#swing and miss

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

Their last dance

Here´s the full sequence and I wanna point out 4 moments:

02:45 when Richie asks Syd to dance.

01:44 when Carmy says: a swing and a miss.

00:11 when Carmy and C are dancing and we can clearly see Cicero asking Syd to dance in the background.

00:03 when C looks over her shoulder to find smiley Syd dancing with Cicero right behind her and I´m thinking she did that bc Carmy was looking at Syd.

IMO, and I have been commenting on this for days on others´ posts, but I never made a post about this before bc to me this was their last dance, meaning Clairmy is DOOMED, Carmy asked C to dance bc he saw Richie asking Syd to dance, and he got I´m not sure if jealous or competitive or something clicked in his brain, and he reacted by doing what was "easy" for him to do.

I´m not saying this was a fully conscious decision on his part; it might have been unconsciously driven by this need to "compete" with Richie and maybe also by this jealousy or possessiveness about Syd, that he doesn´t consciously allow himself to feel, because it´s inappropriate.

Furthermore, Carmy´s peripheral vision was always on Syd as they seemed to always be dancing nearby on the dance floor with their respective dance partners. Carmy apparently only danced with C, at least canonically, but tbh I see it quite hard to fathom he never danced with the bride... which means that there are dances we didn´t get to see ;) and Syd danced with Richie, Cicero, and maybe "others"... IDK ;)

So, Carmy and C´s last dance was marked by his swing & miss retort, symbolically speaking. I´m sure.

We don´t know what happened between C and Carmy after the wedding, except that he called her and she asked him to recover her green sweatshirt but that could be just a friendly call on his part, not necessarily a "we got back together" call. IDK, that´s yet to be seen in S5, I say let´s hope for the best bc there´s no way that what happened in that back alley was not a love confession, no matter how plagued by subtext it was and how interrupted it was and how much of a sadist Storer is, let´s just trust the fucking process.

Bonus track: I´M WAY MORE CONCERNED ABOUT THIS: Carmy knows Syd was Richie´s date at the wedding. Carmy doesn´t know about Richjess being brewing on the back burner. Carmy saw Richie asking Syd out to dance, and she accepting this with a smile on her face. Syd begged Richie to spare his life in the back alley when Richie freaked out about Carmy actually being at Michael´s funeral, and Richie obliged. Carmy saw this. Syd asked Carmy to add Richie to the agreement. So, couldn´t this crazy person Carmy is, who we all know is jealous, competitive, and possessive, be connecting the dots all wrong and thinking that perhaps there´s something going on between Richie and Syd? The answer is "maybe". If that maybe is more inclined to "yes" then we have yet another reason why Carmy was relentless in his quest to leave the restaurant and not let Syd´s heartbreaking cries change his mind and another reason for him to step aside and let Richie "get the girl" bc that´s what she wants and he doesn´t wanna stick around to see it, there´s like this unspoken bro code between some Italians, and maybe other ppl from other cultures too, if your BFF or your brother and you are into the same girl, the girl´s decision is the only one that counts and the loser STFU and retires, wishing them luck, it´s like an ancient honor thingy. Not saying this in any way influenced his decision to quit the restaurant bc that happened before the wedding, but what I´m saying is that it may have influenced his decision to not change his mind when Syd said what she said. What could have changed it was her literally asking him to stay, don´t go bc I WANT YOU HERE, not need you but WANT YOU BC I DON´T WANNA DO THIS WITHOUT YOU, etc, under the table speech 2.0, that woulda overruled any "bro code" but she never said that and all this "dancing Sydrichie" BS was printed on his mind since the wedding and she hadn´t talked to him during the whole service, etc. Ofc all of this can be easily cleared up next season, but as of now, during and right after the fight, this may have been on Carmy´s mind, at least in the back of it, causing trouble, on top of everything else that troubles his mind on a daily basis, ofc.

[videoreligion]

Zombie Bloodbath II (1995)

[beckiboos]

My mum is so funny, got a new haircut, changed my parting and she’s like… your hair is darker!

Literally the only thing I didn’t have done was have my hair dyed but thanks 🤣

[abd-illustrates]

💛 Some Sketches 💛

A buncha Heartless doodles from last month that I forgot to post! (Mostly of Murphy the cat) 🐈‍⬛✨ I’m getting a clearer grasp on what I want Heartless’ ghouls to look like, but I’m still not 100% sure whether they work with his very yellow color scheme 💀

[DO NOT EDIT OR REPOST TO OTHER SITES / ACCOUNTS] ♻️reblogs are lovely tho!♻️

[homkamiro]

They have something I don't even know how to name

[coomguy]

Don’t even need to play the video to feel every emotion through this single frame this is more powerful than every painting in the louge

[kelddaa]

forehead kisses

Inspired by this screenshot:

(image credit to @/lesboubleo on twitter)

[yandere-wishes]

⋆ ˚｡⋆♡ Darling, I'm Falling, Messed Up Over You ♡⋆ ˚｡⋆

⭒⌒★ Yandere! Call of Duty Men x Reader★⌒⭒

゜。♡ 𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝒶 𝓅𝓁𝓊𝓈𝒽𝒾𝑒 ♡ ｡ ゜

⋆⁺₊✧ Simon "Ghost" Riley | سایمون "شبح" رایلی

There's a stark, painful limerence coiling tightly between his bones whenever he opens the apartment door and sees you lingering across the void. Your smile reminds him of bullet wounds scabbing over, all so tender yet agonizing to endure. He mumbles his hellos and everts his eyes lest he lose control. Lest he gives in and digs his fingers into your tender body, marring you with his lips and teeth, and tongue. Breaking open your bones as he ravishes the marrow, binding you to him carnally.

He's spitting blood into the bathroom sink, lungs burning from the RPG-7 jabbed into his chest this morning. He can see the bruises blooming across his ribs, swallowing his curses so they don't fall upon your innocent ears. "Ghost?" There's a gentle rap on the bathroom door, your voice feels like honey leaking over his heart. You push open the door, standing chest to chest. "What?" he grumbles, trying to steady his tremoring heart. "I got you this," you chirp, that ethereal smile glowing as you hand him a fluffy toy dog. Simon squeezes the toy, bringing it to his nose and inhaling your scent, high off your essence. There's a click before the war is lost. Simon dips his head, pushing his lips onto yours, his blood seeping past his lips down your throat, drowning you in his aether, claiming you in the rawest way he can imagine.

-`♡´- John "Soap" Mactavish | جان "صابون" ماکتاویش

"I figured you'd miss home so I bought you this" Soap will never understand your obsessions, this rooted topophilia. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't homesick, he'd also be lying if he said he'd really thought about anything other than you for far too long. The highland cow you present to him is fluffy and plump with a sweet smile sewn onto his muzzle. It reminds him of your darling smile…

Then again everything reminds him of you.

Johnny can't help but run his fingers up your spine and your arms. Trailing fleeting chaste kisses to your cheeks and neck, even when your face morphs into worry. He needs to keep you close always in arm's reach; you belong to him in ways that transcend simply being "friends". You've started to notice the highland cow on his desk more often; he seems to lug it around everywhere. Even Ghost and Gaz have started to notice, pointing it out with knowing looks. “Reminds me o' ma bonnie lass. Can’t bear tae part wi’ it.” You're not sure if you were meant to hear that, meant to see that possessive spark shimmering in his soft blue eyes. He's been dropping more hints lately, practically begging you to come over, “The wee coo misses ye somethin’ fierce. How ’bout ye swing by sometime, eh? It sounds all so innocent, it could even pass as gregarious. If it wasn't for the vice grip he has around your hand, nails digging into your flesh.

⋆𐙚⋆ Kyle "Gaz" Garrick | کایل "گاز" گاریک

It had started with that pond, that damned, perfect pond, a minute's walk from the base. Sergent Garric hadn't thought much of it at first, it's hard to focus on the atmosphere, the bustling of the outside when you're so desperate to get away from the inside. To flee from the overcrowded rooms and suffocating loom of war always drumming in his ear. He'd only noticed the ducks and the pond and the strange girl sitting beside it when, on one of his worst days, he'd tried to envision the whole park bombarded, strained to imagine it after a mushroom cloud. It's only then that he really notices you.

He hadn't meant to get so attached, but you'd made it nearly impossible not to. Something about the vision of your mangled corpse along the water's edge had reminded him of that one John Everett Millais painting he'd seen in the museum between deployments. Something about the frightful vision had him sitting next to you, trying to push out the right words to make you look his way. It's been months now, the pond, that perfect, wonderful pond, had glazed over, and yet he still finds you sitting by the water staring as if nothing ever really changed. You had slid him a knitted duck the other day, the same color as dandelions. And Gaz couldn't help the desperate hammering of his heart as he imagined, for the first time, what it'd be like to kiss you instead of standing over your cold body.

٠࣪⭑𖦹٠࣪⭑ Keegan P Russ | کیگان پی راس

He's found he likes sitting on the floor with you, sprawled out on the mohair carpets. Elbows digging into his knees as he watches you thread a needle through polychromy fabrics. Keegan finds it morbidly hilarious how he can feel the same needle threading through his skin, pulling at his dermis, and stitching through his veins whenever you smile at him, whenever your soft fingers trace over his scarred skin. So gentle, so soft, little needles trying to puncture military-grade steel.

He pulls you onto his lap, fingers running up and down your hips. Strumming lovelorn melodies upon your ribs. He ignores the way you grimace, excuses the way you flinch away from his touch. "Sweetheart" he whispers, lips sucking tenderly along your neck, trying to hold you still as you reach behind you. "Here," you say voice utterly monotone, stripped of its usual joy and radiance. You thrust a freshly sewn shark plush into his face. Keegan simply brings his lips to the toy with a wicked smirk. "Do I scare you that much?" he asks, hurt and haughty. When you don't answer, he pulls you closer, hugging you so tightly he swears he hears your bones crack.

ᯓ★ Alejandro Vargas | الخاندرو بارگاس

There's a sharp ache between his bones a treacherous agony every time you walk past him. The hall permeated with your sweet perfume. Alejandro can't help his lingering glance, the way his eyes stare at the places you've passed, at your ghost wavering in time. He'd do anything to kiss you, to hold you, to deprive the world of your existence, and selfishly harbor it only for himself.

There's a fox on his desk one morning, a tiny little doll with a bushy tail and beady eyes. "Why a fox muñeca?" he asks as you type away his latest mission briefing. "Oh, just cause you remind me of El Zorro." Alejandro laughs. He'd give anything to be the bandit that steals you away in the light of a full moon, the tarnished hero you cling to as the world burns. He leans down, lips brushing your temples in a chaste, fragile kiss. He can't help but look down at you, reveling in your beauty. Oh, how he wished he were a fox and you the lovely little rabbit trapped between his teeth. His perfect darling señorita.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Phillip Graves | فیلیپ گور

You remind him of Malibu Barbies lying halfheartedly along the golden sands. Ethereal and unreal, plastic shaped into perfection. But you're not Barbie not really, you refuse to emit that pink saccharine sweetness that most dolls do. Refuse to let him thread his fingers through your silky hair, pulling off his hand from your shoulder and pushing him away when he tries to kiss your cheek. Barbie would never he thinks, hollow, miserable laughter spilling from his lips as your glare tries to penetrate his skin and dig into his organs. You hate him, it's palpable enough, and yet he still harbors your hatred on this tongue like licorice, sweet and bitter, misplaced romance in every way.

The Eagle you hand him is a threat. Only you would know how to threaten someone with a gift, a little plushie of his favorite animal. A death threat wrapped in cotton and fleece. He sleeps with the pathetic thing to his chest, dreaming it was you, praying one day somehow someway you'd let him tuck you between his arms, high off your sweet aroma, nuzzling between your shoulder blades. "You're too Americana, you make me want to gag." Your voice hums in his head lyrical sermon. His grip grows tight around the little bird. He'll have you someday, he swears it.

୨ৎ Vladimir Makarov | ولادیمیر ماکاروف

You're so naive, bright-eyed little dolly desperately clinging to his every word as if it were sacred commandments from above. Precious little fool, devoting yourself to a dangerous man such as he. You're usefulness and eerie desperation are so malleable, he has you eating out of his palm like a well-trained puppy. He can give you martyrdom at his hand, he's sure you wouldn't protest.

Vlad doesn't bother with celebrations, doesn't wholly keep track of dates outside his agenda. Maybe that's why he's so surprised when you present him with a wrapped box one snowy afternoon. A birthday gift you had said, while he rolled his gorgeous mismatched eyes. Inside is a plush toy of a black wolf, Makarove can't help but scuff. Leave it to you to pick out such a childish thing. "It matches your tattoo," you gush, enthusiasm leaking from every word. Big innocent eyes desperately searching his face for a lick of approval and gratitude. "You've more important things to do than play with toys, м��лый" he scolds, watching as you wilt tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Makarove leans closer, brushing your hair from your face as he whispers in your ear. "Although there is something else you could give me for my birthday, маленькая куколка."

𓆩♕𓆪 König | کونیگ

He follows you like a second shadow, masked goliath tailing you through the halls and the training fields. He finds it funny in a dry morbid kind of way, the same way dragons find little princesses so humorous before snatching them away. You certainly could pass for a princess, with your pretty face and sparkling doe eyes, your sweet smile that outshines the sun. Oh, how König could marvel at you for hours, memorizing every perfect detail about you.

"Here," you mutter one day, it's the first time you've ever talked to him. Stopping and turning to him in an empty hall, pushing a stuffed rabbit into his chest. König freezes a cold sweat erupting across his spine. You're looking at him with a stern, annoyed look in your eyes, he can't help but blush under his mask. You look so pretty just like the little bunny you're holding. "D-danke Lie-liebling" the words jab at his throat he can't spit them out correctly, not when you're looking at him, actually looking at him. You don't care what he does with the rabbit, hoping that by giving him something anything to remember you by, the giant may just leave you alone and stop stalking you through the base. It's a misplaced hope, you've only managed to amplify his longing, made him think you love him too.

࿔✮࿔ Sebastian Krueger | سباستین کروگر

He's taken to watching you through the day, following you wherever you go, just out of sight so you'd never catch an inkling. He leaves you handwritten notes describing how beautiful you look in your new dress, how pretty your new hairstyle is. He doodles little hearts and kisses all in a suspicious red ink. Leaves you voice messages enunciating how much he loves you, how he wishes he could carve out his heart and leave it between your ribs. The funny part? You have no idea your haunting admirer is really your dear teammate Sebastian Krueger.

He notices the eyebags one day as he bullies his way to you through the mess hall. "You look tired, schätzchen." You jolt awake, eyes scanning your surroundings in fear, when they finally land on his masked face, you relax. "Yeah, just...just haven't been sleeping well." Krueger has to bite his tongue to suppress his chuckle. He sees you pacing around your apartment at night, trying to find any clue as to who keeps breaking in, who is stalking you so acutely. You reach into your bag and hand him something fluffy. "Here I got you a present." He studies the plush cougar toy you've given him. Funny he thinks, Krueger, cougar, how did he not see you buying this?

"You knew they mean different things, right?" You can't see the eyebrow he has raised, but you giggle -such a heavenly sound to his ears- "Yeah but they sound the same," you lament, looking up at him with those pretty doe eyes. "I love it (y/n), danke." Oh, how he's going to treasure this little toy, it even smells like you, how thoughtful. Is this your way of saying you like him too? Have all his nights of stalking and all his letters penned with his own blood finally paid off?

.✿. Nikto | نیکتو

There's a permanent lassitude tucked away inside him. There's not much left in the world that can make your heart skip a beat when you've seen every terror, felt every torture. No, Nikto had grown all too used to the permanent numbness, wearing it like a second skin. Until you showed up, Kortech had called you emotional support or something equally as degrading. Or maybe they hadn't meant anything by, maybe it's Nikto who refuses to hear you addressed as anything less than divinity, less than purity in its rawest form. The little кукла that had smiled at him…at them told him honeyed jokes and whispered girlhood secrets in his ear in hopes of earning a chuckle. Instead, Nikto had clawed out his heart and presented it to you with a desperate smile.

"I want you to have this " You're sitting on his cot, legs tucked under you, and he's trying not to blush at the heavenly feeling of your knees touching his. Your arms are outstretched, presenting him with a plush lamb tied pretty with a pink bow. It reminds Nikto of one of those pastoral portraits he'd see in the churches back home. It fits he thinks, he'd always thought of you as nothing less than holy. He cradles your gift with a tenderness he didn't know he had. "It looks a lot like you, милый" he tries to compliment. "Really? I thought it looked a lot like you."

Sorry for any errors in the other languages, I used Google Translate for them all. 😅😅

[doctorsiren]

Part 13

<- previous | next (coming soon)

[gideonisms]

sorry but most books "for fans of gideon the ninth" do NOT engage with gothic lit themes are NOT that funny do NOT have half as many bonkers plot twists and largely do not even have the same number of lesbians either. to be fair it's difficult to physically fit in as many characters per book as tazmuir does so I can excuse this on the basis that not everyone wants to write a 400-page space opera. but if that's not what you're writing then commit to writing something else!!

[arl3kinka]

some swing 'n' miss for the soul since I started liking these too more than I'll like to admit <3

[unh0lyvenom]

dan and phil are going to block me one of these days and they'd be right

[gargoylelads]

They're texting Verity

[linkcharacter]

Oh I have so many thoughts on aroace Curly, I think it brings so much on the table when analyzing the game's story.

Amanormativity ties in with the reoccurring mentions of the nuclear family, from Wrong Organ making 1950s mock advert posters, to Swansea talking about how getting a wife and kids didn't bring him any fulfillment in life.

In the cake cutting nightmare sequence, where Jimmy talks with Dream Curly about the mediocre cake, Dream Curly begins to talk about how sometimes you can only get the subpar stuff in live. Sometimes he'll get promoted, buy a house, fall in love. But other times he'll just have some awful fucking cake with his friend.

I think there is that subtle implication that Jimmy does buy into Amanormativity, with him projecting his beliefs on Dream Curly that a platonic relationship is lesser then a romantic one. But we never see Curly suggesting that he wants such a thing in the pre-crash.

With Jimmy thinking that Curly has everything in life, except for the desire (although I think Jimmy would view it as Curly not having the skills for it) to get a romantic partner, he would heavily lean into getting the one thing that Curly couldn't get in life to one up him.

THATS EXACTLY WHAT IM THINKING!!! AMATONORMATIVITY BE DAMNED!!!!

Looking at Mouthwashing through an aroace lens is interesting

"Jimmy thinking that Curly has everything in life, except for the desire", well said, well said! And references to the nuclear family fit in very cleanly thematically for Mouthwashing.

Jimmy leaning into amatonormativity is a smart observation. Jim internalizes all the social norms and standards on what you have to do to have a normal and desirable life, who sees everything Curly has and what Jimmy wishes he had, and is offended that Curly isn't satisfied, that he has the "audacity" to be unhappy. Curly meanwhile only wishes for his life to be something he doesn't have to run from, because by all means, he has already reached a point where he should feel accomplished, but isn't. Curly doesn't want to be a freighter captain his whole life, he doesn't want to settle with his sustainable position, he just wants to be happy. Like Swansea who has reached the "ideal" outcome of his life, having a wife, kids and a good career, it will never feel as good as embracing all what society deems undesirable yet right for you.

Jimmy does imply to seeing himself as lesser as a friend, "fall in love" being a goal and a "cake with a friend" being something he "has to settle for", it's all in the subtleties with underlying themes of "what you're "supposed to want" by society's expectations" against "what feels right for you". Jimmy is frustrated that Curly is going to "leave the dirt behind him", when in actuality, letting the crew and him go is the last thing Curly wants. Curly wants to be with his friends, he deeply cares about his crew, and about his close friend.

Mouthwashing as a whole reads to me as platonic through and through. Swansea and Daisuke having such a meaningful familial bond, Curly and Anya being sweet, playful and caring without romance, Anya and Daisuke having something of a siblings dynamic are dear to me. Also it's really rare to get to see representations of "toxic friendship" in media. Its always toxic romance this, toxic yaoi that, toxic family there, however in reality, friendships aren't excluded from being as rotten and abusive as the others, yet they're often overlooked. Jim and Curly are especially unique in this way. It's very impressive how they managed to showcase Jimmy's mistreatment of Curly in such a platonic way (at least that how I read it). Jim too, like Curly, in general avoids hints at romance and attraction explicitly related to him during his gameplay, not with Curly, nor with Anya (dear god thanks for that at least). It's all spite, annoyance and parasitizing off of these two. (That man's dry and lowkey hates everyone and everything) No attraction attached, no desires except hoping it hurts.

Curly to me is very much aroace, or at least on the spectrum. Like, the trivia fact that one of Curly's fondest memories is that of his friends putting in effort to make a shitty awful cake, tells us all we need to know on how dear his friends are to him. Platonic relationships mean so much to Curly, even when it's Jimmy fucking Mouthwashing, the worst friend ever imaginable.

[12am-motivation]

ok my last post got too serious so have this pic of sumi-san holding a satan plushie

[homkamiro]

Flo has a great day every day, but Jeremy only has a great day if Flo looks at him

Original photo!!!! It looks so much like them I couldn't resist but to redraw