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nayziiz · 5 days

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Dressing Room | CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader (you/her/she)

Author's note: I'm trying something a little bit different with shorter form fics, so please send through any requests or feedback. These one shots will likely not have a second part unless it really speaks to me to continue with it. Thank you!

Masterlist

She had been stressing about the outfit from the moment she laid eyes on it in the store. It wasn't just any outfit; it was her armour, her first line of defence in the battlefield of first impressions. Today was no ordinary day; it was the day of her most crucial job interview yet. As she stood in front of the mirror in the dressing room, scrutinising every detail, her mind raced with thoughts of the looming consequences of failure.

The stakes were high. Failure meant more than just a missed opportunity; it meant facing the grim reality of having to pack her bags and move back home. The mere thought sent shivers down her spine. Moving back home would feel like admitting defeat, like surrendering to the expectations and doubts of her parents.

Her parents never understood her passion for art, always questioning why she didn't pursue a more "practical" career path like medicine or law. But she couldn't deny her calling, couldn't ignore the fire that burned within her to create, to express herself through her art. Yet, with each rejection letter and failed interview, their voices grew louder, their doubts echoing in her mind.

Her heart raced as she realised the gravity of the situation. It was a last-minute interview, sprung upon her with little warning or time to prepare. As she frantically rummaged through her closet, her hands grazed over worn-out shirts and faded jeans, none of which felt suitable for the occasion.

Her friend, Carla, ever the optimist, had tried to reassure her, insisting that she had plenty of great options. But to her, it felt like every garment she owned had suddenly lost its appeal, leaving her feeling utterly unprepared and vulnerable.

Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself of all the hours she had poured into preparing for this moment, the countless nights spent honing her skills and perfecting her portfolio. She couldn't let it all go to waste now.

As she stepped out of the dressing room, her heart pounded with nervous anticipation. She had meticulously chosen her outfit—a black skirt that reached below her knees, paired with a dark green cropped blouse that accentuated her slender frame. Yet, as she emerged into the bustling store, her eyes scanned the crowd in search of her friend, only to find empty space where her reassuring presence should have been.

A pang of anxiety surged through her as she realised she was on her own, left to navigate this pivotal moment without the comfort of her friend's guidance. She hesitated for a moment, feeling exposed and vulnerable under the gaze of strangers.

As Charles walked by, his attention was suddenly arrested by her presence. There she stood, amidst the sea of shoppers, a striking figure that seemed to transcend the ordinary. His gaze lingered on her, drawn irresistibly to the effortless elegance with which she carried herself.

In that moment, she seemed almost ethereal, like a muse summoned from the depths of his imagination. Her allure was undeniable, a magnetic pull that left him momentarily breathless.

As he glanced at her, a flicker of recognition ignited within him. It wasn't just her physical beauty that struck a chord; it was the familiarity of her presence, a sense of déjà vu that whispered of shared moments through the lens of social media.

With a sudden surge of realisation, he recalled the countless hours he had spent scrolling through her Instagram art profile, marvelling at the brilliance of her creations. Each painting had captured his imagination, drawing him into a world of colour and emotion that he had never experienced before.

Her talent had left an indelible mark on him, sparking a sense of awe and admiration that transcended the digital divide. And now, here she was, standing before him in the flesh, her artistry radiating from every pore.

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he contemplated the serendipity of their encounter. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that he would come face to face with the artist whose work had captivated his heart.

“The green looks lovely on you,” he commented, his voice carrying a gentle sincerity as he casually approached the dressing room area, feigning interest in trying on something himself.

His words were offered with a genuine warmth, a subtle acknowledgment of her choice in attire and an admiration for how it complemented her complexion. Though it was a simple remark, it carried a weight of appreciation, a recognition of her beauty that went beyond the surface.

As he glanced in her direction, he couldn't help but notice the way her eyes sparkled with gratitude, a soft blush dusting her cheeks at the unexpected compliment. It was a fleeting moment, yet one that seemed to linger in the air, charged with a quiet intensity.

“Thank you. I'm actually struggling to find something to wear,” she sighed, her voice tinged with a hint of frustration as she confided in him.

Her words carried a vulnerability that resonated with him, prompting him to pause and offer her a sympathetic smile. He could sense the weight of her uncertainty, the pressure of wanting to make a good impression weighing heavily on her shoulders.

“I know the feeling,” he replied with a reassuring nod, his tone gentle and understanding. “Sometimes, it's like nothing in the store quite matches what we have in mind, right?”

He offered her a moment of solidarity, a shared understanding born from his own experiences of sifting through racks of clothes in search of the perfect ensemble. In that moment, they were united by a common struggle, bonded by the shared quest for sartorial satisfaction.

But beneath the surface, there was also a flicker of admiration for her honesty, for her willingness to let down her guard and share her concerns with a stranger. It was a small gesture, yet one that spoke volumes about her character—a testament to her authenticity and openness.

“Special occasion?” He wondered aloud, his curiosity piqued by her choice of attire.

“A job interview at a local art museum,” she answered, a slight blush gracing her cheeks as she revealed the reason behind her carefully selected outfit.

He couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration for her as she spoke. The notion of interviewing for a position at an art museum seemed to perfectly align with her elegant demeanour and artistic sensibility.

“Wow, that sounds like a fantastic opportunity,” he remarked, genuine enthusiasm colouring his tone.

As she smiled in response to his encouragement, he couldn't help but feel a swell of pride, knowing that he had played a small part in bolstering her confidence for the interview ahead.

“If only I could dress the part, it would help,” she chuckled half-heartedly, a hint of resignation underlying her words. Charles nodded in understanding, his mind already racing with ideas.

“I could help? I don't know much about fashion, but I have an interest in art. No reason why the two shouldn't mesh,” he suggested, a glimmer of excitement dancing in his eyes.

“I've never thought of it like that. Please, I would appreciate it,” she agreed, a grateful smile lighting up her features.

“Wonderful. I'm Charles, by the way,” he introduced himself, extending his hand in a gesture of friendship.

“I'm y/n,” she responded, returning the handshake with a warm smile.

“Nice to meet you, y/n. Let me grab some stuff and then you can change into what you like,” Charles suggested, his eagerness evident as he disappeared into the store once again.

As she nodded in agreement, she couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation building within her. Here was someone who not only understood her passion for art but was also willing to lend a helping hand in a realm where she felt less confident.

After a few minutes, Charles returned, his arms laden with an assortment of clothing—dresses in vibrant hues, colourful blouses, bright pants, jackets adorned with eye-catching patterns, and more. Each piece seemed to radiate with its own unique personality, a reflection of Charles's eclectic taste and artistic sensibility.

“Here we go,” Charles exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he laid out the garments before her. “Feel free to try on anything that catches your eye. And don't worry about being adventurous—sometimes, the boldest choices can make the strongest statements.”

Grateful for his encouragement, she surveyed the array of options before her, her heart fluttering with anticipation. With Charles's guidance and support, she felt emboldened to explore new avenues of style and self-expression, eager to see where this collaboration would take her.

As she disappeared behind the velvet curtain to try on the flowy blouse and loose-fit black pants, Charles settled into a nearby chair, pulling out his phone to occupy himself while he waited.

“What museum did you say it was?” He asked, his curiosity piqued as he glanced up from his phone.

“Villa Polomo,” came her response from behind the curtain, her voice slightly muffled but still audible.

Charles nodded thoughtfully, his mind racing with thoughts of the renowned museum. Villa Polomo was not just any museum—it was a bastion of culture and creativity, a place where artists and art enthusiasts alike came together to celebrate the beauty of human expression.

And now, here she was, on the brink of potentially joining the ranks of those who had left their mark on Villa Polomo's storied halls. The thought filled Charles with a sense of pride, knowing that he had played a small part in helping her prepare for this momentous occasion.

With a sense of determination, Charles quickly composed a message to the head curator of Villa Polomo, a longtime acquaintance with whom he had forged a strong rapport over the years.

“Hey, it's Charles. Hope you're doing well. I wanted to tell you about a talented artist named y/n who's interviewing for a position at the museum. Her work is truly exceptional, and I thought she'd be a fantastic addition to your team. Keep an eye out for her application—you won't be disappointed.”

As he hit send, Charles couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation. He knew that y/n had the talent and the drive to succeed on her own merit, but he also wanted to do everything in his power to ensure that her art found its rightful place within the hallowed halls of Villa Polomo.

And as he waited for a response from the head curator, Charles couldn't shake the feeling that he was on the cusp of witnessing something truly special—an artist's journey from humble beginnings to the pinnacle of success, with Villa Polomo serving as the ultimate canvas for her boundless creativity.

As Carla returned to the dressing room area, her steps faltered slightly upon seeing Charles seated nearby. However, any hesitation melted away as y/n's voice floated from behind the curtain.

“I quite like this blouse, Charles,” y/n exclaimed, her tone filled with enthusiasm. “Maybe I need to get a different colour pants to match the blouse.”

Carla's lips curved into a smile as she listened to their exchange, her presence adding a touch of camaraderie to the moment. A few seconds later, y/n emerged from behind the curtain, and the sight before them was nothing short of breathtaking. The flowy blouse draped elegantly over her frame, its vibrant hue perfectly complementing her complexion. Paired with the loose-fit black pants, she looked like a vision of effortless beauty—a dream brought to life.

Carla's eyes widened in admiration as she took in y/n's transformed appearance.

“Wow, you look amazing,” she exclaimed, genuine awe colouring her voice.Charles couldn't help but nod in agreement, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Absolutely stunning,” he chimed in, his words infused with genuine admiration.

“Where were you?” y/n inquired as Carla returned to their midst.

“I had to take a call, but it seems you were in capable hands. I'm Carla,” she explained, her tone warm and friendly. Charles nodded in acknowledgment, extending his hand to shake Carla's.

“Charles, and it's only been a pleasure helping out,” he replied with a warm smile, his eyes reflecting the genuine enjoyment he had found in assisting y/n with her outfit selection.

Carla returned the smile, a sense of gratitude evident in her expression.

As Charles excused himself and disappeared into the store floor, Carla's observant gaze lingered on y/n, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

“He was cute!” Carla observed with a knowing grin. “Did you get his number?”

Y/n's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she shook her head adamantly.

“No!” She argued, though a part of her couldn't deny the flutter of excitement that Charles's presence had stirred within her.

Unbeknownst to her, Charles was already plotting his next move, determined to see her again, especially at Villa Polomo in Monaco. With a sense of purpose driving him forward, he set his plan into motion, knowing that their paths were destined to cross once more.

And as y/n and Carla continued their conversation, unaware of the role fate had yet to play in their lives, Charles remained steadfast in his resolve, eager to seize the opportunity to reconnect with y/n and perhaps, pave the way for a future filled with endless possibilities.

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o-uncle-newt · 4 months

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Cabin Pressure Advent Day 21: Uskerty

I absolutely adore this episode as the origin of my single favorite Cabin Pressure line: "You know, between the dames and the horses, sometimes I don't know why I even put my hat on." Nothing will ever beat it for me.

So yeah, this episode is super funny, but I do want to talk a bit about something that's come up as my go to "look, a THEME!" here- vulnerability. Because as I was listening, trying to figure out what I was taking away from this episode besides "this is all really funny and well plotted" because at a certain point that gets old, it struck me that there are ways that both of our (absolutely brilliant) pairings this episode really strike a chord when considering the role of vulnerability- and lack of it- in relationships.

This is a bit less so in the Douglas-Arthur pairing in this episode, which is inspired (and yay, there's finally a nice airport manager!)- there are brilliant set pieces, and the premise of the bar conversation allows two very different people to kind of sort of attempt to understand each other. There's also a really nice father/son element- we already can perceive, even if it's not said outright, that Arthur doesn't have much of a father figure- his life is very dominated by Carolyn's influence, even in the majority-male flight deck, in a way that I think even tints his interactions with Mr Birling about sports (there's a tinge of eagerness for acceptance), which he's clueless about. Would Arthur know more about sports if he'd had a dad who gave a shit about him? Who knows. But this episode giving him an older man who's willing to open an as-yet-shut door into a men's world that excites him.

The men's world is, of course, the world of the pub. We've already seen a glimpse of Douglas in that milieu in Kuala Lumpur, and usually I'd say the less said about that the better, but I think there's something interesting about how mean spirited and surfacey it could be there, alongside Arthur's misunderstanding what Douglas means about "talking about their lives." He asks a question that is so unexpectedly and deeply personal that Douglas isn't even upset that he asks, he understands that this is another rule of masculine bar/pub conversation that he has to teach Arthur. On a certain level, this is fine on its own- there's a time and place for everything- but if you look at it a certain way, it can reinforce tropes about men and expressing emotions and feelings. And yet... even by following the rules of pub chat that Douglas lays out for him, and trying to fall into its ritualistic norms (like creative insults), Arthur, in part through his own open-book vulnerability, is able to bring things to a place where Douglas is pretty unselfconsciously vulnerable himself, about the place in the world where he finds himself. And by the end, he's fallen more into Arthur's more atmospheric image of two men in a bar. He's loosened up, and isn't playing by the rules anymore. It's just really nice (in addition to being hilariously funny).

The Martin and Carolyn pairing is maybe a bit less novel than the Douglas and Arthur one, but it still works really well in this discussion of vulnerability. Both of them have had pretenses/barriers they try to keep up- and both, incidentally, are related to their own interest in expressing that they are in control- but by now Martin has learned enough to have started to relax his. This actually really helps, as his actions aren't hampered by pretense or pride- he's basically able to function ALMOST competently with the cabbie as a result. But Carolyn is almost on overtime trying to keep her barriers up against vulnerability and it is clearly driving her a bit bananas, hence her complete dysfunction this episode- she has to be ironic and invulnerable about her gift to Herc, to prove that she may be seeing him but she doesn't have feelings (which will of course come to haunt her in Vaduz), and as a result loses all her judgment. And her overtime craziness is, unusually enough, what causes Martin’s misfortune, not his own incompetence! He's the functional one here, not her, because unlike her he's not filtering all his behavior through this one very constricting lens.

Once Martin is able to open her up a bit in the discussion of his salary- where she starts off in control as the boss and is forced to face the fact that Martin is loyal to her even when he shouldn't be*, which could very easily pierce the defenses of her invulnerability as she has to accept this reality- she starts to mellow out. Whereas she starts off saying that she's “not a little old lady” so she can’t do the totally reasonable thing until Martin begs, afterward she manages to chill enough that she can do the, you know, sane thing even though it dings her a bit in the self-confidence. She's not quite as in thrall to her inner barriers anymore.

I'll just end off by saying- this episode may also, in addition to my favorite line, have my favorite closing lines of any episode, with the possible exception of Zurich 2. Though that one's mostly about the nostalgia and emotions. So maybe this is it.

*On this note- when did Martin stop looking for jobs? He was looking in Rotterdam… given my St Petersburg post I wonder if it was before or after that.

#cabin pressure #cabin pressure advent 2023 #cabin pressure advent #john finnemore #uskerty

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filmnoirsbian · 11 months

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I have a question and lmk if its out of line or if you dont wanna answer it thats fine, but basically im a professional artist in the field of fine arts, and as such i have over time learned what makes art "good". I can like or not like it, but usually, im at least able to come up with a defendable opinion on why it is contextually bad art or good art, or rather, whether or not a given artist is 'good' at what they do. With poetry tho, while i (like everyone i think) journal recreationally, i really have trouble identifying whether either my own poems or other peoples are good. Like. This came to mind esp after your rupi kaur post, bc ur right, i dont like her, but i cannot for the life of me articulatw WHY i think its bad. Anyway tldr i guess how can you tell? What are some markers of good vs bad poetry ? (Especially technically speaking) i think these 2 things are similar bc with art too a lot of ppl will be like "ohhh its all relative" but like there are actual markers ofskill and well executed intent, and for fine arts i tend to know them (stuff like influence/filiation, taking into acct the viewers experience, intentionality of creative choices.....) but with poetry as a field i just like. Dont have that technical knowledge to talk about my feelings about a poem like i do with art ans i was wondering if u could help

This is a very complicated debate that has been ongoing since the birth of art and literature. I think it can be difficult for some people to allow that a piece of art (in this case, this includes poetry) can be technically well-crafted while not effecting them emotionally, and that a piece of art can effect them emotionally while being not technically well-crafted. A words app poem that you see which is filled with typos and accidental grammatical errors but which touches on a topic deeply important to you can make you cry while still needing work in its technical aspects, and that doesn't make it either good or bad as an objective work of art. Likewise, there are plenty of poems I've read which were deftly crafted by talented poets but were ultimately forgettable to me because they did not strike an emotional chord. Their lack of emotional resonance also does not make them good or bad. I think that because art has such a capacity for emotional resonance, it's easy to accept that as the most important criteria for what makes art "good," but I personally don't think that's fair. But to me, good poetry is honest--not autobiographical, but written with intent, some understanding of wordcraft as a medium, and meant to evoke a genuine understanding within the reader. Rupi Kaur is sort of a punching bag at this point, often from people who don't actually write poetry which I'll admit I find frustrating, because most criticism of her works is shallow and dependent on the idea that a poem must make you feel something to be good. That isn't a good basis for art criticism, because what makes you feel something is never guaranteed to make anyone else feel. But to me, what makes Kaur's poetry "bad" (not my preferred term, I'd describe it more as shallow or juvenile) is the lack of honesty. Her work is purposefully scrubbed of any distinction so it can be as widely applicable as possible, and in doing so, her poems become no more genuine or meaningful than the mass-printed fortunes in fortune cookies. And, worst of all, there is no technicality behind her wordcraft to make up for the lack of thematic complexity. Both style and substance are rendered as plain and inoffensive as possible. When an artist creates something, they are putting something of themselves into their work, so the art becomes a contract between the artist and audience. The artist is trusting the audience to genuinely engage with their work, and the audience is trusting that the artist has shared something genuine. Good or bad comes later; that it is something the artist created themselves with intent is the first step. But when art is made only with mass consumption in mind, it becomes stripped down to only the bare ingredients of art; it is art on paper, by definition, but it is not art by intent. It's a tree with no limbs, no leaves, no creatures making a home in it. It's not much better than a telephone pole.

When I judge a poem as good or bad, I look first for complexity, either in narrative or structure. This doesn't mean a poem must be a long-winded sonnet to be good; some of my favorite poems are haikus, and in fact haiku is my favorite poetic form. This is because often I find haikus carry multiple meanings, the poet packing in as much story as they can in such small luggage. Most of all, I just wish would-be critics would use their words; "Rupi Kaur's poetry is bad because it's boring" is not good criticism. Your definition of boring is not someone else's. "Rupi Kaur's poetry is rendered shallow and meaningless by the attention-consumption economy it was bred in and has no intelligent wordplay or articulation to constitute a poem that is at least engaging for the mind to read" is a bit more comprehensive.

#asks #poetry

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muzzleroars · 6 months

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So, how V2 got involved when our lovely rotting Michael had met it in Lust City.

He would dismiss it at first then came the thought that he could use it to his advantage to get Gabriel jealous (and off-guard since he wants him back to Heaven) since he is SO competitive like "I have a much better object that is more intelligent than that rust bucket he calls his love lol" but that plan ends up backfiring on him when he started to develop feelings for V2 due to the date he had set up for them.

That is when the "I tried to get the waiter's attention by blinking in morse code" comes to play for V2. Mike will end up questioning himself about this and looks to Raph for help about but Raph already knew and is like "Nope, you are on board of this train now. Take V2 and be in Gabriel's shoes for once" in a gentle yet BLUNT manner to him. He is in for the lonh haul.

SO in love with this anon your mind......especially because i've also 100% had the thought that v2 absolutely thinks it has the superior angel to v1 lmaoooo so imagining the competition on gabe and mike's end is so funny to me too. but in this scenario i keep thinking like. mike's trying to make gabe doubt his relationship in the pettiest way possible, harping on the idea of v1 being not only obsolete as a model but corrupted in its purpose too, which would traditionally strike a chord with angels considering their own natures and commitments. BUT gabe is deconstructing those ideas and he deeply values his personal connection to v1 as well as its incredible capability, so he vehemently argues in its favor. this would of course lead to him pointing out, in no uncertain terms, how v1 bested its replacement multiple times and it can't be ignored that v2 really was just an attempt to grab at a return on investment when priorities changed - v1 was never meant to be replaced, humans just can't stand lost money (statements he would later definitely feel bad about, since v2 is RIGHT THERE and he just said all of this on pure emotion. he would apologize afterward. a lot lol) but those exact criticisms flip a switch in mike's brain since he really, very much connects with v2 being a replacement that was never meant to be and so before he knows it, he's genuinely defending this little robot's honor and getting pissed off on its behalf. in doing so there's an undeniable, deeply personal link he feels with it, something far from typical for mike...which raphael, unfortunately, fully supports lol "raphael, i cannot fall to the same sins as our brother - council me so that i may be delivered from this evil" "this is so good for you michael!!! congratulations!!!!"

#he thinks mike needs the connection AND to empathize with gabe #while v2 is sitting there the whole time like what the FUCK is going on?????#it tries to ask v1 but it doesn't understand any of it #angels! what can ya do :]#cake answers #michael #fallen gabriel #raphael

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qqtxt · 2 years

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[🐯] it’s 3.33pm at home

✿ pairing: beomgyu x employee!you / fluff / 1,377 words ✿ in which a small petty argument turns into a silent war, and beomgyu’s more hardheaded than usual... but he crumbles the clock strikes 3.33pm and it’s been five days since he last saw you.

[masterlist]

in a relationship, there’s ups and downs. much like a rollercoaster. the kind that it’s addictive. the kind that throws you in a loop. the kind that makes your stomach churn with excitement before the fall, after the fall, the adrenaline, the thrill. then there’s succumbing to the numbness that follows after, the lows, the fear before the high once again.

being with beomgyu, it felt like that, sometimes. not all the time, but in the times when arguments take place, it usually ends in silence until one or the other breaks.

this time was no different.

a comeback. the most stressful and exciting time to be an idol. the idol under hybe corporation. the pressure. the need to perform and deliver. the long hours. the weary days. you’re surprised you lasted two weeks since the preparations began before anything happened, really. safe to say, you predicted that he’d be crankier than usual, more snappy, unable to hold back his emotions even when you can tell he’s trying his hardest.

it’s only human. he’s only human. that being said, you’re only human, too.

so when choi beomgyu’s being sassier and more sarcastic than usual despite your kindness flowing through to make sure he’s eaten, it strikes a chord in you, too. that’s when you simply place the lunchbox you’ve made on the floor next to the door by his bag, and left to head back to your cubicle before it can transpire to the absolute worst.

beomgyu has never felt shittier.

five days.

no text. no call. nothing. not even a peep at the memes he’d send to you through instagram from his ghost account. all left unseen. and he gets it. he does. he knows work isn’t easy on you, too. hybe holds such a high standard, parenting other subsidiaries as well that sometimes it spreads you a little too thin for your liking but he’s astonished each time he can hear you say it’s the experience. i’ll be stronger from this... after i cry about it, though. to which he’d hold you close and hum a soft tune until you’re asleep in–his arms–with him, by him, him, him–fuck, where are you?

one day, yeonjun bets. three, soobin snorts. five, taehyun doubles down with kai. the youngest two easily win the bet when beomgyu rises from being cross-legged on the floor, muttering a soft be right back and soon he’s padded out the dance practice room.

two floors down, first corridor on the right, straight towards the end of the path towards the black exit door to the private balcony at the side of the building. 3.33pm, lucky number.

the door creaks open and you’re certain it’s just one of your colleagues ready to get a bruise to the eye. a handful knew of your relationship with beomgyu. one of your closest colleagues–male, sassy, the epitome of a pain in the ass but a loyal ride-or-die–has been your source of comfort whenever times get tough. it’s either he’s got your back, or he’s the one breaking it. he’s been the one coming by to accompany you whenever you’re out here on your own, a small ritual he knows you constantly take.

today’s no different. when the telltales of the door open, your heart sinks at the thought of your friend’s voice cooing damn, still no luck with mr. romantic? with your hands gripping the railing, your eyes look down to your own feet, expecting to see the neon green sneakers but instead... white. new balance. the kind that–you turn around, greeted with the warmth of autumn brown.

silence. the sounds of the city envelopes the pair of you in as beomgyu looks at you quietly. the door behind him is closed, the space barely fitting three people, perfect for just two, but you’re willing to give him ample of room as your feet quickly reroute around him. just as you brush past him, hand on the door, the arms that slide around your waist is what hooks you to stay in place.

a soft gasp escapes your lips, right into his ears as he holds you down. he inhales deeply and you feel it against the nape of your neck, your eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of home; home welcoming you back, home opening the door–arms, in, back in.

“i’m sorry,” beomgyu mumbles to part of your skin exposed to his lips, the other is the collar of your sweater. he shifts a little higher, head craning over your shoulder so he can press his head next to the side of yours, “i’m sorry, y/n.”

he swallows thickly when he doesn’t hear anything, circling his arms around you tighter as his chest covers your back, leaning his head down a little to press a kiss to your shoulder. beomgyu watches as your hand lets go of the door, your body complying to lean back against him and soon he feels your palms smoothening over his forearms.

he sighs; home welcomes him back.

it’s not long until you’re turning around in his embrace as his arms loosen just a little for you to do so. when you come face to face with him, he offers you a small smile. you feel a pout taking over your features; it happens naturally when you can’t help but allow your body respond to what you’re feeling. as he holds onto one of your hands to put it around his waist, you’re able to use your free hand to lightly hit his chest.

he fakes a gasp, clutching onto his chest as he dramatically shifts back in pain.

you do it again, and he repeats the gesture.

one more time, and you’re laughing when he almost falls to the ground.

when he sees you smile, he lures you close to him with your arms around his neck and he finds leverage around your waist. foreheads meet, eyes linger, and beomgyu makes sure you hear his apology one more time before you feel it on your lips. slowly, tender, mellowing its way to coax the loneliness the past five days of being away. he knows he’s forgiven when he feels it on his lips; the smile that responds to the way he kisses you before he deepens the kiss. swallowing your sound of surprise, melting into the ocean of your love, only resurfacing to ask: “forgive me?”

with slightly swollen lips, you say: “under one condition,” he has an eyebrow raised, waiting. “how was that lunchbox?”

he breaks out a grin.

“the second best meal.”

when you gawk and lean back in complete offence, beomgyu’s quick to pacify you with a kiss to the cheek before he murmurs into your ears lowly, “you’re the first.”

((”the guys missed you. said they missed having your bento boxes.”

“yeah, they’ll have you to blame, i’m afraid.”

he pouts, but shrugs after that, “guilty as charged.”

just as the pair of you reach the dance practice room he had left earlier, he surveys the area. you follow his gaze, only to feel a kiss to the side of your neck. with wide eyes, you gape at him as he grins at you with that shit-eating-handsome-smile of his and offers you a small wave as he opens the door to walk backwards into.

“meet you after practice,” he sing-songs, shifting back in and adoring the way you press your lips together to prevent yourself from smiling, returning his wave before you’re treading away with a chuckle.

“ah, lover boy’s back in full swing!”

“alright, old sacks,” taehyun holds his hands out, “pay up!”

yeonjun and soobin grumbles, fishing out the money to slap it into taehyun and kai’s hands.

“this is ridiculous. he cracked under two days last time.”

“how the hell is he lasting longer than before?”

“might be the dance practices, he gets tired now.”

“you asses. i’m right here!” beomgyu kicks one of his shoes off, flinging it to–yeonjun dodges it, poking his tongue through, “did you miss me, too?”

beomgyu takes off the other shoe, willing to chase yeonjun to the death with kai and taehyun cheering, soobin trying to stop the pair of them before taking out one of his own shoes to hit whoever he can catch first.))

#txt scenarios #txt imagines #txt x you #txt x reader #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x y/n #beomgyu x you #beomgyu #choi beomgyu

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vashuknivesu · 1 year

Text

Millions Knives (Nai)/ Reader

Warnings: Soft angst, mentions of readers inevitable death, mentions of enslavement (Plants) etc etc.

-*-

It’s disorienting waking up to a room that’s entirely white, no matter how accustomed to it you are. The bed, the sheets, the floor, the walls. It’s all a pure, bright white.

A whine. A stretch. The sheets pool around your hips as you sit up, and had you not noticed your lover was missing, maybe the distant but familiar sound of piano keys being struck would’ve fallen on deaf ears. You hum. He did this often. With no need to sleep or eat the ways humans do, Nai frequently laid with you until you were asleep, only to slip away and leave the bed cold before you woke. You understood it. You couldn’t exactly expect the man to lay motionless with nothing but his thoughts for hours just so you had a cuddle buddy. Not that he was a cuddler anyway.

Your mind begins to clear, drowsiness fading from your brain, taking the possibility of falling back asleep with it. Your clock said it was 05:21. Far too early, but you were up now.

Dragging yourself from the comfort of your bed, dressed only in a button-down sleep shirt and your underwear, you leave your room, and follow the melodic sound of the piano to your lover.

Nai didn’t like people intruding. He didn’t like humans first and foremost so the fact you had not only managed to circumvent those feelings, but wriggle yourself deep enough beneath his skin that he allowed you to push otherwise hard boundaries, was quite something. Only you can wander into his solitude with no repercussions. Invade in his privacy and be met with nothing but acceptance.

He’s engrossed in his playing when you enter. Back to you, hands moving furiously yet with elegance across the keys. It’s always the same tune he plays, one you’ve never heard before, only from him. It’s beautiful. It’s emotional, and you suspect it may be the only taste of any kind of emotion he will grant himself. You’re certain the song means something to him. Sentimental, although he’d probably never admit it. And you just watch, enamored by him and his talent, until the final chords are struck and Nai’s hands go still.

Silence.

“I was under the impression humans thought it rude to stare.”

You smile.

“Sometimes. It can be a complement though, if what you’re staring at is pretty.”

You hear him blow a humoured puff of air through his nose, before he’s turning over his shoulder to look at you, a smirk on his pale lips.

“Are you going to come here? Or am I to come to you?”

An eye roll and a laugh heralds your movement towards the Independent, and he moves to the side of the bench to make space for you as you take your seat. A kiss is placed against your temple, his favoured display of affection, and you look at the dark keys in front of you.

“Your kind confuses me,” he begins simply, and you look at him with a cocked head and raised brows, prompting him to continue, “staring can be construed as rude, but also as flattering. You are meant to know which only with context clues. It’s ridiculous.”

You nod in agreement, turning your attention back to the grand piano before you, following the great expanse of it upwards to the haunting form a dead Plant situated at the top.

“Luckily for you, you won’t have to worry about figuring us out for long, will you?”

Nai goes silent then. And the chill that fills room quickly alerts you to the fact you may have struck a nerve. You glance at him, to find the blonde already staring at you through a frown.

“You’re perhaps the most enigmatic of them all.”

“Me?” You balk.

“You.”

“Pray tell.”

Nai scoffs, looking away from you and reaching out to the piano, striking a single index finger down onto one of the keys.

“You are human. And you’re aware of my plans, and yet, here you sit. Devoted to me. My lover, knowing of the imminent genocide soon to come, and agreeing with it despite your own humanity.”

Your lips purse together, watching as he repeatedly strikes down upon random keys, the notes hitting your ears not nearly as beautiful and methodic as before, but just as haunting. You’re not entirely sure what to say to that. To him. You recognise it’s contradictory to be in agreement of the liberation of the Plants, knowing that if Nai accomplishes his life’s work, you will ultimately die when No-Man’s becomes uninhabitable without their aid. But the Plants had been exploited for far too long. Trapped in oversized jars, leached off of until the day they died, and for what? For humanity to inevitably turn the already inhospitable planet into another wasteland? For centuries of labour to be for nothing?

Is it worse to enslave a race to ensure the survival of another? Or liberate that race and doom the other to their death?

The right answer is entirely subjective. But you’d made your choice.

“… I can ensure you survive. Somehow.”

You feel your eyes go wide in your skull. Feel your heart stop. He’s looking at you again. Entirely serious, and you stare at him with those wide eyes as you try and process what you have been told. That was never what had been pitched to you. Nai had always made it clear to you that every human was to be scoured off of the planet. That the Plants must be set free to create a better world for not just him, or them. But his brother too. Vash.

Not one human would be the exception.

The Humanoid known to many as Millions Knives isn’t sure what to expect when you utter his name beneath your breath, an honour only you and his brother held. Thinks that when you lean into his personal space, embrace him with shaky arms and hide your face in his neck, that perhaps you’re relieved. Happy that his affection for you had reached such heights you would be the only human to survive what was soon to come. Humans were like that. Would do anything to survive. When their lives are threatened, there’s seldom anything off the table they’d do to save their skin.

But you do none of that.

“You can’t.”

Nai goes stiff.

“What?”

It’s the first time you’ve heard him taken entirely off guard, and he forcefully extracts himself from your embrace as he looks at you, eyes cold and confused and angry.

“You can’t do that, love.”

“And why not?”

“I’ve already made my peace with dying.”

“Well, become un-at-peace with it-!”

“What about Vash?”

His expression darkens further at the mention of his brother. His voice is strained, trembles at the back of his throat as he speaks,

“What about him?”

You sigh, fixing him with a look he can’t quite place. Sadness, maybe, or melancholy. It’s emotional, whatever it is, and your eyes are turning glassy.

“From what you’ve told me, your brother seems dead-set on stopping you and your plan, doesn’t he? He’s fond of us humans. Doesn’t want to see us all die.”

“Correct.”

“How would he feel if, after all this, after you achieve your goals and set free your siblings, you kept one human alive? He will experience loss. And he may never forgive you for it. But, if after all the loss he’s going to endure, he comes to find that you get to keep a human you hold dear, while he is left with none… I think any chance you’d stand at redemption would be snuffed clean. And your Utopia would be for nothing.”

Nai doesn’t like admitting he’s wrong. He doesn’t like admitting someone else is right even more, especially not a human, and especially on a subject as sensitive as this. But he is wrong. And you are right. He can’t bring himself to vocalise that as he stares at you, finding, for the first time in his over-century long life, that there’s water filling his eyes. Instead, he pulls you back into his body, embracing you tightly and squeezing closed those bright, icy blue eyes of his.

You stay that way for a while. In somber silence, clinging to his muscular frame until you find the courage to mumble.

“Let’s not spend our time together sitting in dread.”

He doesn’t answer.

“You left me alone again, you know,” you chastise, forcing some life back into your voice, “you really need to stop leaving me alone in bed.”

He huffs again, finally, rasps against your hair, “you’d have me lay next to you, awake, for hours?”

Your laughter fills the room as you lean away once more to look at him, tears clinging to your cheeks, but humour and joy filling your eyes. His brow creases in confusion as you kiss him, giggle against his lips and sigh.

“Oh, Nai. You want to kill every human, and yet you’re far too human yourself.”

“Pardon?”

“You would make your life’s work be for nothing just for my sake, but won’t lie in bed with me for a few hours? How contradictory.”

Nai rolls his eyes. You kiss him again.

“You’re more man than I think you’ll ever know.”

#tristamp #trigun #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #millions knives #nai trigun #nicholas the punisher #nicholas d. wolfwood #x reader

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perhaps-in-anotherdream · 3 months

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i’ve been hesitant to really get into LnDS bc of time & idk there’s just something abt it that i’m feeling sort of ‘eh’ about…. but after reading what’s going on with li zeyan and the issues with ppl are bringing up (which i can understand why ppl are upset) i’m less inclined to invest all this time playing it… mr love has my heart so i prefer playing it for now~ i wanna play more at some point & i don’t wanna judge too prematurely but was wondering how you felt abt it.. it sometimes seems like im the only one who feels like this (sorry for the rant)

no need to say sorry haha. to be very honest with you, i’m afraid i’m under contractual obligations here, so i currently do not have the scope to be malding out in the wild. despite so, within the scope i am allowed to express, i really haven’t been anything but harsh on the game so far (and believe me you’re far from being the only one).

my general advice regarding people asking me if they should play LnDS remains the same— do try it out for yourself and make up your own mind about it. everyone has their own preference, so you never know what might strike a chord with you.

don’t get me wrong, the game does have features that i think people can enjoy, e.g., the customization, battles, the little games. my biggest gripe is that the game does market itself as an “otome game”, and they’re currently lacking gravely in that department when you look at the CN otome genre + the writing for their main story or date contents so far aren’t... uhh idk how to put it nicely really. there are some good parts (the myths, anecdotes), sure, but when it comes down to it, i’m not looking for one-shots and situationships ∠( ᐛ 」∠)_ though, it’s strong on the “companionship” aspects in the form of taking pics with the men, playing games, interacting on the home screen etc. but these are features that are bound to get repetitive and burdensome after the initial hype passes, and what allows an otome game to thrive or even survive in the long run is the story, the development, the emotional attachment— just look at Love and Producer/ MLQC should you need an example.

also, not to point fingers at anyone, but LnDS’ wild marketing has brought in global players who have no idea about the CN otome market, you can tell it’s the first rodeo for the major part of their global audience. as for the CN market, unless LnDS makes drastic improvements in their stories in the upcoming contents... i know the land i tread in, so we’ll know the real picture in six months when the initial craze subsides. :’<

anywho, i know many people who are still sticking with the game despite acknowledging the story is weak, so the game must be doing something right haha. so, here’s to hoping they can sort everything out and the game does make improvements. and i’m afraid that’s all i can say for now~

—

#ask

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alchemocha · 9 months

Text

6am and I am thinking about sad stobotnik things

Thinking about the whole ‘doomed by the narrative’ trope but it applies to both of them. What if they realized, what if they had to face it or admit that despite everything, there was no winning for them. At best they live in denial and the cycle repeats. At worst they die trying.

Maybe there’s a brush with death, an experience far too close to the brink for comfort. Robotnik is the one having the crisis over it first. Not over himself, per say, but Stone. That one of these days he could lose him for good, that Stone could lose him for good, too. That they didn’t know how much time they had this way; doomed no matter what.

It hits him once, around Christmas one year, during the quiet after a holiday flavoured tirade about how nonsense the sentiments and festivities are. Notions such as loved ones and family. And he see’s Stone just humming around the base and setting up little decorations despite it. It’s like a chord striking his heart and it almost makes him panic. He’d never stopped to consider losing all of this—that he was blind to his own sentimentality for this closeness all along.

It’s not as manic or crazed as one might expect, when Robotnik instead nervously expresses to Stone that he wishes to… celebrate with him after all. Wishes to understand. Because the future is an unknown variable and he realizes he doesn’t want to lose his chance with Stone, to take something he always desired for granted when he finally had it. Stone is gentle. Thrilled about his change of mind, but gentle. The doctor is nervous, which was a rarity itself, and almost scared, which was even more rare. Stone can’t say he felt much different though.

Their work was dangerous, it was risks they knew going in, and truthfully he would accept whatever allowed him to remain by the doctors side until the end. So while they do enjoy this Christmas together, there’s a little while where they spend it in quiet, solemn solitude between them, and they talk about it. That things could end any moment; things could theoretically, blow up in their faces, despite all they do. Neither of them, at that point, wants to die before experiencing each other’s love, wholly. To be together and live while they can, together.

So that Christmas Eve, they spend it doing everything ridiculously corny and sappy they can, and each of them, finds that it’s the happiest they’ve ever been. Even if that ‘what if’ lingers in the backs of their minds—the edge of knowing your life could be over in a moments notice because the people you work for see you as nothing but a tool, and the fate you were served is somehow almost worse. The fights are still ongoing. Only growing worse.

And for the first time he could recall, Robotnik was overwhelmed by emotion. They kissed at the stroke of midnight, like it was their last, and he cried, a little bit—more like sobbed, really. That first escaping tear was the opening of the flood gates. He choked and sobbed, and hell, begged Stone to never leave him. He told Stone none of it mattered without him so why were they running to their inevitable executions?

When things were calmer, the two bundle up in front of Stone’s fireplace, with Robotnik in an ugly sweater and tucked between Stone’s legs. The night had already scandalized his dignity and closely guarded vulnerability, and who knew what the next week would bring, so he let himself be doted on; let himself be the little spoon and just… enjoy what he’d wanted so long. For once, the two of them felt truly happy in the moment, blissfully forgetting about the terror of an unknown fate ahead.

Maybe that time next year they’d both be gone. Maybe they’d be nothing but living ghosts of the past. So they’d seize each moment, just for the two of them.

#stobotnik #agent stone #dr robotnik #ivo robotnik #yes it’s august yes I’m still thinking about stobotnik and Christmas #it’s now 7am as I finish typing this and I have not slept #so I hope you at least find some enjoyment in my delirious stobotnik ramblings #I may have gotten carried away #and this isn’t even all of my thoughts on it theres sos o much #mocha writes #mocha rambles

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janeaustenlover · 5 months

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hey, ali! i feel your pain about the tbosas adaptation! i cried so much during the movie but not because i felt emotional, seeing MY book comes alive on screen but because we were robbbbbbbbbbed and shot 😞😞😞😞😞😞 anyways, what's your opinion on the music tho? fav/least fav song? (my is the oldtherebefore and least fav the 0livia r0drigo's one)

hey, lollis!

‘robbed and shot’, exactly. i couldn’t have said it better myself because unfortunately, that’s spot on 🥲

I LOVED THE MUSIC! a dystopian reflection of our reality through intentional use of folk/bluegrass music is something that resonates strongly with me. i mean, they knew how to strike the right chord in the hearts of book readers for sure! *the only other thing i wish was different about the music it's the variety of tempo and rhythm because as much as i LOVED the unified sound of LG's songs, i would prefer each song to have its own individual tune and ~aura)

my absolute favourite adaptation that they did was 'nothing you can take from me' (boot-stompin’ version); i am utterly in awe of the powerful passionate energy that they gave to this song?? also i loveeed the similarity of rhythm and tone between 'nothing you can take from me' and a traditional american folk song 'man of constant sorrow', i kinda feel it was a deliberate parallel which worked just great. (also i’m glad they added maude ivory’s 'keep on the sunny side'!)

my least favourite is perhaps 'the ballad of lucy gray baird'?.. and though i did enjoy rachel’s rendition (she copies a young dolly parton in such a warm-hearted respectful manner!), and the respect for traditional appalachian music, she sang it in a cheerful 'to hell with you!' manner which is less intense and intimate that i remember it from the book to be? to quote tbosas here: 'the haunting melody set the tone, and her words did the rest as she began to sing in a voice husky from smoke and sadness' – the movie version really failed to capture both the haunting tune (their version doesn't really tell the story musically because of a major key) and the lucy gray's vulnerability here for me. in the book she did what carrie fisher told us all to do: 'take your broken heart and turn it into art' while in the movie she isn't even angry at billy taupe?? like his betrayal (and her place in the games) is not a big deal? she's openly rebellious and sassy with out of place 'i need no man' attitude and that simply didn't work for me personally.

it took some time for 'pure as the driven snow' to grow on me (i expected it to be more of a waltz-like, similar to maiah wynne's cover), but i'm coming around to it. yet… i wish it was STAGED differently??? they had to combine certain scenes and songs in the film but it was such a SURREAL idea to meld PATDS with 'sell you for a song' setting? and it took away so much from that moment of love and connection and unconditional acceptance, where lucy gray is finally ready to be emotionally unshielded in front of her lover (maybe for the first time ever)?? it was a PIVOTAL snowbaird moment but they needed to blend two songs together because obviously PATDS can't be love confession in form of a song because it should be taken as an ominous warning instead (duh!). 'bitch you better not turn out to be a bad guy even tho i knew you were a villain all along' :??? and it could've worked in its own angst-y way, if there had been any development in snowbaird love story?? but since movie!they are full on survival the whole time (there's no canonical teetering on the edge of an actual fondness/love and survival instinct), PATDS makes no sense at all. so… i extremely frustrated by the use of PATDS on screen but at the same time i love the sound of the full version on the soundtrack album.

annnd i'm actually IN PAIN because they had the audacity to leave so many songs out?? especially given their ties to the original trilogy?? 'deep in the meadow' aka rue's song???? 'the valley song' aka the one peeta mentioned seeing katniss sing at school when they were children???? the festive 'crawling to you' ('that thing i love with') likely performed at finnick’s wedding?? idk maybe it's a musical nerd who is speaking in me but i wish they could have included more of the book songs at least on the album, if not in the actual movie (even tho i'm still sure, it would've been possible to present the whole complexity of this book AND its poetic side too, if they decided to split the film in two).

[the score album wasn't much to talk about but 'snow lands on top' piece tho… vivid, striking, remarkable]

#wifeofthewolves #ask #my ramblings #dolly sorry it's a bit longer and more spiteful than i expected it to be #i have to agree with you 'the old therefore' is mesmerizing and breathtaking + rachel's vocals are phenomenal there #i'm not a fan of how aggressive her portrayal of lucy gray generally was #but that raw anger in 'the old therefore' felt so right it reminded me of eva noblezada's eurydice even #btw rachel's first line from 'the reaping song' sounds so similiar to samantha's eponine #actually first time i heard it i was so shocked i stopped the song to immediately rewind it back to the beginning lol #and i'm glad i listened to the album before i watched the movie #because welllllllll the music is better #i wish we could've replaced 'can't catch me now' with any canon song tho because i really don't care about miss rodrigo #also also the movie’s musical arrangement of the wordsworth song is kind of boring sorry #anywayssssss tell me more what do you think

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kittenintheden · 2 months

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Curious on your thoughts on Astarion with a partner who cries during sex? It's a problem I have, I cry pretty much every time I have sex. Not sad tears, just my body feeling too many good things at one it makes me start crying. So I'm curious to see what you think Astarion would do in that situation. Personally, I can't imagine how he'd respond to tears-from-pleasure lol.

first of all, hugs to you! it's so, so common to have a lot of big overwhelming emotions when we're feeling vulnerable, and sex is certainly something that can make us feel vulnerable. I'm glad your situation is an overwhelmed with pleasure one <3

on the Astarion front, I imagine this is a man who's seen a pretty wide breadth of sexual response, given his history. not to get too angst about it, but I would think that over time, reactions like crying post-coitus or even mid-coitus is something he'd be pretty numb to at the point where we meet his character. he's had to embody a persona for so long and perform his responses that it's likely automatic.

that said, things begin to change for him once he's free. he can make his own choices, choose his own partners, and act on all the weird little gremlin thoughts he has. those choices have repercussions for him, of course -- he goes through his very own journey of dealing with negative emotions and blowback from having a sexual relationship with someone after trauma, even though it's someone he's chosen. it's a super common journey that a lot of us relate to, which is why it strikes such a chord in so many.

with that in mind, I imagine that early game Astarion would brush it off, partly because he's been conditioned to and partly because it's easier than dealing with messy emotions. he'd play it off as no big deal or gloss over it, likely try to make light so he can move out of the discomfort as quickly as possible. "I know I'm good, dear, but my goodness, you're certainly playing to my already-flush ego, I must admit."

later game Astarion, though... I imagine he'd struggle. partly because now he actually cares, now he wants to make sure Tav/Durge is all right. he's dealing with his own complicated emotions and I wouldn't doubt for a second that as the pair heal and move forward together, he has his own fair share of crying spells. it would become a bonding thing, a way to check in with each other.

most of all, I imagine that lovestruck Astarion would hold you and kiss the tears away and let it be part of your private moments together, just the two of you.

#ask box #kitten rambles #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion meta

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animehouse-moe · 1 year

Text

Mobile Suit Gundam - The Witch From Mercury Season 2 Episode 2: Father and Child

It seems that this is the episode where the real Gundam begins. Death and destruction, senseless violence that consumes everything under the guise of politics. There's certainly quite a lot to go through.

Out of the 3 episodes we've gotten in this new season, this one has been the best. I'd still say there's heavy handed pieces that mostly reside with Norea Du Noc and the rest of the characters aboard Astsacassia, but outside of that we're treated to some really great content.

And unironically? In the short amount of time that Guel's been given on screen, he's done more than his share to prove that he's an incredibly well written character. His desire to please his father, the breakdown of his character and ego, and a reset that gives him his direction. He gets very little time, but makes the absolute most use of it possible, and it's on display with this episode

He's a shell of a person, haunted by patricide, unable to even eat when faced with his reality. It doesn't matter that he's a prisoner, nor that he's only worth as much as the Benerit Group makes him out to be. He's consume in sorrow by his actions, which is placed eloquently against a young girl in the compound whose father also died at Plant Quetta.

It strikes a very strong chord in grounding Guel as still a child, and uses this little girl to express the emotions that he's unable to. Alongside that, it's an incredibly important piece about discussing the losers in violence. GWitch has very strongly spoken about that, to where both sides suffer loss that perpetuate the hatred and sorrow that deepens conflict. Here, we get shown it on the individual scale with a twist, which is what allows Guel to relate to the girl. Her father was stolen from her, but Guel took his himself, so he doesn't have hatred for Earthians in the way the girl does Spacians. Rather, Guel finds common ground in the girl's hatred and sorrow.

And that's what spurs him on, that relation to the young girl who lost her father and has nowhere else to reach out to. Through that, Guel's able to rebuild himself. Through guilt, he's able to stand tall. Through love, he's able to find a way to take that step forward. And even through uncertainty and sorrow and depression, he finds a reason to search for that light. This young girl had no one else, she had nowhere to turn to and was left to die. And in that, Guel saw himself. It wasn't pity, and it probably wasn't even a deeper connection. It was fear, desperation that rang out from his soul to try and save the girl that suffered a similar fate to him.

And what does he get for his deeds, his attempt to save someone in this world? More suffering.

It's incredibly powerful and emotional, and rages in the face of war. Olcott has a mobile suit, he had a chance to get her the attention she needed to have a chance to survive. She was still alive. But he chose violence, he chose to sacrifice the girl's chance at life for his own opportunity of killing another. He couldn't live with the choices of his past so he cast away not only his own future, but that of those around him. He perpetuates his existence as a dog of war and violence and furthers the suffering of everyone.

But at the end, he's forced to realize his actions. A Spacian, a prisoner that was to be used as a bargaining chip, is the one that does all he can to save the young girl. He has no obligation, no real reason to do it, but he does so over the man that could have. And even at the end of it all, that prisoner refuses to let go of his past. He holds grief and love within the same hand, forcing himself to feel that pain so that he can still remember.

And that's about it from a story perspective. I think Norea is still too heavy-handed for my liking, but I can admit she at the very least gets the point across. Nika is great by comparison though, she just feels a little awkward aside Norea's performance. In the same breath, the few cuts we get of Shaddiq conversing with his father are pretty solid, but neglect the sort of childlike naivety that I think is important in pieces like that. In opposition to his father you get that he doesn't have the full or perfect picture, but Shaddiq himself is void of any arrogance or certainty that could drive such confidence and certainty in actions that serve to only tear things further apart. Maybe it's his aloof personality that doesn't allow those pieces through, but I feel like more could be done to shake his foundations a bit more than what they're at currently.

Now, world stuff? I appreciate the details that went in to the combat and work. The Benerit Groups security forces are well formed and thought out. There's several different types of mobile suits, and their space to ground descent concept is solid as well. Using a high powered glider to conserve energy and hasten transit is a solid idea in Earth gravity. In opposition though is the Earthians mobile suits. All the same design and with standard hardware, they're not kitted out for this specific type of conflict or anything like that, nor do they have a very strong commander or experience as a unit.

What I really love though is the differences we're given. The Earthians exclusively use bullet based weapons while the Spacians are able to use a bevvy of weapon types to overpower their enemies. It showcases the power structure between the two groups very well, forcing the Earthians into inferior and outdated mobile suits when up against the expensive and cutting edge ones of the Spacians.

So following that, the combat? Yeah, it's got its "hype" moments and pieces that stretch the truth, but overall it's incredibly well laid out. The Earthians focus on Guerilla tactics while the Spacians operate in a tight formation on a battle plan. Decapitate the HQ and take up high ground positions to target the Earthians. Knowing they have inferior equipment, the Earthians are forced into a maneuver battle centered around their preparation at the factory. It's a rather textbook approach, if not for the excessiveness of the Earthians.

Do I discount the combat because of them? No, but I will say it's silly. Why would someone ever sacrifice a mobile suit for a Himars? It's the dumbest trade possible in the situation, and I really don't believe that "camaraderie" is what allowed it to take place, especially when the man that jumped in front of it had a family. To me, 100% an intentional writing decision to elicit an emotional response from viewers.

At the end of it all, we're "in the Endgame now". The school setting has been shattered, influence reaches out to the ends of space and time as the threat of a Permet God looms and warfare breaks out between Earthians and Spacians. Everybody's a target, nobody's safe, and we still haven't seen Miorine and Suletta together in this second season. I still believe that the first two episodes rushed, but they rushed to get to a good spot so I'm not terribly concerned about it. Now that we're here though, I hope we get to spend a lot of time with it, there's a world of things to explore given what the first season teed up, and I want to hope that all of it gets executed upon. So yeah, now this is really a Gundam show.

#the witch from mercury #gundam the witch from mercury #gundam witch from mercury #gundam suisei no majo #gundam witch #g witch #witch from mercury #suisei no majo #mobile suit gundam #gundam #suletta mercury #guel jeturk #miorine rembran #anime recommendation #anime review #anime and manga #anime #anime original

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futureforged · 5 months

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*𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 & 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒. 📨 ➤ @burntscars [ ; ] 1 and 3 for the sexuality hcs?

◈ what is their sexuality/sexual preference? Jayce is definitely demisexual! Generally meaning, he usually only experiences sexual attraction after forming a deep emotional bond with someone. It's never been a huge priority of his to pursue given he's always been more focused on his research, but once he does start to grow fond of someone, or there has been some form of connection or interest of his own sparked, he's usually more open to the idea. Again, only under certain circumstances.

Another thing is with how I specifically write him, he stands by this more in his earlier days, but later one, he does shift more towards being graysexual, meaning he doesn't need as strong a bond in place beforehand, if any to feel sexual attraction but it is a rare thing that happens even then. It sounds bad, but it is not often he acts first or initiates things unless it's a rare instance he is pining hard.

Usually if an offer is brought up to him first he'll gauge it — if interested he will go from there. He is very adaptable ( a switch ) & will usually quietly figure out which his partner leans more towards & casually shift into the role he thinks is most wanted. He has no problems there.

◈ what are some features of others that attract them from the outset? Physically speaking? He loves looking into peoples eyes. Naturally, this transfers over to more intimately charged moments where it's an added bonus if his partner has striking, gorgeous eyes that pin him in place, ensnaring his attention so strongly. They catch his attention first because of how he greets people - upfront with a wide smile in polite greeting or something with more teeth & less charm, & usually, he'll remember people by the looks they give or what he gleans from their eyes. In any situation, but especially in more heated moments, Jayce loves eye contact.

The other things that can interest him vary, usually just small things that make him curious enough to think more on someone he meets ; carved in scars in peculiar places, the shape of their lips & the way they fall when smiling or frowning, the edge of a jawline in how sharply it cuts or softly it curves in it's bend. Jayce views smaller details like that as perfections to be marveled at & studied, treated with reverence if it's someone he's fond of.

If we're talking about non-physical traits? He likes seeing passion, determination that drives someone to stand their ground firmly. If they challenge him through those, it's bad but he may end up looking a bit more because that kind of fire is rare to see & he does ultimately admire that kind of quality in another. He knows what it's like to fight for a dream, a personal goal, when all odds say something is impossible. It's a hard fight to win & keep at, so it strikes a personal chord with him.

But also, his inner bastard peeks when he has an opportunity to challenge it himself. Pushing buttons later on, testing how someone is willing to defend their own personal beliefs is something he admittedly thrives on, even if it does end less than favorably sometimes.

#➤ ꜰɪʟᴇᴅ ᴀꜱ . . . // ooc rambles. | to be deleted.#➤ ꜰɪʟᴇᴅ ᴀꜱ . . . // character study. | metas.#➤ ꜰɪʟᴇᴅ ᴀꜱ . . . // headcanons.#➤ ꜰɪʟᴇᴅ ᴀꜱ . . . // suggestive.#burntscars

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three-word-count · 1 year

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The Taste of Home

Chapter Two: Delphinium

read Chapter One on tumblr here

Saeran x reader, post-after-ending domestics

Word count: 1128

Read on Ao3 link with author notes

[ I love even the parts of you I cannot see. Everything related to you is lovely. ]

…

Saeran had no idea.

The two of you often went thrifting. It was a wonderful way to spend time together in a different place, enraptured by all the curious little items filling up the shelves in droves. It was one of his favorite newly discovered hobbies. There was far more to be seen than inside a retail homestore.

Often, you found hidden treasures in the forms of random knick knacks that now dotted across your shared dresser at home, or ornate picture frames that held your photos proudly on walls. Sometimes Ray found a garden chair that he just had to take home. Sometimes you didn't have to buy anything at all to have fun. You'd even goof off sometimes, sitting at a worn down dining room set having an idle chat over imaginary tea, or suddenly launching yourself into some puffy old recliner much to his startlement.

And rarely, you'd find an old, forgotten instrument, hidden among the mess of it all.

He hadn't expected anything out of the usual from you with it. Just the standard schedule of messing around for kicks. Perhaps a quick quip of, “Look, my love! I’m a star!” which he’d answer with a feigned profession of how much he admired your musical prowess, claiming to own all your vinyl albums (Some encased in frames, too, he may add! A divine complement!) as your absolute number one fan (this part of his fictional claim, however, was true).

But he didn't know.

Really.

He stood with his arm crossed loosely, an amused grin on his face as he expected you to put on a messy show for a cute little memory that he could store away inside his mind.

Until you sounded your first chord.

Your face looked like that of home. A softened smile. Shining eyes that hid a shade of sadness for something you'd left behind and missed dearly.

Your second chord. Slow and tentative as your fingers did exactly what they needed to do, a satisfied emotion adding to the pool within your eyes as you confirmed that you still remembered it after so many years. A single, shy laugh of content.

You let the so-deeply ingrained muscle memory take control, bliss carrying you through the song you knew like the back of your hand. After years of being buried in your head’s dusty recesses, rust was sure to be expected. But any blemish in the twangs of an off-key strike were lost to Saeran’s ears as all he heard were the celestial chords of nothing less than perfection. It was music to his ears, in more ways than one.

The notes melted in his ears like the honey in his morning green tea, rejuvenated him like a cool dawn breeze, woke him up like the sun. The taste of your happiness flowed through the air like syrup he poured over his sundaes, sweetening his heart at the sight of you so confidently sharing your art. He was proud. Proud to know someone like you, who felt safe enough to expose your hidden passions to him with no hesitation. Proud to be with someone like you, who allowed him to bask in your light and accept his place by your side. Proud to see you for you. He was also very much in love, as if he couldn't possibly fall any deeper with you already, but you proved him wrong time and time again as he tumbled harder for your every revealed facet even further than before.

You hadn’t taken notice of his expression until you finished your short song. “Speechless, Ray…? Come on now, I'm not that good,” you laughed.

He stood, mouth agape, his cheeks dusted a shade of pink enough to rival his highlights. “I didn’t know you could play,” he gawked.

“Ahh, it was just an old hobby. It's nothing special or anyth-”

“Yes it is!”

You were a bit taken aback by his interjection, a rather unusual event coming from Saeran. He was rarely ever vocally worked up, outside of displaying excitement for his latest fresh-budding flowers, avidly defending “pesky” pollinators and misunderstood animals that were crucial to ecosystems, or of course during your commonly traded info-dump sessions.

“That was… that was more than special! I didn’t know that you…!” He trailed off and instead gestured at you excitedly.

“Ahh, well, you know…” you shrugged, “It’s not like I have any instruments here. It just wasn't important to mention before.”

“It’s important to me, now, though. It’s something you enjoy, isn’t it…?”

“Uh… Yeah… I guess. It’s just that I haven't had the access or ability since I’ve moved into Seoul. So I kinda just… left it behind. It’s alright though. It happens.”

Saeran only stared at you, a hurt look on his face. “But you looked so happy, just then,” he lamented. “I’d rather you enjoy yourself than give up something you loved just from moving on to a new way of life. I still enjoy gardening after… after everything. I want you to have something like that, too.”

“I like gardening with you.”

“No, no, something different. Something just for you. You help me a lot with harvests and care, but you also let me have time just for myself when I need it. I’ve spent some days in the greenhouse alone with my thoughts, watching the clouds pass by above me through the glass. We all need things just for ourselves sometimes. I know you tend to neglect that.”

You thought about that statement. You had hobbies, didn’t you? Were you too lost in forging your new path nowadays and you just hadn’t noticed? You didn’t want to see that as the truth. You know how it hurts to lose parts of yourself. You already lost music when you left it behind for your move to Seoul.

“I… make things sometimes,” you countered, using your arsenal of crafts and doodles scattered around the house as ammunition.

“Not as often as you’d like. I know that. I’ve been there. I can see it.” He reached out to hold your hand, lifting it to his lips for a gentle kiss. “I want you to be happy, my love. I want you to take advantage of the freedom you have in our shared home now. Like me.”

You felt a sting in your eyes. “You always know exactly what to say, don't you,” you resigned.

He hummed. “Not always. It’s something I’ve learned. I only want the best for you.”

You leaned into him, melting into a hug. “I love you,” you whispered into his ear.

“And I love you. Now,” he said, pulling back to look you in the eyes, “shall we buy it? I know exactly where it would look beautifully back home.”

#this is the Worst time to post this. oh well. /releases it into the tags like a wild animal/#three writes something #mystic messenger #mysme #saeran choi #saeran x reader

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talentforlying · 7 months

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NINE NIFTY THINGS YOUR MUSE CAN DO.

01. write & read music. not that punk band mucous membrane was churning out grammy-winning material, mind you, but knowing where all the notes go on a sheet of staff paper, which ones sound good together, and a handful of things about tempo and rhythm aren't half-bad skills to have. of course, constantine's process for writing music would make professional composers cry, but these days he most often puts this skill towards creating new spells, since he finds the principles remarkably similar, so the music world is spared his endeavors for now. ( underground single venus of the hardsell excepting. )

02. miniature-scale arts & crafts. he's really gifted with his hands, and with any activity that requires fine motor skills: intricate ritual-carving, cutting his own hair, braiding other people's hair, restringing an instrument, rolling insanely long joints, fixing jewelry, sewing, threading a corset, building a detail-accurate small scale model of a chair out of matchboxes for an ex-girlfriend's miniature house.

03. electrical work. another useful application of his excellent fine motor skills. he's lived in enough shithole apartments and had to hot-wire enough cars for friends to know his way around a wiring issue or two, not to mention the fact that electricity can be a handy supplemental power source in certain spells and it's helpful knowing how to get to it wherever you are. it stands out because he's pretty terrible with most other forms of household maintenance; there's just something uniquely mind-boggling about a guy who can't unclog his sink but can install a circuit breaker like a pro.

04. tie a cherry stem with his tongue. natch.

05. get anywhere in london, and cite almost anything in its history, from memory. a big bloody city with a big, bloody history attracts a lot of unearthly creatures with a lot of different emotional, spiritual, psychic, and physical fancies; it's been useful for him to know where significant events have happened, and when, and why, in case something starts up and the symptoms strike a chord. it's also useful to know where to go when he needs to gather specific kinds of information: the seedier pawn shops, gang territories, high-end clubs where celebrities and politicians go to hide from the press. on top of the strategic reasons, he's also spent a significant amount of time being homeless under a few different circumstances, and keeps his accumulated knowledge of last-ditch shelters, times that the police patrol the sewer tunnels, and safe places for a meal close at heart.

06. gamble with a 100% win rate. two of his best tricks are synchronicity wave traveling and probability manipulation, where he basically feels out the flow of luck in the space around him and shifts the current to go his way. it's incredibly dangerous on a larger scale, since it can cause a butterfly effect — too risky to use on avoiding a hit that would have killed him or sabotaging a villain's scheme, for example — but as long as he sticks to small-scale, short-term events like horse races and poker games, he cleans up easy. it's his primary source of income, since he doesn't have an actual job.

07. melt the face off a vampire. specifically the former king of the vampires, but supposedly any. demon blood is a nasty thing to have in your veins, and incredibly corrosive upon ingestion/absorption, for unknown reasons. if anyone wanted a snack they'd have a bad, bad time.

08. semi-fluently sign in & understand BSL. he credits his reason for learning to a deaf ex-boyfriend he dated in the 90s and has continued to brush up on his skills over time, although his preference to learn languages from the people who use them, lack of consistent lessons, and geographically-wide variety of friends has resulted in a . . . frankly nightmarish hodgepodge of dialects that can make him harder to understand.

09. play electric guitar, bass guitar & harmonica. he was lead vocalist and bassist for mucous membrane, and although they were only together a year before the newcastle incident, he'd been learning both electric and bass for a year or two before. it took him a long, long time to pick it up again, given the circumstances, but he managed to get his hands on a fender 1962 jazz bass a few years back and has been slowly but steadily working on getting the old feel back. the harmonica started as a joke gift from gary after constantine and chas got arrested for a pub fight in '77, so they could play it to pass the time when they inevitably got shafted by the system ( they didn't, constantine talked their way out ) but he became quite genuinely good at it, and now it's his shameful secret.

#man's not ashamed of anything in his life except that goddamn harmonica i s2g (i say. having made it up like that)#fun fact the fender 62 was sting's main bass (who constantine's appearance is based on) and he acquired it in......Newcastle :)#also 'uniquely mind-boggling' i say as someone who is better at electrical work than i am most basic life skills #( headcanons. ) I'M JUST LIKE THE BASTARDS I'VE HATED ALL MY LIFE.

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nikkeisimmer · 10 months

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Back in 1991 I was a college student in the music program at Douglas College, 20 years old in May 1991 (a month before I turned 21). I was not finding college much fun and my educational difficulties were showing up full force.

Then along comes Timothy Zahn with a continuation of the Star Wars saga that I had grown up with. Gen X were the target audience as children for Star Wars back in 1977 when I was a kid of 6 years old at least when Star Wars came out in April of that year. And the entire trilogy (Star Wars, Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi) were complete and released in the theatres by the time I had turned 13.

So as a young adult, what’s now referred to as the Legends series of books were a part of my life. I would save up and buy each one as they came out, reveling in the further adventures of Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, Leia Organa (now Solo) and their growing family. Some of the events in my own personal life (in general my luck with women mirrored that of Luke Skywalker who couldn’t seem to find a match even if he tried. I mean, look at his track record (the woman who tried to kill him back during the Rebellion days then there was Gaerial Captison, a few others here and there, Callista (the Bodysnatcher) Ming) and well, Mara… who finally in the Legends became his wife).

The relationship of Mara and Luke was one that really struck a close chord because to me Luke was the “everyman”; the hero of the story; the one everyone wants to be. And what I really wanted at the time,considering the circumstances of being in an abusive situation with my mother and her narcissistic traits, was an escape (from reality, perhaps); someway to get out of the situation I was in. So Star Wars was a way, when I wasn’t working at selling houses which frankly was no longer enjoyable by the time 1998 rolled around, to escape the abuse and BS at home.

Narcissistic parents and their enablers want you helpless and strip away your emotional supports and they did that quite well. If you’re doing the math, I was 29 at this point.

The Hand of Thrawn duology of Ghosts of the Past and Visions of the Future had come out and we saw Luke and Mara get engaged.

And well, I had met (online) my future wife and was on the phone with her a lot. This was wayyyy before everyone and their dog and cats. having their own personal cell phones. Cell phones and pagers (remember those?) were the realm of business people. I was in real estate, so I owned one of both.

I rolled a sabacc on that one. We’re 23 years together as of next month. We’ve been through ups and downs that probably would have broken up most couples including my mother’s meddling. But the choice that I made was to stick with my wife: to get away from my mother who had done nothing other than to beat me down every chance she got.

In other words my relationship with my wife saved my life.

And that’s also a reason why Star Wars is so important to me. It provided an escape and a bit of sanity in an insane situation and allowed me a bit of time to plan my escape. I left my parent’s hpuse in March of 2000. 4 months before my now-wife came up from the States and 5 before she and I got married (parents were not invited - her mother due to logistics because of her being back in the States, secondly, my parents weren’t due to my mother’s abusive controlling behavior and my dad because by now he’d become her enabler). My uncle; my mother’s flying monkey had predicted our marriage wouldn’t last.

23 years and every wedding anniversary that passes is lile another happy “fuck you” to my uncle.

This is one of the reasons why I’m disgusted with the sequel series. Everyone goes through trials and tribulations and they grow, learn from their experiences and mature to become hopefully a better version of themselves.

Rey on the other hand is a Disney’fied version of their typical Princess stories. There’s no growth at all other than the time she was on Jakku. There was the “immediate learning” of her Jedi skills with very little training - a kind of Mulan’ish immediately good at everything. There was no connection at all with Rey as a character.

But then again if one likes their stories to be all fluff and light, then fine. But don’t disrespect the original characters while doing it.

Turning the hero character into a miserable old grouch who lives like a hermit who tosses his father’s lightsaber when he originally treated it with reverence is not subverting the plot.

It’s being a dick and ruining a much loved character just for a cheap laugh. Yeah, I’m pretty angry with the sequels because when I was a kid, I idolized Luke Skywalker and Han Solo.

I looked forward to the sequels, hoping that they would do justice to Lucas’s vision, but we got a disjointed plot, “Somehow Palpatine returned”, Super Rey Palpatine and bitter old angry OT characters who were characterized as incompetent. And what enraged me the most was that we got this.

The final insult from Disney’s screwing up the sequels so badly was after filming TLJ, Carrie Fisher went into full cardiac arrest on an aircraft and passed away. There is now no way to rectify the mess that the House of Mouse has made to Star Wars; the franchise that I love more than any other sci-fi franchise. I grew up with this franchise and while I’ve grown out of what Lucas had termed as the target audience, when someone messes with the memories of your childhood, screws up your heroes, yeah, you get mad.

For me, Star Wars was my happy escape and thanks to Rian “Ruin” Johnson, it’s tainted irreparably. Harrison Ford may have wanted out but the rest loved their characters. And Mark Hamill wanted his character treated with some respect but instead of Luke Skywalker, the noble Jedi, he got Jake Skywalker - the down and out green-milk guzzling irritable hermit who “doesn’t give a shit no more!”

Disney has gone full on and said that anyone who dislikes the sequels and dislike the way Rey is written are old racists and white misogynists who live in their mom’s basements.

Well I ain’t white, I don’t live in my mom’s basement, I wish women got treated more fairly, I’m more liberal than conservative and I’m frankly pissed that my childhood film heroes got so disrespected. OK granted, I may be old and not a kid any more (my wife would beg to differ. She says I’m a 2 year old in a 53 year old body) but I still love my Star Wars with the exception of the sequels.

And Legends will always have a special place in my heart because it got me through the toughest part of my life.

#a bit of a fact about myself #non-sims #Nikkei_Simmer’s Stories #Star Wars sequel rant

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