#see here's the thing and its a thing specific to LA.

[taintandviolent]

Thrill of the Rush ; James March x reader

summary: Reader is a murderer, coquettish and demure in nature. She brings a man to the Hotel Cortez, and it ends how it always ends for them. The only difference, is that James March is watching her and is enamoured.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 2.6k! | serial killer!reader, graphic descriptions of murder, violence, blood and gore, descriptions of smut, cunnilingus, arousal, kissing/making out.

a/n: requested by anonymous and inspired by Lana Del Rey's Serial Killer song! hopefully this isn't too clunky, or boring in anyway! proofread very briefly, if you see any mistakes, no you didn't.

full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don't have a taglist, but please turn on post notifications if you'd like to be notified of future fics!

Elvis’s voice drifted from your speaker. The hotel room was cool, a stark contrast to the hot LA summer outside. The room itself was outdated in decor and architecture, something that you found charming – you’d chosen it specifically for its gorgeous, untouched art deco style. Stephen protested, saying it was rundown and dingy. You shushed him with a single manicured finger and led him inside, heading straight for the hotel desk. 

He was a man. A stupid, hungry man who could only think with one head at a time. So, it didn’t take much for you to get up to the hotel room, and onto the bed. You’d let the strap of your dress fall off your creamy soft shoulder, coaxing him closer to you.

He nuzzled his lips into your breast, tugging softly at the skin. He muttered something into your skin, something grotesque, and you didn’t hear him. You were too busy listening to the thud of your own heartbeat – your own excited little heartbeat. You reached into your purse, which had been laying next to you, to retrieve the knife. It was a beautiful thing; pink pearlescent inlay on the handle, and a long, shimmery silver blade. 

Raising it high above his head, your elegant fingers gripped the rosy hilt of your knife, and using all your strength, stabbed it into the side of the man's neck. The blade sliced through his skin like butter, giving no resistance. There was nothing like the sensation of killing – it never failed in making your eyes glisten, a cruel fire burning bright within them. Your chest fluttered with excited little breaths, rushing out over your pouting, pink lips in tiny gusts. The thrill, the rush, it was unlike anything you’d ever experienced – even sex. No man had ever made you feel the way killing him did. You twisted the knife slightly. 

In response, he gurgled; a delightful sound that had you giggling. You had angled the knife just right, plunging it deep before yanking it out quickly. The blood spurted out in a warm geyser over your hand, trailing down your wrist in crimson ribbons. His hand flew to his neck, pitifully trying to stop the flowing river. You slapped his hand away softly. 

"Pl-please..." He murmured, as his body started to droop away from yours. 

You bent over, kissing the man on the forehead. As darling as you had been before, maybe even more so then. “Oh, baby…” you whispered, cloyingly sweet and soft like a summer day. He knew that he was going to die, and the begging was futile. Still, he persisted, wet and coughing between each plea. 

You pushed him off of your breast, and more blood squirted out, the arteries pumping it out with each beat of his heart. James' dark pupils widened, watching as you worked. He hadn’t made himself known yet, and wouldn’t until you were finished. Nothing should interrupt this delicious display of cruelty. 

“Tell me you love me,” you whispered. “Tell me I’m the sweetest girl you’ve ever seen.” He didn’t. He didn’t say anything else… and he never would again. 

“Hmph.” Frustrated, you got off the bed, and smoothed your hands over your hips; the satin of your slip dress was warm and soft and provided no friction. 

"Seems you've got yourself between a rock and hard place, my dear." 

You spun around. In front of you stood a dashing man, dressed to the nines and resting some of his weight on a cane. He was handsome, but possessed a coldness that drew you in. He wasn't like the others.

"How did you get in here?!" 

"The door was..." He turned to look at it, casually. "Open." 

"No..." You shook your head, soft curls bouncing. Your tone was coy, knowing. "No, it wasn't." 

"Ah," he said, tightening his lips into a sly smile. Had his heart been beating, it would’ve quickened at your darling little response. You were quick; a trait that he enjoyed and very rarely saw.

"He deserved it, you know." You looked at the man on the bed with a disproving sourness in your gaze. His body had slumped over the side of the mattress, blood streamed from the gash in his neck to his hairline, staining it red. 

"I don't doubt that." He inhaled, stepping further into your room. "However... The problem remains of what to do with him. I presume you’ve yet to figure that out." His voice had your knees weak, turning the tendons to jell-o every time he spoke. It was so deep and croony, like molasses if it had a voice. 

"No," you trilled. "No, but you seem like you do." 

"I do," he started. There you went with your quick-witted confidence again. "You see, I have built this hotel to satisfy... my every need and whim, whatever they may be. I have a way to dispose of him for you." 

Your hand lifted to your shoulder, your finger winding a lock of hair around it. You pursed your lips, as though you were considering his offer. The truth was, you’d already made up your mind. He was dangerous, unafraid, but interested in you. A refreshing change from the rest of the men that you courted and ultimately killed. Besides, he was right. You had a corpse in the room and were unsure what to do with it, besides leaving it and requesting another room, claiming something trivial like the hot water not working. 

"Why are you doing this?" You ask, running your tongue along the bottom of your teeth, before coming to rest in the corner of your mouth. "You don't even know me." 

"I don't, my little buttercup, this is fact, but what I do know of you, I crave." 

Your knees wobbled. Somehow, he’d captivated you. You were never taken by men; they were useless, dumb playthings that you disposed of as soon as you got bored with them. You were never the one that was wrapped around a finger, it was always the other way around. But something… something about this man and the sick, nasty glimmer in his pitch-black eyes had you shivering.

“James March,” he declared proudly, before offering his hand. You placed your own atop his palm, and he leaned down, pressing his lips softly against your knuckles. Your lips tensed, withholding a whimper. 

All at once, he closed in the distance between the two of you. Exactly what you wanted him to do, and without asking. You gasped, looking up into his soulless gaze. “Hold me,” you whispered. “Please.” 

With a single nod, he enclosed you in a frighteningly firm grasp. You weren’t going anywhere – not that you wanted to. 

“I don’t know what you do… or what you’ve done…” you whispered, feeling light in his arms. He held you like old movie stars held their beloved; arms wrapped passionately around the waist, holding you tight at the hip. James waited, on bated breath, for you to finish your sentence. Instead, you stood on your tiptoes, and pressed your soft lips against his. They were cool, and immediately surrendered to yours, parting to exhale into your mouth. As his breath filled your lungs, you succumbed to every feeling he was pulling from you; your legs quivered and pressed together tightly. Your core tightened, and your cunt clenched with arousal. Slick leaked into the silk of your underwear, staining the fabric with your submissiveness.

His head tilted, allowing him to go deeper inside your mouth. His tongue slipped along yours, twirling and exploring the soft, slippery flesh of your mouth. Without breaking the kiss, James walked you backwards, guiding you towards the bed. His shin knocked into the corpse’s head, which lolled lifelessly.

You were at his mercy, and gasping for air, broke the kiss to look down at your feet. Stephen’s eyes were glazed over now, void of life. He had paled, the crimson stark against his bloodless skin. A puddle had settled beneath his head, seeping into the carpet. You broke away from James and bent down, shoving all your weight down on Stephen's shoulders. Rigor mortis hadn’t set in, so he rolled over easily, towards the edge of the bed, which freed up most of the bed for whatever came next. 

You immediately snuggled yourself back into James’ arms, nestling against his chest. “There… all better.” 

He hmm’ed at the crown of your head, holding you tight. His hips ground against yours, a stiffness pressing into your hip bone. A reminder – he was a man. But not akin to the other men… he was different. You looked up, gazing into his eyes. 

James guided you backwards onto the bed, your ass hitting the mattress with a squeak of protest from the old springs. Placing one hand on either side of your hips, he kissed you again, urging you back further yet. He was intoxicating. Everything he did had you quivering like a lamb in the jaws of a wolf – and you wanted more of it. More of everything. You wanted him. 

“I love you just a little too much,” you cooed, brushing your lips over his neck. The satin of his ascot brushed against your chin and you longed to feel it tied around your wrists. Your hand brushed along his bulge, feeling the taut fabric that covered it. As the feelings bubbled up inside of you, effervescent like champagne, you couldn’t stand it. No man should ever make you feel the way he did and with a small gasp of air, you reached for your knife again. James caught you fast, holding your wrist in an iron grip. 

“I’m afraid not, my dear. You won’t get that pleasure with me.” 

“Pleasure?” You asked, doe-eyed, feigning innocence yet again. 

“Perhaps another pleasure,” he cooed against your lips, his moustache tickling the flesh under your nose. You were divine… a shining beacon of temptation amongst a sea of poor fools. It had been decades since a woman captivated him the way you did. 

James sank to his knees, slowly, as you watched, holding your breath. His hands gathered your satin slip over your knees, and pushed it over your hips, exposing your silken underwear. The wet spot had grown considerably, and James pressed his lips against the damp fabric. The sensation was electric, sending chills up your spine in a wave of unadulterated pleasure. He kissed her again, pressing harder. He could almost taste her through the silk. You whimpered, and let your head drop between your shoulders. He brushed his lips across your mound again, and you got even wetter. For a brief moment, he disappeared and the reaction was painfully visceral.

“Don’t…. Don’t stop…” you said to the ceiling, out of breath and trembling. You could hardly get yourself upright to look at him. 

“I’ve no intention of doing so, my dear. None whatsoever.” Carefully, as though unwrapping a delicate gift, James pulled your underwear from your hips, tugging them delicately down your thighs. Murder always got him worked up, but this was an entirely different arousal.

“Let me see her…” he said, low His hands were on your thighs, resting carefully atop of them. 

Using your manicured fingers, you reached forward to spread your cunt to him, eagerly, obediently. She glistened in the low-lighting of the room and you heard him inhale. He leaned closer to her and began kitten-licking between your folds, sending a shockwave through your core. She clenched uncontrollably, tightening. James paused to observe, pleased with the reaction. He’d done so little, and you were already a mess. Placing his hands behind your knees, he scooted you further towards him.

Your cunt ached with everything he did; from the gentle touches to the way that his moustache tickled the soft skin of your inner thigh. You weren’t used to your heart beating this quickly outside of killing someone. He was making you feel things you’d long since forgotten. 

To say that you never experienced sexual pleasure would be a lie; you did. Usually, covered in blood and panting, after a kill, your body and senses would be so wound up that you’d finger yourself, use a vibrator, something to get yourself off. But this orgasm, you knew, would be different. And much quicker. 

With a breath, he flattened his tongue against your cunt, lapping at it hungrily. Your muscles all trembled, the first hint of an orgasm clawing at your insides. And just before you did, he pulled away. Cruelly. Mercilessly. As though he knew that he had you under his spell…. Oh, you’d kill him if he’d only let you. 

James slipped two fingers inside your waiting, wet cunt. You let out a desperate yelp, rocking your hips back and forth to meet his fingers. Electricity coursed through your core, your body quivering again. His fingers drilled into you, curling upwards with each thrust, hitting your sensitive spot. The pressure increased, the coil in your stomach winding tighter and tighter around itself. You were close. 

“Speak to me,” he ordered. “Use your voice.” 

You swallowed, wetting your throat. It was frightfully hard to form words, your mind was too clouded with arousal and ecstasy. “C-can’t…. Feels…. So good….” 

James leaned forward again, the tip of his tongue drilling into your sensitive clit, twirling at it. After a moment, he encircled your clit with his lips, sucking softly. You were sweet, wet and singing for him. James hummed into your pussy, satisfied. With his fingers still thrusting inside you, the overstimulation was too much. Your coil snapped, and your hands flew to his hair, making tight fists in the greased locks. 

As you orgasmed, you called his name, chanting it over and over again like a prayer. He was there, between your legs, tugging you over the edge with whispered praises against your throbbing cunt. An attentive lover, James didn’t stop fucking you – or licking at you – until the final pulse subsided. 

“Now that I’ve made you mine,” he said, straightening up. “Let’s deal with your little hobby, my dear.” 

Made you his? You thought, chewing on the corner of your lip, as your eyes bored into his. How dare he – made you his. Despite feeling like you’d been bamboozled, you knew it was true. He’d made you his, and barred you from loving any other man again.

A knock at the door. You looked down at Stephen – you’d almost forgotten he was there. James got to his feet as the door opened, and you noticed that his cock had tented in his trousers, pulling against the fabric, begging for release. You gasped, looking at the woman as she entered. She was pushing a silver room service cart, though it was empty. 

“Fret not my dear, it’s nothing she hasn’t seen before.” 

You furrowed your brows; his erection or a corpse in a hotel room? You weren’t sure which. Effortlessly, James hoisted Stephen’s expired body up onto the cart, waving his hand dismissively towards the woman, who hmm’d curtly, and made her way back towards the door. 

“Follow me,” he said, jovially as he headed towards the open door. He began whistling a tune, as though wheeling a body out into the hallway was the most normal, routine thing he’d done all day. Perhaps it was. You heaved a breath, and got up off the bed, pulling your underwear back up. 

“James, James, wait!” 

He paused. 

“Aren’t you going to… well…” 

His eyes followed yours to his groin, which was still stiff. You sucked on your bottom lip, looking up at him with come-hither eyes. Curiosity had gotten the best of you. Despite having just come, you wanted more, and you desperately wanted to know what the weight of his cock felt like in your hands.  

“Oh.” He smiled, pleased. With a slow nod, he reached forward to cup your chin with his large hands. “I’ll get mine.” 

#James Patrick March #James March #James Patrick March x you #James Patrick March x reader #James Patrick March smut #ahs hotel #ahs smut #myfics #requests

[freebooter4ever]

my 'ive given up on life but i cant live off maple syrup marshmallows and peanut butter sandwhiches i need to get groceries' outfit. for some reason it looks like i took this in daylight but its dark as night outside despite only been 6 and its the most depressing thing i should have gotten groceries in the sunlight ugh hindsight.

#journal shit #see here's the thing and its a thing specific to LA. #all my friends here need two weeks of notice to plan anything because everyone is so damn busy #so me keeping this entire weekend free under the assumption that we would do something was big for me lmao haha im so dumb #like i knew i wouldnt have time to see him during the conference and i planned no volunteering this weekend to make up for it #he must have known in advance he was gonna do this or had some hint??? a text message that cold is not a sudden decision #meanwhile i was still daydreaming about airplane museum trips and bringing him to the rest of my favorite running spots and blah blah blah #i got blindsided and i get to be the one stuck without plans #i guess you cant really give two weeks notice for the Hey This Isnt Working Out text though lollllll #im not mad at him i dont even really blame him that much im just lonely

[longagoitwastuesday]

Hi, can i ask you why in your opinion some people consider the moors a proper character in wuthering heights? Do you think the story would have been so different if it had been set in a different location?

I've wanted to sit on this for a bit to see if I changed my opinion/reaction, because I thought of an answer instantly. I'm going to be sincere, what I thought was "because people have not read enough (good) books".

I'm not entirely sure why people consider the moors a proper character because I don't think it works as one at all. I imagine a big part of the reason why is the appeal of the aesthetic and how powerful an impact it has had culturally and even in general in the collective imaginary, but I don't think that's exclusively due to Wuthering Heights. Trying to dig more, I'd say it's because of the importance it has for the characters, emotionally, narratively and symbolically. And, digging even more, I imagine it's due to the metaphysical bond and even ontological identification between moors and characters some people read into it.

Most if not all of these characteristics are typical of significant settings in books, though. They don't necessarily confer the settings the title of "character". And, as much abstract personality as they may have, in my opinion the moors are lacking something to be comfortable calling them so. In Wuthering Heights I'd say the house itself, Wuthering Heights, feels more like a character to me than the moors. Still, I'd say even then there's a certain something missing.

As much character or importance in ambience setting Bly Manor has in The turn of the screw, I don't think one could freely say it's a character on itself; that's sort of the situation with the moors in Wuthering Heights, I think. In comparison, Comala in Pedro Páramo, Hill House in The haunting of Hill House, Macondo in One hundred years of solitude or Vetusta in La Regenta, to name a few, feel a lot more like characters. They are books in which the settings themselves feel fleshed out with care, thoroughly developed like a character, and they even read as having a certain will of their own, as actively participating in the narrative at times. The moors in Wuthering Heights don't work that way. And it's not a bad thing. They don't have to, that's not their role.

Now, on the question about whether I think the story would be so different if set in some other location... I think the answer is both yes and no? Of course the book would never have been exactly the same had it taken place somewhere else, and the heather and in general the description of wildlife and vegetation are symbolically meaningful. But also, I didn't have a clear image of what the moors were when I first read the book. I imagined something infertile, isolated and cold, but that's it, and it worked. I didn't know how the English moors were at all.

I do think the isolation aspect is necessary to make Wuthering Heights, and I'd say perhaps even the cold and generally bad weather, but it's also true in a similarish way Pedro Páramo works with a place that is very hot. Ultimately it's up to the writer, and it will work if it's well written and well waved alongside the other parts forming the book. Wuthering Heights was waved with the moors in mind specifically, and it works. Would the story in abstract be much different if set somewhere else? Not necessarily, probably not, but it wouldn't be exactly Wuthering Heights, just as it wouldn't be if one were to change any other of its characteristics.

#The stormy windy weather works very well with Cathy's moods specifically for example but I don't think we see her be influenced or changed #by the weather the way Ana's mood is influenced by the rain in La Regenta for example. Which doesn't make the moody weather less important #It has symbolic and aesthetic aspect and in art that's very important on its own #Is the weather/wildlife/vegetation/setting important in Wuthering Heights? Yes of course #Could one set a similar story somewhere else and still be able to convey a similar effect and mood? Also yes. There are examples #I think I've talked about this before with both @faintingheroine and @13eyond13. About the importance of the setting in Wuthering Heights #and how other similar stories could be set in some other very different places. Or how despite the setting being very particular #in Wuthering Heights the story works and is very popular in other very different and at times faraway countries (such as Japan for example) #because more than the specificity of the moors the setting depends on the infertility perhaps‚ the mood it sets #and how it works with the narrative and characters‚ and mainly the isolation #One can easily translate that into something relevant to their own place and culture so to speak #I didn't want to include this (and some other things haha) in my reply to avoid making it longer still‚ but here it is just in case #Also there's an idealisation of Wuthering Heights in certain particular aspects‚which is something I talk about often with @faintingheroine #I think that too plays a role in making people consider the moors a proper character on its own #The topic is very interesting and this was fun to think about. Thanks for the question! #I hope my reply was articulated enough. I've been awake for thirty hours. I'll try to remember to come back later and give a look though #I talk too much #Wuthering Heights

[yandere-romanticaa]

Here are some crumbs about yandere mortician! From now on, his name is Viktor. (I'll make a detailed post about him, his personality, looks later, I promise.)

masterlist.

Viktor can often be seen with headphones in his ears, his expression neutral and eyes glazed over with a sheen of nothingness. When he's spotted in public people want to give him the benefit of doubt and say he's just lost in his own world, consumed by the sound of music. Perhaps he's just so in tune with the lyrics, maybe they speak to him on a level which people often seek out when listening to music. His playlist is filled with all sorts of songs - be it long ballads, cheesy love songs, generic pop, heavy metal, screamo, classical music, frankly some songs you wouldn't even expect someone like him wouldn't even listen at all(a la WAP by Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion).

Even while working, Viktor likes to have something playing in the background. His co-workers often joke about his music taste but he just shrugs them off without saying anything. It's all just a rollercoaster, a complete mess but he likes it that way. It's fun to be on his toes.

Truthfully, Viktor never liked music. He never bothered paying attention to the lyrics nor the meaning or even the tune of the song.

He simply can't stand the silence.

Viktor is a walking contradiction - he dislikes most people and yet wishes to be a part of them. He wants to be someone. But he doesn't know how to do that. His way of coping became listening to music. He even learned to play some instruments growing up, thinking that maybe someone would take a liking to him.

Even so, no one bothered with him. He was still a nobody.

Some did admire him, from a safe distance at least. His aura was black as charcoal and posture stiff as a board. Even if one dared to look at him for too long it felt like Viktor would pluck their eyes out if he caught them looking.

Perhaps he would. He wasn't sure either.

The sounds had no meaning to him. It was all used to cover up the silence, pure white noise. Nothing more, nothing less.

All of that came to a screeching halt once he met you, his tiny piece of sunshine.

You'd go through his playlist, sometimes scoffing, sometimes liking the things you saw. His eccentric side never failed to amuse you. Amongst that jungle you'd ask him who his favorite artists were, if he had anyone specific he liked.

Viktor said the names of some random artists he thought you fancied yourself. He wanted you to like him.

His answer ultimately did not matter in the end as you would still recommend some of your own personal favorite songs to him. Viktor promised he'd give them a listen as soon as he could.

Later that evening, he was hard at work. As he was putting on his coat he turned towards his phone and reached towards it, slightly eager to see what you had in store for him. The song played quietly in the background as gently rain tapped against the window, giving the morgue a more tranquil feel than it ought to have. The person on his table tonight was an old man who presumably died of a heart attack earlier this morning.

Poor soul. That was all he could bother to say.

The evening went on as it usually did but Viktor could not stop thinking about you. His sweet little sunshine, he was so touched by the fact that you bothered to go so far for him. He could feel his heart racing as unfamiliar butterflies started to flutter in his chest.

Badum. Badum. Badum.

If he wasn't careful he would be the next one to die of a heart attack.

The music got a bit louder as it reached the chorus, its tune almost perfectly in sync with his heart. He hadn't even realized that he started to sway his hips gently. Left, right, left right.

It felt like the correct thing to do.

Viktor also picked up the sound of a male voice humming which was odd, considering the fact that the singer of the song was a woman. He nearly dropped his scalpel as he realized that the one who was humming was him, not someone else, him.

For the first time in his life, Viktor bothered to pay attention to the song. The singer detailed her undying feelings for her lover, promising herself to them and them only.

Viktor thought about you the entire time. He never fancied himself as a dancer but if he could, he would want nothing more than to dance with you.

Would you want to dance with him?

For the first time in his life, Viktor found joy in the music he listened to. And it was all thanks to his sunshine.

🔪 TAGS: @shamelessdarkprince

#yandere #yandere x reader #yancore #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yanderecore #yandere aesthetic #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x y/n #yandere mortician #yandere mortician x reader

[kingdomoftyto]

I'm crying laughing, the DVDs are even worse than I remember... Season 1's menus are silent with a single static jpg of the same key character art they use for everything else, and the episodes on the Season 2 discs don't even match what's listed on the box! Absolutely stunning lack of shits given. Truly unparalleled. But I really shouldn't be surprised given... well... everything about how this series has been treated since the very beginning.

Time for a quick ~✨PHANDOM HISTORY LESSON✨~ to give newer/less hyperfixated folks more context for why the graphic novel being as great as it is is such a HUGE deal:

Danny Phantom was one of Nickelodeon's MAIN cartoons, in its time. It was a central pillar. One of the top three or four of their lineup, which is saying something when the competition includes the cultural juggernaut that is Spongebob.

Despite this, and despite its superhero theming making it perfectly marketable, it got basically ZERO official merch.

What little we did get was often ugly and very, very cheap. The dedication at the start of the graphic novel that jokes about collecting the Burger King toys? That's because it was some of the most notable merch the franchise EVER had. (I sadly do not have any of it. There was no BK in my hometown. Here's a pic from the internet, though, to give you an idea.)

If you think I'm exaggerating about that being the most significant physical merch to come out of the series, consider that the first video game had an entire menu option specifically for the Burger King promotional tie-in:

That video game, by the way, was one of only two ever based on the show. The first was an adaptation of "The Ultimate Enemy" in the style of a short sidescrolling beat-em-up, and the second was themed around "Urban Jungle" and (as far as I can tell--I've only played the first couple levels) was an arcade-style scrolling shooter. Both were for the Gameboy Advance, and both are...... fine, as far as cash-grabby video game tie-ins to kids' shows go. This was pretty normal for the time, so I suppose we did okay in that department, actually. They're not GOOD, but they're playable and have at least a bit of effort put into them.

But besides those two video games (plus a handful of simple, long-defunct Flash games on nick.com)? In the decade and a half since the show ended?

Nothing.

No books, no games, no comics, no web shorts--unless you count mega-crossovers with every other Nicktoon (a la Nicktoons Unite), or soulless promotional material like "Fairly Odd Phantom" (which, trust me, despite being the first new DP animation in over 10 years was not even worth the effort of watching).

...I think there was a limited edition FunkoPop once?

So yeah.

A Glitch in Time is not just the first cool, well-made thing we've seen from the franchise in a while. It's the first THING we've seen since the show. PERIOD. And arguably the first worthwhile supplementary material to EVER come out of the show, depending on how you feel about those GBA games and the Nicktoons crossovers.

This franchise is widely beloved even now, almost 20 years after it first aired, and it feels like that fact is now, finally, FINALLY getting some official recognition.

PLEASE read A Glitch in Time. Tell other people about it. The series--no, the fans--deserve this (and more of this, if the folks in charge see enough of a response and decide to grace us with any followup). It's LONG overdue, but better late than never.

#Danny Phantom #this is why I've been losing my mind repeating ''please buy it'' over and over btw #this is the FIRST and maybe ONLY time we'll ever get to directly show support for the series #it is a uniquely huge deal for this fandom #it's totally fine if you can't (or just still won't) buy it of course but I am begging folks to consider it IF they can. #not for any moral guilting or anything just.... for me. for the fandom. (for yourself because it's a cool story lmao) #long post

[whirlwindwonderland]

What do you like about Princess Tutu (as someone who only knows the name)? What made you enjoy it?

Oh boy.

Okay so Princess Tutu is one of my favourite ever stories. And if I were to list everything I liked about it we'd be here long enough for you to actually go watch the show yourself.

Which you should do.

Because it's awesome.

But to sort of sum up my feelings... I like Princess Tutu because of how it chooses to tell its story. Every story is told a specific way for a specific reason, and Princess Tutu chooses the medium of a Magical Girl Anime about Ballet to tell a story about Love, Hope, and Willpower triumphing over Tragedy and Despair.

That's fucking genius.

It plays its premise completely straight. There's no subversive takes on the magical girl genre here. No turning to wink and laugh at the camera to try and save face. It's completely earnest, plays its tropes completely straight, and makes it all work together, and it all serves the main themes of the story.

You can really get a good summary of this in the main character Ahiru.

Because Ahiru, in the general space of the magical girl anime genre, is not an outlier from what I can tell. She's kind and she's sweet and she's a clumsy, and her power comes from her empathy and her love of others. There's a lot of characters like her.

But Ahiru is different because all of these things- Her empathy, her kindness, her silliness and innocence and clumsiness and big open heart, they all serve the themes of the story. Because when the main villain, the big bad, the thing you have to stand against, is a seemingly inescapable force of fate, pulling you down the path of tragedy, it takes a special kind of truly indomitable soul to fight back.

See, this is a magical girl anime built around the stories of ballet, and a neat thing that many don't know about ballet is that a solid 75% of what's considered the 'Classics' of the medium are tragedies. Swan Lake, Giselle, Romeo and Juliet, and La Sylphide are all referenced in the show proper, with Swan Lake and Romeo and Juliet being referenced particularly often. The overarching Villain of the story could be said to be this conceptual tragedy that Ballet seems so enamoured with.

But by applying the fixings of the magical girl genre to this tragedy, approaching this idea of roles in life being fixed like the roles on a stage, of working towards helping someone you love knowing that the result will ultimately be your demise, with the attitude of "I'm going to fix this problem with the power of love and friendship". you get a really interesting story.

Over and over again, Ahiru sees dangerous situations, and reaches out with a kind hand to help those involved. Over and over again, she succeeds. Over and over again, Ahiru almost falls in the face of the despair of her situation. And over and over again, her own kindness comes back to help her, as the people she's befriended come to her side, to support her, to catch her when she falls, and to give her the openings she needs to solve the problems.

Despite being told that her life is meant to be a footnote on the stories of others, that her role is one no one else would take because no one else would want it, that she can never share the love she feels with others, because to do so would literally kill her. Ahiru continuously chooses love. She never becomes bitter to her situation, and continuously chooses to do what she thinks is right, to be kind, to care, and to try to help, and it is this unfailing kindness that, in the end, forces the genre of the story around her to change.

By being unflinchingly and unfailingly herself in the face of adversity and a story that wants her to suffer, she inspires others to want to help her succeed. And in doing that, she forces a grand, cyclical tragedy, to finally resolve with a happy ending.

It's such a clever and beautiful marriage of two different storytelling mediums, and that's just the basics of what you can talk about with the protagonist. The rest of the cast is equally as interesting, and I love them all so very much.

I love stories about storytelling, stories about the triumph of hope, and stories about love and friendship, and Princess Tutu is all of the above. I honestly cannot recommend it enough, it's one of my favourite things ever.

Also it's hilarious. Where else am I going to get a cat ballet teacher that repeatedly threatens his students with marriage if they don't improve at ballet? Or a girl in a donkey costume delivering love notes all around the school? Or... Femio? Just Femio in general???

Great show. Go watch it.

#Princess Tutu #asked and answered #talking

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Anna Magnani (Rome Open City, Mamma Roma, The Rose Tattoo)—don't take my word for it, here are some of the things she was called during her career: "la lupa (the wolf) of Italian cinema," "passionate, fearless, and exciting," "the volcanic earth mother of all Italian cinema," "one of the most impressive actresses since Garbo," "Whenever Magnani laughs or cries (which is often), it's as if you've never seen anyone laugh or cry before: has laughter ever been so burstingly joyful or tears so shatteringly sad?" and maybe best of all, from Tennessee Williams, who wrote multiple roles specifically for her: "She is simply a rare being who seems to have about her a little lightning-shot cloud all her own...In a crowded room, she can sit perfectly motionless and silent and still you feel the atmospheric tension of her presence, its quiver and hum in the air like a live wire exposed, and a mood of Anna's is like the presence of royalty."

Rosemary Clooney (White Christmas)—Rosemary!!! Her singing voice is incredible, she looks stunning in everything she wears, she has this quiet gravitas on screen that I haven’t seen anywhere else!! She deserves to be known as a lot more than George Clooney’s Aunt (if anything, I think of him as Rosemary Clooney’s nephew who also went into the business). Also when she got older she had this amazing sexy raspy voice (which sadly was due to smoking a lot but doesn’t take away from the fact that it’s very very sexy)

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Anna Magnani:

An icon of post-war neorealist italian cinema - an unbelievably good actress. Also, the first non-english speaking actress to win the Oscar for Best Actress (in 1956)!

realness!! amid the typical hollywood pristine glamour anna magnani stuck out as sexy in a really real, grounded way. so much so that even shallow 40s hollywood allowed her to come over from italy to be in some high profile movies. an icon

She smoked, she drank, she didn't give a f-. Her acting was described as explosive, with a lot of emotions and drama and they called her a she-wolf. Playwright Tennessee Williams became an admirer of her acting and wrote The Rose Tattoo (1955) specifically for her to star in, a role for which she received an Academy Award for Best Actress, becoming the first Italian – and first non-English speaking woman – to win an Oscar.

Rosemary:

Rosemary Clooney made very few movies, and built her career mostly as a singer--however, anyone who has ever seen her in White Christmas understands that this was Hollywood's loss, because she exudes glamour and charm and does a wonderful job acting it as well. She's gorgeous, she has a beautiful voice, she has one of those faces that the screen just loves, and she is, frankly, hot as hell.

An absolutely amazing singer and so stunning. Her performance in that black dress in White Christmas just takes my breath away every time. She's also George Clooney's aunt.

She was a very cool woman, who had a very hard life. She had severe mental health struggles throughout her life and left the stage for quite a while, but fought hard to make her career comeback later in life with a little timely help from good friend and frequent collaborator Bing Crosby. She also duetted with Marlene Dietrich early in her career

Okay so obviously she's more a singer than an actress, but she was still one of the best musical actresses of the era! They just didn't know what to do with her. She really wasn't a dancer at all, so you'll see most of the numbers in White Christmas she's got a convenient prop to sweep around. However, this ~weakness brought about a love story for the ages! Dante Di Paulo (you may know him as the mustachioed townie rival to the Pontipees in Seven Brides for Seven Brothers) was hired to teach her to dance and they fell in love over rehearsals. Separated by filming schedules, Rosemary ended up marrying José Ferrer and breaking Dante's heart, but 20 years and two divorces from José later they met in traffic. Not about to miss her second chance, she honked her horn and yelled her phone number at him (talk about carpe diem). He moved in a couple of months later but they finally made it official in 1997 because "our grandchildren want us to get married". They were utterly devoted to each other and he was very much a Wife Guy.

when she. when she. 'love you didnt do right by me' from white christmas-

She was very funny and very civic-minded, she campaigned with RFK during his presidential run. She had a very close bond with her nephew (that George Clooney yes), he even had her songs on the playlist when he proposed to his wife! She didn't enjoy singing this song from White Christmas, as it wasn't quite in her range, but she's incredibly powerful and undoubtedly very hot in this scene (fun fact, oscar winner George Chakiris is one of her dancers here, before his big break!) -

#rosemary clooney #anna magnani #fuck that old woman #hotvintagepoll #ladies 2 #Youtube

[general-cyno]

if I had to choose some more subtle moments I really liked between/about zoro and luffy in the LA I'd pick their brief conversation about shanks by the end of ep 2 and luffy taking care of wado ichimonji when zoro's injured after his fight with mihawk. again, they're subtle, but I think they capture zoro and luffy's quiet understanding of each other very well.

in ep 2 amidst the chaos of getting kidnapped by buggy, luffy seemingly randomly brings up shanks when nami and zoro are trying to find a way out (though in the latter's case it's more like kill his way out lol) to insist they don't need to fight/violence isn't always the solution - to which zoro asks a bit grumpily who the hell is shanks, a question that luffy pretty much ignores... then shit happens so no time to dwell on that anyway. yet by the end when luffy mentions him again, zoro just says he sounds like an alright guy. no prying, no pushing, no asking again who shanks is or what he means to luffy - because it's clear he's important to luffy, enough that his words are something luffy lives by, which zoro acknowledges with very simple words and is satisfied with.

(on a more speculative note, as the audience seeing how important shanks is to luffy and that even luffy himself struggled to understand the guy as a kid - the fact that zoro saw the worth in what luffy learned from him then in a few words called shanks a good man probably meant a lot to luffy. it lowkey speaks about zoro's own character and it's him extending a tacit acceptance and understanding to luffy as well, even if in a very simple manner.)

fast-forward to ep 3 and you've got luffy and zoro bumping into each other while sneaking out to look for food/booze. here luffy asks if zoro always carries his swords with him and zoro answers that wherever I go, the wado ichimonji goes. he doesn't elaborate and luffy doesn't ask further but zoro singling out wado specifically in that small instance stayed with him and it's something luffy made note of, despite it all being quite a random interaction/conversation in the larger scheme of things, and comes up later again in ep 6 where luffy, food loving luffy, refuses sanji's food because he needs to get wado ready for zoro. he doesn't know why, and he didn't ask back then, but he remembers that little offhanded detail from a few eps earlier and even though zoro didn't really say it in those words, he realized the sword is important to zoro and took it upon himself to care for it while its owner recovered.

considering who wado ichimonji used to belong to and what it represents for zoro now (his dream and his promise to kuina), luffy caring for it in zoro's stead IS a huge gesture even if he doesn't know it, much less know why. and he doesn't need to - because it being important to zoro is enough for luffy to care too. and yknow, in a lot of ways, wado is to zoro what the straw hat is to luffy, which makes it all the more meaningful.

these two just... kinda get each other on such a simple but profound, unconditional level that I absolutely dig. and it goes from zoro not a having a single doubt in luffy's faith of achieving his dream to luffy refusing to get in the way of zoro's own, including heartfelt declarations of the sheer lengths luffy would go for zoro's sake and zoro's vow of loyalty and devotion, and is seen even in passing/small moments like these. they're crazy.

#zolu #opla #tp #sorry......the zolu brainworms are having a party in my brain rn and you know it's bad when I start over-analyzing stuff #I love them so much AJSJDJ they're just. so good

[ollyolyoxenfree]

Life Series in my style! Specific seasons get different designs but this is a general amalgam :).. Design notes under the cut for a few of the designs i want to talk about, for those of you into that sort of thing.

general notes:

Each season would look different

Winners have purple eye highlights on green life, and on red life they get the watcher symbol in their eyes.

Grian - Standard parrot Grian design, but on red life I go for a more watcher-esque design.

Jimmy - Man has that canary coding. There's poppies embroidered on his lapel to nod to Third Life. The back of his coat has a dog for Secret Life but you cant see it here.

Joel - Evil Shrek. Iconic life merch under his vest thing, and on red life he gets a beard a la Last Life.

Scott - Has his iconic crystals, but on red life they have purple post-Last Life because hes a winner. Has an axolotl patch to nod to Binkie or whatever its name was.

Tango - As his lives go down, the fire gets hotter. Green is mostly red-orange fire, yellow is... yellow. And red is white-hot with some blue at the edges.

Etho - I actually don't really use an arctic fox Etho design? But it just felt right here. Heart patches turn red when he goes red.

Bdubs - Moss cloak withers and red flowers bloom on red life.

Cleo - Apparently the colored bits in her hair were snakes but i always saw them as beads ??

Martyn - Mix of his vtuber and MC outfits, but he has a watcher logo on his arm.

Ren - He goes full dog mode on red life. He's got that dog in him.

Lizzie - I saw one art of vex Lizzie and it changed my brain chemistry. Green and yellow life she's an allay, red life she becomes a vex.

BigB - Heart foundation earrings, plus his outfit goes pink/red on his red life. He was one of my favorite secret life POVs :)

Gem - Her shirt changes color depending on life, and her antlers get bigger and sharper.

Pearl - Wolf ears cuz Tillie, moon/star cloak for symbolism. Cloak changes color with life, moon phases on clasp change as well (crescent on green, half on yellow, full on red). Eyebags because five am Pearl is so iconic.

#my art #grian #goodtimeswithscar #mumbo jumbo #solidaritygaming #jimmy solidarity #smajor #smajor1995 #scott smajor #impulsesv #skizzleman #tangotek #ethoslab #bdoubleo100 #bdubs #zombiecleo #inthelittlewood #rendog #ldshadowlady #bigb #geminitay #pearlescentmoon #trafficblr #traffic smp #traffic series #life series #third life #last life #double life #limited life

[darqx]

Some BP/HH/General asks

That mood when you want to share all the things but also want to keep it under wraps for the actual thing haha! Thanks very much anon!

As for your questions, I can't actually be specific cos there's no definitive number I have in mind for either. Basically there are a number of sectors (you can consider them their equivalent of countries - they have less than what we do though), and a number of species of demon of which I've designed about seven of. The ones I've shown before are these guys (and do you think I could find this pic again? No, I had to recreate it cos for the life of me I couldn't remember what ask I'd previously stuck it in lol):

One day when i have enough species and stuff out there I want to make a proper field guide \o/

Thank you very much for the interest! ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿ I would actually love to for BP, but before I jump the gun there I have to get the comic out first lol. That being said I have made mini-games before featuring the HH versions and some other characs alas they are all lost at the moment to the sands of Flash becoming obsolete 😩

Me and Gato do still collab sometimes (and send each other Xmas presents)! °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

I have been working on one off and on for a while actually! Hopefully I'll have some pages to post next year or so*, I've been doing a bit of thumbnailing recently :D

*that is the plan but i also don't know where people find the time to do anything with a full time job lol.

Hullo! Glad you are enjoying the snippets of BP I've got here and there :D Here is an older ref on Izm back when i first got the idea (at that time i didn't really plan to do anything with it, it was just an AU. Now it's my main project haha. Anyway the ref is a little bit out of date in that regard.)

I used to have a "field guide" which was also made quite a while ago, unfortunately the death of Flash kinda killed it. Here's a screenshot of some relevant info from it though.

That's an interesting one as it's questionable how sentient souls are after removal 🤔 In my mind its only form is the smoke light, it can "see" to some degree and MIGHT be able to talk (but in a very no one can hear them sort of way, a la i have no mouth and i must scream. So i guess it can think "aloud"). The more time passes the less sentience it has.

It could try, though it wouldn't really get anywhere if it's in Rire's collection. He might just eat it lol.

.D: Good with kids, will be fine in all aspects.

Izm: The fun dad however needs a partner that knows what they're doing to ensure the child safety during shenanigans.

Marcus and Zeke: Also would be good parents though might be more helicopter out of protectiveness/worry when first starting out.

Ren: Geek parent very good for homework help. Some Asian parent tendencies eg "ah see, i told you not to do that right? Now you see what happened."

They are similar to our known society for this! So basically, there are some good families out there (eg Zeke - who is a demon - is from a pretty average loving family), and there are some bad families out there who only care about power or having an heir or whatever.

HH Rire is a human. I differentiate between him and Demon Rire because they are two different characters...even though they are also technically the same character lol. You can consider them as alternate universe iterations of a base "Rire" concept.

I actually half jested this in an old comic lol

I am sorry to inform you that a HH webcomic doesn't actually exist 😅 I did a lot of art, animations and one shots (such as the HHJ comics) with them, but nothing actually planned or serialised or anything. Whatever's currently on my DA or here is basically what exists.

Bringing this image back cos it's relevant lol.

You spelled it correct there though! XD

#answer dump #battle priest #hh au #sz #hedonehigh #long post

[gogobootz1]

Dream A Little Dream Of Me

Eddie Roundtree x Reader

Summary: Stress is starting to interfere with your sleep schedule. But a late-night encounter with a fellow member of The Six might just help you out.

A/N: It really bothers me that the show changed his last name, but I love this man so here you go

Word Count: 1k

The one thing you really couldn’t find yourself getting used to in LA was the heat. Dry, stifling, and never-ending, it made you miserable. After spending nearly your whole life in cold, dreary Pittsburgh, you were more than struggling to make the adjustment.

The cheap ass house Billy had rented didn’t help things, either. Among its flaws, the lack of air conditioning is at the top of your list. And it’s why you can’t seem to stop tossing and turning. No matter which limbs you stick out from under your blankets, it’s not enough to cool you down. The windows you opened two hours ago aren’t helping either. Growing tired of trying to sleep, you throw the covers off of yourself and sit up.

At the very least, some water should be able to help.

You huff and make your way downstairs, paying no mind to the time. Grabbing a glass from the kitchen cabinet, you let the door swing shut. Once you’ve sipped on your tap water for a bit, you decide a snack might help too.

Still holding your cup in one hand, you start rummaging through the fridge with the other.

Leftovers were clearly out. As delicious as Camila’s lasagna was two nights ago, you didn’t want to bother heating anything up. Not to mention that Warren would probably want it for breakfast. Billy specifically said that the apples he bought were off-limits, but you aren’t necessarily opposed to pissing him off. You are, however, concerned about his taste. He probably got red delicious or Jonathan or something equally as gross, so you can't have that. Finally, you strike gold. The deli drawer. At least one Dunne brother has your back. Graham made a B-line for the deli counter on your grocery trip the other day.

You snag two slices of cheese out of the packet and start eating them while looking to see if the fridge has anything else to offer.

"Are you eating deli meat straight from the fridge at 2 AM?"

You whip around to find Eddie staring at you expectantly. For a second, you're like a deer in headlights. Caught red-handed, standing by the evidence. You swallow the final bite of cheese you were working on.

"No."

He makes a face that tells you he is not at all buying it.

"It was cheese," you mumble. Quietly, you continue, "why are you in here anyway, Edward?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe to see who was making all that noise?" He shrugs angrily. For the first time, you take note of his pajamas. The blue and green plaid really compliments the white Rolling Stones shirt he's got on. His hair's all tussled, probably because he was just sleeping.

"Shit, I woke you up, didn't I?" You whisper, internally kicking yourself. The fridge closes behind you as you take a seat at the kitchen table. You rest your head in your hands. "I'm really sorry, Eddie."

The sincerity in your voice takes him off guard. Typically your relationship is characterized by bickering and teasing and sticking your tongues out at each other like when you were little. This is a rare moment of vulnerability for you.

Eddie takes the seat across from you at the table. "What are you doing up in the first place?" He asks gently.

"I'm too hot," you complain.

"Sure are," he nods, and you kick him. "OW! Jesus, I was joking."

You sigh again, guiltily, "sorry."

"Cranky much," he rubs at his knee, "did you get any sleep at all?"

"No," you say miserably.

"Wait, are you serious?" Eddie asks, and you nod. "We were in the studio all day, and you stayed late to record the extra trombone part. Aren't you exhausted?" You nod once again. He lets out a sigh, "what's keeping you up then?"

"I already told you, Billy needs to fix the damn air conditioning," you grumble.

"And that's all?" Eddie sounds skeptical.

You sigh, "I don't know. It's just- a lot." He gives an encouraging nod, and you continue, "we're not in Pittsburgh anymore, and everything's new and different, and this is our shot, and if I blow it-"

"Woah there," Eddie stops you. "First of all, if anyone blows it, it'll be Graham for spilling something on someone important." That pulls a laugh out of you, and he smiles. "And I know things are different, but it's exciting too. If you ever feel homesick, though, we'll just drive around until we find someplace that reminds us of Eat'n Park. Okay?"

You nod softly at his words, and he stands up. You send him a questioning look.

"Come on," he says, "you've gotta get some sleep."

"Eddie, I've tried," you insist. He rolls his eyes at you.

"Then at least come sit on the couch," he pleads. You reluctantly follow him into the living room and plop yourself down on the sofa. "Close your eyes too. If they get any more bloodshot, people will think we're high all the time."

"Aren't we?" You ask, throwing your arm over your face. You don't see him shake his head at you while he grabs his guitar.

"Since you woke me up, you get to hear what I've been working on," Eddie says. He pushes your legs over so that he has room to sit.

"Lucky me," your voice drips with sarcasm. Eddie flicks your leg, and you flinch away. "Hey!"

"Watch it, sleeping beauty," he says.

"Or what?" You taunt.

"I'll tell Billy you broke the garbage disposal," he smirks. You bolt upright at his words.

"You wouldn't!"

"Wouldn't I?"

"How was I supposed to know I had to turn the water to use it?!"

Eddie stares at you, unimpressed.

"Never mind, Mozart, play on," you nod at him. Eddie starts strumming the guitar, and you sigh, laying back down.

The melody is slow and sweet, mesmerizing too. Your intentions of listening closely to offer feedback quickly slip out the window. Especially when he starts humming along. You don't even feel yourself starting to drift off. Your acute awareness of the temperature in the house, your dry mouth, or any residual hunger that haunted you earlier slips away.

Eddie goes on playing for a bit before he looks to you for your thoughts on it. When he finds you fast asleep, he sighs, "that good, huh?" He shakes his head with a smile on his face. Eddie stands and hangs the guitar back on the wall, retiring to his own room. He'll make you listen to it again in the morning.

#eddie roundtree x reader #daisy jones fanfic #daisy jones and the six #eddie loving #eddie loving x reader

[conchcronch]

Sword Swallower - Part 2

LA!BuggyxYou

You're left feeling confused, heartbroken, and needy but before you can go to port to 'blow off some steam' there's something nagging at you. And that something hasn't spoken to you since kissing you in front of the whole crew.

NSFW under cut.

You hadn’t seen Buggy in almost two days. After he had left the party you had drunk everything in sight. Leading to a very hefty hangover the following day. Thankfully for you, and most of the other crew, Buggy had deemed the day at sea as a rest day, something that he did as an unspoken praise to the crew for a raid well done. You had spent about 90% of that rest day heaving over the side of the ship, unable to keep any food down.

Thankfully that was a few days ago and today you were feeling better, still only able to keep small things down and even the smell of beer caused you to gag. You had spent the better half of the day preparing the ship to be docked at a pirate island to restock and gather information, also giving the crew some time on land to blow off steam as they put it.

You had been feeling antsy since that kiss, taking any opportunity to try to satiate your sexual urges yourself. But by the third underwhelming orgasm in the shower you realized you were probably going to have to join the crew at port and find someone who can help you out.

You threw on a pair of plain black underwear, with a matching bralette, something easy to take off and throw back on to avoid that awkward post sex dynamic. On top of that you pulled on a long black flowy skirt and a black and white striped tank top, carrying your boots with you as you headed out to the deck. The sun was just beginning to dip, and the air was cooler than you expected. Just as you were about to climb the ladder to the dock you threw a look over your shoulder and noticed a light coming from the captain’s quarters.

Something tugged at you, telling you you should at least go tell him you’re popping out for a bit. Even though he had been held up there since the party, not even coming out for meals and specifically requesting Cabaji bring him food. You drop your boots on the deck and pad to his door, knocking and half expecting him not to answer.

To your surprise, the door is pulled open by a detached hand, retracting back to the wrist of its owner without so much as a glance in your direction. You step inside his office, closing the door with your foot and taking him in. You missed him, you weren’t going to tell him that but the sight of him felt the same as seeing land for the first time after weeks on the sea. His jacket and hat were thrown on a chair in the corner of the room leaving him in his striped vest, gloves and his hair was tied up in a loose, low bun.

You catch him glance up at you through his lashes before turning his focus back to the map he has covering his desk, a compass and a sexton sitting within reach. The silence stretches around you, making you fidget in the doorway. You walk towards him, leaning over the map to try and see the cluster of islands he’s got his eyes locked on. “Can you move those, they’re blocking my map,” He makes a swiping motion at your chest that had spilled a touch and was blocking a few of the islands he was looking at. You laugh, standing up so you’re not blocking anything.

“I’ve barely seen you lately. '' You say, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Someone has to get shit done on this ship.” He doesn’t look up at you.

“Nope, I’m not buying that,” You shake your head even though he’s not looking at you.

“Don’t care if you do or not.”

“Something’s got you acting weird.”

“Maybe it’s the fact I can’t get any peace and quiet ‘round here, ever think of that?”

“I don’t think that’s it,” You walk around the desk, wanting to get close to him, hoping you can read his vibe.

“I think I know what it is,” You stare at him, studying his every move. The way his gaze flicks from the compass to the cluster of islands, how his gloved finger tries to map a path from where you are to where you’re going, the way his biceps tense and relax as he shifts his weight.

“Don’t care.”

“We never talked about the other night.” If you hadn’t been watching him so intently you would have missed it. The way his whole body freezes for half a second before shifting his weight onto his hands that are planted firmly on the desk, his fingers digging into the wood just a bit more than before. You can see his painted jaw tighten and untighten, something you know he does when he’s thinking harder than normal.

“Didn’t think you’d want to, or that you’d even remember.” His words are cold, you’d only ever heard this tone when he brings up Shanks.

“Why wouldn’t I want to?”

“Dunno.’” He shrugs, eyes practically boring a hole through the map. “Didn’t want it to change things.” For a moment you let the words hang there. Let them solidify between the two of you. You nod, taking the statement in, accepting it. You wouldn’t risk your friendship over anything. You had been traveling together for years, bickering at each other like an old married couple but never crossing the unspoken line. Always returning to your own beds after nights of deep conversations when no one else was around, kisses only ever lasting a second and exclusively on noses, hands and cheeks. Anything more would be too intimate. Sure you thought he was handsome, he was practically oozing charisma. But you never let that thought linger, worried you would allow your attraction to evolve into something more. You’d be lying if you hadn’t thought about how much easier it would be if you could just come to him rather than having to find someone at a port when your fingers are no longer enough to satisfy you. But you weren’t going to cross that line…you weren’t…

You force a smile, sling an arm around his neck and pull him close as you look down at his map. You feel him relax into your embrace, pulling the compass closer to him before he gives you a side glance. “Your big head is blocking my light,” His tone’s lighter than before.

“You’re very boring, you know, I came to you for entertainment and this is all I get?”

“You have an uncanny ability to bother me whenever I’m trying to do something.” You let your arm slip from his shoulder and you step around to the side of the desk so you can watch him,

“Come on, can’t this wait?” You pop up onto the edge of his desk, kicking your feet.

“Go bother someone else.” You grab your chest, wheezing out a gasp,

“Oh captain,” before laying back across the whole map, “you wound me so! I could be out on the town but instead I chose to come and spend my day with my very favourite clown on the high seas!” You grin up at him, seeing the corner of his lip upturned,

“We both know your ego is too big to be hurt by that,” He smiles with an eye roll. “But unless you want to stay at this port forever, I gotta figure out where we’re going next.” You gracefully roll off the desk, landing on the balls of your feet before shrugging at him,

“Guess I’ll just go to port early,” You say, smoothing down your skirt before turning and reaching for the door knob. You heard him scoff, almost as though he didn’t actually expect you to leave.

“You never go to port.”

“I go sometimes,” You say, looking over your shoulder at him.

“Not without me,” He’s looking up at you, still bent over his desk, a piece of hair dangling in front of his face.

“I just got something I gotta’ do,” You look away from him, knowing if you held his gaze much longer he’d know you were up to something. That was the only downside to being so close to him for so many years, he could read you like a book.

“Like?” You stay silent, hoping he’ll grow bored of this conversation and wave you off to go find someone in a tavern who can at least make you cum. “Oh hoho!” He almost giggled “Now I have to know!” You turn to face him, refusing to meet his gaze, opting to look everywhere else but him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this,” He brings a hand to his chin, his eyes scanning you up and down. “Should I just start guessing?” You shift your weight from side to side, your skin feeling weirdly tight all of a sudden. You know your cheeks are burning and the longer you go without looking at him the guiltier you look.

“C’mon, don’t make me say it.” You finally meet his gaze through your eyelashes and watch the realization hit him.

“Oh…OOOOOOHHHHH!” His cheeks rouge and he looks away from you, rubbing his hand across his face. “Didn’t realize you…did that…” You can even see the tips of his ears are red.

“Have sex? Ya Buggy, most adults do. Only so long I can avoid it before it gets distracting.” You turn around, deciding this is more than enough embarrassment to last you a lifetime, you grab the knob and just before you can pull it over you hear him speak, his voice softer, more delicate.

“You know, I can always…” He trails off, probably hoping you can fill in the words he doesn’t want to say. You let go of the knob and turn back around to see him staring holes into his desk, his hands in tight fists on the map.

“Always… what?” You walk closer to him until you're across the desk from him. You bend down, trying to catch his eye line but he purposely avoids it by looking down at the forgotten compass. When he doesn’t look up at you or make any signs that he’s planning on finishing that sentence you reach out, tucking that piece of hair behind his ear, racking your nails behind his ear, the tips of your finger grazing his pierced lobe. You watched as a shiver passed through him before he was able to hide it.

“Forget I said anything.” He sighs heavily, “Go off and find some crab addled sailor.” He waves his hand at you, trying to shoo you away, “Have fun.” He’s trying to resume his jovial tone but you can hear it crack, which churns your stomach.

“What if I don’t want to forget what you said?” You snatch the compass just as he goes to pick it up and resume his charting.

“God, you’re a pain in the ass!” He finally looks and you smile at him.

“That may be, but you didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He says calmly, sitting in his neglected desk chair. “You’re probably still hung over from the other night.” He pulls open one of the desk drawers and starts digging around in it, probably looking for a backup compass since you still have his in your hand.

“Come on Buggy,” you walk around his desk, grabbing the back of his chair and jerking it to face you, you lean it close to him, your forehead almost touching his. “I just want to hear you say it.”

“Are you just trying to make me look like a fool?” He accuses, browns knit together and a hard frown on his lips.

“Bugs, I’m being serious,” You reach out and touch that piece of hair behind his ear, “I just want to hear you say it.” His head drops so he’s looking down at his lap, your hand on his shoulder.

“If you wanted, I could…we could always…ha…have sex…just to avoid outside people, no strings just fun,” He roughly rubs the back of his neck, surely leaving red irritated skin.

“That’s quite the proposition, Captain.” You lean forward, pulling his chin up with a finger, smiling at him for a second before closing the space between your lips and his.

You had exchanged small pecks over the years in times of stress or drunken excitement, but never before had your lips slotted together in such a perfect way. His hands immediately found your hips as his mouth opens with a small moan, your tongue sliding along his. You can feel him very gently lead you forward, slowly inviting you to straddle his lap. Your knees fitting perfectly on either side of his thighs as your fingers tangle themselves in the hair at his neck. His hands move from your hips to your long skirt that’s constraining your thighs, pushing it up just high enough you can move freely without the chiffon digging into your thighs. His hands drag out from your thighs to the bottom of your tank top, pulling it up over your head, your lips parting for just long enough to get the shirt over your head and tossed somewhere else in the office. He pulls his lips away from yours, a small whimper leaving your lips before you can stop it.

“Damn,” He breathes out, barely loud enough for you to catch it as he looks at you. You were only wearing that simple bralette that did your chest very few favours. The longer he stares the more you want to make excuses about your choice in underwear, you bring your arms up to cover yourself.

“If I had known it was going to be you seeing me, I would have worn something nicer,” His hands come up to your arms, gently pushing them away.

Without realizing it, you relax your thighs that were growing a bit sore from holding yourself up in such an awkward position. Your full weight falling on his lap, feeling his bulge right against your wet core, only a few layers of fabric were separating you. His head leaned back a bit and a breathy moan fell from his open mouth. When he is composed enough to look back at you – his eyes lidded and full of lust – you reach behind you, unclasping your bra and letting it slip off your arms and onto the ground next to you.

“Holy shit,” He breathes, eyes glued to the small silver barbells that accent each of your nipples, catching the light in such a way that he swears they sparkle.

“Don’t start, I was 18 and felt rebellious,” You try to stop the jokes before they start but they never come. For once in all the years of knowing Buggy, the Flashy Fool, the Genius Jester, he was at a loss for words.

“Stop staring.” You’re suddenly very aware of your lack of clothes in comparison to him.

He blinks a few times, before pulling his gloves off and dropping them on the ground. You furrow your brow, trying to think if you’ve ever seen him without his token white gloves. Without much thought you grab his bare hand as he’s pulling his second glove off, looking at his black painted nails and feeling his calloused hands. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without your gloves on,” After allowing you to inspect every part of his hand he reaches forward and cups your cheek, you allow yourself to push your face into his touch, looking up at him to see a gentle smile on his lips. You were both thinking the same thing, how nice it was to finally cross that line. He draws you in, kissing you softly, his hand moving to the back of your head to tangle his fingers in your mused hair. You break apart but just enough that he can speak, “Wanna’ move to my bed?” You nod but back peddle as you remember something.

“Do you mind if I shower first?” He nods, smiling that familiar smile.

“You’re telling me, you were going out planning to get laid and you didn’t shower? That’s gross, doll.” He helps you get up before adjusting himself so his aching erection isn’t quite as apparent, but it’s still very apparent. He stands up, looking you up and down before starting to roll the long forgotten map on his desk.

“I did shower, thank you very much! But it’s different when I’m with someone I actually care about.” You see him pause for a second before continuing to roll the map up and slip it into its bronze tube.

“Aw, I’m flattered,” He puts the tube into a locked chest next to his desk, your eyes trained on his every movement. “You can use my bathroom, if you want?” He says, going about cleaning his office as you stand there leaning against his desk, still topless.

“Now I’m the one who’s flattered. You don’t let anyone use that, I don’t think I’ve even seen it in all my years here.”

“Better get used to it ‘cuz you’re not using the crew shower anymore,” He says, seemingly pleased with his office and turning to you.

“What?” He clears the space between the two of you in a few steps before he pulls you close to him, his hands sliding up your sides, his thumbs grazing your nipples making you all but whine wishing he would give you more.

“I don’t want anyone else to see you like this,” He puts two fingers on either side of one of your barbells and tugs, forcing a breathy moan from your lips before you could stop it. His eyes meet yours and you can tell that for once he’s being serious. All you can do is nod, loving the way he’s seemingly possessive of you now.

He ducks his head just low enough to make you think he’s going in for a kiss but just as your eyes flutter closed his lips graze your’s before pulling away, an embarrassing whine leaving your throat. Your eyes open to see him smirking, which only widens when you grab the front of his vest and yank him down, hoping he’d get the message. But he expertly dodged your lips aiming for your neck instead, his lips latching onto your exposed skin, surely leaving a trail of hickies and red grease paint. You couldn’t stop the moan as he nipped at the crook of your neck, his hands sliding down to grope the meat of your ass. As his lips and tongue glide along your neck and his hands explore your bare skin you find yourself melting into his grasp, barely able to think clearly enough to string words into coherent sentences. “B-Buggs,” He hums into your skin, you can feel how hard he is against you. You crave him in a way you’ve never experienced. You don’t want him, you need him. You’ll take anything he offers and still beg for more.

“Don’t you want to go shower?” He asks smugly, lips never leaving your body.

“I do,” His arms fall away from you, no longer keeping you from leaving and yet you make no move to leave.

“Then go,” His lips drag up your neck, until they finally meet your own for a quick peck before pulling back just enough that you lean forward in search of them, your eyes meeting his sea green gaze.

“I-I don’t want to.” He smiles before wrapping his arms back around your waist, pulling you flush against him, his bulge pressing into your bare stomach, the heat radiating through his pants.

“Then don’t.” His words are simple and in that moment you know you’re caught. You lean forward enough to press your lips against his, feeling your lips become stained with his. A laugh barely leaves his throat as your hands greedily claw at his vest, trying to get any sort of contact as you nip at his lips until he parts them. In most circumstances you’d be embarrassed by the level of neediness in this kiss, but with Buggy you couldn’t care less. All you knew was that you had to have more of him.

It takes all your strength to pull away from his lips and push him back, hearing him groan a bit. But before he can complain more, you drop to your knees, guiding him to lean against the desk for extra support. You work his button and fly open, pulling his pants and boxers down just enough that you can fish out his cock. You had always avoided thinking about how big he could be, feeling like it was crossing a line and knowing that once you thought about it, it would plague your mind more than you were willing to admit to yourself. So you just avoided it.

But now that it was in front of you, you were forced to admit that you knew it was going to be big, but not like this. Buggy couldn’t help but smile as you wordlessly stared at his cock, and just as he was about to crack a joke it died in his throat as you licked a long strip along the underside from base to tip. You encircled the head in your mouth, sucking on it hard and smiling to yourself as you felt his hips jerk from the sudden overwhelming pleasure. You flick your gaze up to him to see his hands are on the desk, supporting himself, his head lolled back as you slowly take more of him into your mouth. Once you find your rhythm you bob your head, beginning to let your hands wander in hopes of getting him to be more vocal. Your hands slide up his covered thighs until they reach the warm bare skin of his lower stomach, slipping further under his vest then around to his lower back, dragging your nails along his skin. He isn’t even looking at you.

You pull off, gaining a whine from him but he still doesn’t look at you. “I want you to look at me, Bugs,” You say, dragging your mouth along the side of his shaft, sloppily licking as you go.

“Don’t wanna-’” You pull back completely, shrugging even though he’s not looking at you.

“Guess I’ll just stop then.” He whines out a no, jerking his hips forward a bit. He finally looks down at you and you can see his painted smile is smeared all over. “I don’t want you to take your eyes off of me.”

“I won’t last,” He drags a hand over his face, smudging his makeup even more.

“Then don’t.” You watch him huff out a sorry excuse of a laugh at you using his own comeback against him. His hand reaches forward, carding through your hair before grabbing a handful, pulling a moan from your lips.

You watch his erection jump in your grasp, your grip on the base tightening before licking a long and painfully slow strip along the underside, playfully flicking your tongue on the head, all the while staring at him. You see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard, his jaw clenching and unclenching when you repeat the action.

“Buggs,” You whine, stroking his member slowly as you lick the head of his cock, repeating yourself when he doesn’t look at you. “Buggs, please.” You had never acted like this for anyone before, you’re sure you’ll overanalyze it later but all you could think about in this moment was how badly you needed him. “I need you,” Breathing deeply through your nose you swallowed as much of him as you could, pausing about half way to inhale again before pushing yourself to take all of him. Your eyes squeeze shut for a moment, just long enough to force your focus away from gagging and back to him, opening your eyes again to finally meet his. This gave you the fuel you didn’t even know you needed. Pulling off of him, the head of his cock resting heavy on your tongue before you swallowed him again, nose nestled in his neat blue curls. You pulled back but not off, deep throating him again, your heart pounding as a deep groan blesses your ears.

Before you can even start to pull off of him again you feel his detached hand leave your hair. He drags the tips of his fingers along your bare back, running along your hip before ducking under you to touch your belly just before you feel the fabric of your skirt getting tugged around. You pull off his cock as both your hands grab his just as it was pulling your panties to the side.

“Why,” Is all he says, his cock twitching at the sight of you half naked and kneeling between his legs.

“I…” Your cheeks burn hotter than they had this entire exchange. “I haven’t shaved in a few days…” Your grip on his hand loosens enough that he can squirm out of your clasped hands and it flies up to pull your chin up and force you to meet his eyes.

“Is that why you wanted to wait?” His voice is almost breathless, his lips parting and you can just barely see his tongue dart out from between his teeth as you nod. “Seriously?”

“Normally all I’m looking for is just a fuck, and not a fuck with my captain!” He starts to laugh, tossing his head back and grabbing his stomach. You grab the hand from your chin and throw it at him, standing up.

“Don’t be a dick!” He grabs his hand, gently leading it to his wrist before dramatically wiping fake tears from the corner of his eyes.

“You’re just so cute.”

“Oh, fuck off.” You start looking around for your tank top, doing anything to avoid looking at him. Before you can peek around his desk you hear his chair scrap against the floor and feel both his hands grabbing your waist, he presses his body against your back, feeling his warm breath on your neck as he speaks.

“I couldn’t give a shit if you shaved or not,” He presses open mouth kisses from the crook of your neck to just behind your ear. You could hear just the faintest snicker when you lean into him more, allowing him to hold you up when your knees falter. He takes his chance, leading you into the chair he was just sitting in and crouching between your knees like you had been just a few minutes ago.

He pushes your skirt up to your waist, sucking in a breath when he finally gets a glimpse of your plain black panties. It takes a lot of his self restraint not to comment on how boring those are, but he knows one more joke could be the difference between sex and no sex so the the joke dies in his throat. He glances up at you, waiting for you to give him permission. “Fine.” You say, looking away from him but scooting your butt forward on the chair to make it easier for him.

He runs his thumb over the fabric, humming as he feels the dampness against his skin. “God, I can’t wait to hear you moan my name,” He says, surprisingly without a shit eating grin. He applies just enough pressure on your covered clit for you to whine, bucking your hips up wordlessly trying to tell him to hurry up. With both hands he slowly pulls your panties off, tossing them over his shoulder before leaning forward, his nose nudging your clit in the perfect way, earning him a breathy moan from you already. “You’re so wet,” You can feel his breath on your core, and before you can say anything he licks a long strip along you, flicking the tip of his tongue against your clit before watching as he slips his middle finger into you, his other hand grabbing your leg and guiding it over his shoulder allowing him to get closer.

Almost on instinct you tangle your fingers in his long hair, not moving him but silently encouraging him. He begins to obscenely lick at you, moaning as he stretches you out with one finger, then two, then slowly three.

You had never really thought about what Buggy would be like in any sexual situation, but you definitely had never thought about how his nose would nudge your clit in the best possible way, or how easy his hair would be to grab or how perfectly he would fit between your legs while being held in place by your thighs. “Wouldn’t it-“ He pulls his mouth away, still roughly fucking you with his fingers while now smiling up at you, “wouldn’t it be so funny if I stopped?”

“If you stop,” You whined as he flicked your bundle of nerve endings with his long tongue as you spoke. “If you stop I swear to god I'll never swallow another sword on your stage ever again.” You ball his hair in one hand, shoving him back down where he immediately went to town on you, you could feel him say something against you but you were so crazily close you couldn’t give a shit about some joke about swallowing his sword he couldn’t resist saying.

The wave of climax crashes into you so hard you can’t even consider controlling your moan. Your thighs lock around his head, your fingers contract roughly pulling at his blue strands harshly as you moan out his name accompanied by a string of profanities. He slows his minstraction but doesn’t stop until your body goes limp against your control and your vision spots. You barely register him moving from between your legs while peppering the insides of your thighs as you come down.

“Fuck,” You huff out, he has his gaze trained on your every breath, his chin glistening and his makeup smudged. “This is already better than anyone I’ve found at any port.” You push your hand through your surly wild hair as you tuck your legs in front of you. He sits back on his ass on the floor, wiping his face on the back of his hand,

”Glad I could help.” He pushes himself up, adjusting himself in his pants as he leans back against his desk. “So,” He looks down at his boots as though they’re the most interesting thing he’s seen all day. Clearly trying to act nonchalant. “Did you still wanna’?” You were surprised he managed to ask that without a waggle of his brows.

“Of course I do,” You wrap your arms around your legs, bringing them against your bare chest as if you were attempting to have some decency but you could tell by the way his eyes scan your legs that there’s no point.

“Wanna’ head to my room then?” He starts looking around for his discarded vest, clearly not wanting to walk across the ship in only his tented pants.

“God, yes,” The words left you the way air leaves your lungs after holding your breath.

#buggy smut #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown #buggy one piece #one piece smut #one piece x reader

[mrsmarinara]

NUMBER 5 WITH TREVOR PLEASEEE!!

I honestly can’t count how many requests I got for this specific one lol.

5. “You sent me inappropriate pictures in public.”

You should have known what you were getting into before you entered a relationship with Trevor. The two of you had been friends for years before the two of you ended up solidifying your relationship with him on New Year's Day.

He was hyper and talkative and always found ways to be touching you. Whether it was snuggling on the couch, excessive PDA or simply holding your hand he always made sure his presence was felt by you. This, of course, didn’t change in the least bit when you started your new job.

You worked for the social media team for the LA Kings (which often led to Trevor calling you a traitor). Despite your boyfriend not sharing the Crypto Arena or having any other reason to be there, he still found ways to see you during the day when he wasn’t on a roadie or practicing. Sometimes he would bring you lunch, always bought from somewhere nearby because the one time he made you a sandwich for lunch it was dripping so much that the bread was too soggy to eat. Sometimes it was coffee, which you appreciated when it was a long day but most of the time he just texted you throughout the day.

Today, though, it was radio silence on Trevor’s side. You hadn’t noticed until after lunch when things had begun to slow down. It wasn’t until the hockey players were leaving practice for the day and heading home that you finally received a text from your boyfriend.

You had a mini microphone held out to Tobias as your friend, and fellow social media member, was asking him a question. When it came time to show him a picture on your phone it dinged. You didn’t think much of it, planning on looking at it after this mini interview. However, Tobias cleared his throat as his face turned a light rosy color. When you pulled your phone away in confusion and looked down at it you realized that it was Trevor who had messaged you and somehow you must have accidentally opened it while showing the player in front of you.

You nearly choked on air as you took in the message. There were two messages from your boyfriend.

From: Trev ❤️

When are you getting home I’m lonely and hate entertaining myself.

It was harmless enough but when you scrolled down an image filled the screen. You’re eyes widened as you took in the picture of Trevor holding his hard cock in his hand. You excused yourself from the two other people, you’re friend looked at you confused but Tobias simply couldn’t meet your eyes before you quickly strode down the hall to somewhere more private.

As your eyes scanned the picture some more you couldn’t tell what you were feeling. You were definitely embarrassed that someone you worked with saw the type of message you received even though you knew that realistically you were an adult and this was entirely normal. You also couldn’t deny the warmth that sent its way through your body at the image of Trevor waiting at home for you, thinking of you and ready to have you as soon as you returned.

The phone rang twice before Trevor answered. Before you could even speak he asked, “I’m guessing you got the picture.”

His breathing was heavy but through that, you could hear the cheeky smile on his voice. Even though he couldn’t see you you still rolled your eyes.

“Trevor,” you said, trying to sound stern. “You sent me inappropriate pictures in public.”

“I know,” he said, he groaned after the words left his mouth and that’s when it clicked that he wasn’t just messing with you by sending those pictures.

“You couldn’t wait thirty minutes for me to get off of work and get home?”

“I’m not the one in charge here. Little Trevor is.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his ridiculous statement. You wish you could have said that was the first time you heard him refer to his cock as ‘little Trevor’ but it wasn’t.

“Well, Tobias just saw Little Trevor.”

You weren’t sure what you were expecting from your boyfriend but laughter wasn’t it. “Maybe it’ll give me a leg up in our game against the Kings tomorrow.”

“I can’t take you seriously,” you said laughing. Of course, Trevor wouldn't think much of another team seeing his nudes. He didn’t take things like that very seriously and you loved that about him.

“I’ll be home soon so please stop playing with ‘Little Trevor’ so that we can have some fun when I get back.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Trevor said, “just hurry up because we both miss you.”

“I’ll make sure to give you both a kiss when I get home.”

Trevor groaned at your words, “you’re gonna be the death of me y/n.”

#trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras #trevor zegras imagine #nhl imagine #my writing #2023 fall prompts

[simonalkenmayer]

So recently Elmo…who is a puppet on a man’s hand, asked people how they were feeling. The response gave us a glimpse into the zeitgeist of this decade. Humans are miserable here.

Larry David, a comedian who plays a character that rants and raves about things, picked on Elmo. Everyone went mad about it. They were willing to extend humanity to Elmo and defend it, but not see the HUMAN as human, nor indeed presume he too is playing a character.

Why am I talking about this?

Reminds me of when some people argued I’m a character, but then proceeded to try and call everything I said either abusive, racist, or ableist. Just for shits and giggles.

You cannot presume a character is giving you truth. Nor can you assume a character is real by sacrificing the human behind it. There’s a serious flaw in how humans think.

If I’m human, it’s a performance for some cause which you do not know, but usually performances are there to either expose truth or comment upon it.

If I’m a monster, then give me the personhood to which I’m entitled and allow me the same chances you have to learn and change my opinions in real time, not that they necessarily need it.

Humans however, splice meaning and reality together as seems fit.

My gentle readers fit into these three categories:

1. Humanize the monster and defend it with everything

2. Be angry at the human using the monster to comment on reality, without ever considering that there may be layers to the artifice, designed to create a specific scenario, a la an experiment.

3. “I’m going to give all that garbage a miss and just accept you as you present yourself”

Guess which one was statistically the smallest group.

Nevertheless, I am me. In this place, you have no idea who that is. You know only what I tell you. I don’t tell you everything because I’m controlling the rules for a reason. Hate me or like me, doesn’t matter. The reality of me will never be what you think it is, because everyone controls their presentation to some degree.

All the world is a stage, and we are merely players. No one knows anyone really. And so…the discussion regarding me, integral to the experiment, finds me much amused no matter the outcome.

This is why I do not have any emotional connection to what you say of me…whatsoever.

Your opinion of me is irrelevant. I’m sorry if that hurts your feelings—that your idea of me doesn’t have an affect on me as you wish it would…but ah well….i cannot make myself care.

That has always been so. The point was to find what you thought and why, not care about what you think or why. Not change myself or the artifice to suit you.

You weren’t the focal point of the experiment. Your behavior was.

That’s the problem. You think everything that comes out of you is a) important b) has bearing on reality c) unique or interesting and not a pattern anyone can see if they know what to look for.

It’s not.

Its your own need to have that meaning that gets in the way of accurately interpreting any reality

[lukaherehelp]

Okey, Detectiva Luka on the case!

I'll be cracking this plot open in order on how things will go so, sit down and relax, grab a coffee and something to munch.

This post will briefly attached things from this post by @syrena-del-mar alongside my post here on the movies,as well as the ones about Tan and Phee being the killers and Tan using poison on the guys, as well as my theory of why I think each mask is different and I think I know whom is behind each one (thanks again to @blmpff for the screenshots). All these theories have being a collective effort between the multiple minds in the bl/gl server so also a big thanks to them for being as unhinged about these as me djslkajdlkjass with that being said...

Let's jump right in, shall we?

So yesterday we discovered that the movie posters in Non's room are fake mock-ups of real life horror movies, right? and there's a fourth poster that can be found in Jin's room in the trailer that we haven't seeing yet in the series, but I'm going to talk about it as well. They go in these order:

Rivarium, Whisper and La Madre

and Jin's:

Devil

Imagine Jin's is where the bookshelf is in Non's and we get this order:

Rivarium -> Whisper -> Devil -> La Madre

or may I say:

Vivarium, 2019 -> The Whisper, 2007 -> Devil, 2012 -> Mamá, 2012

the order they are in is really important because it actually shows us how the plot is moving. The movie posters give away the plot. Let's go in order:

What is important to us from Vivarium (2019) are two things: the looping element of its plot (not a timeloop) and the brood parasitism example they show at the beginning of the film and feeds into with the plot later on with the loop element.

Vivarium shows as at the beginning the brood parasitism of cuckoos, birds that don't nest their eggs and instead, sneak them into other birds' nest for them to raise them. The gang, quote "Non's Friends" are the cuckoo, leaching out of a bird to raise their babies. Or, in their case, draining Non (the bird) out of his ideas and kindness (the nest) for their own good. The loop element comes into these with two new cuckoos, Tan and Phee, infiltrating the group (the birds), but instead of using it to rip the benefits (getting their eggs in the nest), their true intention here is being full parasites. They are a virus contaminating the body that is the friend group. They are "The Boy", ready to kill.

And how do they do this? Here is where The Whisper (2007) comes into play. David as a concept, to be more specific, comes into play.

David is an eight-year-old boy that is not really what it seems. He's the son of a wealthy woman, so kidnapping him should be easy, but this provokes many deaths in the movie amongs his captors. Why? 'cause David, in reality, is a demon. A demon that can "suggest" and "influence" the people around him to do whatever he wants. Only Max survives and is able to kill David, but not after the later has taken with him the lifes of everyone else without moving a finger. Phee and Tan haven't moved a single finger against the group (yet), but "the killer" has being doing it ever so slightly. And even like this, the only death among the boys that has happend wasn't even by the hands of "the killer". No, Por dies because Top kills him. "The Killer" (Phee and Tan) are pitting the boys against one another without them even knowing. The only thing they have done truly is poison them (going again with the loop thing as the gang drugged Non in the past) so they allucinate. And one specific allucination brings me to the next movie:

@syrena-del-mar gave a really good synopsis:

Devil (2010) revolves around five strangers that become trapped in an elevator. As they struggle to escape, it becomes apparent that one among them is the Devil incarnated, manipulating events and tormenting the others with a series of disturbing manifestations. Meanwhile, outside the elevator, a detective investigates the strange occurrences, gradually piecing together the connection between the trapped individuals and the sinister presence haunting the building. As the situation inside the elevator becomes increasingly dire, the characters are forced to confront their darkest secrets and sins, each suspecting the others of being the Devil in disguise. Once they deny their sins, the devil is able to claim their soul. The Devil is unable to claim the last survivor's soul, because these one confesses and repents for having killed a family in a car accident and fleeing the scene. "

Y'all can see why Jin is the one to own this poster, right? But I think there's two reasons for this:

the first one is the obvious, which is that Jin, amongs all the boys, is the one that probably regrets the treatment towards Non the most. He really cared about him, and he harmed him as badly as the other did. But he is repenting, and he might have already done half of the work no so long after the release of the video...

Because the second reason Jin has these poster is the fact that he shares the same sin as Tony, the survivor, in Devil: a hit and run. In Jin's case, Keng's hit and run.

Jin's only allucination speaks for itself, so I don't think I need to add anything else to this point.

but Devil also begins with a bible verse:

"Be sober, be vigilant: Because your adversary the devil walks about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour."

The devil, the lion here, are Tan and Phee... or in Jin's case, Phee specifically. Both boys are playing the long game dragging these revenge for three long years, but Phee has make it upon himself to get the closest to Jin. And I think is because he knows, he knows Jin was involved with what happen to Non, he knows about the video, and he wants Jin to pay as well. But avenging Non by killing Keng might be what could keep Jin alive at the end... or at least to not be killed by the hands of Phee and Tan.

Talking about killing! A little side track to point out that I definetly believe that White will survive yes or yes and as I said this morning, I need him to be like the main character in the book Final Girls by Riley Sager and kill Tee himself. Period.

getting back on track, LET'S BEGIN WITH @blmpff BLORBO, THIS SILLY GUY, or well, these three silly guys:

But there's four! - it looks like we have four masks but upon closer inspection I think is just three. Not only the eyes are different but also the face structure of each changes a litte bit and the last two here look identical, so I just think is a matter of actual production of the series and them having that same mask duplicated but because it has more "dripping blood" on the eyes, it doesn't look the same in both. In any way, I'm about to tell you whom is whom.

Our first Killer, "Clear Sight", is Tan.

Tan, in this theory, is New, Non's older brother.

So yes, I know, this whole plan is a revenge for what happend to his little brother, so you'll think that he would be a little bit more "passion" driven when it comes to revenge, but taking in account the other two killers... well, makes sense that the older one is the one being more focus and calculating about what they do. A "Clear Sight" amongs them. He's also the one that has poisoned the friend group, as I explain here. So yeah, cold blooded and with a plan in mind.

Which he has really well tight up with the second Killer, "Bloody Tears", since they flawlessly were able to fool us all when CS stole the motorbike from Tee but then BT pulled up with it.

So, whom is "Bloody Tears"? Say it with me class: is Phee. Yes.

His eyes are bloodshot and he's crying blood because hiswhole purpose with all of this is to avenge Non. He feels guilty over his last words to Non:

"You want me to forgive you? Just get lost and die."

He's the one being more driven by passion, by rage, by wrath. These absolute fuckers destroyed the Non he loved so dearly and he will destroy them.

So if "Clear Sight" is Tan, and "Bloody Tears" is Phee... Then whom is "Fresh Blood", our third Killer?

For the sake of this these "timeline" theory, we will go with the idea that "Fresh Blood", the masked killer with the fresh blood on its eyes and the cruch, is Non.

The obvious reason: the crutch. FB is the only one holding it, both when he appears in front of Top and when he's in the woods.

And we saw what Non was capable of three years ago when he finally snapped in front of the others, so I don't need to explain why the blood of his eyes is till fresh. He's a goner, he's fully commited to the bit, he will take all this fuckers to hell with him... including Jin.

Because Phee could spare Jin, but Non will not. And so we are down to four people by the end of these tale: White, Tan, Phee and Non.

Here is where the last movie comes into play: Mamá (2012)

Mamá is about two sisters, Victoria (f8) and Lily (f6), whom were living as feral children for five years in a remote cabin in the woods after their parents' death. They are put under the care of their uncle Lucas and his girlfriend Annabel, but when the two girls start to build a bond with Annabel, what kept them alive in the woods, Mamá, wants to take them back with her. And by the end, she almost does. On a cliff, both sisters make a choice: Victoria chooses Lucas and Annabel, and starts a new life with them; but Lily, whom loves Mamá dearly, decides to stay with her. Mamá after this, jumps off the cliff with Lily on her arms, activily killing her and turning them both into moths.

Tan is Victoria, Phee is Lily and Non is Mamá.

Phee, like Lily with Mamá, will choose Non. After all the blood they have spilled, is better to get lost in the woods than to comfront the police, honestly. They can just get lost and enjoy nature like they did when they used to visit the lake. They will just count Phee as one of the many victims these cabin has taken.

And so is Tan because he, like Victoria, will choose to live his life. But he was never Tan. He's New, and he can just let Tan die at these cabin and go back overseas as himself, leaving all of these behind...

And leaving only White as our final boy.

so yeah, those are my theories and how I think the series is going to play out, this post has taken me 3h and a half to right down, I can't feel my brain any longer dljsaldjalkjsd

#dead friend forever #dead friend forever the series #dff the series #thai bl #thai drama #bl drama

[hannahssimblr]

Once, years ago now, Aunt Maureen took me to visit her eldest daughter, Karina. In the midday heat, beneath the shade of a fig tree we sat in a Venice restaurant, where bougainvillaea draped over the front of flat roofed houses and fragrant blooms edged the terrace. 

I loved Los Angeles. The food was always better, the people happier, the streets more colourful and picturesque than in Albuquerque, where everything was brown and beige, blending with the dust land. Karina laughed when I said this, sitting back in her chair in her oval sunglasses, a cigarette balanced between long slender fingers. 

“You should see where I live downtown, then I’ll ask you again how much you love it here.”

I didn’t know what she meant. I was thinking about those cool guys I’d seen on a basketball court earlier with their hats on backwards, the loud, bass heavy music they played from a speaker, and the skaters who dropped lazily into concrete basins on their boards. I wanted to be one of them, though I knew Maureen would never buy me something dangerous like a skateboard. I played things a bit fast and loose at the best of times and once almost rollerbladed clean off a pier, so she’d developed a fear that I might one day die of pure stupidity. Maybe when I was older and she wasn’t watching me from the kitchen window anymore I would move to LA, get myself a board and skate around on it without wearing a shirt, and get muscles and a deep tan like everyone else here. 

These were the kinds of thoughts I lost myself in as Maureen and Karina had conversations that either weren’t interesting or which I was unable to understand, but I was content sipping on my Fanta with ice, lurid orange, and so fizzy that it stung the back of my throat and thinking about being a grown up in LA while Maureen had her white wine and Karina her cigarettes. Soon they would order a plate of oysters that looked too much like boogers for me to sample and speak more about things happening, things that had already happened, and plans they’d made for the summer. 

“What’s your favourite time of year?” Karina said to me suddenly, snapping me out of my thoughts. I knew this is the sort of question you ask a seven year old when you don’t know how to speak to children, but I thought hard about it anyway to make sure I gave her the best answer I could. She was my cool, mature cousin, and I always wanted so badly to impress her. November and December, I told her, because I got presents on my birthday, then time off school on Thanksgiving and both these things on Christmas. I was still reeling from the PlayStation console that Maureen and her husband Mario had bought me last Christmas, slotted perfectly within its square, silver box, which I still had, stored carefully beneath my bed just in case I ever needed to pack it away and move it. 

“What about you, mom?” She said, and Maureen didn’t have to think. 

“The spring,” she said, “I just love to be out in my garden then, with all the flowers and that lovely sun, it’s not too hot. It feels like everything is just on the brink of bursting to life.”

I thought about that later as we passed the canal, all the beautiful spring flowers that erupted from the banks, and of home too, where by now, in the hazy days of mid May, the desert was blanketed with spring grasses, with violets and golden poppies and bluebonnets, burning a trail of vibrant indigo all the way to the mountains. 

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Ty to @scrapplesims for suffering living in LA once upon a time and for answering my weirdly specific questions about what it was like

#lucky boy 2009 #another flashback! #these are too fun to do tbh #any excuse to get out of dreary dublin (san sequoia) #and chilling out in LA (DS Valley) #hopefully I'll be back to regular updates soon! #it's been BUSY friends #tw: smoking #tw: alcohol