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#one direction vibes
poorly-drawn-mdzs · 3 months
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No time to play. You are being sent away.
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#poorly drawn mdzs#mdzs#yu ziyuan#jiang yanli#jiang cheng#wei wuxian#Do you know how hard it was to *not* do a 'Sold To One Direction' spoof comic? It took nearly all my will power.#Mostly because it misaligns a little too far off from the canon events and vibes.#But sit with me for a moment. Consider it:#“BEEP BEEP BEEP. I threw my pillow at my alarm clock. ”Wei Wuxian get your lazy ass downstairs!“ Yu Ziyuan yelled.#I ran to the bathroom and looked in the mirror to see my grey orbs staring back at me.#I put my long straight black hair in a ponytail with a red ribbon.#I went downstairs to see my adoptive mother holding a bottle of vodka and a cigarette.#'Listen up whore! I need money to pay the bills so I sold you. Your new owners will be here any minute so go pack!'#I stormed upstairs. There was no way I was going to let her sell me to a creepy old man!#I decided to run away. Since I'm not like other girls I don't have very many friends.#My gay friend Lan Zhan was mean but he lived like a block away.#As I opened the door I saw Wen Chao blocking the door. 'Ello Love. We're your new owners!'#I rolled my eyes and pushed him. 'Aren't you from that stupid Wen Sect? There's no way in hell I'm going with you!'#Hey again. It's me the OP of this blog taking a pause. I haven't actually read this story before aside from the memes#and I am honestly reeling from how this watpad fic chapter ends. What do you mean one of the one direction boys chloroforms her???#Chapter 2 is so much worse#Why is there such a strong focus on the *eyes* of every boy!!!#This fanfic is a horror story actually. I came into it trying to make a funny parody but I got in over my head. Dear God.#It's me again. Several minutes have passed and I'm on chapter 4. What the FUCK is going on here?#I feel like I opened up pandora's box hoping for a fun little treat and got the plauge upon me. Dont read this fic.
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littlenimart · 7 months
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i went into Fionna and Cake unprepared for Simon to be so powerfully moe
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stevebabey · 1 year
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no one asked but this is the post that inspired this! thank u immensely for the luv <3 number 1 comment was wondering what steve’s bids were & from his pov, so without further ado...enjoy — part one here!
Begrudgingly, Eddie has to admit that Robin might be right.
It’s impossible not to be looking for the bids since he brought them up to her. Even though Eddie was fully expecting to tell Robin to suck it, maybe even wager what little money he had against this working out, Eddie can’t help but watch for them in every interaction. And fuck, she’s right.
They’re little, but they’re there.
The first one Eddie would’ve missed if he wasn’t looking for it. Actually, that’s a lie; Eddie does miss it, until Robin points it out, the nosy bitch. It’s minuscule and honestly, it just seems like Steve asking his opinion — which friends do all the time! It’s why Eddie brushes right over it.
“Okay, be honest,“ Steve had said, walking and talking as he entered the living room where Robin and Eddie were sprawled across the couches. They were both waiting on him, the three of them set on heading out to the drive-in to catch a film.
Eddie can’t fathom why Steve felt the need to change his outfit for it, but when he returns, he gets it. It’s not quite the usual polo Eddie had grown to like on Steve, this one hanging a little looser, the colour a bit darker than Steve’s usual choice, the sleeves a little shorter — almost midway to a muscle tee.
Steve’s fingers fiddle with the distressed collar of the shirt, smoothing invisible wrinkles and fussing over nothing. He swishes back his floppy hair with a flick of his head. “It’s a new shirt, I know it’s a little different - but what do we think?”
He says we but he’s looking at Eddie.
Eddie, who has taken to trying to reel in his gawp because what the fuck Steve? It’s like he’s well aware of what drives Eddie insane and has specifically leaned into it. Some evil goblin in Eddie’s brain whispers think how good he’d look in your shirt and he squashes it, giving a visible twitch to shut down that train of thought.
From the other couch, Robin clears her throat loudly and smiles sweetly at her best friend. “It looks great, Steve.”
It’s sincere and Steve’s mouth tugs up, nearly a smile but his gaze fast-tracks back to Eddie. Eddie nods in agreement, a bit sluggish from his distracting thoughts and god dammit, the extra exposed skin of Steve’s arms are so not helping. “Yeah, looks... looks good, man.”
Steve smiles, lips pressed together but his shoulders curl in just a bit, deflating just a tad. From where Steve can’t see her, Robin waves her hands wildly and catches Eddie’s attention. He watches as she gestures wildly and it takes a moment to realise what’s she mouthing — ‘A bid! That’s a bid, you idiot!’
Oh fuck, Eddie thinks. Cos it totally was; the question, the focus on Eddie. He doesn’t even think about the logistics of it, of the fact Robin was right, just jumps right into picking up the bid.
“You trying a new style?” Eddie asks and then thanks whatever god invented the whole fake-it-to-you-make-it schtick because he’s feeling so far from casual or confident. “Going metal on me, big boy?”
Eddie just manages to catch the grin that breaks across Steve’s face as he turns away, giving a scoff — it comes out too soft though, giving away his complete lack of annoyance. He pulls that usual Steve Harrington pose, hands sliding onto his hips, and screws his face into some melted smiley-grimace. “Shut up, Munson.”
Eddie grins and goads on the blush that’s beginning on Steve’s neck, a glorious tinged pink colour. “If this shirt is any indication, you’d pull it off just fine.”
Eddie watches the blush climb higher as Steve ignores the comment, his smile still giving him away. He grabs his coat and pats down his jeans — ridiculous tight acid wash jeans that Eddie hates he’s somehow become attracted to — ensuring he has his keys and wallet. Once assured, he looks up at his two friends again, brows raised, and says, “Ready to rock and roll?”
That comment alone has Eddie seriously reconsidering his type in men.
There’s only a brief moment to talk about it when Eddie and Robin cajole Steve into going and getting them both popcorn to get a moment alone. Steve had scoffed, face twitching in the way it did whenever he tried to hold back a bitchy comment, but he still stomped off in the direction of the snack stand.
The moment he’s out of earshot, both voices explode in the back of Eddie’s van.
“What did I say—”
“Jesus H Christ, you were right—”
“Literally how many times do I have—”
“Oh my god, you were right—”
“ —before you realise I’m always—”
“Robin.” He cuts her off, hands landing on her shoulders. Robin eyes them warily, lips still parted from how her rant had been cut off. “Robin, I’m gonna kill you.”
“What?” Robin’s nose scrunches up. “What the hell are you—”
“Oh Christ, I can’t believe- how long have you noticed those bids?” Eddie’s aware he sounds a bit estranged, eyes probably wide and it doesn’t help when he softly shakes Robin back and forth. She lets herself be shaken, hair flying back in forth. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! You are such a bad gay friend!”
Robin smacks his hands off her shoulders with a frown, her freckly face perturbed at Eddie’s outburst. “Dude, it’s not my fault! May I remind you that until very very recently you were seeing someone else? What difference would it have made?”
Eddie waves his hand, disregarding the point with a shake of his head. His unkempt curls cover his face and Eddie sweeps them back in one motion, “What difference would it have made? Oh my, Jesus—“
Whatever long-winded sentence Eddie was about to spit out is lost by the sound of Steve’s approaching footsteps, effectively shutting both of them up.
Eddie flings himself to the other side of the van, putting an unusual amount of distance between Robin and him like they were being caught doing something they shouldn’t.
Robin frowns at him and gestures wildly with her hands in a way that means what the fuck man? Eddie gestures back, though he’s not entirely sure what his fast hand motions are supposed to mean when Steve rounds the door.
He’s got two buckets of popcorn tucked under each arm and Eddie quickly crosses his arms, tucking his hands into his armpits like his stupid hand motions will somehow give him away. 
Steve looks up, stopping just a way from the edge of the van, and looks at the pair of them. His eyes track from Robin still sitting on one of the old cushions and looking two seconds from burying her face in her hands, across to Eddie. He huffs a laugh and kneels on the edge of the van.
“I know he’s gross Robin,” He begins, tone light, as he holds out one of the buckets for Robin to take. “But c’mon, is the distance really necessary?”
Robin snickers as Eddie makes an appalled noise, both of which make Steve smirk. He holds out the other for Eddie to take and Eddie snatches it, glaring at him over the buttery rim for his comment. Then takes a handful and shovels it in because he can’t think of a witty comment to retaliate. Steve crawls into the van and plops himself between them with a content sigh.
“See? Gross.” He teases, shoving his hand into Eddie’s popcorn bucket to grab a handful. Eddie scowls and chews a little faster when the flavour on his tongue seems to register in his brain.
His eyes stare at the popcorn bucket as he chews, then swallows — up the front of the van, the radio that’s tuned into the correct frequency begins playing the opening credits song as the screen changes. Silence sweeps across the drive-in but despite the sudden hush, Eddie has no qualms about breaking it.
“Sweet n’ salty flavour?” He asks Steve, only half attempting a whisper. Robin shushes him instantly, her focus already on the movie that’s beginning. Steve smiles, looking a bit sheepish beneath the glow of the drive-in screen, but he nods.
“I know you like it.” He whispers with a small shrug of his shoulders. Like it wasn’t a big deal. Fuck, Eddie thinks again and hastily feeds himself another handful of popcorn before he says anything majorly stupid in response to that, like: Oh, amazing- have you noticed the big fat crush I have on you as well?
He doesn’t even need to look at Robin to know she’s smiling, smug as ever.
Steve, God bless his oblivious little heart, doesn’t even realise he’s doing it.
Steve likes Eddie. Eddie is— god, Eddie is different but he’s good.
He’s this strange amalgamation of traits that Steve can’t comprehend how they fit together in one body or how Eddie manages to pull it all off completely charmingly.
He’s loud, he says rude things, he’s fucking dorky, and far too sweet on the kids — he likes to tease Steve, and yet somehow, when Eddie calls him ‘pretty boy’, Steve knows he’s not actually making fun of him.
Steve likes Eddie, likes his boyishly endearing charm, likes his touchiness towards Steve that no other boy his age is like, likes his messy curls and his ‘holier than thou’ attitude about metal music even though Steve doesn’t get it, like at all. And fuck, Steve really wants Eddie to like him.
It reminds him faintly of when he first started working alongside Robin at Scoops. That thought tickles in the back of his mind, something along the lines of how he had wanted Robin to like him for other reasons, but he doesn’t delve into it.
To Steve, it’s simple: he just wants Eddie to like him.
After the night at the drive-in, between Eddie acting strangely skittish and Robin giving more amused snorts than usual, Steve knows something is up.
He knows they must have discussed something when they sent him on popcorn duty, the bastards. He tries his best to not feel left out; god knows Robin and he have more than a dozen secrets they’ve sworn not to tell anyone but each other.
Besides, Steve trusts Robin to come and tell him if he really needs to know, even if it does worry him a bit. He bites down his anxious thoughts, even trying for a moment to see if there’s a pattern he’s been missing.
That train of thought gets derailed when Steve recalls instead Eddie’s delightful reaction to his new shirt — that Steve definitely hadn’t bought for that specific reason.
Even though Robin had given him that look when he’d first shown it to her — her bright eyes had narrowed, her smile turning a little more coy, and Steve had felt his ears get a little hotter. She hadn’t said anything though, just suggested that he should wear it tomorrow night when they were going out with Eddie.
God, he was glad she suggested it.
Rewinding over Eddie’s parted lips, the way his brown eyes had drank in the details as they trailed up his body and lingered on his arms— Steve had the sudden thought to flex the muscle, just to elicit some reaction, but it had gone out the window at Eddie’s original dismal reaction.
‘Yeah, looks... looks good, man’. Said all aloof, like he hadn’t really thought it. It was like bursting a balloon hidden behind Steve’s ribs, one he wasn’t even aware was there until it was deflating pathetically, making his shoulders sag.
Then— ‘You trying a new style? Going metal on me, big boy?’ And dammit, it’s like Eddie had clocked exactly what calling him ‘big boy’ had done the first time in the Winnebago.
Eddie had then grinned, done another once over of the new shirt, even as Steve pretended to search for his keys and wallet while saying something snarky to try to cover up the heat crawling up his neck. Yet, Steve found himself smiling too because, fuck yes, Eddie liked it too.
But, apparently, whatever Eddie and Robin had discussed wasn’t considered important enough because Robin never brought it up.
The thought and worry about it melt away in Steve’s mind until the memory of that night is about Eddie’s compliment, about his cat-like grin over the popcorn bucket, and how he had leaned over to whisper every bad joke into Steve’s ear all through the movie.
Some of them had been down-right filthy jokes which Eddie only seemed to enjoy more when Steve screwed his face up and nudged Eddie in the ribs, yet unable to hide his smile.
After the third vulgar joke and subsequent nudge, Steve had chided ‘dude’ with a poorly hidden grin. Eddie, smile all cheeky, had nudged him back with a ‘dude’ of his own.
Which, of course, ensued a nudge competition til Robin had given a shush that librarians all over the world would be jealous of. But Steve didn’t even care because he and Eddie were arm to arm, pressed close together and Eddie…didn’t move. Stayed close, like he wanted the closeness the same way Steve did.
Steve only remembers the strange drive-in moment when Robin brings it up finally, on one interesting Saturday night.
It’s not the usual routine; it’s not very often that the whole group gets together to share drinks and get rowdy.
But it was for Robin’s birthday and she’d been persuasive enough to get even the introverts, like Jonathan, to come along. Though, she was aware he’d probably spend the night on a pool lounger, stoned to high heaven. Whatever floats your boat, she’d said, happy for the company in any form.
There’s enough of them there that it almost resembles some sort of party— and makes Steve try not to think about the last small party he threw here. He can tell Nancy notices it too, eyeing the pool a bit too long in a way he’s very familiar with, then taking a swig of beer.
So, Steve heckles them inside — doing a fantastic mothering impression as he waves the group indoors with a promise of pizza, and that has both Jonathan and Argyle perking up and beginning a fast discussion on the best pizza toppings.
Eddie makes a fuss, because of course he does, and moans terribly when Steve tries to roll him off the pool lounger he’s on. He’s had a bit of a joint and some beer, and Steve’s learned that he gets adorably stubborn after some substances.
“Stevie, this is mean,” he had pouted, gripping the edges of the lounger and staring up at Steve with those big brown eyes. “You telling me I did all that bonding with you for nothing? Can’t even lounge by the pool! I’ve got a couch at homeeeee.”
Steve had sent him an amused look of disbelief, hands on his hips after his first round of flicks against Eddie’s arm were apparently fruitless to get him to move. “Really? Didn’t peg you for a gold-digger, Eds.”
Eddie had snorted at that, one hand coming to slap over his mouth. Steve couldn’t quite hear what he had said but the words pegging and anytime slipped through and Steve thinks he could get the gist of that.
“Oh for Christ’s sake,” Steve muttered, feeling the tips of his ears turn warm. He didn’t know how Eddie could be such a menace— or why he enjoyed it so much when he was. Steve waved a hand in the direction of the doors, ignoring Eddie’s delighted snickering. “If you go inside now, you can be on music, alright?”
And that had finally got them all indoors, Eddie whooping and skedaddling through the doors in an instant, with a call of ‘no take backsies!’ echoing behind him.
Inside was much cozier, the whole group a little more connected when squished up on the couches together. Eddie had taken Steve’s word and was jamming a cassette into one of the speakers when Steve made it back inside after scouting around the pool for leftover cans and butts to throw out.
He’s just been thinking about what playful jab he could make at Eddie’s music, like Eddie always did to him when Robin hollered at him from the kitchen.
“Steve!” She’d yelled excitedly and he come to find her quick, brows raised as he entered the kitchen. She was grinning, already a bit jumpy as she got when she had a bit of liquor — but apparently not enough because when Steve saw what she’d called him in for, she’d announced, “Tequila shots!”
Which lead to now. A hazy combination of beer, tequila, and a bit of weed, and Steve is feeling good. Robin had managed to hijack the music not too long ago, with a hiccup of ‘it’s my birthday’ that had Eddie surrendering with a pout.
She’d since put on a bit of everything: some Blondie for Nance, Talking Heads for Jonathan, and some Bowie, just so she and Steve could dance along to ‘Magic Dance’ and she could do all the silly little goblin voices that made them both cackle.
Steve realised at some point that Robin was playing their mixtape, the one she’d made for driving in the morning, and nearly tripped stumbling over to her in his excitement. He grabbed her shoulders, not too hard, and squeezed.
“Is it- is this our mixtape?” Steve asked, words slurring only a bit. Robin gleamed, hair bouncing with her excited nod.
“Yes!” She was already dancing, even though the tape was between songs — because she knew what song was coming. “It’s Springsteen time, Steve!”
Right as the drums to Born to Run filtered out the speaker.
And oh, Steve loves Robin so much. He loves having a best friend that knows his favourite song and gets jittery and excited because she knows it’s about to play— that she put it on this mix for him.
“You’re my best friend!” Steve says, the words bursting out like he can’t control them. He doesn’t even feel embarrassed, just happy, just drunk, and overwhelming happy to be able to have this.
And even though Robin knows this, she still beams, feet dancing along and just begins to sing along with the song, “In the days, we sweat it out on the streets of a runaway American dream…”
It’s a brazen drunken performance from the both of them. Steve’s chest is heaving after just one chorus that he’s pretty sure he put his whole soul into and he’s so fucking happy —and it feels like pure instinct to seek out Eddie, his eyes scouring the room for him.
Eddie’s leaned up against the wall, hiding his smile behind a can and Steve doesn’t think twice about it— doesn’t think about why he’s so drawn to Eddie, why he wants to include him in this happiness — just extends his hand out and grins.
Eddie sees the bid coming this time.
Part Three.
— 
yes i saw all ur lovely tags and MAYBE cried about it. but thats none of ur business.
@orangeandthefairroadkill @swimmingbirdrunningrock @sadcanadianwinter @phantypurple @omg-elledubs-things @henderdads @farfaras @mixsethaddams @prismandblue @kerlypride @bushbees @legitcookie @temporalcoffin @callmesirkay @beautifully-useless @millyditty @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @ninjapirateunicorns @darkwitchoferie @vi-the-best-you-can @psychosnowfox @desert-fern @scarletzgo @cr0w-culture @softpink-candlelight @livingforfictionalcharacters @makewavesandwar @kozuuji @rhapsodyinalto @eddiethesexy @cassaloopa @lightwoodbanethings @qu33rcommunist @moonlitkilljoy @starkdusk @theysherobinbuckley @sanguineterrain @loganwright @sillysparrow @hotcocoaharrington @eddie-munson-is-my-wife @she-is-tim @steddiehearts @sideblogofthcentury @sidebarre @corrodedcoughin @stevieclaus
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xoxmads · 2 months
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love these tumblr girls 🎶
follow my pin @ilovmydogi
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shopcat · 10 months
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i think in the hamster wheel of my mind a big part of where people go wrong with eddie and his shitty garage band as an extension is that they for some bizarre reason think he's gene simmons metal when he's jack black metal. heavy metal. he's tenacious d metal. he's school of rock. he's stoner lord of the rings metal he nearly wore blue jeans and plaid. jack black literally in real life once said eddie was the best character bc he's heavy metal like him. LOOK AT THIS
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#🍦#answer it's bc people think he's some mishmash of all alternative scenes without any actual knowledge of where the mashing occurs 😭#eddie is . a heavy metal guy. A cool one. a nice one even. he likes rock and roll#it's so funny when ppl try and describe it and they've never heard the stuff he actually listens to in their lives for some reason#literally so much of the appeal of eddie's character within his subculture is that its theatrical and dramatic but its still grounded#he's very alternative and Out There but he's still just some guy. he's not wearing spiked leather jackets#in fact he's not wearing any of the other kinds of leather jackets i've seen people say he would ... TO ME#sts#if u haven't seen the clip he then proceeds to air guitar the MoP melody then shouts heavy metal is everywhere#i don't even know how to explain this bc it's like ... okay#the general .. VIBE? aestheticsm? is kind of similar to what people sometimes portray but they're missing thst it's tongue in cheek#like it's like that buff poster of him being this anachronistic homage to heavy metal album covers#fire and satanic imagery and skulls and lightning and big drama and ROCK AND ROLL#it's rock and ROLL man...#and people r making him this weird sanitised dork LOL 😭 when he's a dork in a different more fun way.. imo#and it's not that those types of people don't exist and that they're not cool in their own way cuz they are sure but that's not THIS GUY#he is an 80S METALHEAD... and yeah i try and ground him in thinfs and poke and prod at it until it fits my own understanding of alternative#scenes better but that's bc i've had a hand in the punk scene for years and years#i dunno sometimes i feel like ppl r just not doing the full potential and then going way too hard in this super specific direction#and he ends up first of all usually just a massive douchebag not sure what that's about. But a guy who he would in canon HATE 😭#YOU ARE MAKING HIM A POSER. is what i'm saying#he is alwyas some guy before he's anything else and before he's that he's a 20 year old loser#you need to reflect this... You need to bottle it. ugh. ugh#so much of this reminds me of the time someone was like he would never wear PLAID#like are you kidding me. are you actually kidding me rn#ppl have this weird arstheticised mostly modern and mostly literallt just eboy Idea of what he'd wear it's crazy to me sorry#also it's ugly#i also think. this is so long lol . anyway . i also think going too ''authentic'' in the 80s metalhead direction also lands u w different#problems. my advice to people trying to write or draw alternative characters is they are People. before they are anything else#🍏
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madkat09 · 4 months
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nb can drag me down !
follow my pin @ilovmydogi
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itshype · 2 months
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Roy, trying to cope with Phoebe entering her astrology phase: Fuck, I gotta figure out what time of day I was born...gotta call my aunt or something I hope she remembers.
Jamie, tying his shoes, completely on autopilot: It was two thirty, in the afternoon.
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feyhunter78 · 8 months
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Among the Sun Ch 2
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Description: Your mother must make a choice for the good of the kingdom. Ch 3
Your corset feels too tight, but you relish it, taking comfort in the grip it has on your rib cage, pretending it’s a firm hug, a grounding measure as the throne room fills with armored soldiers.
“You must forgive me y/n, you must.” Your mother says stricken, your hand in hers, her grip ironclad.
“All will be well, do not fret.” You whisper, standing beside the throne, the hem of your skirt wet with blood.
“The Great Sun of the Empire, the Conqueror, He Who Bled Among Demons and Lived, Miguel O’Hara, Emperor of Nueva York, stands before you.” A herald announces as the doors slam open.
You flinch back at the sound and force yourself to turn towards the doors.
“Forgive me, y/n, forgive me, my child.” Your mother whispers over and over again, the sound setting your nerves on edge.
The room quiets as he enters, the sound of his heavy boots echoing off the walls and up to the high domed ceilings.
He is…not the monster you envisioned. He has monstrous traits, but your first thought is that he’s quite handsome. Tall and muscular, with thick black hair and piercing brown eyes. His features are strong, almost divine in their arrangement, and you fight the urge to move towards him for a better look.
“Queen Cyathea, you have my deepest sympathies for the loss of your husband and son, but I am a man of principle, I cannot make exceptions, so I offer you a choice, bend the knee, pay tribute or—”
“Take her.” Your mother says, cutting off the emperor.
You look back at her in shock, but she pushes you forward. “You must do it, y/n, for our people.”
You stumble forward, catching yourself right before you topple into the firm, armored chest of Miguel.
It’s as if he hadn’t noticed you before, but now he grabs your wrists, pulling you closer, inspecting you with an uncaring eye. “You wish to offer your daughter as tribute? My people do not believe in slavery, nor do I.”
“Take her as a bride, a servant, a bedwamer, she is pretty and a quick learner she can do many tasks.” Your mother says frantically, sounding very unlike herself.
Your face burns at her words, and you struggle against Miguel’s grip.
“Stop.” He orders, his voice cold.
You freeze, glancing back at your mother, silently begging her to do something, anything.
“Take her, leave our kingdom alone, we will not trouble you.” Your mother says a tone of finality to her voice.
She has made her choice.
Tears sting your eyes, and you stare up at the ceiling, praying they will not fall. You can’t cry in front of the Conqueror; you can’t show such weakness so early on.
Miguel laughs, it’s a booming sound, soon echoed by his men. It’s terrifying, and you fight the urge to curl in on yourself.
“I will take the girl, your kingdom remains in your hands, My Queen.” He says, giving her a half bow before throwing you over his shoulder and departing.
He doesn’t set you down until you’ve entered some kind of tent. It’s large and lavish, lanterns hanging from taunt ropes, trinkets, and pillows thrown about.
“Please, my mother is grieving, she did not mean what she said, I will return, and we will not trouble you. You can take anything you desire from the kingdom, but I beg of you, please let me go.” You can’t stop the tears from falling, and you try to quickly wipe them away.
Miguel towers over you, his arms crossed, his broad chest rising and falling in an even motion. “An arrangement was made; will you not honor it?”
“I—”
“A queen, a princess, a kingdom without honor is no good to me. It serves only as kindling.” Miguel says the lack of concern dripping from each word.
“No, no, please, I will honor it, I will.” You stumble over your words, cursing yourself for such weakness.
“Good.” He says curtly, his hands settling on your shoulders before they begin to slide down your body, his large warm hands caressing every inch, the skin so hot you fear he’s attempting to burn through the fabric of your dress.
You jump back, mortified. “How dare you?”
He grabs you, pulling you back, one hand on your waist, the other continuing its path. “I am checking you for weapons, cariño, cannot have you attempt to kill me as I sleep.”
You relax, slightly. “Oh…well I did not bring any weapons, I was not allowed to bring anything, but clothing and a few personal items, all of which were checked by your men.”
“But they are not me, they are not allowed to touch you.” He says, his hand leaving your wrist as he crouches down, his hands sliding down your waist, hips, legs, until he stands back up seemingly satisfied.
“I have no weapons.” You tell him.
He hums in response and grabs a dagger from the wall.
“Wait, wait, please, I swear I have nothing.” You plead, throwing your hands up in front of you helplessly.
He throws the dagger with surprising speed, and it tears through the fabric of the tent. Then you hear a thump. He leaves you there, then reappears dragging a body behind him. “Recognize him?”
You force yourself to look at the dead man’s face, he has a strange mark on his neck. You don’t recognize him. “No, I’ve never seen him before.”
Miguel hums in response.
“Should I recognize him?” You ask, inching closer, trying to place the man.
“Stay back.” He warns.
You freeze and your stomach churns as you watch the flesh melt off the man, revealing a twisted, demonic form beneath.
“He’s an anomaly, a human who strayed too close to dark magic and was consumed by it. They prowl the land searching for victims, destroying lives with a single act.” He explains, before he snaps his fingers, and the corpse dissipates.
“And he was coming here? For what reason?” You ask, a chill of fear settling over you.
“There is no reason to these creatures, y/n, if you see one, with that mark on their skin, you run. You find me, and I will kill it, do not attempt to engage it, no matter what it says to you.”
“They speak?” You’re both curious and horrified.
“They lie.”
He’s silent after that and finishes removing his armor, leaving him in simple breeches and a linen shirt. The shirt is unlike any you’ve ever seen. It dips low in a sharp “v” exposing his toned chest, with loose laces you assume meant to close the gap, but Miguel has them undone.
“Where am I to sleep?” You ask carefully, your hands behind your back to hide their fidgeting.
He looks over at you and raises an eyebrow. “In my bed.”
Your face heats up and you shake your head. “I—that is not appropriate, I am unmarried.”
Miguel makes his way over to you, his amber eyes burning into you. “Would it be more appropriate if you were married? If I kept you half bare in my bed while your husband was languishing in a castle somewhere?” He leans down skimming his nose up your throat inhaling deeply. “Yes, perhaps it would, how pathetic he would seem. How tortured he would be knowing that his wife is well satisfied night after night, drooling for my cock like a whore.”
You rear your arm back and slap him. Shock reverberating through you, your hand stinging, your head reeling. You were going to die.
Surprise flickers across his face, then he starts laughing. He keeps laughing, doubling over, the sound rich and still booming, echoing off the walls of the tent, and you take a panicked step back.
“I—I am so sorry, Your Majesty, truly, truly sorry.” You cry, tears welling in your eyes once more.
Miguel straightens up and in one swift motion throws you over his shoulder, then onto his bed. “You have fire cariño, I enjoy it.”
He’s hovering over you, strong arms steady, no sign of fatigue from holding up his weight. Gray ram-like horns protrude from his head, their bases hidden by his thick hair, the ends tipped with gold. He trails a clawed finger down the curve of your cheek, until all you feel is a calloused fingertip resting at the corner of your lips.
Can he retract them? You wonder, your eyes on the cloth ceiling.
Miguel gently grabs your chin, guiding your eyes to his. They’re brown like the rum barrels you often see rolled off ships, and just as potent as the intoxicating liquid they hold.
“Please do not harm me, I will not cause you trouble, I swear.” You promise, feeling a strange tugging at the edge of your consciousness as Miguel keeps his eyes locked on yours.
“Sleep, I will not touch you. I am not an animal who forces himself upon others.” He reassures you, a bitter tinge to his tone, his eyes shifting from yours for a moment, that tugging feeling receding.
You’re too stiff to sleep but try to force yourself to relax. “Thank you.”
Miguel’s eyes snap back to yours, red scattered within the brown, blood flecking the dirt of a battlefield. “Do not thank me, sleep.”
His words echo in your mind for a moment, then you sink into the arms of sleep.
TL: @not-aya, @belos-simp69, @deputy-videogamer, @sxnasbitch, @maxi-ride, @minimari415, @syndrlla97, @gejo333, @lady-necromancer, @zeyzeys-stuff, @tayleighuh, @loser-alert, @envyjmoney, @allysunny, @princessloveweird, @freehentai, @xlittlebubx-blog, @berry-potchy, @drefear, @jkthinkstoomuch
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fromtheseventhhell · 6 months
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"Sansa = Ned 2.0 and Arya = Catelyn 2.0" is one of those takes where you can just tell people are more attached to the aesthetic than anything. "The Stark girls are most like the parent they look least like" sounds good on paper and people run with the idea, regardless of how it actually fits into the story. A majority of the justification relies on misinterpreting all of their characters + a healthy dose of fanon. What gets me is that this is the same fandom that insists that Lyanna, only compared to Arya in the text, is equal parts Arya and Sansa but Ned and Catelyn, two fully fleshed-out and complex characters, have to be more like one girl or the other? There's just nothing in the story to justify being so adamant about these comparisons. Arya and Sansa have parallels with both of their parents but at the end of the day, they are unique characters with their own stories. I'll never understand why people want to flatten these complex characters down to their most basic tropes and fit them into restrictive boxes just for a "poetical~" comparison.
#arya stark#sansa stark#catelyn stark#ned stark#house stark#asoiaf#BORING YAWNING SLOPPY#notice how these takes never come with actual evidence from the books to make direct comparisons from the text?#/ned is a gentle quiet poitican/ and he physically attacks someone + constantly shows his frustration and voicing his opinions#our first introduction to him is him executing a man and we know he's done so several times that year#he says that his toddler son needs to grow up and stop being afraid of a giant wolf cause /winter is coming/ and Northern life is hard 😭#/Cat is a feral wild woman/ and her chapters are full of her holding her tongue and trying to mediate situations#people literally switch their characterizations cause the second a woman shows emotion she's /feral/#and a man can be the most wild unhinged character ever and still be /kind/ and /gentle/#like yeah fanon sansa is fanon ned 2.0 and fanon arya is fanon cat 2.0 but their actual characters are more complex then that#the only valid /2.0/ comparison is between Lyanna and Arya but somehow she gets split between Arya and Sansa 🥴#my hourly frustration at this fandom not caring about the story and only being here for /the vibes~/#like Ned hates Tourneys and protests one as a waste of resources while Sansa is planning a Tourney and using resources while winter#is arriving and smallfolk are going hungry...but she's Ned 2.0? Where? How? Huh?#And yeah Ned deals with politics in KL but that's relatively a small aspect of his character#and even him constantly speaking his mind and challenging Robert directly is the exact opposite of Sansa's approach 😭#/courtesy is a Lady's armor/ vs. /I'm gonna tell Robert he's an idiot right to his face/ oh yeah totes the same#Arya is the character following his advice and guidance for a reason just saying#like if Sansa was doing the same I could see it but she..isn't? Her approach is much closer to Catelyn's than Ned's#I don't understand why people have all of the sudden decided that the Sansa/Cat parallels are shallow when they're#very similar characters and Sansa's current plot actually revolves around that fact#obviously they're not exactly alike but no two characters are or even meant to be...their comparisons are still very valid#tired of being expected to accept an idea just because enough people repeat it
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skunkes · 3 months
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i have GOT to learn how to draw like [80's animated movie]
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secretlythatsme · 26 days
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i've seen a lot of dp fans in the dpxdc fandom talk about not having access to comics so here. it's completely free, good quality scans (for most things), basically any dc comic you could want is there. you should have an adblocker but the ads aren't the worst if you don't, just noticeable and annoying. you're not gonna get a virus, i've been using the site for years, as have many other fans.
if you genuinely want to read the comics, take advantage of the sites comic fans have been using. there's new and old stuff and everything in between. crossovers too. whatever you want to read, you'll find there.
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good-beanswrites · 2 months
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My thoughts on how the Milgram mv machine works based on the evidence we have:
(I know there’s been discussion about where exactly the interrogations take place, but wherever they are,) the prisoners are made to sit in a specific chair near the wall that houses the machine.
It’s ordinarily hidden, but the wall panels shift aside to reveal it when the mechanical sounds play in the dramas. As well as the walls moving, the chair transforms to restrain the prisoner and attach whatever it takes to access their brain. The fact that none of the more frightened prisoners try to run or break it makes it seem like they physically cannot. This is why Fuuta sounds so panicked, and why Amane is suddenly helpless in front of Es in their T1 vds.
(My mind conjures very classic sci-fi mad scientist machines with wires, pipes, lights, nodes, needles, etc, but I’d love to hear how other people visualize it.)
In some vds (maybe all? I’d need to check,) you can hear Es take some steps right before their iconic line -- it would make sense that for safety reasons, the power mechanism is placed across the room. Once again it could be anything, but the sound effect makes me think of one of those giant wall-mounted levers you have to pull down.
The voice dramas don’t really provide the type of crime details that an actual interrogation would reveal, and it’s odd that they’re placed before the extraction rather than after Es gets to see the new details. This leads me to believe the machine functions with priming. All Es needs to do is get them talking about their murder, so it’s on their mind.
The video produced is much like a (non-lucid) dream. Even if the prisoners figure out that this is how it works, they can’t control it just by thinking really hard about something else. The murders produce the strongest emotional affect, and that’s what it picks up on. If someone else used the machine, it would default to whatever gave them the strongest emotional reaction in the ~15 minutes beforehand, hence why Es’ video focuses on their daunting task ahead. (The Undercover theory is still a bit loose, though, given the private shots that Es wouldn't have known about). It’s why the videos are usually closely linked to the vd topics/beats. I also like to think that the reason their prisoner colors appear so much is because they’re looking at those colors on their uniform 24/7.
The bell rings to inform Es that it’s the optimal time to use the machine -- the prisoner has been thinking about things for long enough that the video will be about their crime, and if the conversation lasts much longer they’ll start thinking of other things. It’s at a different time for each prisoner because it’s based on the specific conversation. I guess Jackalope is listening in to the interrogation, timing it perfectly. (The only one that kind of messes with this theory is Yonah, because they just keep talking afterwards lol, but it could just show that the interrogation is still in Es’ control.)
Their “Sing your sins” is the final priming nudge to get them to think of their actions as a sin, revealing their guilt.
Once activated, the prisoner enters a sort of trance/sleeping state. It’s very much like REM sleep, with the machine forcibly activating neurons and recording the output. The prisoners have asked Es what they saw, meaning they don’t remember the mvs. I like to think the prisoners do experience the mv in real time, acting as the major version of themself that appears, but can’t remember it afterwards. It’s when you experience a dream, but as soon as you wake up you’re just left with fleeting emotions and memories right on the tip of your tongue.
The video plays immediately upon extraction -- whether on a huge projection or little screen depends on which room it’s in. It simultaneously saves the memory so that Es can rewatch it later (on those old TVs in the jailbreak mix). The machine downloads the song and video together, but requires special parts to retrieve them. The technology is pretty new and fragile, so if one is broken, there might be a delay between when Es can hear the extracted song and see it with the video. (That’s my justification for Kotoko’s delays -- after 9 prisoners the parts wear out, or maybe Mikoto himself overheats it with his complex situation.)
Based on the lack of conversation we get afterwards, I picture Es leaving before the prisoner wakes from the trance. The machine adjusts their brain back to normal before they awaken, restraints freed and able to return to the rest of the prison.
It’s very much like a dream, so it’s not harmful despite the amnesia/head injuries the prisoners have. It does, however, exhaust them. Brain activity alone takes a lot of energy, so forced brain activity with added emotional strain would cause them to feel pretty drained the rest of the day.
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waterdeepthroat · 6 months
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I am actually having so many thoughts about bg3 characters when it comes to body image bc themes of bodily autonomy are just so present in this game
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saijuana · 8 months
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thekintsugikids · 8 months
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so much for (tour) dust, the healing tour of all time
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esmetmblr2014 · 3 months
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