso ride out his high, his cum sliding down your throat before he slips out – spent and satisfied – and watches with grateful gaze as you swallow him down, not leaving a droplet to escape.
"Shit–," Toji speaks up after a second, "you just got tighter," and he grips your hips, moving Nanami's hands out the way as the intensity of his thrusts increases. "Look at you. Always knew you were a dirty one."
You can't even respond, just focus on the intense pleasure coursing through your veins. Pulling away, Choso takes a step back; steading yourself on Nanami, using his chest as leverage, you pull back. Back meeting Toji's solid chest, his hand wrapping around the side of your neck while he brings your head to his – cheek to cheek, lips pressed against your ear.
"Would kill to have you cum raw on my cock alone," he mumbles. And you know the reason for the quiet whisper. You can feel Nanami's hands move to your hips, steadying them as he thrusts in time with Toji. Together they create a perfect tempo, pushing you closer.
"Ah, ah–" you moan out as their combined rhythm sends pleasure through you, building up the intensity until it takes over every inch of your body. Until your walls shudder around them, body tensing before you let loose.
Nanami doesn't stay behind; his hands slide up your waist to grip your ribs. He feels you tense around him, and the sound of your name slipping past his gritted teeth echoes in the room as he drops his forehead to your collarbones. With one final thrust, he spills inside the condom with a groan. You can feel the tension in his shoulders relax; as if a weight has been lifted from them.
Still in haze – eyes closed – you let out a small sigh, feeling the last of Nanami's warmth seep out of your body before the scene shifts.
Satoru has you pinned against the wall, Toji standing behind. His hands grip your hips, pushing his hard, slick cock inside your loose asshole while Satoru moves in front of you, taking your face in his hands – his hands move down from your chin to your jaw, then to the side, to the sensitive skin along the bottom of your ear and your collarbone. The strong wide thumb of his right hand presses against the corner of your mouth, gently.
So you open up. Legs supported under Toji's wise grip, you offer yourself to the two. You can feel Toji behind you, his breath hot on your neck as he thrusts back and forth. Teeth marking your nape, electrifying your sensitive body – still high from another climax mere seconds ago, yet neither of the two stopped –
Satoru's lips move to your wet cheek before he inches closer again, lips ghosting yours until the tip of his tongue finds its way inside your mouth – warm and wet – a silent command for you to reciprocate, and you do. You let yourself get lost in his kiss while Toji's hips crash against yours, pushing you both forward.
The sensation is overwhelming – a mixture of pleasure and pain as both men push against each other, letting out groans of pleasure and grunts of delight that blur the line between lustful and loving. Primal and affectionate.
"Fuck–kitten," Toji grumbles, chest vibrating against your back, "gonna cum."
And even with the condom on, you feel it. Feel the sudden rush of warmth as Toji's cock pulsates inside you. His name sounds like a prayer on your tongue when he stills, flexing his arms and spreading you wider for Satoru's harsh thrusts to reach deeper. Pelvis massaging your swollen nub each time he buries himself balls deep inside your cunt – raw, unrestrained, without a barrier. Unlike the rest.
All while Toji relishes in the squeeze of your ass, the snug fit whenever Satoru hits that deepest spot inside you and bullies his cock in your walls (even if he hates to admit it).
The sensation sends your body into a new frenzy and you can feel the tension building up. Again. Watching Satoru's eyes close, the crease between his brows deepen. Hips stuttering, his hand cradles your cheek as he lets go. Your arms sneak around his shoulders, face nestled in the sharp contour of his neck.
(With all the sensations buzzing inside your body, in each nerve, you don't notice Toji leaving silently.)
A strong arm sneaks behind your back, the other placed on the back of your neck. Hips pushing into your softness as he grunts appreciatively; you feel the slickness flood your walls, paint it pearlescent white. He holds you close, whispers sweet nothings into your ear. Heat rolling over your body. His voice like honey and the sound of it alone is enough to bring you back to earth.
Until it all ends in a beautiful mess. A gluttony of pleasure, skin slick and breathless.
And somehow, you want more.
"Think we can do round two."
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oriandcate · 2 years
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The List of Raw Quotes immortalized by the Internet:
“People who value any aspect of creation would do well not to pit gods against one another.”
“Hell is empty, and all the devils are here.” 
“I will face God and walk backwards into Hell.”
“Then perish.”
“I have been through Hell and come out singing.”
“Do I look like the kind of man who dies?”
“Do you think God stays in Heaven because He too lives in fear of what He created?”
“To become god is the loneliest achievement of all.”
“You kneel before my throne unaware that it was built on lies.”
“This is Hell’s territory and I am beholden to no gods.”
“Impudent of you to assume that I will meet a mortal end.”
“Bury me shallow, I’ll be back.”
“Take this gift, for the gods surely won’t.”
“One day, you will be face to face with whatever saw fit to let you exist in the universe, and you will have to justify the space you’ve filled.”
“Will you fight? Or will you perish like a dog?”
“Deviation from the norm will be punished unless it is exploitable.”
“You cannot kill me in a way that matters.”
“Pick a god and pray.”
“We deserve a soft epilogue, my love.”
“We are the timeline that God has abandoned.”
“Pick a Hell and rot there.”
“Every day we stray further from God’s light.”
“I survived because the fire inside me burned brighter than the fire around me.”
“I’d sell you to Satan for one corn chip.”
“The risk I took was calculated, but man am I bad at math.”
“If the world chooses to become my enemy, I will fight as I always have.”
“I am a monument to all your sins.”
“It’s not about whether you win or lose. Sometimes it’s about how many pages you add to the rulebook.”
“You’re rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic, my friend.”
“The man who sleeps with a machete is a fool every night but one.”
“I don’t believe in divine retribution, but then life throws people like you at me.”
“God wanted me dead, now you get to find out why.”
“The fruits of the earth do not exist to be worth something to us.”
“I’ve got a date with destiny, and it ain’t gonna end with a kiss.”
“Hostage or not, sometimes it’s nice being held.”
“To sit still is to submit to a god who cannot stand to see such power in potentia mere inches from realizing itself and overcoming him.”
“That sounds like a you problem.”
“…but sadly I am only a little bug and you are a garden.”
“In a society where all adventure has been destroyed, the only adventure left is to destroy that society.”
“How many times have people used a pen or paintbrush because they couldn’t pull the trigger?”
“So hope like hell your captor is an evil man. A good man will kill you with hardly a word.”
“…For they are a scoundrel and a foul beast of fields untouched by green.”
“Do you not think that Satan, too, has some affection for the inhabitants of Hell?”
“Does poetry flourishing even in the cracks and grime of the world devalue its beauty? Is the divine rendered plain when it becomes commonplace? Would you have the sublime subjected to the gatekeeping of a self-serving elite? Better it should be used and misused as us absurd commoners see fit.”
“Lock your doors and windows. God will forgive your absence.”
“I stand here, a fool of my own making.”
“Canon is but the sandbox in which I strike lightning to form glass. Trouble me no more with your quibbling and quorums, lest I grind you to dust beneath my heel and build stories from the remnants of your bones. Avast, foul fiend.”
“In the end, everyone is aware of this: nobody keeps any of what he has, and life is only a borrowing of bones.”
“’It’s not that deep.’ Maybe not originally, but the ground is soft and I’m ready to dig.”
“Ask the moon. Ask what it has witnessed.”
“Some things don’t belong on this plane of existence and the universe conspires to correct that.”
“Weird is a prerequisite to all things good and entertaining.”
“The sunrise has never caught me sleeping.”
“People are trying to be right no matter how wrong they are, I am here, accepting my primal desires.”
“Swear all you want, but the gods have shut their ears.”
“Tis the nature, curse, and cure of humanity to be forever attracted to the abyss.”
“If you hit a mole over the head for long and hard enough, eventually it learns to mind its own beeswax. Keep whacking.”
“If we built a tower of Babel, in this day and age, no one would stop us. We would build, and build, and one day inevitably breach the gates of heaven. And we would send in a probe, and then an exploratory team, clad in hazmat suits and protective gear, to enter the gates, and lo! before them would be a great, winding mass, a crumbling chitinous mountain range, a swooping winding wormous cavern, pale and sickly and turned to dust. And we will understand why no one stopped us: it will be the exoskeleton of God.”
“I must make time fear me most.”
“My third eye is open but damn it needs a monocle.”
“Some sins follow us, trotting along and planting themselves in dark corners, high shelves, gathering dust like a forgotten potted ficus, forever a part of the inner scenery of our minds. They thrive there. In the dark. Knowing we will someday stumble in. This is why ‘tis unwise to explore the inner chambers of our souls.”
“Ideals are made of gold and light, but human lives are made of blood and tears, and spill with slippery ease; choose carefully what hills to build and die upon.”
“I shall dig my very own shallow grave. Onward.”
“Confidence! A fool’s substitute for intelligence!”
“Weird hill to die on, but at least you’re dead.”
“Our paths may have crossed briefly, but you’ve still had the misfortune of knowing me.”
“What’s a little blood and bone? We all come down to it, in the end.”
“I could set the world on fire and call it rain.”
“War allows us to dress our monsters up as saviors, and many would say I’m one of those monsters.”
“You haven’t learned anything until you learn monsters have nightmares too.”
“To live is to haunt.”
“Can’t shake the devil’s hand and say you’re only kidding.”
“In the future, you will stand at the grave of God which I dug, weeping, and I will be the only creature you will be able to answer to. You will beg for death, but due to what you said today, I will deprive you of that luxury.”
“I wanted rain and I thought the best way to do that was to make God cry.”
“Love is dead and never existed. All you did was betray me as I lay sick and festering. You are the definition of dread.”
“Here’s the thing about a haunted forest: it’s not going to haunt itself.”
“Your skull is the garden where fact flowers into meaning.”
“I shall use your voice for violin string and serenade your widow.”
“If God had wanted you to live he would not have created me.”
“I’ve heard it said that we only gain wisdom through suffering, and tonight I intend to make you very wise.”
“If I cannot bend heaven, then I will raise hell.”
“Remember that if you go knocking on enough doors asking to see the Devil, eventually he may answer.”
"No one of honor is interred here. The dead are raw materials, and nothing more."
"That there is a feller what sat down on a snake in the grass one day, and it ain't crawled outta his asshole yet."
"Pay a man enough and he'll walk barefoot into Hell."
"All these moments will be lost in time; like tears, in the rain."
"To feel sorrow is to deserve peace."
"No one will know the violence it took to become this gentle."
"There is no light at the end of this tunnel; so it's a good thing we brought matches."
"The answer to despair is action."
"You'll be reduced down to a single atom when I'm done with you."
"What's at the end of a million? Zero, zero, zero; big old hole, with a wall around it. That's all a bank is, you know: a great big old hole you throw money into, and all it ever seems to do is make the walls higher."
"Always strive to eat the stars."
"Why would you want to savor the taste of poison?"
"The brave may not live forever, but the cautious do not live at all."
"It is better to die standing than to live kneeling."
"The anger in your heart warms you now, but it will leave you cold in your grave."
"Darkness without light is an abyss; light without darkness is blinding. You cannot have a coin with one side."
"We can't have faith for everybody."
"Kill me and live with the memory. Then tell the stars you won."
"To rend one's enemies is to view them as objects: hollow of existence and meaning."
"Your soul sparks with a nonsense that makes this world bearable."
"He ain't one of the creatures God made."
“The unconscious hides in a language like a thief hides a diamond in a chandelier.”
“I just know no fruit has ever tasted as sweet as the ones I ate while bleeding under the blistering summer sun.”
“I pray nobody kills me for the crime of being small.”
“That’s the problem with gods; their pleasure and their wrath often look the same.”
 “If I am killed for simply living, let death be kinder than man.”
“Stupid should hurt.”
“do you think god is nuclear. do you think you cannot look upon deities the same way you cannot look at the center of a mushroom cloud. do you think the energy generated from fission is released from divine clutches. do you think that god exists in the space between the nucleus and the electrons and in the bonds of compounds and in the numbers on the page that got us there. do you think radiation is a warning. do you think it is an eraser. do you think it is wrath or a mistake or a byproduct of entropy. do you think god is plasma, where electrons are wherever you want them to be. do you think that we were supposed to find this out.”
“If you aren’t worthy enough to pull the sword, be strong enough to lift the stone.”
“I can’t go to hell. I’m all out of vacation days.”
“Despite everything, its still you.”
“The more you kill, the easier it becomes to distance yourself. The more you distance yourself, the less it will hurt. The more easily you can bring yourself to hurt others.”
“My mother says kissing a man without a mustache is like eating eggs without salt.”
“A character is a ghost, a story is what it haunts.”
“Pain travels through families until someone is ready to feel it.”
“The gods did not breathe the breath of life into us and give us gifts of a shape, a will, and a voice just so we could pay bills and die”
“you gotta have friends who are older than you, not because you’re a dumb kid, but because you’ll be terrified of growing up otherwise.”
“you’ve made me so hard i beg for softness”
“Scorn is more palatable than the howling hunger for things to have been different for you.”
“Being able to endure something does not equal an obligation to withstand it.”
“To live is to haunt.”
“I am a chewy rubber Polly Pocket skirt and God is a four year old girl.”
“The big picture is made up of brush strokes, fool.”
“Hearts are wild creatures, that’s why our ribs are cages.”
“these are old bones and i am merely a passing occupant”
“The board is getting dusty but the boogeyman has not yet blinked. when he does, you better make that move.”
“And when we kill the gods neither heaven nor hell will be waiting for them because they created those to imprison us.
“What makes a man a warrior is his willingness to place himself between what he holds dear and anything that threatens it. This is the way.”
“The anchor gives the ship the world to love.”
“In a society where adventure has been destroyed, the only adventure left is to destroy that society.”
“You pretended to be the hero of a story you never saved.”
“this world is a banquet of knowledge and each of us has brought a dish to the table.”
“This is the time of vengeance and no life is worth saving.”
“The ghosts that inhabit this place are more alive than you’ll ever be.”
“May the only thing that dampens the flames of hell for you be God spitting in your face.”
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raphaelslittlemouse · 2 months
Text
Better the Devil You Know - Part 3
The Devil To Pay
Part One here. Part Two here. Part four here.
Minors DNI. ~480 Words. Raphael confronts Haarlep, and learns a dirty little secret they share with Tav. Slight Raphael/Haarlep. Overall Raphael x Fem!Tav. No physical description given, could be read as a 3rd person Raph x Reader.
“Ah, good evening, my lord--" Haarlep is cut off by Raphael’s glare. 
“You have quite a lot of explaining to do,” Raphael says. 
Haarlep knows, of course. Only one thing, one mortal, could rile Raphael up this way. But Haarlep couldn’t help it. Not with the desperate way the mortal threw herself at Raphael’s image, despite knowing that it wasn’t the real thing. And despite knowing how explosive Raphael’s temper could be. Haarlep finds an evil little smile teasing the corners of their lips. “Sire, surely you cannot expect me to deny my nature.” 
Raphael simply shakes his head, crossing the room to pour himself a generous glass of wine. A lost cause, a fruitless argument. “What form did you take?” he asks over his shoulder, unable to help himself, though trying to appear casual, maybe even a little flippant. 
Haarlep smirks a familiar smirk. “Why, this one, of course,” they gesture to themself, up and down, he glances back to see. Raphael’s mirror in every way. “Horns and all. She is rather fond of them, as you know. Moreover, she was simply fascinated by our wings. Nearly sent me over the edge by running her nails over them. You’ll be very pleased, if you let yourself have a taste.” 
Raphael has to restrain a groan, his cock twitching at the mere thought. Of course she’d prefer his true self over his human guise. Of course she’d know that his wings are sensitive, that every touch and caress goes straight to his cock. Of course, of course, of course. 
He’d curse her name, but she’d only find amusement in it. Something about that tenacious attitude of hers only makes him want her more. He’s unsure if conquering her indomitable will would end with her as a trophy to him, to be displayed in his House of Hope, or a disappointment in her breaking, tossed aside or made to wander his halls with the other debtors. But Raphael cannot deny that he enjoys the chase. Truly, theirs is the affair of the cocksure house cat toying with the sly little mouse. Outfoxing the cat at every turn, but the claws will come down, one way or another. 
When he turns to look at Haarlep again, Raphael’s own familiar form is replaced by— “No,” is all he can manage. 
“Oh, yes,” Haarlep replies in her voice, with her face, the cheeky smile on those lips more perfect than he had imagined, those bedroom eyes beckoning him closer, pulling him in like a whirlpool poised to drown him in his own desire. Raphael’s hands find Haarlep’s hips, this body more sublime than he had dreamed. Oh, he had certainly dreamed. In this moment, Raphael knows he’s fucked. 
“I have plans for this body,” Raphael breathes, leaning in to kiss that perfect mouth.
Haarlep grins before leaning in themself. “You naughty little devil.” 
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zoeykallus · 1 year
Note
hiiii! happy holidays!! i was wondering if you would be interested in doing a hunter x fem reader one shot where hunter and reader have been friends for a long time (through the gar) and at a ball/dance/fancy event they see each other from across the room… stunning and beautiful and all done up *sigh* maybe some angst and some suggestive bits… as much as you would like hehe ;) thank you for everything!!
Aloha! Thanks! And sorry for the late response!
The idea sounds cute, let me see what I can do with this 😊
Hunter x Fem!Reader One-Shot - Seeing You With Different Eyes
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Fluff/Romance/Friends To Lovers
____________________
You have no idea why you are so excited that Hunter will see you in an evening gown today. The thought quickens your pulse and tingles under your skin. You've been friends for a while, and yes, in some ways you are attracted to him, but you've never explored that feeling further until today.
You tug carefully, uncertainly at the dress you're wearing. The soft, gentle fabric nestles flatteringly against your body, it is partially transparent, feigning a certain nakedness, yet covering your entire body. A charming and yet very elegant sight. The dress moves gently with every movement, a mix of princess, elegant seductress and festive appearance. You love this dress, it is perfectly fitted to you, showing enough to be slightly seductive but not too much. You know you look great, you admired yourself in the mirror for a while for once, very pleased with your outfit.
It's not often that you feel so comfortable in your skin and clothes and the curious, amazed, interested and sometimes envious looks are balm for your soul.
You are quite sure Hunter can only love the sight, and yet you are nervous. In your mind you scold yourself a fool, why is this so important to you!!! You are friends, nothing more. But you would be lying if you denied that you are attracted to him. As much as you enjoy his friendship, because he's a great buddy, caring, kind, funny, sometimes you've felt it, that little longing echo deep inside you, the desire to be more to him than a friend.
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Hunter has entered the hall, but hangs around in the entrance area, so that he can overlook the field, but does not come into focus. More or less unconsciously, he looks around for a familiar face, for you. He knows you're here today, too, and the thought tingles in his gut. He keeps nervously tugging at the collar of his unfamiliar dress uniform, an outfit he doesn't wear very often.
Then he sees you. You are like a sublime phenomenon, the dress you wear underlines your elegance, sexy, cute, adorable. He gulps and eyes you from a safe distance, you haven't spotted him yet. Hunter just can't tear his gaze from you.
His brothers, the rest of Clone Force 99, finally show up as well, standing uncertainly by him. They all look incredibly dapper in their dress uniforms, but also like they feel out of place.
Finally, your eyes meet. Hunter feels caught, he's been watching you the whole time, but he smiles at you from a distance, not avoiding your gaze. His heart is beating way too fast, he's surprised at his own nervousness. He's never seen you like this before.
"Damn, she looks beautiful," he murmurs softly to himself.
Echo who heard his words elbows him in the side and says, "Then what are you still standing around here for? Get over there."
Hunter clears his throat.
"I can't, we're friends, I shouldn't perceive her the way I'm doing right now…. besides, I'm way too nervous" he says uncertainly, inconspicuously wiping his sweaty palms on the fabric of his pants.
Crosshair rolls his eyes and grumbles, "I'm going to find a drink."
Hunter leans against one of the marble columns in the room, trying to look casual, still gazing at each other almost longingly from a distance.
Wrecker chuckles, "He's doing the pose."
Hunter looks at him with raised eyebrows.
"What?"
"Oh, nothing," Wrecker says, suppressing another giggle.
Hunter looks in your direction again, but you are no longer there. Almost in a panic, he scans the room with his gaze, feverishly searching for you. When he suddenly hears your voice very close, he nearly jumps out of his dress shoes.
"Hello Hunter."
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He turns to you in surprise, his smile absolutely adorable.
"Hey," he says almost shyly, "you look stunning."
Heat rises in your cheeks, and you can't help but smile broadly.
"You don't look bad yourself," you say, folding your hands behind your back, afraid to wave them around nervously.
Hunter tugs at his collar again and says, "You think? Feels weird, very unfamiliar"
"Looks fantastic on you, though," you assure him.
He scratches the back of his head, changing his posture a little. You can tell he's nervous, but you blame it on the formal, unfamiliar event he's attending.
"Well, fantastic is probably an exaggeration," he says with a wry smile, leaning against the column again, but this time looking much more awkward than before.
Echo says quietly, "I can't watch this, I'm going to find Crosshair".
"Wait I'll come with you" Tech says hurriedly and follows Echo.
Wrecker stands there indecisive for a moment, but finally hastily follows his brothers and calls over his shoulder with a wink, "Don't do anything naughty, kids"
It takes a while for the initial nervousness to subside. You're both surprised by how unsettled you are with each other today, you've been friends for a long time and are actually pretty comfortable with each other. But today everything is different. Today, something has come to light from the depths of your being that holds you both under a spell.
The music wafts through the room, he finally dares to ask you for a dance, which you are only too happy to agree to, albeit with soft knees.
Slow dancing with Hunter, your heart beats up to your neck. The way he holds you, guides you, it seems so gentle and yet determined. After the dance, he doesn't take his hand off your hip as he leads you to the side to a quieter corner. His hand is still there as you look deeply into each other's eyes. Hunter is not even really aware of it, his subconscious just trying to make contact with you any way he can.
"You look at me differently today," you finally dare to say.
A slight pink tinge creeps into his cheeks as he replies, "I could say the same about you."
Shyly, you smile at him and admit softly, "True."
Several seconds pass, heartbeat after heartbeat. Then it happens, you don't know exactly how, but his face comes closer and closer, he leans towards you. Your eyes close, it's like magnetic attraction. His lips touch yours, they are softer and warmer than you expect. The kiss begins softly, almost chastely, but it lasts long, his lips lingering on yours for a sweet little eternity.
You are almost dizzy with excitement, your hands grasp the jacket of his uniform, afraid to lose your footing at any moment. When your lips slowly separate as if in slow motion, you open your eyes again and look into his, you are a little breathless.
You look at Hunter, he knows just like you, there is no turning back now, the cat is out of the bag. There's nothing left to deny, and you don't want to. You can tell by his smile that he feels the same way.
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Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)
@rintheemolion
@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99
@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310
@misogirl828 @tech-deck
@meshla-madalene
@chxpsi
@thebahdbitch
@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri
@darkangel4121
@ttzamara
@arctrooper69
@padawancat97
@agenteliix
@allsystemsblue
@palliateclaws
@either-madness-or-brilliance
@ortizshinkaroff
@andy-solo1
@hunterssecretrecipe
@heyitsaloy
@greaser-wolf
@extrahotpixels
@hated-by-me
@hunterxcrosshair
@malicemercy
@bebopsworld
@echos-girlfriend
@taskfork-archive
@cpnt616
@starwarsnerd111
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drarryspecificrecs · 1 year
Photo
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2022.10 ~ Top 7 longest fics posted on AO3
1. How It Haunts Me by @everything-a-wolf-could-want [E, 125k]
►When Harry escapes from Malfoy Manor and takes the rest of Voldemort's prisoners with him, the Dark Lord isn't pleased...and it's Draco who is punished for it. After more than a month of imprisonment and abuse at Voldemort's hands, the Dark Lord finally falls, leaving Draco broken and unstable. To avoid Azkaban, Draco must complete his final year at Hogwarts, and there's no way he can manage it without help. // Harry has no desire to be anyone's master; especially not Draco Malfoy. But he owes both Narcissa and Draco a hefty debt and this may be the only way to repay them. Besides, all he has to do is get Draco through the school year... right?
2. Sublimation (I Can’t Contain This Anymore) by @boldlyinnocent317 [E, 75k]
►Just another eighth year tale where Harry is obsessed in more ways than before, Hermione doesn’t know it all for once but Ron does and so does everyone else truth be told, Blaise is too fucking cryptic and Draco just wants to be alone and smoke his cigarettes in peace. Besides, it’s all Ginny’s fault, of course. Maybe Pansy can sort that out or... make it worse?
3. What We'd Rather Leave Forgotten by @robinbuckllly [E, 72k]
►[...] “Is there some other element of my service that was unsatisfactory for you?” Draco asked, rather hostilely. “Or were you just planning on standing there for a while, continuing to make irrelevant points?”
4. Ocean Man by @steampunkserpent27 [M, 64k]
►A young Harry Potter joins a crew of pirates, hoping to find adventure and a new life, but instead finds an injured Draco hiding away on the ship. Mermaid scales hold a very high monetary value, meaning they are killed on sight by all pirates. Harry just can't figure out how Draco got onto the ship or what is wrong with him, he certainly acts strange. Now faced with a difficult choice, he will have to decide who he really wants to be.
5. Life at Victoria Road five by @fanarthasmyheart [T, 64k]
►With nowhere else to go, a washed-up Harry Potter crashes on Draco Malfoy’s couch, disrupting the domestic life at this fresh dad’s two-bedroom, Muggle walk-up. From his spot on the couch, Harry watches Draco navigate the wonders of fatherhood. Draco, meanwhile, struggles to understand his urge to take care of his former enemy (it must be the paternal instinct).
6. Beyond the Garden by kateliz [M, 63k, series]
►Draco, Harry, and the gang are settling into their Eighth Year of Hogwarts, trying to overcome the trials of the past years and forge ahead into the future. Draco is wrestling with his wolf-side as Harry struggles to find out who he wants to be, not without needing to contend with some newfound abilities. Draco and Harry work to navigate peacetime, but not before having to confront some ghosts of the past.
7. too bad by @alaniarampigkonia [M, 43k, series]
►Deneb Malfoy and her friends return to Hogwarts for their eight year, hoping to put their past behind them. The problem comes when old feelings resurface and new ones emerge. None of them are going to experience the calm year they so desperately want. /// Or, the year Hanna Potter and her friends become the catalyst for new beginnings.
※ HONOURABLE MENTIONS :
8. Mountain Sound by @steampunkserpent27 [M, 51k]
►Harry is a vampire in a world where vampires have been nearly hunted to extinction. He is on the run, constantly hiding from hunters and looking for the next place to hunker down. He's on the edge of his rope, when he runs into a nervous boy named Draco, who is terrified of vampires. Draco being lonely himself and thinking Harry is human, invites him to stay while his father is away.
※ Word count: 1k ~ 15k
※ Word count: 15k ~ 40k
Because I Knew You (I Have Been Changed For Good) by DracoWillHearAboutThis [T, 23k]
The Bleeding Bite by THE_Machine [M, 18k]
Draco Malfoy's Most Inconvenient Client Yet by greenflowerpot [M, 17k]
Expectations by MrsRupertGrint1769 [E, 33k]
Fake Pretend by suhtmuikkis [T, 28k]
Haunting Perfect by Elisedeluxe [T, 30k]
Pirates, Princes, & Something More by yinysol [E, 33k]
Terms of Endearment by charlie_weasleys_gf [T, 15k]
Travelling Into Your Arms by @tink-wondering [E, 17k]
Ongoing Fest/Exchange
※ Fics would be listed elsewhere.
2022 Harry/Draco Food Fair | @hd-fan-fair
Fanatical Fam's Harryween Writing Comp 2022
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khazadspoon · 2 months
Note
5.//39. Maybe with Gil and someone of your choosing?
5 - devour
39 - sublime
I did go for transmasc Gil with cis Rowdy, it came to me like an oracle while writing so…. Here we go
——
How did they get here?
Up until this point, it had been almost easy to take things slow, to ignore their wants and desires, to keep their hands to themselves. They were busy men after all and most nights ended with them both too exhausted to do anything more than fumble for a kiss and fall into their bedrolls.
But now…
Now he has Gil spread out beneath him, one arm thrown over his face as he pants and groans, and Rowdy is almost overwhelmed by what he wants to do. He wants to do everything all at once.
He kisses and bites a path up one thigh, humming under his breath as he feels fingers card through his hair. The space between Gil’s thighs is hot. Rowdy knows he is sweating, knows he must be pink and flushed, and he mouths at hot skin as he lays down. He wants to devour this man.
So he does.
Rowdy laps at Gil’s cunt, sloppy and inelegantly, his own breath coming out in moans just at the idea that he is doing this, that he is finally getting to taste Gil-
“C’mon,” Gil says in a thick voice above him, rolling his hips up into Rowdy’s mouth. “C’mon, that’s it.”
Rowdy hums in delight as fingers tug his hair, as Gil rocks his hips up to grind against Rowdy’s tongue. He holds himself still and lets his boss take what he wants and his cock feels so hard it could pound nails if he wanted to. When he opens his eyes he can see the way Gil is panting and flushed above him, thighs tensing as he thrusts, lips parted. It’s such a sublime, beautiful image Rowdy thinks he might be in heaven.
“M’close- fuck, just a little more. A little more, please,” Gil grinds up, hips moving in tight circles, the taste and smell of him surrounding Rowdy in the best way possible. “That’s it, so good, Rowdy, you’re so good-”
Rowdy moans at the praise, grips the thighs either side of his face tight and listens to the choked sigh as Gil comes. A burst of wetness covers his lips and tongue, drips down his chin, and he’s never been so hungry for someone in his life. He licks at the mess he’s helped make until Gil is gasping and pushing his face away.
“Good?” He asks breathlessly.
Gil pets his hair, drags him up to kiss him hard, licks the remnants of himself from Rowdy’s mouth. “Good.”
Rowdy moans, helpless to fight his body any longer. He trusts against Gil’s thigh, lays against him and chases his own pleasure as Gil strokes his hair and back, whispers soft words in his ear.
“That’s my boy,” Gil croons. “You did so well, made me feel so good.” He puts a hand on Rowdy’s backside, encourages him to thrust and grind messily, kisses the shell of Rowdy’s ear and bites it softly. “Go on now, come for me.”
Rowdy obeys.
He shakes, shivers, moans too loudly into the crook of Gil’s neck as he finishes and it’s almost too good. His lips and teeth find skin and bite down, not enough to bruise but close, one step closer to eating up this man who has consumed him in turn. The small but very real moan that falls from Gil’s lips makes him bite down again.
“Don’t bruise me,” he hears the man say, but it’s half-hearted and they both know it. But Rowdy softens his hold. He laps at the skin, soothes it, breathes in deep to slow his heartbeat as he comes down from his high. Gil holds him close and runs a hand up and down his back, slow and gentle, and Rowdy feels himself starting to drift.
He feels a pat on his flank and startles.
“No sleeping now, we gotta wash up. I ain’t waking up to you stuck on me in the morning.”
He laughs, the two of them tumbling from the bed to clean themselves off, but Rowdy secretly thinks it wouldn’t be so bad.
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goodwithcheese · 3 months
Note
2023 became the year of Pedro for me in many ways. I adore him, and his characters are sublime. Truth be told, after finally dealing with my sexual repression/ptsd/depression/chronic pain and learning what I like to feel over the past few years, Pedro and his characters brought something feral out of me and I can't sate it enough no matter how often I give into it.
I actually had a very spiritual and emotional release by giving into the desires and finding peace and contentment in knowing Pedro will continue to fuel those feelings, and welcoming them is truly healing for me.
In his blessed name, José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal, I honor you.
Oh, sweet friend, I can't count the number of times I've heard some variation on this exact story this year!!
So many of us have had to bury parts of ourselves to survive all kinds of things. And then we maybe forget that we are entitled to things like desire and pleasure and silly fun.
I'm not sure what it is exactly about Pedro or the characters he plays that allows so many of us to start to excavate those feelings. Maybe it's that he feels safe? Maybe it's the support of the community that has sprung up around him? Maybe it's just the neck freckles and the wild curls? Who knows.
But I'm happy for you and for anyone else who has gotten to experience things this past year that had felt lost or impossible. You all deserve it and more.
All my love and in Pedro's most holy name,
Megan
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I'm gonna keep slogging through the new Contrapoints video on Twilight on the hope that it improves, because I really am a big fan generally, but I'm an hour and change in and it feels really weirdly misguided to me.
Most of it has been about what psychological needs sexual fantasies, especially "darker" sexual fantasies, fulfill for readers and how it smacks of moral panic to say that silly women can't distinguish between fake fictional danger that exists for narrative (and sexual) tension and real danger, which -- okay, is true and I agree, and it might even be reasonable to say that Twilight, a chaste story about the pure fulfillment of marrying a righteous Mormon man, served the same psychosexual needs as, like, fuck-or-die smut for its original audience of Youths, idk. But it's inconceivable to me that a grown-ass person would be as hellbent as Natalie apparently is on making the case that the Twilight series is a compelling depiction of taut, passionate, erotic yearning. Like -- it's just actually -- not. It's not any of that. It's slow and repetitive and flat-footed, and if what you like to read is taut, passionate, erotic yearning, I genuinely cannot believe that these are your go-to romantic fantasy novels. Like, she's right in theory about the drivers of sexual fantasies, but how does a grown adult say with a straight face that she loves these particular books because they are so uniquely good at fulfilling these extremely common sexual fantasies? Is your video is about erotic longing or is it about Twilight, because nothing you're saying about one subject seems to me to be relevant to the other.
And I'd put this down to a matter of taste, I guess, except that it strikes me as a little disingenuous to suggest that people who find Twilight off-putting do so exclusively because they don't like or don't get the idea of women being into erotic fantasies at all, or because they only like the most sanitized versions of romance. It grinds my gears a little bit to see decades of hard work by the sex-positive feminists, kinksters, and pervert intellectuals who came up with all this theory about desire being used to defend these aggressively sublimated, anodyne books that in no way added to the Conversation, and on many levels would not be caught dead attending the Conversation. As a weird pervert of long standing, Twilight would have to be a hell of a lot juicier for me to ride to its defense on pervert grounds.
I don't know, there's a lot of video left, but so much of it so far has seemed to be discussing some entirely alternate, theoretical erotic novel about vampires that I feel like Natalie and I just fundamentally are not going to get each other on this one. Also, she's apparently a Gaylor now? Which maybe was a joke, but it kind of didn't sound like it, and only contributes to my sneaking suspicion that Natalie's brain is finally starting to unravel under pressure.
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katriniac · 3 months
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So I find myself simping hard for Artem Wing this morning, and decide to nurse that ache by re-reading my favorite Tears of Themis card stories.
First up is Por Una Cabeza
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When I first pulled this card, all I knew was that I was getting ARTEM WEARING A FANCY MASK.
But then I read the story and was confused.
Like, really confused.
Spoilers below the cut if you haven't read this card yet.
This post has two parts. Maybe three if I decide to include the video call? So look in my reblogs for the rest of this recap!
This card's story is set BEFORE they are in an established relationship, before any love confession takes place.
So ... both Rosa and Artem are having similar nightmares at the beginning, but the reader isn't aware they are reading a dream.
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Now that I am reading it through again, I can more fully appreciate the other-worldliness of the "nightmare" and understand why everyone is acting strangely with bad memories, lol.
The bright red digital clock face glaring at Tosa in the fancy hotel lobby makes MUCH more sense more that I know it's her own bedside alarm clock she's incorporating into her dreamscape.
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Also? ALSO?!? TODAY, the day I'm reading this right now is December 24th! What are the odds! I totally forgot this story takes place on Christmas Eve, because they call the event the New Year's Ball. Idk why... 🤷‍♀️
Anyways, back to recapping my favorite moments:
🥹 @ Artem second-guessing himself, worrying about you, wondering if you're okay, and if it's his fault
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Awwwww, Artem!
His pouting face!
That's just like him to be concerned, and to jump to the conclusion that it might be his fault. He also wants to get to the bottom of any problem you have, so he can:
Discover the root cause of "Problem X"
Understand the reason for your distress
And plan for ways to fix/avoid it in the future so you never have to encounter/worry about "Problem X" ever again
Yes, this man is a 'fixer' but he does more than put a cosmetic bandage on things. He wants to make sure you never have to experience that same hurt a second time. He wants to learn from his own mistakes and others to prevent problems in the future. He wants to control the outcome by preparing for any eventuality.
The amount of energy and effort he puts into his "Rosa Long-Game" is mind-boggling.
Okay, I could go on forever about Artem's control issues, how amazing he is, and what makes him perfect husband-material.
So let's not get lost in the weeds out here. Back to the story!
There is this sublime moment where the two nightmares meld, as if the two of them are sharing the same dream!
And they meet FINALLY, after hours of panicked searching and confusion:
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So they eventually wake up, and they decide to text the other to see if they're awake, and it turns into a phone call. No biggie. Just a phone call. At 2am. Between coworkers. Talking about their dreams. 😘 Nothing peculiar about that, right?
Everyone does that with their colleagues, don't they??
😏 Sure .... sure.
Next:
We find out Artem only knows one dance.
Which isn't exactly weird... many dudes don't know any dances.
What is odd is the one dance this shy boy knows:
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The tango?
One of the most sensual and passionate dances ever?
Really?
Really.
The tango.
That's your go-to dance, Artem?
Okay.
Let's keep reading:
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Ohhhhhh.
*BREATHES*
We get a glimpse into their month-long practices.
30 days of being caged in Artem's arms, spending every day after work in close proximity, working up a sweat.
Oof.
And then once you're confident in the steps, the fun part of the "act" both partners must put on to sell the push and pull of emotions.
The haughtiness, the indignation, the desire, the attraction, the softening and relenting at last, all of that passion needed to put on a good show!
Yup...
...Just what two normal work co-workers do on a daily basis.
TOTALLY NORMAL. 😏
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*nods*
Yup.
"Suitable tango partner"
Uh-huh.
Artem. Artem! Stop lying to yourself!!
And then there's THIS:
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LMAO @ Artem wishing for a weapon to fight off anyone else who might try to take her away from him.
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"Everyone will know"
*sucks in breath*
Possessive!Artem is a really really hawt Artem.
Just sayin'
🥵🤤🥴❤️‍🔥🫠😍
AND they mention his adam's apple! Okay, this might not be a turn-on for other people. But it is to me.
I can point at obvious times in my life where I've decided that a certain action/attribute is attraction or sexy. But not the adam's apple. I have no explanation for why I find it mesmerizing!
But bless the writer who decided to mention that specific anatomy in this story! Shout out to you for adding to my swoon! 🫡
End of Part 1 - Check the reblogs for Part 2
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skaruresonic · 3 months
Text
I write HL fics sometimes so go check 'em out. links and excerpts under the read more. yeet
In the Eye of the Beholder - benignmilitancy - Half-Life [Archive of Our Own]
It wasn't a conscious decision.
It seldom is.
Risk factors. As if one's life can be reduced to a chemical deficit. ---
He can't say where it started, only where it's led him.
He saw the dwindling rations, the tight pinched miens of the men around him. The incessant chatter of a television broadcasting some new infathomable horror.
He ate less, started giving Kleiner his share. You need it more than I do.
Maybe the transference is why Kleiner started fighting battles on his behalf. Merely breathing is an incredible act of courage. I'll not have you speak ill to him when he's ailing.
"What about the rest of us, Kleiner? Do you really think this has just been peaches for us? Damned facility took everything! May God have mercy on our souls, because this coalition certainly won't spare us!"
In the days following the Seven Hours, he experienced no passions, no ambitions, no plans or desires. Consciousness a blank expanse. He became an unthinking creature, a vegetable at the ripe old age of twenty-three, confined to lying on a dirty couch, waiting for it to become a coffin.
A hand rustling the pillow beneath him, propping him up. A spoonful of flavorless chicken broth poised to his chapped lips, which parted out of reflex and allowed the liquid to slip inside.
Occasionally he felt fingers, dry and cold, knead his throat.
You must live. Kleiner, a tremulous wisp. Our hubris stole your future. Barney, I promise with whatever breath is granted me, I'll correct this grievous wrong. ---
I believe the Combine intend to show us every horror possible. They'll try to strip us of our rationality, our humanity, our sanity and our very souls. They'll parade us as animals to be gawked at and specimens to be dissected. You cannot do their work for them, Barney.
Life has no intrinsic meaning, it's true. We can neither rationalize nor justify our existence. We may not have a reason to continue. But there is such cohesion, such structure, to the universe that I find it impossible to believe we don't have a place in it at all. Let us be damned before we let our aggressors define it for us.
For a single sublime moment, Kleiner's hope made him beautiful.
Bless the wretched, who cling to scraps as they drift through this dark sea. --- Mycotoxin - benignmilitancy - Half-Life (Video Games) [Archive of Our Own] Hammer Two forges ahead and freezes at the threshold.
"Oh, sh... " And then it remembers. "Untagged biotics in Sector Nineteen."
Ghost Five staggers back in, twists and convulses beneath a pulsating mask of black mold. Spores spray on each exhale of the ventilator, latching onto the dust motes and burning. Asthmatic smoke.
Christ. Fall back. Bear back.
Daggers discharge. Raindrops in a puddle. The sterilizers have nowhere to go. They're simply eaten.
Hammer Two activates its wall and pulls up its hammer, sloughing sparks. There is something gladiatorial in the way it creeps toward Ghost Five. Near valiant. But the moment dies brutishly: the wall sputters and half of Hammer Two disintegrates. The other half slumps to the carpet. Carrion. Feasted upon. What it is now, the others don't know.
What's the designation? someone asks. Questions ripple through them.
What's the designation.
Spores.
The designation.
Mold?
Designation.
"You fucking morons, who cares what it is?"
They call for their mother, who responds with cold silence.
OVERWATCH WE ARE REQUESTING DESIGNATION
WE HAVE UNTAGGED
--- Derailed - benignmilitancy - Half-Life [Archive of Our Own]
Rain bombs the rooftops, a thousand simultaneous explosions silvering the streets. Water rattles the drainpipes loose from their bolts. Skies weep, unable to inhale. Endless baptisms rinse the city clean. He hasn't seen anything like it since the Seven Hours.
The man who stepped in front of the razor train, the whole and complete Kevlar-clad body he used to belong to, asked him in a thin whisper: You think it'll work?
Will what work?
Your Resistance. Go poking at the beast and it'll tear your head right off the stump. ---
Mask - benignmilitancy - Half-Life [Archive of Our Own] After a moment of silence, you roll up the hem of your armor.
They can't help but stare at the purple welt puckered over your right kidney. The flesh folded inward, the serrated ghosts of stitches puncturing brown skin.
Torso pads caught most of it. You appraise it with a nonchalant sniff. He cut it from a tin can, y'know, didn't know how to hold it the right way, and, uh. You trace the scar, almost fondling it under the pad of your index finger, before lowering your hem. He ran when he saw it broke off. They sent a couple shredders after him. Didn't make it past the front gate.
You sigh then and throw a stick into the oil drum. Golden cinders flare.
You know the real fucked part? As you were bleeding on the floor like a stuck pig? You got pissed at him. You. The mask. They were chasing him out the door and all you could think was, Just you wait, you raggedy little shit.
---
Path of the Borealis - benignmilitancy - Half-Life [Archive of Our Own]
Alone, he contemplated his failure.
One thread remained.
He crushed it.
Windows shattered outward, crashing tidal waves of glass into the darkness. Incandescent tubes scorched around him, belching sparks that caught on the upholstery. The tram's chassis screeched as the car folded in on itself, metal joints and steel bones scrunching with papery ease.
The last vortal cord sizzled protest in his fist.
Doctor Freeman. The darkness harbored lungs, and it prepared to scream. It… appears we've been quite… obdurate. ---
"You call me less than human. You, who are no more than an animal yourself, terrified of any glimmer of truth illuminating the shadows playing upon the cavern walls of your dim consciousness. What possible use could we have for you, an evolutionary dead end clinging wretchedly to its last vestiges? Only a fool would believe her short-lived passions serve us in the palace of the enlightened."
Breen dropped her. Let her crawl.
Long, jointed fingers grasped her ankles and dragged back its prey, letting the steel grate abrade her Hunter wounds. The floor's ridges scraped her flesh until her scabs cracked. A cold, seeping trickle smeared across her stomach, joining the sweat dampening her undershirt.
"I am the gentlest propagator of this process, believe you me. The native-born aren't quite as considerate for the concerns of the flesh, but I still remember what it means to be saddled down by human foible."
Clutching her throbbing shoulder, Alyx scrabbled in vain at the floor. Toward the launcher, toward anything that could offer salvation. Her heart slammed inside her ribcage, full to burst.
"I can improve you, perfect you in ways your simian cerebrum can hardly grasp. Have you seen the thorough work I've done with Dr. Mossman? How easily I've washed away her pesky flaws? One can't help but appreciate her now that she lacks her stubborn streak, her subtle arrogance driven by fears of inadequacy. Far better than the existing stock, wouldn't you agree?"
This couldn't be it. She couldn't die here, not to him, not with Mossman watching—
" …Now, there, you won't feel a thing, I promise. This baptism is the most invigorating thing you will ever do. Doesn't that sound far kinder a fate than any afterlife could purport to be? And who better to convert you than me?
"Not to worry: you're in much more capable hands than the ones that clutched your father. His death was an unrefined mess I wish not to repeat. No; for my next piece, I intend to chip away at you until what remains cannot even be called broken."
In the midst of horror, a place of calm. A clear voice.
Look, her father said. Look closer.
No; closer. Past the shock and pain and helplessness; past the blood pooling through limestone; peel back the layers, quiet the scrape of the scream writhing from your throat; stop feeling, stop grieving and see; what remains?
The Advisor in the barn. Bearing pockmarks from its damaged life support.
Alyx, her father said. Look in the inhuman eyes of the one who killed me. ---
Around her, darkness laughed. Stupid girl. Your father suffered many nightmares, but only one was born of choice.
[Lies.]
Whether hand or mind willed it, she didn't know. The former slipped into her boot and curled around a familiar curve.
[Vindicate me. Extinguish these lies.]
Alyx slaked off the HEV with a shove and brandished the pincer. Let the bastard's amused gaze absorb the glint of the weapon that had lured the terrified animal from Breen's host body, made the human inside taste hell.
"This is what you really want, right?" It turned, wry amusement etching Gordon's features. "What you arranged in Black Mesa." With a spirit as chillingly clear as ice, she poised the tip over her heart. "Let him go." Pushed in until the point sank through the parka's outermost skin, slitting tender down. "Or you lose everything."
Unperturbed in the slightest, it rose, and walked toward the fire. "Of the various species I have encountered, I have noted core characteristics." Emerald radiance blurred its edges. Gordon immolated. Gordon through a stained-glass window. Exalted. Untouchable. "They are born, cold, hungry, and screaming, into a world where their suffering engenders no meaning. Rather than endure such an existence, many seek relief. They embrace the end."
The pincer quaked.
"All except one. You do not know how to die."
The light was as holy as it was alien. Heatless like oblivion. Like transcendence.
"It is because you do not know how to die that your kind worships shadows. I knew your Resistance would never come to be without a sacrificial lamb or two. For that role, I could have chosen anyone. You, well. Provided the most convenient means, shall we say.
"To put it in the simplest terms I can: I don't like squandering my investments." Smooth metal nudged her breast. The heart, pumping worthless blood, accelerated at the intrusion. "At Black Mesa, I hoped to purge you of your afflictions. But I see my methods have failed. Instead, you passed your strain onto your neighbor."
Instinct checked her hand, prevented her from carrying out the threat.
The entity huffed a noiseless laugh as she relented her grip. "The flesh is a prison. It craves survival."
tery power is four p
Reduced to a crawl, she knelt beside Barney's prone form while the entity raised its arms, spreading veined wings of cables and cords. If she couldn't commit the crucial deed, she could at least... At least...
"There is nowhere to run, Miss Vance. You both belong to me," it said, "the organs of my body." ---
Something Secret Steers Us - benignmilitancy - Half-Life [Archive of Our Own] Maybe all their struggles amounted to futile effort, a fool's errand. An armored suit worn once and tucked away.
She wouldn't accept her death with any of the grace her mother and father had. She'd be dragged screaming into the dark, gnashing her teeth and biting the hand that supposedly fed.
Until now, she'd been measuring herself against this shadow in her head, this specter of Eli, weighing whether or not he'd have done the same in her circumstances. And she'd been so certain, so absolutely sure her father would have done the right thing, wouldn't have let anyone under his protection die.
"I can't take this," she whispered. "Between Dad and Barney and Gordon, it feels like I'm being crushed… And I know they need me to hold it together, I know… But making these decisions over who lives and who dies… How am I supposed to do that?"
But maybe he would have. The prospect that she didn't really know him at all, what he was capable of in a similar moment of blind, abject desperation, terrified her. That behind every self-effacing moment of his was calculation. That his insistence not to saint him but to look to Gordon instead—so certain this myth of a man held the answers they sought—had been in fact meticulously designed to get her to this point, with Gordon as the control. Solved like an equation, by proof and by axiom, whose life will pay the greater dividend? Whose life may we cast aside? Show your work, Dr. Vance.
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shallowseeker · 7 months
Note
how do you feel about repressed dean?
I've been sitting on this one, and I've been a little scared of it, to be honest. I really hope it's not anger-bait. So, why not answer it in the middle of the night, when few will see it?
Here goes: I love just about anything that's complex, you know? I think if I had to pick, I'd say I'm more a fan of consciously suppressed Dean than unconsciously repressed Dean, at least when it comes to emotions.
//
(Of the two, I actually view Cas as the more repressed one, not always privy to the three-dimensionality and multifaceted depth of his own motivations. -> "I always wondered, ever since I took that burden, that curse, I wondered what it could be? What my true happiness could even look like."
And The Empty knows who Cas loves, sure, but does Cas really, really know the extent of what that means at that point? I don't know. Did Cas allow himself to fantasize, or did he shut it down and sublimate it so hard into The Mission that it lives only in the repressed shadow-world of The Empty?
Cas can certainly read others and is, I think, actually more emotionally intuitive than characters like Sam, but his own emotions? He brutally trained to repress them to the point the Angelic company line is, “We’re heartless. We feel nothing.”)
//
Anyway, I really adore when Dean knows what's going on and is actively choosing his whole sublimation and transference approach, whatever that approach happens to be.
As a default, I view him as emotionally intuitive. That said, we have seen him unconsciously repress his own memories of Cas rejecting him in Purgatory, so you can certainly build things around Dean and repression! (It seems like the rejection was the big issue there, more than even losing Cas. -> "We were there! It was like you just gave up!")
And I know it's not exactly popular but:
I think you can make a well-argued case for a deeply closeted Dean who doesn't act on his less “acceptable” urges. Like, he was The Good Son, you know? It's completely logical for me to see a reading where Dean has Queer Relationships that he knows have implications and yet keeps them juuuuuust peripheral enough that he doesn't act on them in a way that he thinks counts, which for argument's sake can be not acting on them physically or just…sublimating them into Rhonda Hurley type scenarios. Or he just gets himself into situations where he triangulates.
Dean tends to get stereotyped in a hypersexual manner, so I think assumptions are made, but they don’t have to be made, and we don’t have to conclude the same thing. I mean, there are stories where I find a less-sexual-than-expected Dean fascinating. I mean, clearly, he’s flustered around men like Aaron Bass. He gets flustered too when Cas tells him over the phone in Prophet & Loss that, “It’s so good to hear from you.” I can roll with it. Perhaps it really comes down to which parts of his puffed up performance you believe, and some ppl believe waaay less of it.
//
Anyway, overall, it’s just fine as a reading. I'm not here to read the text just one way! I hope I don't come off that way…because I enjoy things that aren’t my “Main.” Some of my all-time favorite fics approach Dean in unusual ways, and it's delicious and painful and all the things that keep you riveted for days.
Some of them even challenge me and change my mind.
//
I read one where Dean sunders himself from his own desires and act strategically-manipulatively as a way to prop up the desires of others in order to get at the security he craves, and I absolutely love that! That Dean might suppress his own needs to obtain a goal with regards to someone else's continued presence/security/etc? Mind-bogglingly awesome in my book! Dean’s shadow self is demonic; he can read others’ needs and maneuver desires! Maybe sometimes getting past others’ desires and all the way down to his own can be like rupturing a boil! I’m here for it!
//
In some stories, Dean is the emotionally forthright heart/Tinman, but suppressed insomuch that he doesn't take that final physical step unless he's being steered by someone else's desires, which can be argued beautifully, I think. On the other hand, Dean is certainly courageous in trying to communicate his feelings as early as season 8. (But arguably, he’s not as clear about it as he thinks!)
//
And what of Cas being forward? Cas uses grand gestures a lot, and he prefers to hide behind a Noble Cause but when he Gets It, he Gets It. He’s more firmly explicit about it, because Cas can be up-front to the point of bluntness. (His words were grand, too, a pretty grand gesture, all on its own.) Cas is certainly a courageous/Cowardly Lion in season 15, once he finally wakes up to What's Going On.
Overall, Cas is remarkably brave, even when he thinks he's not. He lives in the fear and is culturally outside of his comfort zone 99% of the time, and 9 times out of 10 he will do something regardless of how foolish he may look.
//
The thing is, people go through things and they get psychologically wounded and they have periods where their mental health thresholds plummet, so really, depending on the context, people can act in unusual or unexpected ways and it totally works!
What i’m trying to say, Repressed Dean enjoyers, is that I support you.
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myjunkisyuzuruhanyu · 4 months
Note
Alright, I want to be fair, cause I sent that ask cause you're a fan of both Yuzu and Shoma and don't really favor one over the other, it seems like...
In what ways do you think Yuzu is a better skater than Shoma?
I am a huge fan of both and the question remains hard because they are such different skaters with such different styles. And I love them both for utterly different reasons. And ofc atm it's easy for me to say Shoma is my favorite competitive skate and Yuzu my favorite retired skater.☺️ But as someone who likes competitions better than any kind of gala stuff I am currently thinking more about Shoma. Though admittedly I am more in the Shoma fandom than in the Yuzu fandom for maybe obvious reason 😅
Again this is a subjective opinion and while I think some things can be better objectively "measured" it also doesn't mean that Shoma is "bad" in comparison or anything.
Let's start with something obvious if you have followed me for the past years. Yuzu is imo a better jumper especially on Toeloop jumps. The height of Yuzu's jumps is better. Yuzu's jump technique is purer or clearer than Shoma's especially on the take-off at Toeloop jumps. We don't have to talk about Yuzu having a miles better Lutz jump. And I also think we don't have to argue about Shoma's take-off technique for the 4F being questionable. I think Shoma's Toejumps though got significantly better from when he first started in seniors vs. now and Shoma's edge jumps like Loop and Salchow aren't significantly worse than Yuzu's. Yuzu's take-off technique is sublime. There is a reason ppl call his jumps "textbook" and I say I agree though there is no official "textbook" and the evaluation of jumps through judges isn't much about whether a jump is textbook. I think Yuzu was a bit undervalued in GOEs throughout his career. His jumps leave nothing to desire. He even fixed his Flip edge over the years.
4T1Eu3S:
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4S:
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3F:
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I think no one can compare to Yuzu in the transition department. (Not to be mistaken as Shoma doesn't have transitions which is a lie. Shoma has tons as well but not as many) Yuzu had fun to try to include as less cross-overs as possible and thus every step is almost a difficult step and turn which are difficult transition. Just look at Let's Go Crazy and watch only Yuzu's feet, this is an example of extreme difficulty even other programs of Yuzu are hard to match. He unfortunately never got the best evaluation for his efforts in transitions and after the Olympic season this criteria was even removed from the PCS as a standalone criteria (mind you the evaluation was not really coherent to what skaters did anyway). Still a bit sad that LGC wasn't skated competitively to it's full potential. I love LGC.
Now the more subjective part, which is hard because I like Yuzu's style of skating but I also like Shoma's style of skating, but they have a different approach. I would not say one approach is better than the other, but it leads to the impressions that I shared in the "Shoma is better answer" and leads also to what I want to emphasize with Yuzu:
I think Yuzu is better at packaging his programs. I am actually not sure if I find the right words to say what I intend to emphasize here, but let me give it a try. Yuzu has a complete image in mind what he's trying to portray with his programs. It's seen in all details and costume and poses that are memorable and suit the program, it's seldomly repeated in other programs. Shoma's approach is more subtle and more from within him.
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I think Yuzu has a rawer energy, more attack in his skating than Shoma. I think best seen in how he throws himself into the Seimei step sequence and hell breaks lose. The emotions are set free. Same for when I first really noticed Yuzu in Romeo and Juliet 1.0 in 2012 how emotional he skated on the ice. I think he is "better" at letting go of the emotions. It grabs me every time.
And I think that also speaks for what differences grab me in Shoma's and Yuzu's skating. Yuzu's emotions and expression are differently emoted to me than Shoma's. Shoma's skating is like music to me, fascinating and a calmness about it. Yuzu's skating is full commitment and commands you to look at him and the emotions shown grab me. It's different for everyone and I am not sure I can express my feelings into words, but this was a try.
(All GIF's taken from @ the-real-xmonster Tumblr)
I replied to what I think Shoma does "better" than Yuzu here:
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areseebee · 10 months
Note
Ooh, for the micro fic, can you use "Pretty"?
i certainly can! here's a little something grounded in neither space nor time that i imagine is probably set 1-2 years post-smoke break. includes mentions of OCs liam (erin's post-smoke break bf) and faye (james's post-smoke break gf).
[in reference to this writing ask game that i reblogged earlier!]
Erin finds it easy to forget that she’s dating someone else – told him she loved him and everything only a month ago for Christ’s sake – when she watches James. She’s very good at watching James. If there were a sport for it, she’d be professional. She could get a degree in it. Honours for never getting caught. Extra credit for the most sublime affectation of nonchalance that you could imagine, all while her eyes skim across his face, along his hair, his cheek, his neck. Top marks.
He’s pretty. Not in a pretty boy kind of way. Not just in a pleasing to the eye kind of way. In a kind of way that makes her feel totally delusional just to look at him, like really look at him. He’s just so very James – shoulders sometimes a little hunched, hands sometimes stuffed into his pockets, the edges of his mouth sometimes (always) on a downward trend until they are curving up and up and he smiles and it feels like the fucking sun. Like basking in a late summer golden hour, wishing always to live forever in that moment, liking it all the better because she can’t.
She thinks sometimes she’s the only one who notices. No one else thinks he’s pretty. Well – maybe his girlfriend does. But she can’t really imagine Faye thinking it quite like that. Not like Erin thinks it. Not like Erin feels it – overwhelmed sometimes, basking in him in only the kind of way she thinks she can do.
She watches him and wonders – how would his cheek feel under her hand and how would he kiss her again and what words would he say now, after all this time. She sometimes forgets that she ever got to do any of that. Maybe if she remembered she wouldn’t long for it so much. Maybe if she remembered, she wouldn’t watch him.
Or maybe she does remember. Maybe that’s why she can’t stop.
Sometimes she wonders if he watches too – is he thinking about her when he stands across the room, when he looks her way? Does he take the seat across from her, always now, all the better to see her face?
It’s to create distance, that’s all, is what she tells herself. He never sits just next to her. Not anymore. But sometimes she looks up, eyes skimming over him as if it means nothing, as if she’s not thinking about how long since she last did it, as if she’s hoping no one is noticing that she’s looking at him quite so much, and she’ll find that his eyes are skimming too. No, more than skimming; concentrated right on her face.
And when their eyes meet, it’s always look away, look away as fast as you possibly can, all while a zip of embarrassment and something more – adrenaline – finds its way just as fast through her limbs.
Sometimes she thinks she’s gonna lose it, just totally lose it, thinking about him like this. Like he’s hers. Like he is exactly who is meant for her. Like the next time he even comes close to her, she’s going to totally lose it and kiss him. Like she’s going to confuse this absolutely bonkers fantasy, like she’s going to totally fucking embarrass herself thinking that he wants this too. He doesn’t. She would know. She would know for sure, if he did.
If he cared about her at all, she wouldn’t be wondering. Wouldn’t be thinking about it like this, fixated and distracted and biding time until she can next bloom again under his gaze.
Sometimes she wonders what it’s all for – all of this desire. What does she hope for? What does she want? Does she want him to know? The thought sounds humiliating. Does she want him to want her too? Yes. But she doesn’t know where to put it, all this wanting. Because, laid bare, at the end of it all, she’s not quite sure what’s left. Sometimes she thinks she can see the smoke figures of their future, hers and James's, if there ever was going to be one; one slight breeze blows it all away. 
And Liam. Liam. He’s not smoke. He’s real. And, with him, she’s never left wondering. She’d be so foolish not to choose that.
It always happens this way – when James visits Derry – Erin gets so tired, feels so run ragged from all of the waiting. Waiting until she can see him again, waiting until she catches his eye again, waiting until she gets a wee, tiny shred of evidence that maybe she’s right for reading so much into it. Waiting for the next hit of a glance like her fucking life depends on it. It’s really feeling like her life depends on it. And when Liam, her sweet fella, asks her how her trip home was – was it good? – she will only say that it was “Fine. You know how it is,” and then slip ever more shoddily, ever less surely back into her usual life, counting down the days until the next time.
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redheadspark · 11 months
Note
if you’re feeling up to it, what are your thoughts on ways druig would be intimate with his partner. i’ve recently come to terms with my asexuality. i most closely identify with demisexuality, but i’m still not entirely certain if i’d ever have sex. i think that people are so obsessed with sex in relationships that other acts of intimacy are completely overlooked. i can imagine cuddling with druig, gazing into eachother’s eyes and engraining his features into my memory. i can see him oiling my hair, softly brushing through my curls and braiding my hair. i can imagine bathing eachother, even cuddling naked afterwards. not because we want to have sex, or because he wants to touch me in that way, but because he wants to be near me. i think that the song “we’ll never have sex” by leith ross perfectly sums up my desires in a relationship. someone touching me, kissing me, just because they want to. not because they want something more out of it. just because they love me. being able to be fully unclothed in front of someone and not fearing their intentions when they look at me. i think that being able to build up the courage to finally set the boundary of the possibility of never having sex, and in return still being given the gentleness and love i yearn for is just so fulfilling. i can always imagine druig giving that to me when i think of it. just pure love, nothing more.
i meant to write a couple sentences and ended up writing an entire ass essay 💀
THIS! I love this!!
I would love to dive into this kind of discussion about Druig and how he would love on his partner that is Ace.
*Yay for Asexuality! I'm happy to know another fabulous Ace on here! Please note that every Asexuality journey is different but important. But this si my spin, so let me know if I offend!
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Druig loves you. Fiercely loves you with all of his energy and being
You mention to him that you're Asexual, and after explaining it to him and how you feel about sex, you would assume he would walk away from you and the relationship.
But he stays.
Druig is already a gentleman to begin with when you two were just friends: holding out your chair for you to sit, getting the door for you, and making sure you walk in front of him in a crowded space.
And that chivalry continues one after your first date at the botanical gardens
He never pressures you into anything that makes you uncomfortable or uneasy. Any kind of touch, he asks permission first, even something as simple as hand-holding or wrapping an arm around your shoulder.
Of course, you never minded those kinds of touches and kinds of intimacy with Druig, they make you feel loved.
You two would spend plenty of time together being shoulder to shoulder sitting together, Driug letting you drap your legs over his when you were curled together reading a good book. Resting your head on his shoulder and feeling him lace your fingers together, they were always gentle and filled with love.
Druig's favorite thing to do was simply stare at you. Whether you were picking out flowers at the local florist shop for Makkari's birthday, or looking up a recipe to try for dinner in your cookbook, Druig would always gaze at you and find you simply sublime.
"Why do you look at me like that?" You asked Druig one night as you two were snuggling together in bed.
"Like what?" Druig asked, not understanding the question.
"Like....like you love me," You sheepishly explained. Druig was taken aback by how you said it, almost like you were in doubt of his love for you. He merely stared at you deeply and leaned in to touch your nose with his.
"Maybe it's because I do love ya," He whispered against your lips. You saw it in his eyes, in how he kissed you so carefully and held your hands in his own, you knew deep down that he did love you.
The deeper moments with Druig would move you to pieces. wrapping you in his arms when you two slept together in bed, his touches staying sensual and soothing as you two would kiss on the couch huddled together, and helping each other groom and get ready for the day.
Druig especially loved brushing your hair as you would sit in the bath, even after a rough day at work. He would sit on the edge of the bed and run the comb through your hair as you told him about your day. After he was done, he would kiss your shoulder very gently and press his head to yours.
It made you feel safe with him, that sensation of knowing he would never push or hurt you as kisses would be both gentle and yet passionate at the same time.
As your relationship went on and grew, so did your intimacy together. Druig still never pushed, but he never hesitated either. He could read your facial expressions when it came to your boundaries and he knew when it was too much.
But you surprised him one night when you two were getting ready for bed. You and Druig went asleep naked together, only holding one another and just feeling each other's skin.
"You are all I need in this world," Druig reminded you as he held you close under the covers, stroking your cheek and letting his icy blue eyes drill into your own, "I don't want anything else when it comes to my love for you, okay?"
You would always come first to him and he would make sure you would be beyond loved and cared for when it came to your boundaries and your comfort. And for that, you knew the deep kind of love that some will never ever encounter. And you would consider yourself lucky
The End.
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Tagged - @a-lumos-in-the-nox @basicrese @heliosphere8 @virtueassassin @botanicalbarnes @heartofwritiing
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rattlingmycage · 7 months
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Will they have a "happy" ending (get together) at all? I love to see all this horrible they-are-so-bad-for-each-other dynamic and it makes me wonder just how compatible Astarion and Hescrates really are (or not).
Much like the game, I have multiple endings and multiple AUs for these two chuckle fucks, and how it plays out depends a lot on whether they can overcome the worst of their tendencies around power and freedom. They're good for each other in that they understand where the other is coming from on a deeply personal level, and bad for each other in that they enable the other's selfishness and distrust for the world. The fact that they eventually come to trust/maybe even love one another is antithetical to their whole "I'm in this for myself" notions, and I like the idea of them both struggling with the cognitive dissonance of it. Here are the "canon" headcanon timeline endings lol.. Bear in mind these are from pre-release so there was no concept of "ascending" at the time. (It's... long. I'm sorry I have brainworms) Bad end 1 Cazador is defeated, Astarion turns fully, and out of fear/twisted love/entitlement/whatever, Hescrates is enthralled against their will. Attachment becomes possession, talons closing in. They eventually trick Astarion into finishing the process and become a bitter, eternal nemesis. Or as I like to call it, divorced. Bad end 2
They lose. Badly. Cazador regains control and commands Astarion to kill Hescrates. They've had to kill a lover that turned on them before, but it's different when the person coming at you with a knife is begging you to run. If Hesc dies, it just reinforces to Astarion that he will never escape, that any and all attachment is a grave mistake. If Astarion dies, Caz gets a new spawn - probably the most stubborn he's ever had, lol. Hesc would probably neg him for having shite torture methods. Mid end
They leave Cazador alone and Astarion mooches off Hescrates' begrudging generosity. I think this one is funny because he gets to be all silk no vitamins again, this time with a parade of knights forced to clean up after him. Happy end Cazador is defeated, and the cognitive dissonance I mentioned goes the other direction. It turns out that there is value to helping at least some people. Attachment becomes respect and trust, the desire to see the other free, even if that means letting go of the notion of "'safety' forever". In this one I like to imagine that Astarion breaks free of the cycle first; relinquishing power while Hescrates protests. "Why would you do this? Isn't this what we've been working towards this whole time?" Because they're part of a cycle too, except they'd chosen the power option long ago. It doesn't make sense. (I wrote Hescrates to have murdered their nine siblings 2 years ago when I designed them, and it honestly threw me for a loop when the game released that A, Astarion has "siblings" and B, he also has the option of sacrificing them. Just imagine my reaction when he said he had six "brothers" and "sisters" for the first time. I was DERANGED I tell you). And then it's kind of a reverse Vlad Dracula Tepes/Lisa of Lupu moment. A hapless stray cat of a vampire spawn asks a powerful, burnt out tyrant to travel the world, because there's so much he hasn't yet seen, and maybe it will look different when it's not being razed to the damned ground. "You freed me, let me free you too." By now Hescrates' petrified heart will have softened enough to agree to this objectively stupid request, and they find a way to make it happen. Neither of them will have ever fully atoned for their crimes (I always imagined this being ex-corrupt magistrate Astarion), and there is no guaranteed "safety", because this time, freedom isn't found in regal, sublime protection, it's found in the mundanity of each other's company. They'll both probably still be menaces in their own right, just... much more low key about it.
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I haven't seen any body talk about it yet but it's been driving me insane. So when Guillermo goes to seek out nandor that exchange is so fascinating to me, like the restlessness and frustration that Guillermo feels contrasted with nandor's resigned placidity, also to be compared with nandors outburst last season, like it's almost paradoxical the way that Guillermo fights against how nothing changes and yet is trying to become immortal. I think next season is going to be the season of Guillermo reaching for the things that don't actually make him happy, in a sort of parallel to nandor this season. Guillermo has always wanted to be a vampire, which we already have seen as a sublimation of his desires and insecurities, same as nandor looking for a wife, nandor is lonely and frustrated, and wants to find companionship but even when he gets it it is hollow. The cult episodes also show this, nandor wants companionship and purpose to take away from how monotonous life as a vampire can be. Meanwhile Guillermo's purpose is to attain vampire status. I don't know if Jeremy will turn Guillermo, maybe he doesn't even know how as the circumstances of his turning were very chaotic, but if he does what then? Guillermo makes the change to vampirism to escape monotony and finds out that becoming a vampire didn't magically better his life and in fact may have worsened it in many respects, he may never see any of his family because they are also slayers and might kill him, this is not even counting things that could go wrong with his slayer blood. Everyday life is boring to Guillermo, he became a familiar at 19, he has arguably never had a normal life or normal relationships, so what now? He became a familiar, to me, as a form of escapism and now he's going to reenter the regular world being deeply changed by the experiences he's had. Or what, he enters vampire society, something tells me they wouldn't react kindly to him being there. I'm really excited to see how this plays out, like would I love badass Guillermo taking the vamp world by storm, absolutely, he deserves it, but idk something tells me the road to vampirism might not be as easy as all that.
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