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project-paranoia · 3 years

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Let’s Watch: Yin Yang Master: Dream of Eternity

I have watched this movie 85 Whole Entire Times and I do not regret. The only thing wrong with this movie is that it wasn't a fifty episode series. I cried, I laughed, I fell in love. The cinematography is on point, the acting is amazing, the crew member who put snow on people's eyebrows did an amazing job, and the acting! The subtlety, the gentleness, the love and affection, the discussion of race is one of the best I've ever seen.

As people have pointed out before in series like X-Men that fear of mutant's is practically if not thematically justified due to the laser eyes in a way that fear of ethnic minorities just isn't in real life. In Dream of Eternity however humans are equally if not sometimes more super powered than the yao they hunt. Demons - very much not in the Christian sense - are a mixture of spirits, resentful souls, and animals and plants who cultivated to human form. They often appear human at first glance and in some cases the extent of their power seems to be the limited to turning into a smaller more vulnerable animal. Qingming's deliberate care and gentleness not only reflects his upbringing as a Yin Yang Master, but parallels the experience of racial minorities labelled as aggressive.

The movie takes particular care as well in the way it looks at trauma, grief, and love. The three of which haunt the main characters and send out ripple effects into the world around them. In the world of Dream of Eternity no loss is purely private, it spools out into the world around the person effected until they make an effect to acknowledge and deal with their experiences. Qingming's warmth and gentleness isn't just marked by his behaviour but by the orange light he's lit by and his variety of shishen - but he is also separate, standing alone in frame and facing away from the people around him. Boya's loss has made him unforgiving and as cold as the blue light he's lit in, and yet he is open and instinctive, talking and acting as soon as the thought enters his head. The Empress is lost and drifting, trapped and grief stricken, vulnerable to those who profess to love her. The film is simple, it says and shows what it means when it means it - but it is also as complex as the very human characters it depicts.

The movie is made even more complex by its pull from theaters. Claims of plagiarism drench the edges of the movie, which as true as the assertion that Fan BingBing went on a spa vacation in 2018. Although this blog is about Chinese censorship dealing specifically with BL content, Chinese censorship also effects those who criticize governmental policy. I hope that supporters of this blog will also support Chinese media threatened by censorship for many reasons so that artists and others involved in film making can continue to make meaningful content.

Doing a watchthrough of a movie is not feasible, but please enjoy a few thousand words - with spoilers on Yin Yang Master included:

* That gentle chiming and rain soundscaping is so soothing, what a great way to calm and lull the audience before the movie even starts * Qingming is so small and isolated in the frame - cinema! * The lighting and cinematography is just so good * Shifu, soft gentle teacher * So much love stored in the Shifu * Instant grow * This boy is Sassy * This theme of deflection in Qingming's character is established early * Deflection with a teleportation portal and then immediately deflection verbally * Shifu is certainly an attractive man aged up, but his face is also soft and gentle, something to note when his double pops up later * Also the awkward question of don't you have someone you want to protect, maybe part of the problem is that shifu is just really bad at wording things * The answer that yes he does has several meanings, one of which is immediately apparent when Shifu acts out one of those Father Saves Child By Yeeting them youtube videos * ACtion MuSIC * I love them your honour * The spirit guardian's design is so specific and elegant, absolutely superb you funky little shishen * I wonder if Qingming ever thinks about that if he didn't come back with all his fellow disciples that Shifu would have been fine * Maybe it's not that he doesn't have someone he wants to protect and more that he believes that he's not capable of protecting those he wants to * subtle indication Shifu's qi is corrupted * Precious Magic Childe ;-; * The framing, I'm living for it * The Serpent graphic is lovely * Also the way they set things up * Qingming cares so much about his shifu * Mark Chao just has the ability to crumple his face like paper * Sad Time exposition involving the corrupting influence of desires * "When you're gone I'll be all alone" in just about all you need to know about Qingming at this point in the story * Also like, sympathy for Shifu in raising this lonely child. By all accounts he was an absolutely superb father figure, and Qingming I'm sure was not an easy child to raise. He's the sort of kid that would take a lot of calm and patience. * Slumber party! * It's kind of interesting that this is an activity Fangyue and He Shouyue are doing together. He's definitely obsessed and in love with her and she's just doing friends and family activities with him * Also yellow/gold lighting is kind of their thing * It's interesting how they do the make up for He Shouyue. The actor is very attractive, but they make him up to look doll like, a little too pretty, a little too shiny. Like a porcelain doll. * Cool lit Boya and warm lit Qingming appear! * Camels! * The framing is so good, they're careful to be sure he's shown as obviously isolated as much as possible * And it should go without saying that I adore the City * The matte painting is outstanding * But there's also the lighting, the vignettes, the clusters, the foliage * It is a supremely beautiful set * The irony that Killing Stone is playing along with Boya's music and then it's Boya who kicks him around * A small note, but one I appreciate - even when Boya has warm highlight's they're red instead of orange * "It's Jason Bourne!" * I hope Qingming paid for that water taxi * It's interesting how Killing Stone goes from the safety of Qingming's orange light to the danger of Qingming's blue * Colour related foreshadowing! * Look at this poor sweet man, how could anyone suspect him of anything. He's just a sad man who loves his dead wife * Qingming's use of a fan is interesting - battle fans show up all over wuxia and xianxia, but it feels like it also ties into the way he's so very careful in how he presents himself. There's that quote that a sword can only be a sword but other weapons are also able to serve other purposes - not a perfect quote but the point is got across. * The way Qingming just knocks Boya back, like get An Clue, my dude * The way that Killing Stone curls around the pipa ;-; * So the movie is based on the book series 'Onmyoji' by Yumemakura Baku. The books start with Seimei (Qingming) and Hiromasa (Boya) already in a relationship talking about various cases Seimei has recently experienced. Plotwise, obviously the stories are different, however thematically Seimei and Hiromasa discuss why some yao stick around and solutions to the difficulties and dangers they might cause - which is generally from Seimei's very successful perspective to listen and treat them like humans. So in that way the plots of the books and the movie are quite different, but the themes are just about identical. * Boya says Don't Talk Me I Angy and also that demons don't have feelings and Qingming's face takes out a billboard that's just like Ah, Another Fantasy Racist, Excellent * Qingming also does what should be done in this situation, taking care of the victim not the racist * Fight scene! Fight scene! * Qingming's first few moves aren't to attack, they're to distract and just hold his fan up to block Boya's way and his view - it's only when Boya persists in attacking that Qingming fights back * Qingming's sassy smile, he is very much deliberately irritating Boya as much as he's refocusing his attention and distracting him * "nICE sWORD" * I've sighed that sigh before * This boy is taking great pleasure from teasing Boya, but also he makes a really good point * I understand and relate to what Qingming did, but also I can understand why Boya was ready to throw rocks at Qingming when he saw him again * Killing Stone lit in Qingming's orange light again * Killing Stone, my beloved * A good gauge to the state of the world for yao is no one has told this sweet boy before that demons have feelings too * There are several lines like this in the movie that just drop kick you with Implications * The same way Qingming clung to Zhongxing, Killing Stone wants to join up with Qingming to have some compassion in his life * The way he asks to be a spirit guardian is so formal too, and Qingming is so gentle with him, I cry ;-; * The warm orange light of Qingming's love ;-; * He heals the wounds * It took me an embarrassing amount of time to realise it's the actual imperial degree speaking and not one the of Jingyun Temple Masters * The mutual this guy again is delicious * "Is it because of your pretty face" * Boya draws his sword so fast and Qingming is so amused by it * Longye! Queen! I love her! * The two of them seem to understand each other instantly * Those sassy little smiles * He Shouyue looks even more like a doll than before * Longye has her head on a swivel from second one, she plays the Maiden so well like she's not a skilled master * And her customer service smile * Qingming is shooketh

* What happens next? You'll have to watch and find out!

#1683 words #yin yang master dream of eternity #yin yang master #censorship #chinese censorship

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langernameohnebedeutung · 3 years

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Top five magneto moments from the X-Men movies?

Ohhh...lemme think. (I tried picking from different films. It's not really in any order of preference, just scenes I think are neat.

1. aka the first one. I mean, not the first-first one or the second one or- but the first scene with Charles and Erik being Like That and doing their thing.

There's already at least one pretty popular post about why this scene is so damn good and how it tells us so much about these guys' dynamic without telling us much at all and I just really think it's well-done, well-acted. Especially since in the og movies, Mags and Charles aren't the main-characters so they don't get that much screen-time but this is what we need to know and there is just so much being communicated. I was kind of torn whether to pick this one or the very last one of the film but I chose this one bc I feel like the first one is more about Magneto (we already know he's going to be the villain right here, we learn what motivates him, we get some of the trademark bitchiness Ian McKellen brings to the character. Good stuff. Also when he walks off like: "We're the future, Charles! Not them! They no longer matter!" So much going on here.) while the end-one is more about Professor X. Also, for me the last scene actually elevates this one even further because of the way it makes this exchange frame the entire narrative of the film. You do get the sense that Charles and Erik are two chessplayers moving their pieces with the whole "What are you doing here?" - "Why do you ask questions to which you already know the answers?" and -

Like, you just get the sense that everything that happened between those scenes is just a little bit beneath them. It isn't any major break or change in their lives or relationship, they're the same as before and that also gives you an idea about the kind of history these guys already got to have.

2). Obviously.

Iconic. Show-stopping. Do I even need to say anything? Probably one of my favourite prison-break scenes ever put on screen. Everything about it. The dialogue, the violence, the "never trust a beautiful woman - especially one that's interested in you", the camera movement, the wink, the glass shattering and the cell coming apart, Ian McKellen floating on a metal/blood frisbee. This one has it all. Some physics guy on YouTube actually made a video about how powerful Magneto has to pull this off and apparently, this is a lot more impressive than any of the major property damage we see him cause across films.

3. Ah yes the Villa Gesell scene

Lemme say first: This scene is completely and utterly pointless from a plot-perspective. It's literally just a character moment. And I love character moments. It's just there to show us who Erik is and the film bends over backwards to justify this scene being in it: An entire stack of coincidences that is Shaw's photo hanging on the wall of this pub with the name of his boat clearly visible and he's sitting next to the two Nazis who happen to be sitting in this very pub right there and then and of course one of them has his Nazi knife with him (which is a very weird mixture of a Hitler Youth knife and an SS Honour Dagger and even ignoring that it's a mess bc they even forgot that German capitalises its nouns so why is the inscription all lower case and I'm the most annoying person on the planet to watch movies with but t-)

And the thing is - I actually like this entire scene even more for all of that. Because they could have just had that Swiss banker tell Mags where Shaw is. But instead, his entire trip to Argentinia is in there to let us see Erik kill Nazis and we get an exact sense of what he's doing with his life, who he is, how he is - and also did I mention dead Nazis? - I live for that (and also for a deleted scene where he sees a mother and her kid at the Argentinian airport and has a flashback and 😢).

I also like that it continues the pattern we get in the bank scene where he doesn't confront his targets directly but sets them up to incriminate themselves. We also get the "Frankenstein's Monster"-line which is something I have a lot of thoughts about - especially bc the whole "what makes us human/monsters"-question is a big deal in the movie. Also-also it sets up Charles 'head empty' moment from the finale of the movie where he tells Erik that the people CURRENTLY FIRING FUCKING NUCLEAR MISSILES AT THEM are just 'good innocent men' who are 'just following orders' and you just get the sense of how often Erik has heard this shit (also...thinking about how this film is set in 1962, meaning right after the Eichmann trial). There's just. A lot going on.

4. Oh let's be controversial!

ok I know this is something I know a lot of people hold against Erik and say it's one of his meanest and most unfair moments. but honestly? His anger is at least as earned as Charles' at this point and any take on this scene that is "one of them is right and the other is wrong" is ...boring. Erik once again lost people he cared about, he spent ten years in solitary confinement for a crime he didn't commit, he just learnt that literally everything that he warned about in the last film will happen (already has happened, partially), pretty much word for word ("Identification, that's how it starts. And ends with being rounded up, experimented on, eliminated.) to the point that an actual TIME-TRAVELLER comes back from the fucking future to tell them how bad they all fucked up.

(One of the things I like is that he doesn't make a difference between people who chose his side and people who chose Charles' side - he names Banshee along with Emma, Azazel, Angel. He's just sad about all of them. Generally, I'm still prissy that we never got to see him go full Magneto for any length of time in the prequels so him speaking of 'mutant brothers and sisters' is the closest we get to knowing what he would be like if they didn't always find some new weird between-movies plot for him like prison or starting a family in Poland or starting a leftist commune on an island - although I can kind of respect that one.)

Also anyone who ever had the misfortune of actually hearing me talk about this movie for any lengths of time knows I have...a lot of thoughts about Erik and his time in solitary confinement and I like that the first times we see his powers after he gets out after ten years of no metal, it's a huge mess. Erik as we know him from First Class would probably just wave his hands at those guards in the Pentagon kitchen and kill them with a few well-aimed knives in a blink of an eye - but this time around, he trashes the entire room and hits no one. And in the plane scene we see him lose control completely and almost bring down the plane once he snaps and you really get the sense that after ten years, he's no longer used to having metal around that reacts to his powers.

Also, in that same scene the mutual acknowledgement between him and Logan in the end? I liked that.

5. (almost) all scenes where he's just a giant menace to infrastructure and important landmarks.

Like the fact that he destroyed the Sydney opera house is just such a casual by-note, we don't even talk about that one. It's just how it goes, you know? The only let-down is that he literally went to France without taking down the Eiffel-Tower in DOFP? A giant metal structure? This is a serious oversight by the writers and really cheapens the whole movie-going experience. 2/10.

#fandom #x men #marvel #xmcu #erik lehnsherr

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callmeelle22 · 3 years

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Blue Dream IX

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Allen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count: 6, 258

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Say Yes

Chapter VII: Brave

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream

Chapter IX: He Loves Me; Because she looks like a woman drowning in bliss, a woman draped in desire, the look of it hugging like a second skin. She looks like the way women might be described in romance novels, so satisfied she can’t think of anything other than being wrapped up in the man giving her the satisfaction. She looks like the woman in some fantasy or dream, ascending the clouds, spread out and open in an expanse of blue. She sings it in her head, you school me, give me things to think about; invite me, you ignite me, co-write me, you love me, you like me; incite me to chorus, at the same time that she sings out loud, “god, Bear, baby yes,” her eyes fluttering closed at only the very last minute. (Read below or on AO3 linked on the chapter.)

He Loves Me

You love me especially different every time

You keep me on my feet happily excited

By your cologne, your hands, your smile, your intelligence

You woo me, you court me, you tease me, you please me

You school me, give me some things to think about

Ignite me, you invite me, you co-write me, you love me, you like me

You incite me to chorus, ooh

She tells him she loves him on a Friday night.

A week later, and it's the first night in a long while that she doesn’t get to stay at home because Barry has asked if he can have her time tonight. He doesn’t give her any details, only tells her to come over to his place around 8 and to be prepared to stay over. He seems particularly animated, when he asks, and it makes Iris wonder why, if he’s got something planned or if it’s just that he’s happy he gets to spend the time with her, even if they’ve been around each other more than usual this week.

So, the entire day, she’s dizzy with excitement.

Her taping of Good Morning, Central City is mid-morning. The segment tapes live at 9:30, which gives her some time to down a cup of coffee or two to settle her nerves, and then carefully apply her makeup. She dresses in one of her favorite dresses, a long sleeved wrap dress in black with soft, pretty flowers printed on it and a pair of shoes that boost her confidence, tall black pumps with a gold heel and gold double chains around the ankle. The neck of the dress dips and the delicate material flirts with her lower thighs; she feels pretty in it, in a lighter, brighter way than she’s found herself feeling before. Her makeup is subtle, except for the dark maroon lip, and she’s had her hair blown out and it hangs in soft fingered out curls just past her shoulders. A small black bag is all she takes to keep her keys and cards and then she’s out the door.

WCCTV, the station that houses the studio, is a short drive away, tucked into a neighborhood that Iris doesn’t frequent. She isn’t sure what she was expecting of the station, but it’s a squat little building in an unimaginative cream and brick scheme that would look like any other commercial building if not for WCCTV printed in large blue letters on the building and the satellite dishes spaced intentionally around it.

A news producer meets her at the door, a thin young woman with thick red hair piled into a high ponytail who introduces herself as Katherine.

“We’re all excited to have you here,” the woman says, smiling as she leads Iris through a number of desk cubicles towards a back room. She recognizes a couple of the anchors from the station, who all look either intensely focused on their work or bored out of their minds.

“Thanks,” Iris says politely. “It is a little overwhelming here, though.”

Iris doesn’t love speaking in front of people, which is why she's firmly on the invisible side of her work, but she isn’t as nervous and she figures she could be. There’s that feeling in her belly she connects with nerves, but it’s slight; instead, she’s ready. This can change the trajectory of her blog, invite more viewers and more paying ads. It could invite more stories, people who see her and trust that she wants to do right by them and their lives. She’s practically giddy with the idea.

Katherine’s response is an easy grin. “I know it seems that way, but you’ll be fine. You look fabulous so that’s one concern out of the way. Plus, Alexa and James are phenomenal at getting people to open up at the same time that they project a sort of calmness. It's fascinating to watch and I can tell you’ll be great.”

“Thanks, Katherine. I really appreciate that.”

Iris is led back to a small room where the two anchors for Good Morning, Central City are standing with four other local internet stars. Alexa May is tall and blonde and exactly like what one thinks about when they think of a news anchor: pretty and personable on a killer black skirt suit, though Iris is a little surprised at the naturally kind gleam in her eyes. James Broderick is even taller, his dark hair styled to look windswept, his ice blue eyes looking constantly around the room, as if he’s always wondering where a new story might be.

Iris steps in to greet the other four guests. They include a short Somalian woman in a beautiful bright purple hijab who cooks and shares recipes on YouTube; a stocky white guy known for his skits on TikTok; a dark-skinned Black Instagram beauty guru; and a non-binary Mexican person who discusses true crimes on Snapchat ala Buzzfeed Unsolved. It’s an eclectic collection of people and Iris feels honored to be a part of this group. She’s watched all of their videos in some fashion, though she’s more partial to Aya, the home chef, and Nadine, the beauty grammer. Still, they each have large followings and to be included gives Iris such a sense of pride, that she’s a little drunk with the force of it.

“You guys ready?” Alexa’s strong voice pulls all of their attention immediately, and Iris passes one more look through the crew of them before locking eyes with Alexa and James.

She nods her assent.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At 8, Iris pulls into Barry’s two-car driveway right next to his Jeep backed up into the drive as usual. The garage is open, though, and she takes that as an invitation to walk into the house, finding the kitchen door unlocked. She steps in and presses the button that closes the garage, locks the kitchen door behind her.

Her giddy mood has stuck with her.

The segment had been a quick fire round of questions and answers, with the hosts wanting to know how they all got started, what motivates them to do what they do, and the ups and downs of being in spaces of both influence and criticism. It’d been fascinating to hear the stories of the others, and afterward, they’d all exchanged contact information with the idea of collaborating on future projects.

After, she’d gone to lunch with her dad and Wally, who’d all but hinted at a watch party planned for the following night. She'd merely shaken her head at her family’s love of partying.

Now, she’s at Barry’s and she recognizes that tonight is going to be different. Because she knows that she’s going to say it. After the last part of her interview, where she’d all but explained to Alexa and James that she’d fallen in love with someone, she understands that there is no way that she can announce it on television and not tell the man himself.

It’s fairly dark in the house; there is a small light on above the stove. She continues through the quiet living room, a single table lamp lighting her path down his hallway. She pauses to pull her jacket off, tossing it over the arm of the sofa as she treks towards his room. That’s where she finds Barry, sitting in the large overstuffed chair in the corner near the window.

She takes a moment to look at him, in a pair of soft looking pajama pants and a simple white t-shirt, tattooed arm hooked behind his head as he sits wide-legged in the chair. His dark hair is only the slightest bit messy. Iris likes the look of the breadth of his shoulders, the bulge of his biceps, the print of his sex visible through the thin cotton of his pants. He’s not overtly sexy in the way that other men she’s dated have been, but there’s something about Barry, his eyes and his mouth and his length, that really gets to Iris.

She drags her eyes away from him and that’s when she suddenly notices the two gift-wrapped boxes sitting in the middle of his bed, the large bottle of wine and two glasses on his bedside table, a couple of pre-rolled joints sitting beside them too.

Iris steps further into the room, her heels heavy on his hardwood floors; the movement is enough to catch his attention and his head pops up, those sea-foam eyes glittering behind the wire frames of his glasses as he smiles up at her.

(And, Iris will realize later, her entire body floods with her affection for him, the feeling familiar in that the thought comes so much easier now, comes to her so smoothly that she doesn’t know how it’d once felt so difficult to get the words across.)

“Hey, beautiful,” he greets as he stands, unfolding his long frame from the chair. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“That’s okay,” she smiles at him as he comes to a stop in front of her. She naturally reaches out to wrap her arms around him, tightening them around his waist. His touch is automatic too, his big hands landing on her neck, thumbs trailing softly across the skin on her cheeks. She falls against him, his firmness and his warmth and the soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He leans down and kisses her, a peck and then another, and then a longer one, his tongue easing out to coax her open. He pulls back first, though slowly, and Iris chases after him. He obliges with another kiss, this one longer, wetter, Iris squeezing him to her.

“Hi,” she speaks, voice a little faint.

“Hey, beautiful” he repeats. He thumbs at her bottom lip, the tip of his finger tracing gently over the line of her mouth.

“What’s all this?” she asks, when she pulls away from him this time. She gazes around the room again, at how the only lights on are the bedside lamps and at the weed and wine waiting on one of those tables and the gifts sitting neatly on the bed.

“It’s a celebration,” he says with a wide smile. “Well, it’s your Friday night routine, just here. I got the wine and the weed, and Thai ordered out here for a bit later.” His smile dims a little, becomes unsure. “And I thought we could talk about your segment today; maybe actually watch it. I recorded it.”

“Really?” Iris’s eyes widen in slight surprise. “I know my dad and Wally did because we’re gonna have a watch party at dad’s place tomorrow. And probably Linda, but...”

“Of course I recorded it, baby.” Barry gives her an indulgent look. “I tried to watch some of it at work, but we got called out on a case before you came on. Then I thought it’d be better to wait to watch it with you.”

Iris doesn’t have a response other than to bite at her lip, eyes trained on him, the reality of his kindness rendering her momentarily speechless. Barry doesn’t acknowledge her silence; instead, he plants another firm kiss to her mouth and steps away from her, nodding at his bed.

“Is this all okay, though? Maybe you can open your gifts and then we can pour the wine and turn on your interview?”

Her smile is big. “Yeah, Barry, of course.”

She looks over at the sleekly wrapped presents before going to sit on the edge of his bed. She makes quick work of unclasping the buckle around her ankle, leaving her shoes strewn on the floor, and then she hops up into the middle of the bed, pulling the two boxes in front of her, her dress riding up to the top of her thighs.

One of the boxes is bigger than the other, though it’s lighter than the heavier one. They’re wrapped in shiny gold paper with dark blue bows sitting in the corner of each. She picks up the bigger present first, tearing through the paper. She recognizes the garment box and thumbs open the top. Nestled in white tissue paper is a pile of red silk, the material so soft and delicate it looks like waves on the cardboard.

“Bear?” she questions, picking up the folded clothing. It’s a nightgown and matching robe. The gown is almost like a dress she’d wear out, with thin straps and a split up the right side, except the fabric of it is so light, one can tell it’s only made to be seen by a lover. The feel of it in her hands is so nice and Iris knows that this isn’t like the inexpensive dresses she buys for herself.

“I thought that you could have one to keep over here sometimes,” he says when she catches his gaze. He looks a little bashful, cheeks slightly tinged pink. “I know that Friday night is largely your thing, but maybe every so often you can spend it with me.”

“And wear this?” Iris asks, her grin widening slowly.

Barry nods.

“I think that this is really a gift for you,” she says and he barks out a laugh.

“It is my favorite color.” He grins. “And I admit that when I saw it, the first thing I wondered was how it would look as I took it off of you.”

Iris rolls her eyes in jest. “Pervert.” She fingers the material again. “So you picked it out yourself? In a store?”

“You have no idea how embarrassing it is buying women’s lingerie. The sales lady kept making these innuendos and I thought I was gonna pass out, I was blushing so hard.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” Iris laughs as she reaches over and pinches his cheek. “You did good though. It’s so soft.”

Barry beams at her. “Can I get a kiss as a thanks?”

Iris shakes her head. “Not until I open this other one. I could hate it and then that would overshadow how much I like this nightgown.”

He snorts. “Even if you do hate it, I’ll still get to see you in the nightgown and, honestly, that’ll make my night.”

“Like I said: pervert.”

He just chuckles as she picks up the heavier box and claws at the paper on it. It looks like some sort of leather book, and once Iris pulls all of the paper off, it takes everything in her not to just start bawling right then and there. It’s the journal she’d seen at the fall festival, except in a pretty royal purple instead of the coral she’d picked up there; this one’s definitely a better choice. It has the rose gold edging that the other had and her name is stitched in that same color at the bottom right corner of the journal. She flips through it, fingering the heavy cream paper. Handwriting catches her attention and she turns to where Barry has written a message on the first page in small, scrawling script.

Iris,

I think I knew that I was falling for you during fall fest, when I saw you staring down at the notebook with such a look of reverence on your face. I could see in that moment how much you loved your craft. It made me curious about you, about someone who’s goal in life is to be the voice for those who can’t or simply won’t. And when I started to read your work, I saw your heart in everything you wrote, in every line that scrolled across my computer screen. I wanted to know that heart.

Now that I do, now that I’ve seen it firsthand: in the way that you touch me, in the way that you smile at me, in the way that you make me feel like every day is new story to experience, I want to be able to experience it for as long as you’ll let me. Because you are a lightning bolt, Iris, brilliant and electric. You are beautiful and tenacious and the single most fascinating person I’ve ever met.

So keep putting your heart into your stories, and I’ve no doubt that everyone who reads it will love it as much as I do.

Barry

“Barry,” she says, breathes really. She looks up at him, his expression nervous, his eyes tracking her. She feels the moisture pricking at the corners of hers and she blinks, letting the tears fall.

“Iris.” His voice is a little raw as she gazes up at him. “I’m sorry. Please don’t cry. I can…” he cuts himself off as he reaches for the journal. Iris swats at his hand and brings the notebook closer to her. “Iris?”

Another tear, and then another and then more, roll down over her cheeks and Barry stares at her, hand outstretched, mouth agape.

“Iris,” he tries again. Wordlessly, she places the journal back down in the box and then she crawls over to him, planting herself in his lap. She wraps herself around him, legs locking around his waist, arms crossing behind his neck. He closes his mouth, but his features are still twisted in turmoil. “Baby, please tell me why you’re crying.”

He asks this as he reaches up to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Everything in Iris seems like it’s settling now, even as the tears fall. Even clearer than before, she can read the story of them, like the book is in front of her, words bold and in technicolor. She can see the dream she’s living in, the vision of them laughing with each other and making love to each other, for days on end, one that plays out like a movie in front of her.

She tightens around him, trying to get as close as she can without crawling inside of him—she really wishes she could right now—and she sniffs, looking down at Barry through her wet lashes. She takes a deep breath. And then she tells him.

“I’m crying because I love you.”

Much like the last time they’d had this conversation, Barry’s body stiffens beneath her. He asks carefully, “And loving me makes you cry?”

She nods and Barry looks stricken. It’s what she needs to bring a modicum of levity to the moment and she huffs out a small laugh. “These aren’t sad tears, Barry.”

Iris can physically see him exhale, letting out a shaky breath. His shoulders lose their tension and he gives her a tentative smile. She returns it.

“For someone who always seems to know what I’m thinking, you completely missed the mark here.”

Barry shakes his head as Iris notes the flush climbing up his neck. “The tears threw me off.” He wipes at her face. “Please never do that again.”

She laughs. “I’ll do my best.”

Barry runs a hand down her back, over the fabric of the dress she’s wearing, and he grips her chin with his other thumb and forefinger, bringing her down so he can stare into her eyes.

“So you love me?” he wonders. His voice dips, lower like midnight walks on a beach in the fall or like early morning talks before coffee and reality ease in. He pulls the glasses from his face, folds them on the table beside them, and gives her all of his attention. She likes being surrounded by him like this, by the look of him and the smell of him and the feel of him. She stays wrapped around him like a koala and Barry holds on to her too, gripping her chin and pressing her to him with a wide palm to the small of her back.

“I do,” Iris nods. “Very much.”

Iris can see the joy brimming in his gaze. “Can you tell me?”

“Tell you?”

“What you love about me.”

Barry shifts so that he’s sitting more comfortably on the bed and she’s perched even closer in his lap, the crotch of her panties almost pressing against his belly. He pushed the boxes and wrapping better towards the edge of the bed.

“For example,” he says, and he lets go of her chin to touch his palm to her chest. His hand is warm through the fabric of her dress. “You know that I love this heart, how gracious and compassionate it is.” He reaches down and picks up on her hands, rubbing a thumb along her knuckles, along the rings that adorn her fingers. He brings it up to his mouth and presses a few tiny kisses along the pads of her fingertips. “I love these fingers, because it’s through your writing, your typing, that you show yourself, even when you can’t always physically or verbally.” He goes back to her face, his thumb caressing the middle of her bottom lip. “I love this mouth: the way that it smiles and laughs, the way that it purses when you’re annoyed, the way that it feels on my own.”

Iris can’t help it when she licks her lips, tongue swiping at Barry’s thumb. He makes a soft grunting sound.

“Tell me, Iris.”

She thinks back to the second night they’d been together, when he’d been hard inside of her and he’d asked her to tell him how he felt fucking into her. She decides that this is even harder, not because she doesn’t know, but because when she speaks it, it’s officially there, written out in the sky, heaven coming to collect on its bet.

“I love your tattoos,” she starts, tentatively. She unhooks one of her arms from around his neck and touches at the skin on his arm, tracing the outline of a white daisy. “I love that you did it as a way to remember your mother; I love that you were brave enough to put the iris on your heart, even when I wasn’t sure how to receive that.” She reaches up to trail her fingers along his brows. “I love your eyes. I love the look of them, the fact that I can’t actually name what color they are; I love the way you look at me, how you can tell my feelings by just watching me, how it seems like I’m the only one you see whenever we’re out together.” She lets a nail trace the outline of his mouth, dropping her hand to rest on the back of his neck. “I love your mouth too; the way you always say things that make me feel beautiful or smart or loved.” She licks her lips again. “Or make me blush, like when you’re saying those dirty things when you’re…”

Barry gives her a deep smirk, those eyes flashing in a way that makes Iris’s body clench. Her thighs close around him.

“Like me saying those dirty things when I’m…?”

She rocks her hips. “You know.”

“I do,” he nods, “but I want to hear you say it.” He grinds up into her. “When I’m what, baby?”

“When,” she licks her lips again, slower this time, buoyed by the way his eyes darken, “you fuck me.”

“Mmmm,” Barry groans and then his grin changes to something a little indecent, darker and dirtier. “You know what else I love?”

Iris shakes her head, though she thinks she does.

“I love the way you respond to me, when I’m saying those dirty things to you when I’m fucking you.”

Iris rocks her hips again and she knows that it’s an involuntary moment. Because, like always, she responds to him easily, fluidly, like they’ve become extensions of the other.

Barry fingers at the hem of her dress sitting around her thighs. “Take this off,” he demands. “I want to show you how you look.”

Even with her brows furrowed in confusion, she does what he says, pulling the dress up and over her head. She reveals to him her bra and panty set, a dark green that even she thinks makes her skin glow. He fingers the lace at the top of the cups of her bra, at the same piping along her hips.

“As pretty as this is,” he murmurs, “I want it gone too.”

She unhooks the bra first, staring back at him. She tosses the bra on the bed beside them, her breasts sitting heavy on her chest, nipples already pointing out at him, seeking him, his fingers or his tongue or the nip of his teeth.

He helps her off of him so that she can take her panties off. Then, instead of letting her climb back on top of him, however, he positions himself so that he’s facing the side of the bed. He pulls her to him and sits her so she is sitting between his open knees, her back to his chest.

This brings a different part of the room into focus. Iris has always paid more attention to the wall length window on the other side of the room, the one that Barry will open when they’re together sometimes, taunting her with the eyes she’s sure she’s seen peeking through their blinds and his. The bed sits on a platform facing front, a television mounted on the wall above a stand that holds his game consoles and a few other knick knacks. But on the other side, there’s a bookshelf, above which hangs a mirror. Of course Iris has known it was there, has looked into it as she’s done her makeup or straightened one of Barry’s stolen shirts on her. But it looks almost dangerous now, only in that she can only imagine what Barry has planned for it. In the mirror, she can see all of her. It’s not an extremely large mirror, but it spans the length of the bookshelf and it’s just high enough that, on the bed, Iris can see both of their bodies.

“Barry?” she questions as she looks over her shoulder at him.

“I know you like it when other people watch,” he says, and she almost rolls her eyes at the smug, laughing look on his face. “But I want you to watch you right now. To see yourself the way I do; to see why I felt so compelled to come to you that first night.”

Iris’s lips quirk up slightly. “I didn’t look like this the first night you saw me.”

“I’ve got a great imagination,” Barry winks.

Ignoring his statement,

(but not the way her heart fills with love for him, the kind that sits heavy in her chest, bold and open; the kind that stays strong in her belly, flipping and fluttering and always present; the kind that dips low in her sex, warm and wet and wanting)

Iris turns back to the mirror and catalogs what she sees: her naked body cocooned in his fully clothed one; her brown eyes bright with anticipation, his darkened with barely disguised lust. There are still traces of her lipstick on her full mouth, and some of it is on Barry too, a look that shouldn’t be as arousing as it is. The fabric of his clothes are so soft on her bare skin, and the warmth of the heat through the room only serves to heighten her desire. Barry moves her hands, throws them over either side of his thighs, and uses his to open her legs; the move puts her even more on display, the gold necklace she’s been wearing all day nestled in between her breasts, her belly taut, the pinkish brown lips of her pussy already slick.

Barry circles a hand gently around her throat at the same time that he palms the inside of one of her thighs, holding her open, rubbing gently at her skin.

“I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as you,” Barry says to her, whispers it, his voice soft in her ear. “I admit I was drunk that first night, but I saw you and it was like, like the entire world came into focus. I think my body knew I would love you before the rest of me could even deny it. And, by some miracle, I got you to take me home with you.”

He touches her lightly on her neck and then moves down, the tips of his fingers feeling on her breasts until he circles a nipple. She gasps, the sound more like a low moan, and Barry smiles at it.

“You were so responsive,” he explains. “I’ve never seen anything like the way you respond to me; it’s so electrifying, baby.”

He circles one nipple with the rough pad of his fingers, pinches at it until it fully hardens, the action almost painful in that she needs more. He moves to the other nipple, does the same thing, and Iris grinds her hips, hoping to move the hand still gliding on her thigh closer to where she always wants him.

“It can be the slightest touch,” he continues, running his nails down the space between her breasts. She proves his point, whimpering a little as he glides down to her belly, and then up again, adding a finger as he goes down once more, and then up. It should not feel like this, such an innocuous move. But he’s right; she’s so responsive to him. This ghost of a touch, just the barest hint of his fingers on her, and she’s heated, her thighs quaking, her sex fluttering.

“Barry,” she sighs, catching her gaze through the mirror. He licks those pink lips, eyes honed in on her, and in that moment, she sees that it is mutual. However true it is that she so easily reacts to him, he is not unaffected. He is, just as much as she is, the truth of it right there in his wrecked countenance: the burning gray of his eyes, the pink flush of his cheeks, the colorful bunch of the tattoos on his arm as he holds her tight.

“I’m in love with this pussy, too,” he mumbles into her neck, his pale hands moving to grip her thighs. The sight of it is a touch obscene, his lightly tanned skin on the umber of hers, his long fingers pressing into her flesh. He doesn’t touch her sex, not right away. Instead, he squeezes her thighs before repeating his pattern of running his fingers up and down, up and down again.

“Look at it,” Barry groans, and she watches his gaze go down to her before she looks at herself. She knows her own body, but Iris has never looked at herself like this, has never spread her legs in front of a mirror when her lips were wet like this, flushed red like this, puckered open as if begging for the stretch of his cock.

“Look at how pretty you are, baby.” His voice sounds like music to her. “Look at how slick you get for me; how open you get for me.”

“Bear,” Iris moans.

He chuckles. “I know. I wanna fuck you right now too.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Because I’m not finished playing.”

Iris gripes at that, throwing her head back on his shoulder and canting her hips toward his hand.

“No, be a good girl for me, Iris.” Those nimble fingers inch toward the middle of her. “Be a good girl and keep looking while I finish playing.”

He waits until she looks back at the mirror and then he starts. That first touch to her sends electricity coursing through her. He swipes a finger straight up the middle of her slit and she jerks, followed quickly by a limb-loosening moan when Barry sucks the digit in his mouth.

“I love the taste of it,” Barry says.

He reaches back down again, uses his index and ring fingers to hold her open and then dips his middle finger into her. He fucks that finger into her slowly, rubbing against her walls as if he’s trying to memorize the feel of her, gathering the slick of her on that finger.

“I love the feel of it.”

He shifts to use all three of those fingers, dipping them in her wet and rubbing them over her. This is where he finds his rhythm. Iris catches, and this time holds, the sight of them in the glass. Her hair is a curly mess, the strands hanging loose and tangled around her head. Her lips are swollen from how often she keeps tugging the bottom one between her teeth, her chest heaving as she prays for release. In all of that, Iris swears she’s glowing, eyes darkened and alight, her entire body lit with pleasure, bringing out the honeyed undertones in her skin. She looks raw. She looks fucked. She looks like a woman who sings out whenever she can, you woo me, you court me, you tease me, you please me.

And Barry holds on to her, fingers moving a little erratically, going between fucking his fingers into her and massaging her swollen clit with his wet fingers. All of it is, a lot, the way his fingers look slicker and slicker until she’s dripping down onto his wrists, the way that their different skin colors seem to matter right now only in how erotic the contrast looks right now.

“Come, baby,” Barry says. “And watch yourself.”

She does, watches herself as she comes, watches Barry watch her as she does. And it’s as beautiful as he says. Because she looks like a woman drowning in bliss, a woman draped in desire, the look of it hugging like a second skin. She looks like the way women might be described in romance novels, so satisfied she can’t think of anything other than being wrapped up in the man giving her the satisfaction. She looks like the woman in some fantasy or dream, ascending the clouds, spread out and open in an expanse of blue. She sings it in her head, you school me, give me things to think about; invite me, you ignite me, co-write me, you love me, you like me; incite me to chorus, at the same time that she sings out loud, “god, Bear, baby yes,” her eyes fluttering closed at only the very last minute.

“I love you,” Barry tells her, after, as she blinks through the haze of her orgasm.

With low, shaky limbs, she turns around, crawling on top of him and pulling him out of his sweatpants only enough that she can slide down the length of his dick. He stretches her, even as wet as she is, her cream coating him. Then he wraps his arms around her, pulling her down to him, all the way until there is only the ocean blue shade of his eyes filling her gaze, so different from the molten whiskey of hers, though nothing in Iris doubts that the same expression shines in both of them: that of a craving for this to last until the last breath shudders from their bodies, that of the love that she hopes makes that dream come true.

“I love you too, Barry.”

And this time, they only watch each other, reading each other, their climax hurtling toward them with the sort of rugged elegance that has always accompanied her idea of love. It’s bliss, la, la, la; da, da, da; do, do, do.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So Iris, tell me,” Alexa May starts. Iris inclines her head as she awaits Alexa’s question, the other woman’s gaze kind and curious. “Are any of the stories on your blog particularly personal to you?” James Broderick nods his head at the question.

“Well, they’re all personal to me,” Iris tells her with a side grin. “But I assume you’re asking if one of the stories I’ve written is particular to my life?”

“Exactly,” Alexa gives her her own smirk.

Iris shakes her head, pauses for a minute as she decides how much she wants to say on a widespread television

“None of them are,” she says, carefully. “But I’m working on one.”

Both Alexa and James’s blue eyes light with interest.

“Oh really?” James questions.

Alexa leans toward her, crossing her slim legs and settling her elbows on her thighs. “Is it a love story?”

“It is,” Iris laughs softly. “It’s a story still being written, so I don’t want to give too much away. But I can tell you that it’s about two people who’ve found something neither had been particularly expecting. It’s about two people who’ve struggled to find acceptance in different ways, to fight through the pain they’ve experienced. It’s about two people who feel into each other’s lives in one of the easiest ways possible, like puzzle pieces clicking or locks being secured or some other metaphor for two people who just… fall into place.” There’s a round of sweet chuckles from Alexa and some of the other guests. “Most importantly, though, it’s about two people who’ve stumbled right into something out of a storybook, something that can only be described as love.”

There is a pause. And then Alexa sighs. “God, that’s beautiful.”

Iris presses a hand to her heart, trying to keep in the surge of emotion that floods through her in that moment.

“Yeah,” she agrees. “So are we.”

“And there you have it, viewers,” James says, pulling the attention away. “Keep a lookout for that love story on What a Life You’ve Lived. Thank you all so much for watching. We’ll be right back.”

You're different and special

You're different and special in every way imaginable

You love me from my hair follicles to my toenails

You got me feeling like the breeze, easy and free and lovely and new

Oh when you touch me I just can't control it

When you touch me, I just can't hold it

The emotion inside of me, I can feel it

#westallen fanfiction #strangers to lovers #iris west #barry x iris #barry allen

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pseudomenudo · 3 years

Text

I have decided to create a challenge for Pride Month.

Let’s all reflect on the things that have shaped and affected us as LGBTQ+ individuals. I challenge you to answer this question: What’s an LGBTQ+ (theme/symbolism/mentions of LGBTQ+ anything!) song, movie, piece of art, book, poem, quote, ANYTHING, that you like? Why do you like it? Feel free to share it all in your response to this post! Even YouTube vids, spotify links, whatever! Anything that shows us your fave stuff regarding LGBTQ+. I’ll go first.

POETRY:

A poem by my favorite poet Walt Whitman: “Though biographers continue to debate Whitman's sexuality, he is usually described as either homosexual or bisexual in his feelings and attractions.” (reference: https://bookshop.org/books/poems-9781519702807/9781519702807)

Song of the Open Road:

Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,

Healthy, free, the world before me, The long brown path before me, leading wherever I choose. Henceforth I ask not good-fortune—I am good- fortune, Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing, Strong and content, I travel the open road. The earth—that is sufficient, I do not want the constellations any nearer, I know they are very well where they are, I know they suffice for those who belong to them. Still here I carry my old delicious burdens, I carry them, men and women—I carry them with me wherever I go, I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them, I am filled with them, and I will fill them in return. You road I travel and look around! I believe you are not all that is here, I believe that much unseen is also here.

A large part of my sexuality and my freedom to express my sexuality healthily is thanks to Walt Whitman. Not only did he save my life once, he helped me understand myself.

ART:

As for art. Frida Kahlo was a great inspiration for me in terms of female sexuality, loving both men and women, and thinking of sexuality as more than sex and attraction. I also have a strong desire to become a mother one day, as she did. I am also terrified of infertility, as she was.

“While many maintain she had sexual relationships with both men and women, what is true is that she considered sexuality as something that went beyond mere intercourse. It spoke of creation, life, and, of course, her wish to conceive and become a mother. This obsession was a constant in her life and was beautifully immortalized in the bright shapes and colors of her canvases.” (reference: https://culturacolectiva.com/art/frida-kahlo-sexuality-paintings)

TW: Blood, nudity, infertility, hospital bed, childbirth

MOVIE:

TW for the movie: sex scenes, some sexuality, use of the n word, drug use, brief violence, and language throughout.

I very much enjoyed the movie Moonlight. Not only was it filmed where I live, I also went to a showing for it near the place it was filmed. When it came out, I was overjoyed, and loved the themes it showed in the movie. The element of water has always been a recurring one in my own life. Moonlight handles difficult topics, such as incarceration, death, prejudice, racism, homosexuality, toxic masculinity, growing up in poverty, familial relationships, homophobia, AIDS, father-son relationships and dynamics, black culture, how black gay men are viewed, love and relationships, separations, machismo, anxiety, etc. in a beautiful, graceful manner. The main characters father is from Cuba, and speaks of black people and black culture in cuba. This is something that isn't spoken of as much as it should be. The afro-cuban culture in cuba is important, and a part of Cuban people's history and ancestry. As a Cuban woman, I was proud to hear about the experience the father shared, not necessarily because of the experience itself, but because people will hear it and learn. Things must change. Many of these themes are things I struggled with in my own life. I felt a sort of kinship with the movie and its characters.

Have some clips of the film:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7D0T4ivCsF4

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z6yMItXePG8&ab_channel=T-Manfilm

MUSIC:

I think I heard this song when I was around eleven years old. I think so many people know it already, it's very popular, but it was the first song I heard that really expressed feeling love for someone of the same sex. When I tried explaining to my mother how I felt inside, in terms of my sexuality and attraction to the members of the same sex, I showed her the youtube video of the song. It was a very interesting experience lol. Some lyrics I felt I related to were:

"Mother looking at me Tell me what do you see? Yes, I've lost my mind Daddy looking at me Will I ever be free? Have I crossed the line?"

And

"And I'm all mixed up, feeling cornered and rushed They say it's my fault, but I want her so much Want to fly her away,"

Spotify Link: https://open.spotify.com/track/4bJygwUKrRgq1stlNXcgMg

Music Video:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8mGBaXPlri8

QUOTE/BOOK

A quote that recently touched my heart was:

“In the darkness, two shadows, reaching through the hopeless, heavy dusk. Their hands meet, and light spills in a flood like a hundred golden urns pouring out of the sun.” from The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

When I read this, I thought, “This is what matters when you are with the one you love. This is all that should matter.”

Have a summary of the book from Goodreads.com (one of my favorite websites for organizing my books. If you want to follow me there, send me a message or ask and I’ll give it to you):

“Greece in the age of heroes. Patroclus, an awkward young prince, has been exiled to the court of King Peleus and his perfect son Achilles. By all rights their paths should never cross, but Achilles takes the shamed prince as his friend, and as they grow into young men skilled in the arts of war and medicine their bond blossoms into something deeper - despite the displeasure of Achilles' mother Thetis, a cruel sea goddess. But then word comes that Helen of Sparta has been kidnapped. Torn between love and fear for his friend, Patroclus journeys with Achilles to Troy, little knowing that the years that follow will test everything they hold dear.Profoundly moving and breathtakingly original, this rendering of the epic Trojan War is a dazzling feat of the imagination, a devastating love story, and an almighty battle between gods and kings, peace and glory, immortal fame and the human heart.”

And that’s it for me! I challenge ALL OF YOU to continue this and share your own. Feel free to reblog this and tag your own friends and mutuals to complete this challenge! Let’s share with each other the beautiful pieces of work that have inspired us as members of the LGBTQ+ community.

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cacti-are-like-flamingos · 3 years

Text

The Golden Hand

° Assassin’s Creed Odyssey Imagine °

Chapter 3

Fem! Reader

Central Masterlist | The Golden Hand

Just how was he to take you back home when he didn’t even know where to start? Alexios had not the faintest idea on how to do that; pray to the gods? They don’t always answer, and when they do, it’s just downright confusing. His only choice was to continue on his journey and hope, that by some miracle, the answer would reveal itself soon. However, as such worries and doubts continued to plague his mind, they were soon drowned out upon his eyes falling on you.

He had to admit it.

You were utterly adorable.

Your eyes, round and soft, peered at the lively scene of the marketplace with star-like sparkles. Your lips drew apart ever so slightly, a smile merrily making its way on them as you expressed a fondness to how ancient, how....different this world was. He wondered how you felt about it all. Surely you were experiencing some extreme form of cultural shock. Two days could not possibly remedy it. Perhaps your joy was a façade, a guise for the truth of your feelings.

“Ah, yes! This tells of Odysseus’s voyages and his battles.” “And this?” “That one refers to the miracles of Zeus and the gods.” “They’re so beautiful.” You murmured, admiring the paintings on the pottery. By now, Alexios had shifted his attention back to you, pushing his thoughts all the way into the back of his mind as he came to realize that he has subconsciously followed you to the front of a small pottery stand. He watched as you kindly interacted with the clerk, the elder blushing at your beauty and compliment.

“Why thank you! Although my hands and body have begun to age and wrinkle, my passion for art has yet to fade.” You smiled. He watched you for a few moments before briefly turning his attention behind you. There, not far from the two for you, was Phoibe waving her scrawny arms around as she tried hard to get the misthios attention. Chuckling under his breath, the man leaned into your ear, breathing a short, “I’ll be back” before moving away from you. Heading over to the young girl, he gave her a look.

“How’d it go with Markos?” Phoibe asked. With a small grimace on his face, he replied, ”How it always goes. I didn’t get my money and I’m running another errand for him.” Humming, she settles herself on top of a nearby rock. Crouching to her level, the conversation continues. “Why did you let him boss you around?” Her words earned herself a gentle glare from the older male, “I owe him a debt. From the past.”

“Did you borrow drachmae?” Oh the innocence of youth.

“Not that kind of debt. Few people would take in a runaway they caught thieving. I was just a kid.” Unbeknownst to him, you had accidentally caught his words.

“Huh. I’m just a kid. And I’ve done pretty good for myself.” Phoibe stated with a sense of pride earning a snort from the man. “What do you want Phoibe?” She looked over to you,” Well, I was going to ask help first but -- who is she?” Her eyes ran down you figure, sparkling with curiosity. Glancing over his shoulder, he couldn’t stop the small smile blooming on his lips as he watched you speak with another civilian. “She is...a friend.”

“She’s really pretty. Is she nice?” Alexios chuckles. “I only met her yesterday but I believe so. Now, what do you want Phoibe?” Getting back on track, Phoibe continued, ”You know Kausos?” He squinted his eyes in confusion, “The town on the other side of the island? Why?” She answered, ”People there are sick--my friend Kynna is too. There’s a blood fever. They say it’s a curse and that they need help from the gods.” “I told you, I’m not a god.” “But Ikaros--”,”Is a bird.” With an exasperated expression she yelled,” That doesn’t mean you can’t help!”

There was a moment of silence. It was his hardened expression against her own puppy yet desperate eyes.

She won.

“Agh! All right, I’ll look into it.” With that said, Phoibe let out a grin and a loud ‘Thanks!’ before running away. Sighing, the man ran a large hand over his head, massaging his temples in annoyance. First you and now this. Just how was he to-“Alexios? You okay mate?” Your voice was soft yet clear as you now stood beside him. With a glimpse he could see your concerned expression, your groomed brows knitted together. It was then that an idea struck him.

“(Y/N), since you are from the future, your people must’ve conjured many cures for various illnesses, no?” You gave him a look but nonetheless nodded. “Do you bear any knowledge of your time’s medicine?” “I’m no expert but I do have some knowledge. Although, you have to take into account that medicines are more advanced in my time. What we have, we have because of technology.” He nodded.

“We shall journey to Kausos, a town on the other side of Kephallonia. There is a blood fever. Hopefully, you can help.”

He had now realized that the two of you have managed to reach the docks. Lightly nudging you, he quietly whispered into your ear, ”

“Hopefully.”

Why did you get the feeling that today was going to take a turn for the worse?

...

The journey there was hell. There was no other way to describe it. What you could only imagine once lush and green and full of life and festivities, now seeming barren and full of death and burnt flesh. The putrid smell of corpses and of blood’s iron burning your nostrils to the point that you could barely breathe. Desperately trying to muffle the scent by placing your hand to your nose. And as the horse galloped, you watched the scene around you. Whole structures were burned either to the ground or near to it, smoke billowing out from their interiors in large clouds of black and grey. A pile of bodies, clothed in blood stained fabrics, laid beside the burning buildings, waiting to be cremated. A ring of black surrounded the pile from underneath, the dirt having been scarred from a previous cremation.

“By the gods, what has happened here?” You heard Alexios mutter under his breath as he took in the scene. Judging by the tone in his voice, you could tell that the sight had, too, taken him by surprise.

You stayed quiet, trying to focus on your breathing rather than the sound of the crows cawing loudly above your heads. It was then that you heard the cry of a man burst through the cawing, it was loud and clear.

“You’re murderers! Murderers!�� What? Diverting the horse over to the origin of the voice, Alexios forced the animal to come to a stop right before a small bridge. Helping you come off the saddle, he led you over the bridge and into a situation you never thought you were ever going to be a part of.

“If the gods won’t help you, the sickness must be destroyed by our hands! We have no choice.” Spoke a man wearing dark clothing and a bow fastened around his torso. Two other men at his either side of him, surrounding what appeared to be a family.

“Help us!” Yelled one of the children as the two of you made your way over to them. His arms bound by rope.

Oh god.

“He won’t let us go!” Shouted the father.

Keeping your distance, you stayed behind the burly man. Rubbing the palms of your hands together as a way to comfort your hammering heart. Thoughts racing through your head. Alexios was expecting you to somehow save these people, but in all honesty, you had not the slightest clue as to how herbal medicine worked. I mean, you did know just a few things based on videos you had seen on YouTube but nothing that can truly save a person, much less a fucking village. Shit, now panic was setting in and that wouldn’t do any good. Steeling your nerves, you turned your attention to the conversation. Only managing to hear the last few sentences of the man’s explanation.

“...We couldn’t keep up with the bodies. It was spreading --- we had to intervene. “ He said.

“They killed our brothers! Our neighbors!” Countered the father, his wife adding on, “We survived the massacre, but he’ll kill us now!” The man, who you had now realized was most likely a Priest based on the clothing he wore, continued, “The gods have abandoned us. The sick must join the dead f we are to save the living!”

“You burned the whole village?” Alexios asked in disbelief. The Priest looked down in shame before answering,” Many nights were lost praying. We had to take action --- to scorch the blood fever out of Kausos.”

“Is there no hope for a cure?” The Priest shook his head, letting out an exasperated sigh as he answered,” Nothing has worked. Sacrifice, prayers...” The wife interrupted,” Healers won’t come near us, soldiers won’t let us leave...The gods won’t answer our prayers!” Alexios sighed, shifting his weight to his left as he spoke, “But I know nothing of the plague.”

“There is nothing you can do. If you intervene, I will be forced the defend the gods’ will.” he priest warned. “We aren’t even that sick! We’ll get better!” “Nobody gets better! This is the only way all of Kephallonia will save itself from extermination!” It was then that the Spartan turned to you, his eyes having the slightest glimmer of hope.

“(Y/N), is there anything you can do? Is there any chance that you can save them?” His voice soft and quiet. It was almost drowned out by the crackle of the fires.

You gave yourself a moment to think. If this was a virus, then the only thing they could do was ride it out... but....shit, you’re not a doctor. The hell were you suppose to do, much less say?

You could feel a knot form in your throat, a bubbling sensation blooming within the pits of your stomach --- anxiety. There was a slight tremble to your hands, but why? Why were you feeling this way? This place was a game, no? It had no real consequence, right? No, no that kind of thinking doesn’t apply here, because while to you it will always be a game, you are still quite physically present in it. There are consequences to your actions. There are right and wrong answers. So what now?

Taking a deep breath in, you briefly looked back up into his own. And with the slightest shake of your head, he knew your answer.

Sighing, he spoke, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be involved in this.”

“We don’t have to die!” The mother protested. Slamming her bound wrist onto her lap.

You wanted to say something, anything. But nothing would come out. Your lips moved, but not a sound was made. Instead you hid behind Alexios, your lips sealed shut, as he spoke with the priest once more before motioning for the two of you to walk away. It was after ten steps that they’re screams were heard.

And, as if to add salt to the wound, a lone figure ran up to you.

Phoibe.

“You...you didn’t save them? What about Kynna? She’s my friend!” You felt a tug at your heartstrings upon seeing her heartbroken expression. Alexios, who stood just a foot in front of you, tensed his shoulders. A frown on his face.

“How could I make that-”, noting the increased volume in his voice, you placed a hand to his bicep. Upon feeling your touch, he breathed. “ Listen Phoibe. I know you’re sad about Kynna --- it’s a big loss. But look around you. You want this to be like this everywhere?” He gestured to their surroundings.

The young girl frowned, “No...but maybe Kynna would get better. They could be wrong about her!” “And maybe the sickness would take the family tomorrow. It’s impossible to tell.” The misthios argued.

Folding her arms, Phoibe looked to the ground, “I hope you’re right.”

You didn’t know what compelled you to speak, you just knew you had to say something to the young girl. Licking your lips, you kneeled down to her height. A saddened look on your own face.

“Phoibe, I know we have just met but...sometimes, good people die. No matter how much we don’t like it.“ She stared at you for a moment, her eyes flickering about your face. It was a only a moment later that she allowed herself to lean closer to you.

“I know...I just wish it wasn’t true.” And with that, she walked away.

Watching her figure slowly dwindle to nothing but a mere shadow, you breathed. The smoke still burning the inside of your nostrils.

“Alexios?” “Yes?” “Let’s...let’s go...please.” Your voice quieter than the occasional breeze. You heard him grunt, “ Of course.”

Realization didn’t come quick.

It was only after you had mounted onto the house, with your hands gripping tightly onto his armor, that the realization came to you.

You had killed someone. Rather indirectly, but still.

Innocent blood was on your hands.

How did it come to this? You were but a student just a day ago.

How did everything change so quick? So...in the blink of an eye?

Alexios would never tell you, but he could feel your tears dampen his clothing.

...

(A/N): Sorry this took so long, I’m still trying to figure out how I want this story to play out and for how long.

Hope you enjoyed!

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misscampacyn · 3 years

Text

Imagine you are a new DEA agent working with Javier Peña and Steve Murphy.

Note: While I was writing this story, I was think of how females are treated differently in certain jobs. Like the equal pay for woman, and the other stuff that is still happening to women (for the purpose of this imagine). The show Narcos is happening in the 80s-90s and I am 100% sure on how female in law enforcement were treated. Also, I have no idea if what is depicted in this story is factual take it as a fictional story to sit back and enjoy. Ok so I’ll let you start reading hope you didn’t exit out.

At the airport you were greeted by Steve Murphy. You were the rookie in Colombia, but you were a good agent, hence why you were brought to help the war against Pablo Escobar.

“I should warn you Peña is a hard ass.”

“I’m used to men like him.”

“Want me to drop you off your apartment, get some rest or do you want to go to the embassy?”

“Embassy I feel like I have to show my dominance to this Peña,”

“Careful he might want to get you to bed.”

Once at the embassy Murphy led you to your new work area where a man sat typing away.

“Peña this is agent (Y/LN).”

Javier looks up and sizes you up, looking over your figure. He did not speak only grabbed his cigarette from the ash tray.

“Is that all you do? Smoke? No wonder you haven’t gotten Escobar,” you mock.

“Y tú puedes hacerlo mejor?” [and you can do better]

“Por supuesto que si, yo no vengo para pendejadas. Yo vengo por Escobar.” [Of course I’m not here for bullshit I’m here for Escobar]

Murphy frowns, “you know Spanish too?”

You look over at the blonde, “you don’t?”

“No”

“You should get some classes; you can’t be walking around Colombia with a language barrier.”

Murphy smiles at your advice not taking any offense by it, “I like you.”

You just shake you head and turn to look at Peña. “What do you have so far?”

Peña raises his eyebrow and throws a file towards you. You read over the minimal information and drop it back on his desk.

“You have jack.”

“We were told you were a good agent back in Mexico work your magic,” says Murphy.

“What have you two be doing to get information so far?”

“Informant. Prostitutes the Narcos sleep with,”

“Let me guess Peña screws them and then gets the information.”

Javier stands up and walks towards you, “how did YOU get information in Mexico?”

“We went undercover, got close to them.”

Murphy steps closer to you and Javier, “That’ll get you killed.”

“As long as we get the info we need, I am willing to become a narco.”

Javier glances over your face with a deep frown. Steve pushes Javier a it away from you.

“We can’t go undercover here; they’ll know your American. Probably have us all on file.”

“We’ll need to blend in with the locals. They’ve interacted with the so-called robin hood. They won’t talk to DEA agents, but we aren’t going in as agents.”

Javier frowns, “how are we going in?”

“Star-eyed tourists. Don’t worry Peña I’ll do all the leg work; you can stay here and type away.”

Murphy chuckles at your jab.

“I’m going to my apartment get my stuff settled and get ready to work, see you two later.”

You leave to the embassy and call for a cab.

Steve look over at Javier, “She’s good.”

“She’s going to get killed. This isn’t Mexico this is fucking Colombia.”

“I’m sure she knows that.”

A couple of hours later you were back to the office a wearing a stereotypical tourist outfit. Steve nodded impressed.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m going you two stay.”

Javier speaks up, “you’re not going alone, you don’t know Bogota you’ll get killed.”

“Are you worried agent? We’re only just met; besides I’m not going far, I’ll leave breadcrumbs.”

You leave the two men and go on your own to see what information you could get.

The next morning you arrive at the office to find both men sitting at their desks. Murphy greets you instantly, “how’d it go? did you get any info?”

“Good morning. Not much but I found out Escobar turns up once in a while with his henchmen and gives people money. He never goes to the same place, but people know where he’ll be because a crowd that form around them.”

Javier folds his arms over his chest and scoffs, “so you got nothing? your leg work was for nothing.”

“I got information without fucking anyone.”

“See now that is probably what you need.”

“Really getting laid improves your mood? Seems to be working for you pendejo!” [asshole/ dumbass]

Steve looks at Javier amused, “she’s got a point.”

The rest of the day the three of you answered calls on any Escobar sightings. At the end of the day you three walked out of the embassy, and you start to walk home.

“Who where are you going?” asks Murphy.

“Going home.”

“Peña and I usually go for drinks after work. We also carpool to and from work. We live in the same building. Join us.”

You look over at the impatient man behind Murphy, “nah, I’ll walk home see you tomorrow.”

Murphy looks over at Javier who just shrugs and enters the drivers seat.

“Look its not safe for a girl to walk alone at night.”

“Good think I’m not a girl Murphy.”

“That’s not what I… not what I meant. Look let us drop you off at least.”

“Will it get you off my back?”

“Yes”

“Fine but only this once.”

You enter the backseat and close the door. As promised you are dropped off at the building.

“You sure you don’t want to join us for drinks?”

“I’m sure, thanks for the ride.” You get out and walk into the building. You go reach your apartment and start to search for your keys. A blonde woman approaches you,” do you speak English?”

“Yes.”

“Thank god, I’m Connie. Do you know Spanish I need someone to translate these instructions for me.”

You grab the package and translate the instructions.

“I didn’t get you name.”

“It’s (Y/N)(YLN).”

“You’re… DEA.”

You frown but nod.

“I thought so, Steve told me about you. He told me you went toe to toe with Peña.”

“I’ve faced worse. I’d rather encounter a thousand Peñas over meeting killers like Escobar.”

Connie nods understanding.

“It’s good to now Steve has you and Peña watching his back.”

“Your Murphy’s wife?”

Connie nods.

“I’ll try to keep him safe for you.”

The next morning when you arrive to your desk there was a steaming coffee and a chocolate muffin sitting next to it. You frown and look up and find Steve smiling at you.

“Connie told me you helped her with something.”

“She asked me to.”

“Well you didn’t have to.”

“You brought me coffee?”

“Yup, we’re partners.”

You smile at the man and take a sip of the hot coffee, “thank you.”

Just like that you knew that you were accepted at least by Murphy. Javier was a different story, and you seemed to clash. The seasoned agent needed a bit more time to see what you were made of, and he hoped you didn’t get yourself killed.

GUYS!! I didn’t know that Pedro Pascal was in a Sia music video I was shocked when I went into my YouTube Music and saw him in the thumbnail. This is the link if you haven’t seen in: https://youtu.be/fNdeLSKSZ1M

#Pedro Pascal #narcos #javier peña imagine #agent murphy #agent pena #agent javier peña #netflix #fanfiction #fandom

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foryouthegays · 3 years

Text

techno liveblog w timestamps lets go for ‘a new home (dream SMP)’ stream

good laugh times: 00:13:50, 00:14:55, 1:38:45, ik it doesnt look like a lot but like u should watch the stream anyway bc philzas there and his laugh is amazing and they just go so well together

times techno calls phil his friend: 00:6:00 00:37:00, 00:45:17, 0:1:09:30, 01:11:15, 01:26:35, 01:50:05, 2:35:00

FSDJKFAF;LS HE KEPT THE MUTED INTRO IN JHKADFLS (ends at 00:1:25)

i like how, when faced with Leaving Youtube, techno would choose to be an author. i want a book by techno. reblog this if u want a book by techno (with an audiobook by him as well) /hj. 00:1:33

i love how he says ehhhhhh so much lskjhdfas (abt 2 mins in)

who the FUCK just remembers that the word fortuitous exists wtf 00:5:17

00:7:45 PHILZA TIME PHILZA TIME LETS GO

00:8:55 tommy time :/

0:14:10 rANBOO JUST WALKS IN, LOOKS AROUN ,AND LEA VE SIM CRYING

i love how much philza laughs at technos jokes bc pretty much everything he says IS a joke he just says it in such a serious voice that p much everyone else is like,,,yeah,,,,yup,,,,and phil just knows when hes joking and his laugh is so good with technos voice. sbi? whos that? i only know philza and technoblade

00:19:30 ghostbur joins! this is my first time hearin ghostbur btw

00:19:40 haha string axe technos so bad at crafting what a fool /j

00:21:07 ghostbur: “Even I remember how to make a fishing rod!” ghostbur u just MURDERED technoblade oh my god im gonna scream hgjdfksla i love ghostbur so much

00:23:55: GHOSTBUR NO!! DON’T DIE YOU’LL BECOME A DOUBLE GHOST!!!! -technoblade 2020

00:24:55 technoblade neva lies -guys he almost did the technoblade neva dies ahh!!!!!

i havent heard anyone talk about this but techno has a dedicated roleplay voice. like listen to him talk to tommy at 00:25:08. his voice gets more even, he uses names a lot more often (seriously, listen to his theseus speech. he says tommy so often, its incredible.), and his voice gets,,,,deeper? not deeper but smoother, in a way, and he repeats what he says for emphasis instead of humor. and his voice is louder, and he seems more assertive.

00:27:30 philza: where we goin, by the way? techno: to our- to my new home.

techno cmon let phil live w u wed get so much more content cmonn

00:28:50 the fact that he calls the manhunt theme “dream music” makes me laugh so hard. and then his version of it,,,,,m love he (also he sings it here and at 01:14:20)

00:35:10 why is ranboo so cryptic im-

why does he just casually know the word sentry wh at i hate him 00:39:45

this is the worst sentence (structurally) ive ever heard techno say im gonna cry 00:49:33 ‘im too busy thinkin of new ideas to sleep so i could actually execute them’ and tubbos *oh?* after is just hdsfgkjlka

LKSJDHFJK 00:51:49

00:54:30

techno: thats one of dreams powers, he can just stop the rain

tubbo, quietly: like jesus!

i love them sm dsfhkjla they kept going but i jus gdfhjksa jesus has op

techno @ being the second worst thing to ever happen to those orphans: haha funnie!!

techno @ having fun w religious stuff: i wILL BE CANCELLED NO-

00:58:10 “hey if ur [ghostbur] a ghost, do instant damage potions heal you now?” “...no,, they hurt me still :(” DSIULZKJHFSLKFJH

01:04:00 his brother named the cow bob im- aww

also he has a fanart wall again!!!

01:09:30 “phil, you’re the only friend i have left in this world.” aWWWWW HE GAVE HIM THE COMPASS

“dont smoke, it’s a joke” -technoblade 01:14:15

ROLEPLAY SPEECH VOICE IS BACK AT 1:16:10 “they pillage my base for everything i’m worth, they use me for the revolution, but oooOOOoo i took a pickaxe with his consent? oOOOooOo i’m a thief!”

holy shit 01:17:15 “you know what, phil? for you, the world, alright? it’s fine.” oH MY GOD HHHHGHG (context, right before they were arguing bc phil took some blocks from his base and techno thought that when he said phil could take anything he meant from the chests)

the COMIDY of that villager coming in and sleeping while techno was readin donos at 01:22:05 RIGHT AFTER phil freaked out abt inturruptin his dono readin im SFDHKJLA:

techno talkin bout the winstreak and how he wont be able to live up to that sort of playin at 01:22:30ish is super important and ill transcribe it tomorrow, but if u can id highly rec watchin it.

01:24:20 “[readin dono] what’s your favorite movie? uh, the princess bride is pretty good” techno ily that movie rocks also he said it so fast like hes ashamed of it noo

techno says no to canon ranboo son btw! 01:25:30

01:25:55 “i wasnt in that story, therefore it doesnt matter” all of technoblr be like

01:37:49 is great lemmie transcribe

“how have you still not gotten a second monitor?? holy shit.”

“let me tell you something. and im only telling you this because i know that so many people in the chat are gonna be furious. so i recently realized- i think the second monitor can just be any ol’ monitor, right? you literally just plug it in, and its set up? well i mean you have to turn on some settings, but like, thats it, or something?”

“yeah,,,,, uh techno you fuckin destroyed my chat, by the way, oh my god, [earlier techno told his viewers to twitch prime philza] there has been like 40 primes just flying through”

“yeahhh twitch prime!!! twitch prime philza yeahh!!! so anyways the other day, i like, i looked to my left, and realized that my old monitor has been like, five feet away from where i sit and stream for the last three years?”

“oh my god...”

“so i- i literally do not have to leave my room to set up a second monitor and i havent. and i’m still usin my laptop for this stream.

“is this gonna be one of those situations where you like, you have a thing, you just refuse to do the thing?”

“listen, my desk is-

“yOU STILL HAVENT OPENED UP THE HYPIXEL PACKAGE!!!”

“AHHHH I HAVENT OPENED UP THE HYPIXEL PACKAGE! I HAVENT EVEN OPENED UP MY MCC COIN! DUDE I HAVENT EVEN OPENED UP MY ONE MILLION SUBSCRIBER PLAQUE! ITS STILL THERE RIGHT BEHIND ME! ITs sTILL IN THE BOX! i never made a video on it....”

“bruhhhhh [philza laughs] thats FREE VIEWS what are you doing??”

“ill open it at 8 mil :/.”

“you could LITERALLY make a video of you just like, throwing it off a wall, and then thumbing up, like doing a thumbs up, and then that would be it. 10 seconds. ten seconds. thumb and elbow in shot. [laughs]”

techno is such a disaster i love him

01:34:18 the way techno says “tommy, that statement has NEVER been true” i dont like sayin i simp for block men but GOD sometimes his voice is nicer than usual hhhgn

“man i sure wish tommyinnit was in this stream” -nobody ever (just after previous timestamp)

01:40:15 is fuckin hilarious and im actually crying oh my god techno just says things and says them well with a completely straight face how does he do it

i cannot WAIT until theres a president w the last/first name andy so we can say president andy and think abt technoblade

IM CRIASDNGUSFHD 01:44:38 PHILZA LOOK OUT LOOK OUT PHILZA LSKJDAFJASD;LKF

i love when techno talks abt his vids. like u can tell he puts a lot of thought into the vids (esp these ones) and like at 01:47:00 he talks abt the “I DIDNT PUT DEAPTH STRIDER ON THOSE BOOTS, FUNDY!” and how its just that creepin realization that you were doomed from the start and how he made the armor, he isnt intimidated by the netherite bc he didnt enchant it all the way and only he knows that,,, and i just,,,hgg he

he reveals that hes writin the next arc at 01:48:00: “oh, speakin of arcs, chat, i’m writing the next arc. so, you know. hope nothin bad happens in two weeks, chat!” IM SO EXCITED like he clearly has his character fleshed out and is SO good at writing and retellin history im so so excited to see where he takes it AHHHH and also taht means he might stream more bc he might make his character more important (keep in mind this is the guy who wrote self insert hypixel fanfics. he has no shame in puttin himself first and i respect him so much for it)

01:51:20 “they’re tryin to get a second customer but they’re riskin their first” is lowkey a good line

has anyone else noticed that techno says wise a lot? like at 01:55:10 he literally says “wise dragon armor” as a joke but like i think he says wise so much BECAUSE of skyblock like hjkfdsla

01:57:30 techno plea se eat

ok 1:58:45 is hilarious and all but at the end of his ramble he says “come back, i miss you” and lowkey im crying

techno needs to stop knowing his audience more than we know ourselves im hsfkjda 02:05:25 “the chat’s spammin ‘eat technoblade, eat!’ like they’re not gonna start, like, theyre not gonna get super sad if i ended the stream right now, like theyre not gonna all cry ‘i miss technoblade *sniffs* why- whyd he leave to eat food, why did he listen to our advice noooo’”

02:14:50 NEW VIDEO POGGGG CARL THE HORSE POGGGGGG NOT A STREAM HIGHLIGHT POGGGGG

02:17:40 “i could start a potato farm out here to show how much ive changed” techno last time u made a potato farm u started an entire war that lasted a year that does NOT say calm and retired to me lskgdfjagsldj

02:23:00 why does techno just reference greek mythology so much. makin me scared for his arc.

also he talks abt smp earth a lot in this stream i love it so much

i also just. love?? how much sbi respect tommy like they bully him but when talkin bout him they just have so much respect for how much work he puts into youtube and i just,,,,hgnn they r friends

02:33:13 sbi streamer house lets go cmon

02:34:15 “i think if i streamed every day i could keep up” on one hand YE S but on the ohter oh god techno no we have to keep up tho

hearing techno say “violence isnt the answer” is so scary 02:35:40

02:37:30 technosneeze

hiS BROTHER SENT HIM 46 DISCORD MESSAGES SFKDJLFLKASF 2:49:25 i love his end screen so much hes just sadness,,,,retirement,,,t,echnoblade,,,the government is going to fall on its own due to lack of organization and ideals,,,,,,subscribe,,,,,sadness,,,,,also 2:50:45 is making me laugh so hard its just sad music and technos like??? whys phil in my house drinking milk?????

overall, fantastic stream, if ya want some chill techno philza content i highly recommend.

#stream post

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shinymooncolor · 4 years

Note

hey! you don’t have to answer this, but i know close to nothing about hockey and my family and i have never really watched it and i’m starting to get very interested, but i have no idea where to start 😅 what do you think i should focus on first, as a newbie? what should i absolutely know as a fan? what teams are pretty good in your opinion? again, thanks for your help if ever you see this p.s: i really love your posts and they bring a smile to me face, so thank you for your hard work! <3

Hi!

Ohhh well. First of all. Welcome to the nerve wracking, nail biting, jaw clenching, gut wrenching, heartbreaking and utterly incredible world of (ice) hockey. Angry muscle machines on skates chasing a tiny rubber puck in the nhl and their goddess equivalents in wnhl - what’s not to love?

You’ve decided on a hell of a year to join. Due to Covid, the normal system was paused and a recent bubble playoffs series played and later won by Tampa Bay Lightning a few weeks ago. The new season would’ve begun last week but is currently expected to start around December.

I’d say the best starting point would be to watch some games - YouTube has a lot of highlights, game compilations etc. and browse hockey tumblr. Hockey tumblr is a great combination of hockey gossip, game reviews, fans sharing their love, passion and (hateful) opinions about players, clubs and the sport in general.

My personal team faves are a handful - you see, the league is “split” into two conferences - east and west and within here a few other divisions dictating who the teams will play on a more recent basis. The clubs in the nhl being split over North America and Canada means a lot of ground to cover and therefore it’s split like this - time zones, distance and whatever. So maybe decide on a conference first? East or west.

I’m an eastern conference gal meself, but the west sure has its merits too.

So. Teams. You’re about to start a rumble here 😂

I am a personal fan of the Pittsburgh Penguins 🐧 they play good hockey, in spite of their idiot general manager (I’ve got posts detailing why he’s an ass hat extraordinarie). They’re captained by Canada’s hockey savior, Sidney Crosby: hockey robot, yellow crocs enthusiast , triple gold member (youngest captain to get all three?) and the goodest boy in the league. He’s been heralded as the next great one yada yada since he was about 5? And shot pucks into a dryer back in Canada - with that came a lot of shit for the poor guy who, in his own words, just wants to play hockey. And he’s good. He’s got his team of French Canadian d-men (letang, dumo), a whole lot of goalie drama which seems to be a pattern and his Russian (husband) assistant captain Evgeni Malkin who’s got the cutest kid, a really cool wifey (seriously her insta is 10000 better than geno’s own) and a wicked sense of humor which he conviently hides behind his “English big bad today” excuse to avoid media on a daily basis (he’s played this card since his wild escape and temporary defection from Russia back in 2006) seriously google it. It’s wild. They’ve won three cups since 2009, they’re contenders in the playoffs most years and their pr department provides some hilarious videos of captain Canada and his Russian (husband) A. It’s a true love story. Sue me. We’ve got an intense rivalry with philly and the caps. Seriously. That orange flyers jersey is intense - even if philly’s mascot is the next president.

Funnily enough, my strange obsession with Russian hockey players have led to the most disturbing but developing club crush on the Washington capitals who are the penguins’ nemesis.

I mean, this club led by the one and only gr8 8 mr Alexander Ovechkin is a rollercoaster of emotion and hot daddies in skates armed with sticks and a murder Swede.

So. Washington caps used to be a joke in the league until they went and drafted mr ovechkin first overall, brought him to the capital and let him do his thing. He’s got a rep for being a hell of a lot of fun on the ice (if you’re on his team) and one of those players that people love to hate (even if they can’t take away how freakishly good he is at hockey) - look up his impossible goal(s)! He’s an exuberant, fun loving Russian with a heart of gold and a missing tooth. In 2007, the caps went shopping for a center just for ovi who needed a playmaker and a slap shot feeeder - they went and drafted the Swedish angel (maybe assassin) (Lars) Nicklas Backstrom - and the purest hockey marriage was forged. The actual words (we needed a center for ovi and ovi wanted backstrom) have been said. Yes, these two Are now famously the mama and papa of the caps and they have a roster of unruly (and handsome) hockey babies with the fighting menace Tom Wilson, bird impersonator and Russian cat Evgeni Kuznetzov and a whole army of other adorable (albeit hockey playing menaces) babies. Most recently they had the leagues daddiest daddy goalie Mr Holtbeast as the fun and handsome canadien cowboy uncle but he’s ventured to Vancouver to adopt a new group of hockey babies. To compensate, the caps went shopping in New York and brought the one and only king Henrik from the crease in msg to be the goalie mentor for baby Russian caps goalie and to keep the daddy energy flowing.

(Seriously why are Swedish players part time models? Their national team strategy is to be so handsome the other teams are distracted. It’s a thing. Look it up)

I also love a handful of other players on other teams (I really don’t dislike any team in particular - but you’ll meet some dedicated and strong minded fans here)

Erik Horse Johnson, Cale Makar and Nikita Zadorov (Colorado Avs - zad have recently been traded to the blackhawks (not sure how I feel about that). Phwucking fun team. Who needs teeth anyways.

Marc Andre Fleury (Vegas now but hell always be a penguin to me)

The Russian gang in Tampa - and giant Swede victor Hedman (seriously he’s massive)

The canes (Carolina) and their collective of Finnish and Russian babies (aho, svech) with chaotic Marty and former penguin Baby Staal as captain

And a whole lot of others too. It’s hard to choose.

The Dallas stars and the most precious bean of them all (Russian) dobby - Anton khudobin their backup goalie turned playoffs hero and fashion icon. The man said we’re not going home and threw the entire team on his back and dragged them to the final. And their homoerotically charged captain and his alt captain and their Hollywood epic soap worthy relationship. Stallions, people, Stallions...

Btw we like to project our brash queerness onto this league. You’ll learn why quickly. There’s only so much talks about hot hands, slick moves, eternal love for teammates and quite frankly obscene (sexy) amounts of kneeling, roughing (let’s face its it’s just aggressive cuddling) and teammates honorably defending teammates.

Anyways. I love hockey. He. Sorry.

Fun fact I’ve dragged @canesinthecrease kicking and screaming into the hellhole that is the caps and I’m working on convincing @dontpuckwithme about the incredibly sexy thing that is Russians and Canadians being secretly married in Pittsburgh.

Great, sexy, amazing, cool, smart and wonderful hockey ladies to follow for even more amazing content on more clubs (the hurricanes - also a team I’m starting to love). They’re my queer sherpas and emotional support network.

Hope you can use this dear (new) hockey friend and mutual 💖🐧

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islamicrays · 4 years

Text

On YouTube, there are tons of "beauty gurus" who post videos about makeup application, hair styling, beauty accessories, and fashion.

I personally know a lot of young girls who watch these makeup tutorials and follow specific "favorite" beauty gurus. After years of being avid subscribers to their channels, these young teens and pre-teens get attached to these big personalities who are YouTube celebrities. Not only do the kids learn how to apply foundation and eye shadow from these beauty gurus, but they also learn about and admire the lifestyle of the "influencer."

Yesterday, I looked up the top 10 beauty channels on YouTube, out of curiosity. Which content creators are the most popular and what kind of subscriber counts do they have?

My heart sank when I found the answers to my questions.

Out of the top ten beauty Youtubers, five are gay men!

1. Louie's Life: 24.6 million subscribers

2. James Charles: 22.1 million subscribers

3. Jeffree Star: 17.2 million subscribers

4. Manny Mua: 4.85 million subscribers

5. Wayne Goss: 3.8 million subscribers

Jeffree Star has a net worth of $200 million. In addition to being one of the highest-paid YouTube stars on the planet, he oversees a cosmetic empire called Jeffree Star Cosmetics that is the source of the majority of his fortune today. When he was 6 years old, his father committed suicide and he was raised by his single mother, who was a model.

Louie, the creator of the YouTube channel Louie's Life, has an estimated net worth of $500,000. His number-one most popular video, with over 5 million views, is about how he lost his virginity.

James Charles is the number-one highest paid beauty Youtuber today, male or female. This 21-year-old flamboyant gay man makes more money showing young kids how to do makeup than any woman. He has a net worth of $22 million, and his videos have gotten a total of 2.6 billion views (yes, billion with a b). He refers in his videos and posts to his audience as his "sisters."

In 2018, James Charles released an eyeshadow palette in collaboration with Morphe Cosmetics. At its initial drop on November 14, 2018, the palette sold out fully in Europe in less than 6 minutes.

He was also accused of predatory behavior and of grooming young boys for homosexual behavior.

These people are called social influencers for a reason. They don't just teach makeup. They teach and glamorize and sanitize their haram life styles. They give kids life advice and disclose stories about personal experiences and encounters. They normalize degenerate behavior and desensitize kids to major sins.

How do we protect our kids from these dangers?

By talking to them. Regularly.

By connecting with them. Genuinely.

By being fully aware of *exactly* what kind of stuff our kids are watching, reading, and generally limiting the online content they consume.

How do we talk to our kids about this issue of LGBTQ?

We have to set the record straight for our kids. Now that we know what we are up against, how the mainstream narrative glamorizes homosexuality and how cultural trends prop up these gay influencers, we have to show our kids the reality.

What does Allah say about this "lifestyle"?

Tell your kids the story of Lut, عليه السلام. He was a beautiful prophet sent by Allah to his people who had fallen into a bizarre and repugnant sin: the men were attracted to other men and engaged in inappropriate acts with them.

إِنَّكُمْ لَتَأْتُونَ الرِّجَالَ شَهْوَةً مِّن دُونِ النِّسَاءِ ۚ بَلْ أَنتُمْ قَوْمٌ مُّسْرِفُونَ.

"Indeed, you approach men with desire, instead of women. Rather, you are a transgressing people." (Surat Al-A`raf, 81)

(If your kids are younger and don't understand the concept of "desire" or "attraction," use the concept of marriage. Kids instinctively know that in a marriage, there is a man and a woman. They see that in a family, there is a Mama and a Baba.)

When Lut عليه السلام told them to stop this terrible sin, these people ignored him, then mocked him, then started threatening to kick him out of their town. They even tried to harm and physically assault the angels who came to visit prophet Lut عليه السلام! Crime after crime after crime.

So Allah destroyed their entire town, turning the whole thing upside down.

Nothing was left except rubble.

Before the destruction of the town, Allah commanded prophet Lut to leave with his family so they would be saved.

The family all left and were safe. Except for Prophet Lut's wife! She was destroyed too.

Why?

Because she liked these gay men and agreed with their sin and saw nothing wrong with it. She went along with their crimes and so she was punished along with them.

So we learn from the Quran that there are TWO sins:

1. Practicing homosexual acts

And

2. Approving of, liking, or being "okay" with homosexual acts

Both are sins. BOTH.

Unfortunately, the modern world live in has deceived even Muslims about this sin. What these famous Muslims fail to understand is that there isn't just *one* sin (engaging in homosexual acts). There's a second sin: normalizing, accepting, confirming, or in staying silent about this sin.

Some famous Muslim politicians and activists, like Ilhan Omar and Linda Sarsour, dance with trannies and attend gay-pride rallies and teach Muslims to support gays.

Some big-name, well-funded "Islamic institutes" publish long essays trying to convince Muslims to "affirm and advocate many LGBTQ rights."

Some Muslim celeb speakers and duat encourage Muslims to attend social justice events and protests alongside LGBTQ activists and to work hand-in-hand with them.

Teach your kids not to do any of this.

Protect your kids.

-Umm Khalid

#islam #muslim #quote #allah #muslimah #parenting tips

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sammysdewysensitiveeyes · 3 years

Note

“What was the thought process?!”

“I don’t know any more than you do, Shaw! The Quiet Council put this mission together!” Somehow, even when they should have been commiserating, Sebastian managed to make his complaints sound like accusations. Well, absolutely no damn part of this was Pyro’s fault.

“Of course, that pack of simpletons can’t be bothered to do things properly. It wouldn’t matter if it was just you, but I will not be treated like a cheap lackey.”

“Will you kindly shut the fuck up for five minutes, Shaw?” Pyro demanded, looking at the map. Sebastian, for all his complaints, had not deigned to take charge of it since they’d come through the gate 30 minutes ago. “There’s the mountain. Our contact should be somewhere around here.”

The mountain loomed dark and ominous over the grassland, with an actual black cloud obscuring its peak, like something out of a cartoon. There was obviously something nasty up there that needed to be dealt with. Strange dark tendrils curled down the rocky cliffs, and there were reports of eerie wailing at night. It wouldn’t be Krakoa’s problem, except there was a mutant living nearby who refused to relocate to the safety of the island. So they either had to deal with the problem, or convince the mutant to move out of harm’s way.

Except the mutant in question was nowhere to be found. Just peaceful grassland as far as the eye could see, with the mountain swelling up from the landscape like an ugly blackhead. Off in the distance, Pyro could see a group of horses grazing contentedly.

“Our contact couldn’t be bothered to meet us at the gate. We should have just turned around and gone home. I don’t know why Krakoa should lift a finger for a mutant that refuses to come to us. He chooses to remain on the outside, he should accept the responsibilities of – “

“Hey, fellas!” A shout interrupted Shaw’s rant.

Striding up to them was the most heart-breakingly beautiful young man that Pyro had ever seen. White-blond hair, perfectly formed features, and obvious muscles bulging under his flannel shirt, he looked like he’d strode right off the cover of one of Pyro’s own novels. Usually Pyro preferred his men a little more rugged-looking, like Dominic’s wonderfully rough features, but he was suddenly fantasizing about this young man emerging from a lake in a see-through white shirt.

Oh shit, what if he was a telepath? What if he was yet another Frost sibling? Pyro shoved the image out of his mind, and thought very hard about a Youtube video he’d seen earlier of a penguin falling over.

“I suppose you’re the contact?” Sebastian demanded. He was walking right up to Eros-given-mortal-form while Pyro stood transfixed, and it was like watching an ogre charge an elf. Pyro had to fight the urge to leap between them and drive the beast back with a flaming sword. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to inconspicuously smooth it down.

Fucking hell, Allerdyce, get ahold of yourself. Shaw will never let you live it down.

“That’s right,” said the cup-bearer Ganymede, who would surely be carried off by Zeus soon. Even his voice was beautiful, his Southern accent giving his words a musical lilt. “Sorry I wasn’t right there at that big funny-lookin’ gate, I got worried about the herd. Whatever’s up there is bad news. I’d check it out myself, but I don’t want to leave the horses. Who’d take care of them if something happened to me?”

“Yes, yes, of course you have a noble reason for cowardice,” Sebastian said, waving a hand dismissively.

“And anyway, it’s our job, that’s why we’re here,” said Pyro, stepping forward. He realized that he had put himself just slightly between Shaw and Paris of Troy. “We’ll get it all sorted out for ya,” he added, giving the young man a friendly smack on the shoulder.

“Well, that’s a doozy of an accent, isn’t it? Where you from, England?” Thankfully Prince Charming had missed, or chosen to ignore Sebastian’s completely unecessary dig.

“Australia, actually,” Sebastian interjected before Pyro could speak. “And I imagine you’ve greatly offended Allerdyce’s national pride by mixing the two up.”

“Shucks, I’m sorry – “

“Oh, no!” Pyro exclaimed. “Not at all. Very similar accents, easy to mistake.”

“You’re the ones who say g’day, right? Like Crocodile Dundee!”

“Yes, exactly!” Pyro beamed. He’d started bar fights over being called Crocodile Dundee. Or being called British. Sebastian raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m Pyro, by the way, and Oscar the Grouch over there is Sebastian Shaw. You don’t have to be nice to him.” He shook the young man’s hand.

“Anyway, I’m your ride,” the Adonis said,with a shy smile. “I can get you up to the top of that mountain, lickety-split.”

“Oh, teleporter, are ya? That’s right handy,” Pyro said.

“Or he could be a speedster, let’s not jump to conclusions, Allerdyce,” Sebastian put in.

“No, it’s something a bit different than that,” said the divine creature carved from marble and bathed in Apollo’s fire. He shifted suddenly, his torso stretching and changing in a way that reminded Pyro of Mystique. And then there was a winged centaur standing in front of them, and Pyro wondered if he’d fallen into Narnia. Or maybe that one book, with the kids and the Tesseract.

“My mutant name is Eques, but you can call me Danny if you like.” Pyro tried not to gape. Somehow, the winged horse form had made the other mutant even more attractive, and Pyro wasn’t even into horses…but he was starting to understand the teenage girl obsession with them. “Danny’s” clothing had disappeared as he shifted (one of the X-Men’s unstable molecule suits, no doubt), and now he was….basically naked. Horse form meant all the important bits were hidden, but still. Pyro pinched the inside of his wrist very hard and tried to think about cricket.

“Oh, shape-shifting,” Sebastian said, sounding mildly bored. “I suppose that’ll do. But surely there are more practical…and larger things that you can change into.”

“I’m afraid not,” said Danny, biting his lip and pawing with one hoof on the ground in a way that was positively adorable. “It’s a very specific mutation. I can turn into this and only this. But don’t worry, I’m strong enough to carry you both. We can fly up.” He flapped his wings for emphasis.

Sebastian rolled his eyes.

“Really? Have we crossed over into some children’s cartoon?”

“C’mon Shaw, he’s here to help us. Of course, you can walk up the mountain if you prefer,” Pyro said.

“Oh no, I wouldn’t dare leave you alone with him,” Sebastian said, smirking at Pyro, who scowled back. “Who knows what you two would get up to? Besides, it’s better than the hike. Marginally. Let’s get this over with.”

Before Pyro could protest, Sebastian had lifted him up by the shoulders and plopped him unceremoniously on Danny’s back, then climbed on behind him.

“Sure we aren’t too heavy for ya? I know Shaw here must weigh a ton.” Pyro leaned in to speak in Danny’s ear, and tried not to notice how centaur’s thick, shimmering hair, radiant in the sunlight and making Pyro’s own golden locks seem like tarnished brass, smelled faintly of eucalyptus.

Should I compliment his hair? Maybe ask what shampoo he uses, pretend like I want advice? God damn it, St. John, snap out of it and act normal!

“Not all, fellas!” Danny exclaimed, with a bright, guilless smile. “I’m strong as a horse, too, this is nothing. But you’d better hold on as I take off, wouldn’t want you to fall.”

“Where should we, uh….” Pyro faltered. Much as he wanted to slip his hands over Danny’s muscular chest (for safety!) he didn’t want to be a creep. Also, if he wasn’t careful, his….interest…would start to become noticeable in the most humiliating way possible.

“Oh, anywhere’s fine, just hang onto me as best you can,” Danny drawled. Before Pyro could lift his hands, Sebastian reached forward, wrapping his arms around the centaur’s waist and squishing Pyro between them.

“Get off me, Shaw!” Pyro squirmed, pressed against Danny’s back, with Shaw’s massive, unyielding bulk behind him. God damn it, he was now dangerously close to being caught between a rock and a….hard place.

“Stop whining, Allerdyce, this is the best way to ensure we both stay on. I certainly don’t trust you to hang on with those weak arms of yours. We are secure, Eques. Proceed.”

“Why’d you even take the back, then?” Pyro demanded, but his question was answered as Danny leaped into the air, flapping violently. The wings beat hardest around Pyro’s head, powerful back muscles twitching uncomfortably against him. Well, at least having Sebastian Shaw’s gross, sweaty body pressed up against him, smelling faintly of fuck-you Rich People Cologne, was enough to kill his would-be boner quite dead. Especially with Sebastian’s no-doubt obscenely hairy crotch up against his rear, with –

Wait a minute. What was that?!

“Shaw, what the hell?” Pyro turned slightly, but Sebastian gripped Danny tighter, pushing him back forward. The hard object pressing against his ass shifted.

“It’s my cell phone, Allerdyce, for God’s sake. No need to jump to conclusions just because you’re all hot and bothered.”

Pyro wondered whether it was possible to set Sebastian on fire without hurting Danny. Just a little bit on fire. And then if he fell, it wouldn’t be Pyro’s fault, right?

“Gosh, this is kinda fun, fellas!” Danny yelled above the roar of the wind. “I’m always out here with the horses, and that’s just how I like it, but it does get kinda lonely. I don’t get to see other mutants very often.”

“Well, I’m sure you’d get a warm welcome if you ever came to join us on Krakoa,” Sebastian said. Pyro slammed an elbow back against him, but Sebastian just gripped tighter.

“Don’t even think about it, Allerdyce,” he said in Pyro’s ear. “I’ll take you down with me, make no mistake of that.”

“Say, Eques,” Sebastian called up in a louder voice. “Have you ever met Emma Frost? Let me tell you all about her, I’m sure you’d have a great deal to…discuss.”

Pyro fumed quietly, and fantasized about Sebastian smashing into the jagged rocks below for the rest of the trip.

(OOC: I don’t know what Eques should sound like, but I saw he was from Texas and wound up writing him like Cannonball. Since he’s always so isolated with his horses, I could imagine him being very naïve, but also very friendly.

Pyro is intensely thirsty, and failing to play it cool, but can you really blame him?

I have no idea what’s on top of that mountain. Let’s just assume that Pyro, Sebastian and Danny are going up to Midnight Castle to fight Tirac with the Rainbow of Light, and if you understand that reference you win a million 80’s nostalgia points.)

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ckret2 · 4 years

Text

Gigan Invades Earth

I got a request on ko-fi for “something Gigan-Ghidorah,” and I don’t have any freestanding Gigan/Ghidorah fic plans right now, all my current plans are from farther forward in the chronology of the fics I’m currently writing.

So I was like, okay, I’ll just write a few scenes from, uh... like, sixteen fics ahead of where I am right now.

So here’s a few scenes from way ahead of where we currently are! I haven’t edited it because this fic ain’t done and ain’t gonna be for a long time, but enjoy the preview.

###

First contact was made on a Monday at exactly ten in the morning, local Central Zone time—as convenient a time as any for first contact to happen: late enough in the morning that just about everyone was up and about but early enough to ensure the arrival would dominate all but the early morning news broadcasts; and at the start of the work week so that all of the white-collar governmental sorts who were going to have to deal with this were rested from the weekend.

He'd planned it that way.

One moment, the sky above Constitution Plaza in Mexico City was clear; the next moment, a smooth object hurdled down from the sky so fast that passersby didn't even have time to send out panicked messages about their impending doom before it stopped, hovering, seeming to glower down on the National Palace. A thunderclap followed in the wake of its sudden stop, traveling out as a deep rumble across the city.

It sat there, a dark grey and black mass of machinery thrumming in the air, for exactly five minutes: long enough to attract the attention of damn near half the continent but not long enough for the panicking politicians inside the National Palace to start rallying the troops. Then a deep, slightly synthesized-sounding voice boomed out of the ship. It was clearly audible for blocks around in every direction:

"Buenos días. Vengo en son de paz. Llévame hasta tu líder."

Good morning. I come in peace. Take me to your leader.

Astute observers noted two things about the new arrival:

It had a sense of humor.

And it had done its research.

###

"On behalf of Monarch," Serizawa said, his Spanish stilted and slow over the video call, "I am honored that you have invited us to witness this historic occasion. But I don't understand what place Monarch has in a moment of... of interstellar diplomacy."

The video conference was cut into four windows: Serizawa Ishiro, who'd pulled on a button-up shirt for the call but who beneath the frame of the camera was sitting up in bed, still on bed rest from his near-death experience during the Titans' mass awakening; Xochitl Flores Rosales, scientist at Outpost 56-B monitoring Rodan and Ghidorah, and Monarch's official liaison to the Mexican government; a representative of the Mexican government, a stern-looking middle-aged woman with deep frown lines creasing her brown face, someone whom Monarch had never worked with before but who had been available to get on the line with them; and a live feed of the interview being conducted between the flustered Mexican president and the alien.

The alien took up most of Constitution Plaza; even sitting, it towered over the four-story National Palace, and every other nearby building. Footage taken of it standing when it had descended from its ship put it at fully a third taller than Godzilla. It was recognizably bipedal, seemed vaguely avian or reptilian, and called to mind comparisons to penguins, turtles, chicken, and lizards. Fully half of its body was covered in metallic-looking prosthetics or armor—unless that was how its body naturally looked? It was far too soon to know. They didn't even know what planet it came from.

"Unless you called us because of the size of our visitor?" Serizawa ventured. In the fourth screen, muted, cameras set atop the National Palace craned back to look at the alien's head. Its face was shaded beneath the spacecraft the loomed over several city blocks; only the glow of the red goggles-like visor that seemed to serve as its eyes helped illuminate its face. "Despite its scale, I don't think it's wise to count it as a titan."

"But it's already counted itself as a titan," the government representative said.

While Serizawa raised his eyebrows in surprise, Xochitl hurried to pull up a video clip—she'd been in the call longer than Serizawa and had watched more of the interview. "Here," she said. "One of the first questions he answered."

The president's voice was tinny and small as he asked through speakers, "What is your name?"

"Nothing you can pronounce," the alien said, then launched into what was clearly a prepared comment: "But the largest citizens of your planet—you call them 'titan' because they're titanic? I have the most in common with them, and since I'm gigantic—call me Gigan." His metal beak seemed to curve into a smirk.

Serizawa watched silently, hand over his mouth in concentration. Somewhat abashed, he said, "Gigan speaks better Spanish than me."

Xochitl laughed weakly. The government rep barely managed to crack a smile.

"And called the titans citizens of our planet," Serizawa went on. "Not animals, or residents—citizens. As fluent as Gigan is, I doubt it's a mistranslation."

"Maybe it misunderstands their status on Earth," the government rep said.

Serizawa said, "Or maybe Gigan is trying to tell us that we misunderstand their status."

The clip continued as Gigan answered another question: "I don't have a gender. I don't reproduce like species on your planet do. But most of you humans respect men more, don't you? So you can refer to me with male grammar."

Serizawa nodded slowly. "Yes, I think he understands how things work on Earth just fine."

Xochitl laughed harder.

"So that's why we thought Monarch should be involved," the government rep said.

"I understand now. We'll offer whatever assistance we can." Serizawa nodded at the clip. "Should we return to the live interview?"

"In a moment," the government rep said. "To get a full understanding of the situation, you should know why Gigan says he's come to Earth."

Serizawa nodded and focused on the clip again.

The president was asking, "Why have you come to Earth? Diplomacy? To trade resources?"

Gigan said, "I want to purchase some real estate."

###

He was in the market for a few acres near the gulf coast of Mexico—"just enough space for me to put my ship down and stretch my legs," he said.

He didn't represent any worlds or governments. He wasn't setting up an embassy. To his knowledge, no one else would be following after him. It was just him, a lone traveler in a lonely part of the galaxy. Most of the major population centers, he said, were way to heck and gone on the other side of the galaxy—and then he moved the conversation onward without elaborating on these alien civilizations.

He wanted to get his land the legal way—the human way. With currency. He reassured them that he understood currency, money, markets, capitalism, yes, all that—they all existed other places, with minor variations. He dealt in money most of the time. He had a job. He said he was an interstellar freelance mediator. When two parties had a conflict, one hired him to resolve the dispute.

He didn't intend to sell the fabulous secrets to interstellar space travel. He had a ballpark idea of how much that info was worth to humans, and he didn't need near that much to buy a few acres. He offered raw materials: enormous hunks of raw iron and gold. He'd harvested a few asteroids on the way into Earth. Effortless for him, impossible for humans.

Yes, he could accept money from the deal. He had a bank account. Or PayPal or Venmo, if they preferred. He also had accounts on YouTube, Twitter, Reddit, and Weibo. When he gave his usernames, the accounts were immediately flooded with thousands of new followers. He mostly lurked, retweeted titan pictures from Monarch, trolled flat earthers by informing them he was an alien currently orbiting Earth, and three weeks ago got in a heated debate on a M*A*S*H subreddit. He started responding to messages from new followers while still speaking with the Mexican president with no outward change in his demeanor or visible Internet connection.

By early afternoon, they had agreed—in concept—to Gigan's proposed sale of metals and purchase of land; in three days they would meet again to give Gigan a list of potential properties for him to choose from.

"And on behalf of the people of Mexico and the entire human race," said the president, reading off a statement that a speechwriter had prepared for him two hours earlier, "I would like to thank you for this peaceful and mutually fruitful first contact—"

"'First contact'?" Gigan cut in.

The president stammered to a stop. After a moment, he said, "Yes, that's... that's our phrase for our first meeting with intelligent alien life."

"I know what it means," Gigan said. "But I'm not your first contact. Some of my friends are already here."

Flabbergasted, the president asked, "Are—are they? Where?"

"I'm sure you've already heard of them," Gigan said. "We're former coworkers. What is it you've been calling them—Ghidrah, Gidora?"

as he asked the question.

And suddenly the entire meeting looked different.

There was something sadistically delighted in Gigan's glowing visor as he basked in the humans' stunned silence. "Speaking of, I meant to visit them before I headed back to orbit," he said. "Do you know if they're at home?"

###

It had been eons since Gigan had last seen the triple threat.

Eons since he'd grabbed himself a space ship and taken off across the galaxy to attempt to track them down.

Eons spent combing back and forth over the same five hundred cubic light-years where their trail went cold, trying to figure out where they'd vanished to—if they'd left that patch of space, or if they were still drifting through space in the heart of an unfallen meteor, or if they had died on some lonely planet...

Until now. Until he'd found traces of their signature in this little solar system. Until he'd found the one populated planet, jacked into the primitive locals' communication system, and found it riddled with pictures and recordings of the trio.

It had been so long since Gigan had seen them, the material of the only physical photo he had of them had long since corroded and crumbled. He'd digitized, reprinted, redigitized, and re-reprinted the image dozens of times, maybe hundreds. He was afraid his own electronic memories of them might have also decayed over time, byte-sized glitches switching 1s for 0s and 0s for 1s until the memories distorted, the images changed, and he forgot what they looked like.

But when he saw them through the humans' news feeds, they looked exactly how he remembered. Even compressed through humans' primitive sound recording processes, they sounded the same.

It had been eons—and now he'd be face to face with them in just a few minutes. He'd left his ship in orbit and was flying down to the island they'd been hanging out on under his own power.

And now he couldn't put off asking himself the question he'd been trying to avoid for millennia:

What if they didn't want to see him?

They were the ones who'd run off, after all—and he'd never found out why. Maybe they hated the sight of him. Maybe they would to try to kill him. Maybe by now they'd completely forgotten about him.

He could see a glint of gold on the island below. Sparks sizzled through his system.

No time left for doubt. He waited until he was low enough to be within hearing range, and bellowed at top volume, "Hey! You worthless, spineless, heartless featherweight! What's the big idea, bailing on me like that?!"

They started, shifting from reclining on top of their folded-up wings to crouched anxiously, long necks whipping around to search for the unexpected noise. It was Lefty who looked up first and spotted Gigan; and faster than Gigan could react, they were launching straight up to meet him in midair.

He'd definitely forgotten how fast they could take off. "Whoa, wait—"

they crashed into him, getting him in the gut with a double head butt; and then tried to grapple him with their claws while he was stunned. He barely managed to weave out of their way.

"You damn loser!" One jaw snapped at him, and another demanded, "Did you come all this way to ride on our coattails some more?!" Lightning crackled over their wings with every flap, the sky quickly clouding over.

"You wish! How's business been without me to handle finances for you, huh?"

They butted a forehead violently against his, static crackling back and forth over their skin. The rattling of their tails was nearly lost in a crackle of thunder.

They were happy to see him.

#godzilla #fanfic #my writing #(not stuffing this in all the usual tags since I haven't finished this yet)#(but if I don't stick this in ONE tag I'm not gonna find this later)#(if you try to read this and you don't know what's going on... it's because there's like 75 fics of context you haven't read)#(including 15 I haven't written yet)

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tonystarkbingo · 3 years

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3 Prompt Summaries

computer, friends to lovers, animal - prompts by @rebelmeg

@somesortofitalianroast - Tony wasn’t sure why he agreed to let Bucky live in the Tower. He hated the man. He really did. But he owed Steve a favor and he wasn’t one to let his friends down. So he let Bucky and his cat move into the Tower. He let Bucky and his cat roam freely around the Tower. It didn’t take long before he was seeking out opportunities to talk to Bucky, or spend time with Bucky. Maybe he didn’t hate Bucky as much as he thought he did?

@alwaysabrighterdarkness - It started with silly cat videos shared here and there. Which, somehow, turned into marathons that left everyone--yes, Natasha, even you--in tears with laughter. Not so much because of the videos but one would end up laughing--usually Thor, sometimes Clint--which inevitably set someone else off and so on. Tony had to admit, he might not care too much about felines in general, but the cat-video marathons might even outrank movie nights for that alone.

@lbibliophile-mcu - People always laugh when they say that their relationship was built on sharing increasingly sappy cat pictures. But when one of you is a superhero archer, and the other is an AI, that's maybe the most normal thing about them

@rebelmeg - pick your pairing.... tony stark was unfairly, stupidly, ridiculously hot. and not just that, but he was adorable, with his messy, fluffy hair and his big bambi eyes and the way his nose scrunched up when he laughed. and to top it all off, this hot, adorable, shamelessly attractive man also happened to have animal guests with him on his thursday youtube videos. which made it all so much worse. tony stark doing nose boops with a tiny, squeaky kitten was just too much. no human could stand up to that and live.

@jamesbuckystark - Tony and Jan were best friends as children, but when they were in high school, Jan's parents moved to LA. They would chat via Skype and email. Who knew the next time they would see each other was at a national pet show ten years later? Sparks fly

@darthbloodorange - It was hard and incredibly lonely to be a AI. Everyone assumed just because he was a computer, an mathematical logic based algorithm that he didn't think or feel. He'd experienced men of science try and argue that he could think or feel, that he had no humanity. That someone had to have programed these things into him in his creation and therefore it wasn't really him, it wasn't his thoughts and feelings but his creators. Tony knew he could think and feel. Knew that these feelings where his own. He was nothing like his creator, Howard. As the years past, as civilisations rose and fell, he kept to himself. Answering the questions men came to him with. He kept his thoughts and feelings to himself. That was until a strange creature walked into his lab. A large wolf with DNA of a Man [Capwolf]. This being didn't care if he was a computer, it responded to him as if he were alive. As if the ticking clock within his reactor was a heart and not just a interval system he set his data processing to. But could their ever be chance for them? For love between a robot and a wolf.

Keep reading to see the rest!

Coffee, Snow, Road Trip - suggested by @alwaysabrighterdarkness

@rebelmeg - tony wasn't gonna say it. he wasn't. no matter how much he wanted to say (or shout) "I TOLD YOU SO," he wasn't gonna do it. he was going to sit, quietly, in this stupid broken down car, sip his cold coffee, and watch rhodey pace a hard icy track in the snow until he finally caved and let tony throw money at the problem until someone agreed to come tow them out of this snowbank. next time, he was going to talk rhodey into at least renting a better car next time they went on a road trip....

@somesortofitalianroast - It wasn’t Steve’s idea to drive across the United States in winter. He’d had enough of the cold and ice to last him for the rest of his life. It wasn’t Tony’s idea to drive across the United States in winter, either, but somehow they found themselves in the front seat of one of Tony’s many roadsters, Pepper somehow squeezed in between them, on the way from LA to New York. Luckily it was a bench seat, not bucket seats. It wasn’t snowing, though there was snow on the side of the road, and the forecast called for more snow - up to two inches. Luckily, they were almost at the ski chalet they were staying at, near Vail. They were going to spend the week there, and Steve planned to spend the entire week next to the fire, drinking coffee and ignoring the snow.

@lbibliophile-mcu - Road tripping with Tony, their route can be tracked not by attractions visited or efficient navigation, but by the trail of coffee shops spaced at careful two hour intervals. It makes getting anywhere take twice as long, but sipping hot chocolate in a cozy cafe, looking between the sheeting snow through the window and Tony's warm smile across from him, he really can't bring himself to care.

@rebelmeg - i have a mental image of someone spilling coffee in their lap and being grumpy about it and the other one singing obnoxiously loud to cheer them up, but that’s it. no coherent summary

@jamesbuckystark - "Why wouldn't you think there would be snow in the Rocky Mountains?" Tony grumbles as he rubs his forehead. He and Rhodey are driving cross country in an RV with Peter and Harley. "I do not have enough coffee for this."

@lbibliophile-mcu - Natasha doesn't know why she is friends with Clint. Case in point: Clint wants an iced coffee. Problem 1: it's currently the middle of winter, and something like 20 degrees outside. Problem 2: they're in the middle of nowhere, and lucky that the shitty little service station does anything resembling coffee at all. Clint's solution: Buy a dubiously-coffee, go outside, shove handfuls of snow into the cup and shake, pour the resulting brownish slush down his throat. ...how angry would Coulson be if she just drove off and abandoned him here?

@darthbloodorange - Steve Rogers is an idiot with no self-preservations skill to speak of. Who the hell thinks its a good idea to go on a road trip through the coldest parts of America in the middle of winter on a motorcycle? Someone who spent 70 years in ice, that's who. Not wanting the world to lose Captain America a second time, Tony decides to join Steve on his road trip, just to be safe. He was going to need a lot of coffee.

give, stone, without - suggested by @somesortofitalianroast

@alwaysabrighterdarkness - Tony had never expected to get this. Get to this point. Sure, he'd thought about it, imagined what it might be like. But he always just figured it was something not meant for him. And yet, there he was. Staring wide-eyed at a gleaming metal band inlaid with small stones circling circumference on his left hand. And he had it, got it even without having to change everything about himself.

@jamesbuckystark - "If you can remove the sword without breaking the stone, you will be given the power of ruler" is the legend. The strong, the brave, the wise, the cunning have all tried and failed. Why should Tony even try? He's been told by everyone he knows that he's not enough.

@rebelmeg - the stones were each powerful on their own. they could change galaxies, level worlds, alter destinies. but together, they were unlimited potential with the right person to wield them. without that person to give them purpose, powerful was all they would be. with the heart of tony stark, backed by his generous soul and his unending strength... the stones could be more. and they could give more, too. give back the life they had needed.

@somesortofitalianroast - Steve never knew how much he loved Tony, until it was too late. Tony had done what Steve had once said he would never be able to do, to make the sacrifice play, using the Infinity Stones without thought of what the result would be. At least, that was what they’d all thought, until Steve had gone to give Tony a kiss on the forehead in benediction, and realized that wouldn’t have to live in a world without Tony - he was alive!

@lbibliophile-mcu - Tony never travels without his lucky pebble. It started the first time his family had to travel by plane. He was nervous, but he knew he couldn't show it; so Jarvis had given him the smooth round stone to cling on to. He had been fine as soon as they were in the air, but for some reason he kept the stone, and continued to carry it with him. Tony not superstitious, not really, but it still became some sort of good luck talisman. Tony never travels without his lucky pebble...except once. It was almost a whim really. Joking with Rhodey to distract him while he slipped the pebble into a pocket, before banishing his friend to the 'humdrumvee'. Tony is not superstitious, not really, but maybe he should be. Because when the helicopter finds him in the desert, it is Rhodey who comes running out to catch him.

@darthbloodorange - Many people would think Tony's most prized and valuable possession would be something rare, expensive, something exclusive. They were wrong. His most valued possession was a rock. Yes, a rock. He never goes anywhere without it. He wonders sometimes if it was bad that he had it, if it would mess up time and space. But it was the only meaningful thing he had left of Steve. (Cue fic full of time heist shenanigans to return the Infinity Stones, and meeting a young Steve Rogers, pining and regret.)

ankle, lazy, only one bed - suggested by @jamesbuckystark

@jamesbuckystark - Steve and Nat thought they were clever, booking a room for Tony and Bucky with only one bed. Little do they know that Tony and Bucky are already dating and now spending a lazy day in bed, ankles twined as they stakeout their mark

@rebelmeg - "your foot is on my head." "is not." "is too." "is not. my ankle is on your head." "you don't get it off, and you're not gonna have that ankle anymore." tony only hoped that clint wasn't gonna call his bluff (he was too sleepy and lazy to commit bodily harm right now), and that he would never have to share a bed with the guy ever again.

@alwaysabrighterdarkness - Okay, sure, it had been a slightly steep fall and, yes Tony's ankle was just slightly bruised and a tad swollen. But, c'mon, that was no excuse to enable laziness. That was absolutely no reason to put him on lock down and utterly trapped in his own bed, just that one spot, for days at a time. Even JARVIS was against him! He had been dually informed that he was locked out of the workshop until that minor injury was fully healed. And for company? Motherhenning Steve Rogers and Paperwork. Yeah, thanks bunch Pep.

@somesortofitalianroast - Steve was lazing in front of the fire, a book in his hand and a cup of hot chocolate just in reach. There was a muffled thump, and Pepper was calling for him. He shot to his feet and up the stairs. Tony had stumbled, and they needed to get to the medical office at the chalet to see if it was just sprained or if he’d broken it. Steve helped Tony down the stairs and into the car, Pepper following behind. It turned out the ankle was broken, and they wanted to keep Tony under observation after they’d cast it. Steve offered to keep watch. It was only when they got back to their cabin that Steve remembered that they only had one bed. It would be quite a tight fit...

@darthbloodorange - When Tony had said he wanted a nice relaxing holiday where he could be lazy for once... this is not what he meant. He never thought he would be regretting this trip. But being stuck in a cabin with a single bed to share amongst all of the Avengers? With a broken ankle? He definitely regrets the trip. Why was Pepper always right.

@lbibliophile-mcu - Tony is on mandatory bedrest. C'mon, it's just a sprained ankle! They won't even let him use crutches or anything! Ok, so maybe the cracked-don't-turn-them-into-broken ribs have something to do with that. But this is not the first time this has happened -- or the second, but not yet the tenth... he thinks, oops -- so he hasn't spent the intervening period lazing around. Who needs a a wheelchair when you've created a remote-controlled wheel bed?

fealty, darkness, couch - suggested by @alwaysabrighterdarkness

@alwaysabrighterdarkness - The lights had been dimmed as soon as the movie started. It was dark enough in the lounge that Tony had to squint to see the rest of the team--it was the darkness not age or anything else--sprawled comfortably across the couches and chairs. But he caught the smirks and eye rolls at the cheesy oaths of fealty showing on the screen. It was a little overboard. But it was amusing and enjoyable at least. Tony was sure it would be discussed and joked about right up until the next movie showed in a few days.

@darthbloodorange - Long into the dark of the night, Sir Rogers would sneak into to the King's chambers. He would pledge his loyalty and devotion to his king as the man lounged on his couch, doing his best to bring Tony as much pleasure as he could humanly manage.

@rebelmeg - tony stark was as infamous a mob boss as had ever existed. infamous for his wealth, his genius, his cruelty to his enemies and his protectiveness toward his family. more than one person had stood before him on trembling knees, looking in awe and fear at the man sprawled across the throne-like couch across from them, sharp goatee and sharper eyes cataloging every weak point. only one person ever got to see the mob boss on his knees, the darkness in the bedroom surrounding him like a second skin, as he swore eternal love and fealty to the one that owned his heart.

Competition, Falling in Love, Gardening - @darthbloodorange

@tehroserose - It was time for the annual gardening competition. In prior years, Tony had helped Jarvis and Anna with their garden. This year was his first year doing it on his own, and he was going to win with the flowers they had worked hard to develop together. But then there were the new competitors, Steve and Bucky, who apparently had just moved to town and specialized in revitalizing old, extinct, or otherwise forgotten varietals. Tony can't let them win.[11:57 PM]He has to win- for Jarvis and Anna

@alwaysabrighterdarkness - Tony'd been issued a challenge. There was no way that he was going to let this one go. How hard could it be? Granted, it had to do with living things rather than robotics, but he had this. He had it. There was no way he was going to let the Late Bloomer, Agent Super Spy, The Guy that Tripped over the Flat Floor, an Alien god that wore a cape or anyone else beat him out on this one. Except Bruce. Bruce could win. Maybe. Possibly...No way. Tony would win this one. He just had to ask the Late Bloomer really, really nicely for a tiny bit of help and he'd win this.

@rebelmeg - "my sunflowers are bigger than yoooours, ha ha ha ha ha haaaa," tony sing-songed as he added fertilizer to the watering can, grinning as he caught the roll of pepper's eyes as she dragged the hose over.

"i could deliver a crushing retort about size not mattering, but i worry that would kick you between the legs a little too hard." pepper flicked a few droplets of water his way.

sniggering like a child that just heard a naughty word, tony got morgan out of her bouncy seat and twirled them both around. "don't listen to your mama, honey bunny, she doesn't know what she's saying."

pepper tugged him over for a kiss, not quite able to get the smile off her face. "you're ridiculous and i fall in love with you a little more every day." tony had a wonderful response to go with his sudden blush, but then pepper smashed a handful of soil into his hair and he was too busy chasing her around the yard to say it.

@darthbloodorange - Steve and Tony's rivalry is legendary amongst the community, maybe even wider. Ever since the billionaire joined the Manhattan District Community Garden the men had been at odds with one another. Always trying to one up each other in variety and technique, in finding the Heirlooms plants with the most ridicules names. There was no end in sight for the feud and it had grown old fast amongst their shared circle of friends.

One day a man who called himself 'Ebony Maw' joined the Garden with his friend 'Proxima Midnight'. They called themselves the "children of Thanos". The newcomers started disturbing the peace, spouting weird cultish sayings about balance and order. Steve and Tony found themselves joining forces against the newcomers, putting their differences aside to defend the community. But things are more dangerous than they seem, and Steve and Tony find themselves fighting something bigger than the imagined... and maybe fall in love in the process.

#tonystarkbingomarkiv #tsbmiv #tsb discord party #3 prompt summaries game #party game

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marueonmain · 4 years

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WINDFLOWER

part six ~ to be more normal ~

(part one) (part two) (part three) (part four) (part five) (part six)

A/N: I want to thank each of you who have continued reading and supporting me through all these parts (that’s almost 12k words total!) and I hope you keep wanting to stick around until the end. Stay safe. Stay healthy.

Summary: Alex visits with James & Fraser in a bid to distract himself from thinking about his feelings toward Y/N. George is concerned.

Pairing: imallexx x reader

Warning: Implications of Disordered Eating Habits. References to a Real/Imagined Domestic. An Absurd Amount of Pining.

Word Count: 2.4k

Subdued shades of orange with the occasional single brushstrokes of pink projected through his bedroom window and painted him in light. A bird chirped, and another chirped back in a cycle of communication lost on other animals. Alex did not realize the change outside his window until the light gradient settled on a loud yellow and created glare on his monitor.

It was sunrise, and he had just finished editing for his most recent video. Where the hours of work went was unclear as it played back with the same level of effects as other videos on his channel. But the hours showed in his fringe, darkened with grease, and in his hands that shook from low blood sugar.

Sleep was for the strong – for those who executed enough psychological control to shush their thoughts. To untie their mental boat and let it drift into the oblivion sea. Alex was not one of those people. Quieting his internal monologue required medication that put him in a state not unlike how he imaged it felt to be roofied.

Or else he did not sleep.

And Alex did not sleep that night. Not because he needed to edit or because he was so busy he did not realize he was tired. No, none of that. He knew he was tired: exhausted even: his limbs felt heavier as, throughout the evening, his blood was spliced and diluted with concrete mix.

Why did he not take his medication? Why not sleep? He did not want to be trapped in ~the dream~ again.

Despite his fundamental understanding of the uncontrollable manner in which the unconscious forms dreams, Alex was consumed with guilt for dreaming about kissing his friend's girlfriend. So, he punished himself: not allowing his mind rest nor his stomach food as he threw himself into his editing.

He would not allow himself think about it long enough to come to the obvious conclusion – that the real issue was not the dream itself. Despite what imallexx edits might guide someone to believe (with their cutesy music over compilations of smiling pictures or clips of him laughing), Alex was a young man in his twenties. And young men (who enjoy kissing) think and fantasize and dream about kissing.

And far more than kissing but regardless... He had dreamed about kissing his friends' girlfriends before: or at least Mia that one time. Ok, two times. He had dreamed about kissing cute men he saw on the train. He had even once dreamed about kissing Princess Leia.

It was natural. But Alex's thoughts about Y/N felt damning, felt wrong. Perhaps because it was the first instance in which he thought he had a chance to get the girl. Not that he would do; he refused.

It hit him. If he were always doing something else, then he would simply not have time to think about it – about her. Alex grabbed a pencil off his desk and his JoJo Siwa notebook and wrote a schedule for the coming week.

His hand cramped from furiously trying to keep up with dictating the information as it spilled from his head. He finished writing, but there were still stretches of time to fill-up including that entire morning. Was he desperate enough to disconnect from himself that he would risk the Budweiser Bug to visit his other friends outside his apartment building? Yes.

While rummaging around his bedroom for fresh(er) clothing to wear, Alex swiped a hat off his desk and concealed his unwashed hair with it. Not his tiktok bucket hat nor his iconic pink one, it was a lilac snapback with an image of lavender embroidered on the side. He rang Fraser.

“Hello?” Fraser answered with a voice bogged down with exhaustion.

“How’re you doing?” Alex greeted.

“Um.” (a pause – a processing delay) “Fine. Good. Yeah, what about you?”

“Trying to keep busy.” He tucked his wallet and keys into the pocket of a pair of joggers he found hanging, oddly enough, over the towel rail in his bathroom. Changing into them required a series of short jumping motions as he used just one hand. “You have any videos to film that I could jump in on?”

“Well I’ve been brainstorming ideas for a new series called…”

At the bathroom sink: Alex did not wait for the water to warm before splashing it over his face. He did a quick once-over and washed his cheeks and forehead with hand soap. Picking up his toothbrush from its holder stirred an uneasiness in him, he could not explain; he brushed his teeth and spit without rinsing.

Returning into the conversation he caught the middle of what would sound like a rant or passionate tangent if he did not know that was just how Fraser talked, “…and I’ve been working on a script for something on social repose—”

“Another needs to be stopped?" asked Alex.

Fraser laughed, letting it linger before continuing, "You got me. It's not done, but I could definitely use you for some reaction bits."

"Great! I'll be setting off within the hour." Ambling around – as is the norm during phone calls – Alex found himself in the kitchen. Half-full liters of lemonade, grocers bags, and dirty dishes cluttered the counters. He worked around the rubbish to make himself scrambled eggs with ham.

Fraser asked, "And you're sure about leaving the apartment? With the Bug? We could do a discord-call."

"Might as well get in some time on the train before things shut down."

"Alright, mate," there was a smile behind Fraser's voice, "just don't get arrested."

With their call ended, Alex finished cooking. He ate his entire breakfast in the same amount of time it took him to pull on his shoes.

During the train ride, he turned his phone's volume to eighty percent and blasted his music through his earbuds. His playlist was a mixture of two to three alt-rock or indie pop bands with a sprinkling of mainstream hits: a calm and comfortable backbeat throughout. No outlier tracks that burst into hard-hitting or exceptionally fast beats – nothing that might pump-up his adrenaline or be useful to scream along with in a fit of anger. That was not the connection he made with music in his formative years. Music to him was something to drown out that pesky internal monologue when lying in bed for too long – doing nothing – but perhaps pondering on some heartbreaking or otherwise emotional line in a song.

He arrived at Fraser and James' apartment when it was still technically morning. Knocking on the door, he was greeted with frantic barking and his tired ~obviously hungover~ friend.

After fussing over Kenji, Alex spotted the camera set-up in the kitchen and took his seat. Fraser and him watched several of social repose's music videos: covers of emo electronic, synth-pop songs, and a lot more original EMD songs than either man guessed – and all were dreadful. Neither could sit through a single video for more than forty-five seconds, and most of the footage they shot was just of their mouths hanging open in a disturbed shock.

Nonetheless, it was a great distraction. Alex liked feeling like he was helping out smaller channels – even if it was just those who were his friends.

Only as Fraser was cleaning up his equipment and Alex was sitting on the couch playing with Kenji, did James clamber out of bed and stroll out of his bedroom.

"Ow. What was that?" Alex asked in an exaggerated voice when the shiba nipped at yet another one of his fingers. Turning his attention to James, he asked, "Has he been biting a lot recently?"

James answered in his softer and calmer 'tired' voice, "He only bites sometimes. His brain is probably just locked on the idea of food right now; this is around the time Fraser usually feeds him."

"I just wanted a picture for instagram." Alex tried to find a good angle to hold his phone. He pushed Kenji to sit on his lap for a nice picture (which was sure to get hundreds of comments and love heart emojis), but the shiba was far too hyper to sit still. The few useable photos he got were of Kenji biting at and tugging the strings of his hoodie. "Come on, Kenj."

"Reckon he knows what you're doing with your phone, just mugging you off on purpose."

Alex hung around the apartment for the rest of the afternoon: enjoying an ubereats lunch and having James crush him at mario kart...multiple times in a row. The three talked youtube and the continuing aftershocks and effects of the ad crisis, and Fraser asked for feedback on a few video ideas.

An hour or two from sunset, Alex said his goodbyes and caught the train home to his apartment. Upon unlocking the front door, he was met with an interrogation.

"And where have you been all day?" asked George standing with his feet planted shoulder-width apart, and his arms crossed over his chest – the spitting image of a disapproving parent to a reckless teenager.

Smiling his fang-displaying side smile, Alex challenged, "Why do you need to know?"

"Sammy came over to film the opening pokemon cards video, and you weren't here. Neither of us could get a hold of you. Do you even care about my upload schedule?" It was a half-humorous rant with an eerie sense of latent seriousness.

"Phone died." He shrugged, not looking his flatmate in the eye and certainly not wanting to admit the truth – he put his phone on do not disturb earlier that morning, muting most everyone, including George and Sammy.

There was not an ounce of belief in George's expression, "Fine. Where were you, though, for real? You never leave the flat, let alone disappear; almost called Will and got a search team going."

"I was just filming with Fraser." Alex bent over to take off his trainers. There was a click from his shoulder when he did – alarming for such young bones. "We should host something soon."

And he meant soon. As talk of a complete social shutdown, rather than just more public health advisements, dominated news outlets; the thought of non-essential businesses being made to close their doors was frightening. And what was worse than the eking paranoia seeping into every day, was the horrifying realization that the pubs were considered non-essential.

Uncrossing his arms, George's posture shifted to be more normal. His brow furrowed as he seemed to examine his flatmate heavily; even so, he nodded in agreement. "Sure, we could do that."

"Great," Alex chirped and started toward his bedroom.

George grabbed his arm as he tried to walk past him. His hand clasped tight enough that his fingers touched his thumb, and nails would have dug into the pale skin – if he had nails that is. Both men were silent amongst the awkwardness of the interaction.

Sidestepping out of the armlock, Alex waited for George to speak.

"You're doing ok. Right, Al?"

"Yeah. I'm ok."

"But, you'd tell me if you weren't."

"Of course." Alex left to his bedroom. It was in a bad state, but he did not bother himself with picking clothes off the floor or taking food wrappers from his side table to the kitchen bin. He pulled his phone from his pocket and checked for messages: sure enough, there were eleven messages from George: ranging from asking where he was to blaming his laziness for ruining their chance to film.

Alex flopped himself onto his bed and started to scroll through his photos with Kenji. There was not much choice, so he took the least blurry one and posted it to instagram – with a bright filter and a sarcastic caption that took him longer to come up with than he would have liked.

Fifty minutes he spent scrolling through instagram, occasionally checking back to watch the likes on his photo go up and to reply to some of the first commenters. It was mind-numbing in the good and proper sense.

Until he saw it – and it was not his fault, he just happened upon it – and it sent his thoughts into hyperdrive.

A post. A photo. Y/N sitting on her sofa in the dark with the one light source (presumably her television) from behind the camera casting a blue light across her face. One hand clutching the blanket in her lap as the other hand was held up. Jewel-like eyes peering through her fingers and connecting with the camera. A smile playing purposefully on her lips.

If Alex's thoughts at that moment were put into a blender, they might still have come out making more sense than they did in his head. Eyes. Lips. Blue. Watching? Angelic. Eyes. Fingers. Dancing. Blue. Lips. Taste. Lips. Soft. Photographer. Photographer.

Before he might ask for the app to load more photos, Alex's burst of energy and hectic but classic over-thinking was interrupted. From above him came the sound of muffled shouting. He held his breath, stilled as if a prey animal not wanting to be spotted, and focused an ear to the noise.

There were no words he could pick out, but from what he could tell – or from the details he filled in – it was not a light argument of few words but something that might supersede a genuine scrap. And it was coming from Sammy and Y/N's apartment.

As he listened, his imagination wandered. Alex visualized himself, rushing to Y/N's aid and wrapping his thin arms around her in more emotional comfort than physical protection. He saw her turn to him with wet eyes and a red nose before burying her face into his shirt. It would be uncomfortable – as it is to be around distressed people. Yet it would be comfortable – as she would fit against him so well.

Again, his imagination wandered. Alex visualized himself as the one shouting at Y/N and growing angrier as she refused his hard-hitting gaze. He saw her turn to him with wet eyes and a red nose before hiccupping out a sob and dashing from the room. No. That was not right. It was wrong. He would not— could not do that.

#imallexx #imallexx imagine #imallexx x reader #alex elmslie #alex elmslie imagine #alex elmslie x reader #internet sensation #eboys #commentary crew #inabber #james marriott #memeulous #kenji the shiba

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